#dont want to get stuck with a diagnosis like that for the rest of my life | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

9tzuyu · 3 years

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stay.

note: normally i try not to get too personal with authors notes, but #lolz feeling a little silly and goofy ig

i really debated posting this because all it is - is a huge vent/dump fic. i don't expect anyone to read this or for it to really go anywhere and that's fine with me. i'm actually a little embarrassed? i guess you could say? i don't know. a lot of issues are coming up revolving around my ed so i just had to get it out.

+ i do promise to try and work on requests and lighter stuff. i still cant afford a new computer so im doing everything from my phone. it'll take some time, i'm sorry about that. i'll try my best to get requests out as soon as i can.

warnings: talks about anorexia/eating disorders. if you decide to read this i strongly advise you to take a moment beforehand because i do go pretty in depth at some points. i dont want to trigger anyone or anything, so the warning is here.

**please note that this is heavy thought based at first before it moves onto dialogue.

**and remember this is just a vent/comfort fic i originally wrote for myself, so if it’s not as good as any of my other fics you guys like i’m sorry.

ALSO SORRY TO KILL THE HALLOWEEN SPIRIT HELP

++ please be safe tonight

ty moli for proofreading i love u <3

it was impossible to understand why such an awful thing could be glamorized

you were only ten when you first stumbled across the sites. sacred rules could be found plastered all over the home pages in cute fonts to distract from how twisted the demands were. lists of diets and calorie counting apps were always linked on the side, along with pages full of videos pertaining to weight loss.

even at a young age, you knew it was obviously all wrong, that the people running these blogs had to be sick themselves. but that didn’t stop you from continuing your exploration of the community. once you started you couldn’t stop.

by the time you were twelve, you counted on laxatives and self-induced vomiting to ease your insecurities. it worked for a while, but then it wasn’t enough. you had to do more, be better than the person you were a few months prior.

at thirteen, you joined group chats and ran your own little blog tied to those who could relate. the praise for losing weight easily became your biggest motivator. because if you were the smallest, you were the best. within a few years, you’d been perfectly trained into thinking that less was good, and that becoming more was the worst thing you could ever be.

you were taught that losing hair and bruises on your skin were the things you wanted. if you didn’t have those, then you were hopeless, not enough. others in the community told you to look up to those cliche, horribly written characters with eating disorders. no matter how many stereotypes and stigmas they gave off, those characters would always be praised some way or another. you weren’t shocked to say that reading winter girls did you no favors at all.

the next few years were on and off between misery and glimpses of happiness. it was never ending. nonetheless, you ignored what every therapist told you and remained firm on the belief that your body was different from the rest. your body wouldn’t go too far like the others because you were strong. you’d come so far already, why would you stop now?

you denied your diagnosis of anorexia because nothing was wrong. you weren’t in a hospital bed dying of heart failure. why were you supposed to believe what you were doing wasn’t right when nothing serious has gone wrong? that was your point, although you knew somewhere in your mind it wasn’t normal to cry over a turkey sandwich or panic at the thought of even smelling food.

so you stayed true to your routine of hiding food, packing on layers of concealer, and lying straight through your teeth when asked if you’d stuck to your meal plan.

it never lasted long though because despite your best efforts, your body would eventually give away the truth on its own. weigh-ins became impossible to trick, your extra small clothes hung two sizes too big over your body. anyone with eyes could see that you’d been less than truthful the entire time.

as you got older, you found that some years were better than others. your body could be healthy and you found yourself genuinely enjoying those around you. friends and family said you were more fun to be around. during those times they didn’t have to worry so much, they could laugh at lame jokes you’d tell without thinking it might be the last one they’d ever hear.

during those years, your eating disorder was much more quiet. you were able to eat food and not feel as guilty as you would when you were sick. the thoughts were always there; they were just more manageable than before.

but somewhere in your twenties, you found yourself still stuck in the cycle introduced to you at the tender age of ten. you were old enough now to know and believe what you were doing was wrong, but the fear of facing and fighting back against your eating disorder was too scary of a thought for you to handle.

you knew now that when you were younger people brainwashed you into believing smaller was better. they took the lighter side of eating disorders and turned them into goals you’d want to reach.

the people you’d met on pro-anorexia websites romanticized the fuck out of the disease, leading you to believe you’d be beautiful and envied by others as long as you had a gap between your thighs and size zero pants around your waist. you thought someone would’ve wanted you as long as you were frail and dainty (two words commonly misused to describe someone who was actually weak and dying).

it was a mystery to you at sixteen why you were so miserable when you were promised happiness and self-confidence. girls didn’t envy you like you’d been told they would. instead they’d stare at you, weirded out by how freakishly skinny you were. your name was constantly in people’s mouths at school, everyone wondering why you’d ever want to look like that.

friendships didn’t last long either. you wore people out with your constant need to skip out last minute on plans that had been scheduled for over a week. things didn’t make your case any better when you’d snap at your friends for wanting to get something to eat because they were hungry. a few small, petty arguments too many, and they’d be on their way as far from you as they could go.

you’d never felt more alone in your life when even your longest friends started to grow tired of your behavior.

why couldn’t they think about how tired you were of it? you are with yourself 24/7 after all.

those in charge of the sites forgot to mention all the extremes you’d learn to go to when it came to avoiding or getting rid of food. it was more than just sneaking dinner into your dog's mouth. for you, it was hiding sacks of vomit in your closet, throwing them in a large plastic bag the night before trash day. for you it was throwing up in your friend's front yard while they ran inside for a few minutes to get something. for you it was hitting yourself in the stomach for over an hour hoping to replace hunger pain with physical pain against your body.

no one ever mentioned the insane beliefs that tagged along with anorexia. like the ones you had where you thought fast food water had calories in it because it was surrounded by the smell of food, or thinking that shampoo and advil had hidden calories in them that would somehow leak into your body.

you knew how stupid and irrational everything sounded, but those beliefs were so ingrained in your mind it was hard to challenge them.

another unmentioned concern no one cared to bring up was the fact that you’d eventually have to tell people new in your life what you’d struggled with. you told natasha awhile before you started dating her and she didn’t run off or stray away from you. you were grateful for that, but it didn’t make things very much easier for you.

if things were bad, then date nights rarely ever consisted of going out for food. this hardly ever bothered natasha too much, but you could see the occasional falter in her eyes when you told her you’d rather do something else. she’d love to take you out hold your hand as you walked to the ice cream shop after you’d eaten dinner. she’d love to enjoy a glass of wine or two at a nice restaurant with a four course meal, but you couldn’t always give her that.

there had been a few dates ruined by your eating disorder. the worst of which came just a few short months after you’d told her about your issue.

the fair was in town and natasha was over the moon about the idea of taking you with her. you weren’t in the best mindset that particular day though. the thought of being around fried, greasy food was enough to make your stomach churn, but you saw how happy she was and didn’t want to ruin her the surprise she had for you.

half way through the night you had a panic attack, cutting the date short. words couldn’t even begin to describe how guilty you felt. natasha drove you back to hers, silence filling the air after you apologized profusely. she spent the night watching over you, making sure you didn’t do anything because she knew how angry you were with yourself.

dates like those came few and far between, especially through the years you weren’t struggling as badly.

you couldn’t say the same for now though.

you tapped your feet against the tile flooring as you sat in the lobby of your doctor's office. natasha sat next to you, hand clasped tightly over yours. she was worried. beyond worried, really.

like many times before in the previous years, you’d managed to hide your relapse quite well from others. the only reason natasha knew now was because you’d passed out on the job. you’d woken up in the hospital to her setting a glass of water on the table next to your bed.

you argued about it for three days before finally agreeing to go to the doctor.

truth be told, natasha was probably more worried about it than you were. the only thing occupying your mind was the fear of having to gain weight again, but also the chance that you might lose natasha if you didn’t get it together this time.

you weren’t a kid anymore. you knew very well she had the right to leave if she wanted to. you also knew the bind you were putting her in. if she left, natasha would run the risk of worsening your situation and in a month's time she might not ever see you again. but if she stayed, then she’d only be screwing herself over by destroying her own mental health.

neither one of those options were ones you liked.

“y/n?”

you looked up to see a nurse standing in the doorway of the lobby. natasha gripped your hand as you stood up and you nodded for her as an okay to follow you. stepping on the scale was the worst part, especially since the nurse had no idea of your current situation and decided to allow you to look at the number in front of you. natasha was about to say something, but you’d already seen what the scale said, anyway.

she did, however, grimace at the sight of how skinny your arm was when you took off your jacket for a blood pressure check. just like the rest of your body it was too thin.

“temperature and weight are low-”

you are slowly dying, was the translation.

“-but your blood pressure is just above where it should be.” she left the room after jotting down the reason for your visit, telling you that your doctor would be in shortly.

you spent the next fifteen minutes waiting in an uncomfortable silence, watching as natasha fiddled with the ring on her index finger.

“it’ll be okay, nat.”

“we’ll see what the doctor says.”

“i’m sorry.” she sighed, running her fingers through her hair. “i know you are.”

her reply didn’t help the matter, only making you feel more guilty by the second. guilt you didn’t have room to feel when you were the one doing this to yourself.

a light knock on the door made noise and your doctor walked in, a smile on her face like the previous times you’d been in her office.

“hello dr. hill.”

“y/n,” she greeted.

the doctor flicked through your files on her computer before she addressed you herself.

“want to tell me in your own words what happened?”

you shrugged, “hit another relapse. passed out at work. argued with my girlfriend over whether or not i should be here.”

she hummed, taking your hands in her own, examining how blue your fingernails had turned. “a lot less pink from the last time i saw you.”

her stethoscope met your spine, and you inhaled, exhaling as she moved it around the back of your body.

“lungs sound fine.” you waited patiently until she finished listening to your chest. “your heartbeat isn’t where i’d like it to be, but seeing as you’re a little over twenty pounds underweight, it’s exactly where i’d expect it to be.”

dr. hill paused, jotting down a few notes on her clipboard. “i strongly recommend hospitalization.” deal breaker. you shook your head instantly, instantly regretting making the appointment.

natasha swallowed back a sob full of anger and frustration. “why not?”

“i just can’t, alright? it’s not even that bad.” you mumbled.

dr. hill stepped out into the hallway, giving you and natasha space to talk.

“did you not hear her? jesus christ it’s like talking to a brick wall with you.” she paced around the room, emotions too high for her to think properly before speaking.

“well then leave, natasha. i don’t care anymore.”

“i don’t want to! that’s the last thing i ever want to do to you. but god, why can’t you just fucking eat?”

she couldn’t stop the words from slipping from her mouth. her heart broke when she saw the look on your face.

“and why can’t you understand it’s not always about that?” you whispered to the ground.

“i know. i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to say that. but please, we can do this together. i’ll there every step of the way, you just have to want it for yourself.” she pleaded, eyes watery with tear tracks tracing the edge of her jaw.

“i just want to go home. can we just go home, please?”

. . .

the smell of natasha’s dinner aired throughout the kitchen. you watched as she filled her plate with a variety of things. it looked good — good enough to eat — you couldn’t lie about that.

natasha hadn’t spoken a word to you since the appointment earlier in the day, too upset to even think about it.

you were conflicted about everything.

literally everything.

but seeing natasha sitting alone, face propped up resting against her arm, flipped something inside of you.

you could almost hear her voice telling you to try, just try, that’s all she wanted from you. the both of you knew you’d end up dead if you didn’t. and you didn’t really want that, no matter how many times you wished it would happen.

so you went to grab your own plate, filling as much as you thought you were comfortable with and sat next to nat. this was the first time you’d done this in months.

you inhaled, but made no move to take a bite.

your thoughts had never been this loud before. it was bickering back and forth, nonstop.

you wont be good anymore if you eat that.

– yes i will.

you’re disgusting.

– i’m just hungry.

it’ll go away.

– i just want to eat. it’s just food. nothing more.

you know you can’t do that. you’re bad, horrible, the worst person in the world. so be good.

“damnit!” you slammed your fork down, startling natasha.

breathe.

“you’ve got this.” natasha’s soft voice came from beside you and her hand clasped into yours. “how’s this? i can talk about something, anything you’d like to take your mind off of this.”

you cleared your throat with a small nod, “it’s almost halloween.”

“it is. do you want to do anything this year?”

“can we dress up and give away candy to the kids? and can we stay up and watch horror movies?” natasha giggled, “we sure can.”

she noticed how your fork began to circle around the food, pushing and shoving it around.

“can you take another bite?”

no.

don’t.

the metal hit your tongue, food leaving the fork and into your mouth.

“do you have any ideas as to what you would like to dress up as?”

“mmm. well i think we should definitely go as edward and bella from twilight.” you replied sarcastically.

“i love you, but there’s no way in hell you’ll get me to dress up as a sparkly vampire.”

her thumb rubbed the top of your knuckles. “another bite please. you’re almost there.”

your lip trembled and you could feel the lump in your throat start to form. you felt so stupid and humiliated that natasha had to do this for you.

with a shaky breath, you exhaled, pushing yourself once more.

“i think we should go as gay ken and barbie.” your lip twitched into a smile. “and who would you be?”

“well ken of course,” she confirmed.

“what it i wanted to be ken?”

“and what if i wanted to just wear a cat's ear headband with a black turtleneck and pants and call it a costume?”

“if you want to, we can.” the redhead smiled, shaking her head. “we can be anything your little heart desires. now, one last bite?”

and one last bite it was.

you liked that natasha didn’t clap and cheer when you finished your plate. too many times you’d been told “i’m so, so proud of you!” or “i can’t believe you actually finished!”, it was annoying. those types of things always made you feel like a child who couldn’t do anything to begin with.

instead, natasha went with a gentle “i knew you could do it” and went to put the dish in the sink. it felt nice to have someone really believe in you.

“c’mon, we can get ahead on our horror movie watching a little early.”

natasha went to grab your hand, leading you into the livingroom and onto the couch. you tensed when her arm wrapped around your body.

gross. disgusting. she shouldn’t touch you.

“hey, where’d you go just now?”

“hm? nowhere. i’m here.” she knew you were lying, but decided not to push.

natasha’s hand moved from your side up to your head, scrunching her fingers together to scrape her nails against your scalp.

not good. tainted. dirty. wrong.

“what movie would you like to watch?” she clicked the remote and scrolled through a series of horror movies.

ruined.

“bride of chucky?” when she didn’t receive a reply she pressed play anyway, knowing it was one of your favorites.

natasha tried her best to keep you as distracted as possible. she went from letting you play with her hair and rings to asking questions about the movie, despite already knowing the answers.

“we should go as chucky and tiffany. don’t you think? i’ve already got the red hair.”

why would you do that?

“yeah, that’d be fun.” your voice cracked, causing natasha’s previous hand movements to come to a halt.

“is there anything i can do to help you right now?”

“i just don’t want to be here right now.” natasha’s eyes widened, and you quickly went to clarify what you meant. “no- no- not like that! not like that at all. i just… i don’t know, i feel stupid.”

“why?”

“we have a bathroom. i just ate.” not a second later and natasha put the pieces together.

“oh.”

you nodded, “it’s stu-”

“it’s not stupid. it’s triggering.”

natasha moved to get off the couch, disappearing out of your sight. you didn’t have the energy to try and see what she was doing, so you stayed put.

“let’s go for a drive. i know a spot you might like. it’s quiet, away from the city. we can just talk or listen to music. we could also just sit in silence if you want, i don’t mind. whatever it takes until you feel ready to come back.”

you didn’t bother trying to tell her that she didn’t have to do this because she wouldn’t listen anyway. natasha’s stubbornness was honestly one of the few things that’s saved you.

“nirvana? stevie nicks? what are you in the mood for?” natasha asked you softly, thumb tapping her screen as she scrolled through her spotify playlists.

“will you play kurt’s version of the man who sold the world, please?”

“of course. and you know you’re always welcome to change the song. i put it on shuffle though.”

the ride there was more relaxing than you thought it would be. your mind and body were too focused on the lyrics of the song and fiddling with natasha’s free hand. the thoughts were still there, just not as loud as before.

soon enough, you and natasha both laid flat against the back of her car staring up at the moon. it was still. no noise could be heard apart from the sound of crickets a few feet away.

you had room to think, room to breathe.

you thought about what some of your friends were doing right now. you’d seen pictures on instagram of them representing their college, a couple of party posts, and the occasional travel selfie.

those were all the things you wanted to do, but couldn’t. it was easy to let yourself feel jealous. sure, you were more than grateful to have natasha, but there’s nothing fun about being in a relationship with someone so self-destructive. there was no doubt natasha loved you, but it’s hard to love someone who doesn’t want to be loved; or at least acts like they don’t.

so the choice was once again up to you. what was more important? spending days wasting away over something you’ll never reach? or living a new life, one that could be exciting, outside of your eating disorder?

“what’s on your mind?” natasha questioned, turning her head to the side to get a better view of your face. your cheeks were more hallow than she remembered and it made her stomach turn.

you hummed, “i was so caught up in my own pain i didn’t realize how much i was hurting everyone else around me. this race to be perfect; look where it got me.”

natasha didn’t know what the right thing to say was. your statement wasn’t necessarily wrong, so she couldn’t argue against it.

“i used to tell myself that my eating disorder never took anything from me. everyone always had something, whether it be a sport, or theater, or dance. i didn’t have that. and then i realized that’s exactly what my eating disorder took away from me. i haven’t done anything in the past decade except go through the motion. every day up until now i’ve lived to obey my eating disorder.”

there was pause, another inhale and another exhale.

“you could say i have someone; my family or friends, but after awhile they get tired. they stop trying and asking. they stop caring. a few years down the road and now i have a strained relationship with everyone i used to be close with. i guess it made it easier to accept what would inevitably happen to me.”

you turned to face her, a shaky breath leaving your mouth. “i don’t want to die, nat.”

the redhead had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from crying. she couldn’t imagine a life without you, she didn’t want to imagine it.

“had i known when i was a kid that this would be my life i would’ve never continued on like this.”

“you still have time, you can still get better.” she reasoned.

“i know, it’s just hard.”

“you’re in the fight for your life, it won’t ever be easy.” natasha affirmed. “but i know you can do this.”

“we’ll see.”

. . .

*gasp* an eating disorder fic that doesn’t revolve around the fear of getting fat? v tired of that stereotype pleek not everyone with an ed is like that.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanov x reader #black widow x reader #natasha x reader #tw: eating disorder

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dothediscokim · 3 years

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in season 2 of house now. still need to watch further in this rewatch of house. comparisons are small and limited, but enough that give me au brain worms for doctor harrier du bois and i'm gonna bullet point out some ideas for a hospital/medical au for disco elysium inspired by house so please wait with abate breathe while i figure it out how this would work for an au

i'd say join me in watching house, warning about plenty of angst and good old 2000s queerbaiting except this show they really start to hand it to you in s4 and s6 and then crush your soul in s8... anyways some spoilers as i explain some logistics of this idea; this definitely wouldn't be a 1:1 kind of au; but the key concepts. some warnings of spoilers for house under the cut but not too major

admittedly some of this will fall apart just given this is a US show and DE is very european and i'm a us citizen and fan, so i've got a hardwired american-centric framing of mind Buuuuuutt adjustments can be made the comparisons are more the key concept and not the detail comparison

key concepts

asshole addict doctor (house) - translate to pre-amnesia harrier

said doctor is an absolute brilliant genius in his field (diagnostician) - translation here being we are given the idea that harry was a genius detective; so again why we'd translate house to harry

patients come in as cases that are sudden and the diagnosis is hard to find at first

house can be mischievous around the hospital and to his co-workers; wants interesting cases, works in odd ways -> see again harry

the 41st definitely not 1:1 translating onto the rest of the cast; but the general idea of the tight-ish knit / somewhate special unit that is hired/picked out by house -> again literally harry created the unit, and house has his ducklings

reminder that the hospital that house works out; is a very specific kind of house, and that is it is a teaching hospital, so it has med students and the doctors and heads of departments do have lectures at the local university/college to the med students, and med students come to work or take residence at the teaching hospital ( house with his ducklings as its called in the fandom -> house picked them out to be on his "team" for solving and brainstorming possible diagnosis and treatments ) anyways that's where you can see that 41st' mcu woudl translate into that and dynamics aren't specifically needed as a 1:1

okay so 41st in a hospital

the people in house's "unit" and house's co-workers and "friends" are usually the ones that have to cover for house, or defend house when he does something that risk the hosptial reputation or funding (there's a whoel plot) and Cuddy & Wilson specifically get on House's case about his ethics but are also the biggest two that will fight for house as a doctor

so that's why I'd read Jean here as sort of both; since it's obvious Jean did that A LOT for Harry

and then for a small, not 1:1 comparsion ; but we meet house when he is still pining for his ex after 5 years ( it's a whole plot line in s1 ), and just interesting cause dora and harry were 6 years and that wrecked harry.. andi mean house was wrecked by it, but there was an additional layer of house's leg ( which is a big thing for the house and about house; it's why he is addicted to pain killers, because he suffered an <cant' think of word> related to his leg, and now suffers chronic pain and uses a cane and gets addicted to pain killers and i am not explaining this too well at all )

anywyas somewhat lining up is harry and house get stuck on exs and love very much; but harry definitely in a worse way since he has the whole goddess religious elevation; but house and this ex ( who comes a character and appears as a plotline for a few episodes ) just I DONT KNOW my brain is hyperfixated on Disco Elysium so the brian worms are gonna find everything they can to link everyhting bakc to disco elysium hence this whole post about house au for disco elysium

but also another reason for comparison is the kind of nihilism that house and harry exhibit and the addiction and the slight suicidal idealation

also just very surface comparison; but house has his limp in one leg, and then by the end of disco elysium harry takes the bullet to the leg, and has the limp in the leg and just IDK leg thing

it'd probably work best-ish as harry/jean-ish, though again the main relationship in the show is the friendship (that feels very queerbaity) with hilson; but i wouldnt say wilson and jean line up too well, like i said this au and coverting house core concepts to disco elysium as an idea or using house md as a sort of ground work, but the comparsions are very minimal, but anyways this would probably start with pre-apocalyptic amnesia harry, because house is a manipulative asshole and addict and that's what we can infer from the former harrier, and then s5 (spoilers) is when house's addiction starts to cause hallucinations and this could be the place for apocalyptical amnesia for good old harry to be inserted in the idea, and just i don't the basis of hilson/house is a long term friendship; and you'd see with jean/harry more so over all... compared to say kim/jean. but kim could special feature.

#disco elysium #have these brain worms #might do another bullet point thought and focus MORE on like how this au could actually work out #and then adjust everything to fit and just bullet point you some ideas about doctor harry and shit #and the 41st MCU is hospital staff and the rcm is just standardized hospitals and the 41st is a specifically teaching hospital

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system-of-a-feather · 4 years

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Hello! I was wondering if you had any tips for balancing work/college/life with DID and the stress along side it? And for #2: do you have any tips for bringing up DID to a therapist? I've been questioning if I have this for a few years and I've been seeing her for a year, but a large part of me keeps telling/yelling at me to not ask her for many different reasons. The words just get stuck in my throat and I don't know how to bring it up. Sorry abt the length of this, but thank you!!!

PerOh boy these are two long / large questions I could probably go on a bit about. I’m going to hold back a bit since I have a tendency to ramble, but if you have any follow up questions / elaborations feel free to ask!

Balancing Work / College / Life

The two largest key skills to work on to help balancing all of that is 1) communication with the rest of the system 2) learning grounding techniques.

Communication within the system is a bit of a cop out answer I feel, but it really is integral to living / coping with DID and trying to make life work around it. If alters aren’t on the same page about what is wanted and needed from life and aren’t on the same page on what is valuable in life, then things tend to get messy in everyone’s overall life as interests conflict, experiences aren’t communicated, memories and gaps in memory can get hard to fill properly, and a lack of communication promotes a lack of stability (and improved communication promotes more stability). I also find that personally with better communication, we have less severe dissociative states that DON’T cause a switch so it is less times when it comes to being unfocused.

Also when it comes down to communication, it also really helps in managing all the stress that comes along with it since - to be quite honest - in my personal experience it often feels like there is always some level of a crisis (mental health or otherwise) going on at all times with little break in between. By working on improving how well each alters know each other and work with one another and creating a synergy / rhythm / balance for all parts to aid in life and how to handle these crisises can make the stress of dealing with them a lot less.... overwhelming I suppose?

Like I’ve gotten used to it, but at this point when a major issue comes up, I have general trust that our system has a way to navigate it and have generally understood ways of minimizing the damage and promoting healing and can generally trust one another to try to help one another.

For working on communication, that can vary from person to person and can kind of come with trauma processing / exposure therapy / reaching out internally, but one thing I always like to say is a good idea is to try to figure out some from of external communication that can be relied upon. It can be a bit difficult to get all alters on board to take part in a journal or similar, but when you get down to it, if one can be established, it can be a decent mechanism to reliably communicate issues since internal communication can be really patchy at times XD

Our system has three different discords - one that is for socializing with friends, one that is the general private one for only our system and the members, and a third that is run by our gatekeeper and has selective access to certain channels to facilitate conversation while keeping parts that aren’t ready to handle topics out of it. We each have our own independent accounts and go on the honor system not to look into eachothers unless it is important / necessary.

In terms of grounding techniques, those are in place for the moments when you are dissociating / having a flashback or anything similar and you can’t switch, aren’t safe to switch, and/or just need to stay out as yourself. There are a lot of things that can be done and I would honestly recommend doing a google search for them, but typically in my experience sensory items can help a lot. I over use my hand sanitizer since it is cold, wet, and lets me focus on my hands and where I am touching. Ice water can be good and helpful. I’ve been told by my therapist that simulating running can help ground, but I always forget it when I get like that XD Its kinda a “find what works” sort of thing.

Bringing DID Up to a Therapist

To be honest, I haven’t had the best in person experience with it XD I didn’t really mention it to my first therapist and he considered it himself but considering he wasn’t trained and we were covert and in heavy denial, he kinda went “nah”. The therapist I saw for a session that redirected me to my current therapist I just went “uhhh I have dissociative symptoms and they are like this” and she went “Oh I can’t work with that lemme get you someone who can.” And my current therapist I think I was like “idk I’ve got these dissociative issues” when I walked in since that was an issue that got in the way with my first therapist and why I was redirected to him and I don’t actually remember the details but lowkey was like at a point like “wellllll I useeed to have these fragment-personality like things and I have this issue with it like coming back up and my last therapist was worried I had DID because of how I talked about my online vs offline i dunnoooooo”

So like XD I don’t really have the best personal experience to talk from since I didn’t talk about it much at all with my first therapist, my 1.5th therapist didn’t see me past “I have pretty bad dissociation”, and my second therapist now jokes about “how I wasn’t entirely honest about my symptoms / system in the beginning”. Plus when it comes to psychiatrists, I’m generally hesitant and either straight up tell them or just dont tell them at all which I wouldn’t recommend all the time.

Personally, from how I know therapy should work, if you are comfortable and feel it is safe to discuss with the therapist (as in you feel she listens to you, has treated you well, you have a good relationship / dynamic and you feel comfortable / safe around her) then I would just bring up the concern. Something along the lines of “Hey I have been experiencing [insert reasons why you are concerned you might] and I was curious if we could screen / see if this is a dissociative disorder / DID”

Typically - unless you do not trust or feel safe with a therapist - it is best to be up front and straight forward with your concerns and if you are curious on their opinion of a diagnosis / to look into it being a possibility, that it is often best just to ask. Therapy is meant for you so it is always alright to say “hey I have concerns I might have ___ because of ____, can we discuss that as a possibility for this session?”

Also not part of the question, but if you are ever confused about your diagnosis, it is always okay to ask “Hey can we go over my ___? I want to understand it better” or something similar.

-Riku (Host)

#ask #asks #coping with did #coping #communication #alter: riku #actuallydid #dissociative identity disorder #therapy

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theworldsoul · 3 years

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I'm concerned. I'm not expecting any notes on this, but whatever. I hate how this has become a vent blog, but whatever. I need to talk about this.

I was sorta in a good mood today and I was talking about my interests all happy, talking about my fave slipknot member, my fave homestuck trolls, my fave mcr member, my fave animes, like idk I just felt happy.

I was talking cos my mom said she would listen but the whole time I was trying to talk about my interests she kept interjecting with these weird questions and comments and I felt like she didnt care about what I was saying, or like she wasn't listening??? And it was lowkey hurtful because these are... my interests. I'm really into this stuff. Like "hey, I'm gonna talk about things I like."

But the concerning part is the things she interrupted with. Like... it's very insensitive of her to bring up dark shit like that when I'm... happy... talking about my fave bands.... its VERY insensitive. The very mention of these things makes me UPSET but she doesn't seem to care? I need to mentally prepare to talk about these things. Talking about these things makes me feel drained and upset the rest of the day. These things HURT. It's like I was stabbed and I'm slowly pulling the blade out. So to try and talk about it when I'm caught off guard is so fucking insensitive, so fucking mean and HURTFUL. Okay? I found that hurtful. Obviously she doesnt know what shes talking about really, like the way she speaks I can TELL she doesnt know what shes talking about, but idk, it still hurts. Even if that wasnt her intention.

She kept being like "how are you feeling... inside? How are you feeling about your body? Are you still trans? Was it a phase? Are you depressed? Are you okay? I want you to see a psychologist" With this Concerend Voice and this Worried Face And like... woah okay way to barrage me with deep shit the moment I sit down to relax and be happy. I wasnt ready for these sorts of questions so I got scared.

My mom doesnt get like this unless she notices I've hurt soemone or myself. My parents dont start to care until someone's been physically hurt. I ask her why shes being so weird. She responds with "I've seen something I shouldn't have."

THATS SO FUCKING CONCERNING. WHAT DID SHE SEE? my bloody band aids and shit are still there, my knife is still there, nothings been touched in my room. Where my shorts too short today? Was my thigh visible? Did she see my breakdown on the sidewalk?

I never got to know the details of what she had seen and how, because she started saying shit like "u better not be cutting omg I'm gonna tell ur dad :) if you wont tell me :)" and she was acting all upset but like... DOES SHE REALIZE THE HARM SHES DOING? if she tells my dad he will be angry. Bye bye phone, bye bye video games, music, art, bye bye anything I ever loved, hello intense therapy that I'm just gonna lie my way through anyway.

So like, all these questions about "are you cutting urself? Show me. You better not be." Made me fucking SCARED. I'm afraid. I feel like a little rabbit running away from a wolf. I said I was tired, wanted to sleep, and I got the hell outta there.

But I'm concerend. Because she KNOWS I relapsed. I might be punished for this. And I dont want to be.

I don't want to see a fucking psychologist either. I'm fucking done with psychologists. Nobody can understand the complexities of my issues like I can. Nobody can understand like I do. Nobody can help me except myself. I've seen a few and... I never really told EVERYTHING. Some things are too personal to tell people. Some things are too serious. Some things will get you in trouble, in deep fucking trouble. Some things I can't discuss with any sort of adult in my life.

I just need to.... pull myself together?

God its painful. I don't think I'll ever get better. I just need to get better at hiding it, keeping it down. Not acting up.

I barely even know what's wrong myself, how is someone who doesnt even know me gonna help. How. Literally I've had them deny anything was wrong with me, I've had them tell me i was a horrible person, I've had them upset at me.... only good therapist I've ever had was the one who diagnosed me with GD. But that's because it was for a diagnosis. In and out. Quick.

Now I need to deal with complex, deep rooted issues and I DONT WANT TO!!!! I dont want to go to fucking therapy and cry and come out feeling like I've been beat up and go in the car pretending I wasnt just crying 2 seconds ago in some office.

All this shit that's resurfacing? I give up. I'm not gonna deal with it. I'm gonna push it right back where it was before in the back of my mind in a locked box. Because that's where it's best kept. It's too MUCH to discuss and work thru. It's too complex... so complex I feel like I cant tell truth from fiction.... too complex to discuss and work thru.

Best to just pretend it never happened.

AND MOVE ON!!! IM SUCH A STUPIF FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT IDIOT. Why am I stuck on old stuff that happened a long time ago. Why. Get over it pussy. Get over it you stupid fucking baby. I'll kill you.

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sup4l3e · 3 years

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I’m Crazy...

I’m insane...

I've lost the plot..

I'm hopeless..

I'm worthless..

I'm unloveable..

I'm pathetic..

I'm weird..

I'm strange..

I'm not okay...

I'm a psycho... (ok this one for me might be true... question it, go on try it! i dare you! ;0 lol)

BUT...

I AM!!!

Those are just some of the things my own mind tells me on a daily basis ... yes here it comes a blog about anxiety and depression... omg!! i know right the cliche of it all. like who hasnt written a blog about depression before ...

oh woe is me! am i right?

well... thats where you're wrong!

(before i start i want no sympathy im not writing this for the "aww's" and the "bless her" comments, i dont want sympathy or empathy ... this is simply because ive experienced and lived with depression for about 14 years and if i can help one person feel better about themselves by reading this or help someone realise that they are not alone then, well, i can rest easy tonight. If anything i want to empower people)

I lived for so many years in the dark, keeping all of this too myself and you know what it did? absolutely sweet FA apart from making me so much worse, it gave ammunition to those little voices, telling me all of the above, making them win!

i didnt realise until about 2-3 years ago that talking about my experiences and how im feeling would help.

i didnt realise until about 2-3 years ago how many other people around me were going through the EXACT same thing.

Two and a half years ago i was a completely different person, i was sheltered, i was in a very toxic relationship ... with myself. Most people would disagree, they'd say i was actually in a toxic relationship with my ex partner; but i cant blame him. Dont get me wrong he was toxic and looking back i was lucky to get out when i did, however i am also grateful too him, because he showed me exactly what i dont want in my life. and being fair to him i'd lived with my own toxicity in my mind for a good 10 years before him, so god forbid i'd give him the satisfaction of all that praise coz by god did i do a damned good number on myself without any of his help. ;)

In all honestly though, i do blame myself and my own mind, because 2 and a half years ago those little voices in my own head were the only thing i was listening to, they were winning. I wasnt listening to my family who were worried sick about me, who were practically begging me to tell them what was going on in my head, who i shut out, ignored and pushed away because i couldnt cope and you know what? they didnt deserve that at all. i live everyday regretting that i put them through that, So i now live everyday hoping to make them proud of me and live each and everyday with a promise. I do however live every day regretting that i didnt let them in earlier because if i had of i wouldnt have gone through the hell i did and i wouldnt have genuinely believed "this is what i deserve" "no-one else will love you" "no-one else wants you" "no-one cares"... i wouldnt have had too live a LIE.

The lie was people did love me, i just couldnt see it, people did care about me, i just wouldnt hear it, i needed their help, i just wouldnt speak it; because at that point in time my own mind was telling me that i didnt deserve any of that, and that nobody would ever want to do that for me. So i found sactuary in a toxic person who in the long run made me the strong person i am today because if it werent for him i'd never have the confidence in myself knowing what i overcame, and if it werent for him i wouldnt have seen my family and loved ones take charge and say "Leanne enough is enough" .. they gave me the metaphorical slap across the face i damned well needed and brought me back to reality, they categorically wouldnt allow that behaviour to carry on anymore and for that i will forever be grateful!

i made a promise to them that day that i would always tell them when i was getting low again and i made a promise to myself that day that i would keep them in the forefront of my mind in all of my decisions and i would also promise to try and help anyone else who was ever in the same position i was in.

depression is a funny old thing, everyone will experience some form of depression throughout their life, some people are genetically wired to experience it, some people will experience it from a young age, some dont experience it until very late on in life, some experience it from sad/happy/overwhelming life events, some unlucky souls just never find happiness. but no matter what EVERYONE will, at somepoint experience depression. in this blog im going to try and explain how i've learned to manage and cope with mine.

A bit of a backstory of my depression, it started around the age of 14-15, my depression. I dont know where it came from but it was right around the time of my GCSE's, college, boys, hormones, and being diagnosed with PCOS (for those of you who dont know what that is its Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome) i was told at a young age of 14 that i had some sort of syndrome which "would only matter when i got older", and that i had some of the prettiest ovaries the sonographer and gyneacologist had ever seen... in hindsight that wasnt going to be the compliment i first thought it was or the dismissive statement they portrayed it and brushed it off as, at all! THAT diagnosis changed alot of my life, however i will get back to that.

As most teens do around here I started studying for my GCSE's at just 15 years old. i was so stressed out i started actually hearing a screaming voice in my head. i suffered panic attacks daily, sometimes a few attacks a day, and that is where my anxiety started and then, good old depression smashed me in the face. i found the more stressed i became, the more id hear that screaming inside my head which then lead me to thinking " holy fucking shitballs im hearing voices im actually insane" therefore leading to more anxiety and panic attacks. so much so i would come home exhausted at 4pm everyday crawl into my pyjamas and climb into bed ready to do it all again the following day. (dont get me wrong i sat most nights on msn using the latest flashing emojis for EACH and EVERY letter of the alphabet, to the point it looked more like hyroglyphics and obviously getting the colours just right with the codes to make your name and status show in a rainbow. but that was all done in pj's curled up in bed because i couldnt manage much else ... however, if my mam asks i was revising and doing my homework THE. WHOLE. TIME, not talking to my friends about how hot a certain crush's bum looked that day ha! am i right! :P xoxo)

This was all a massive thing for me to go through aswell, due to the fact my dad has mental health issues and lives with schizophrenia, so, naturally at this point, you can imagine i was picturing myself in padlocked straight jackets and padded cells, talking away to the screaming voice in my head. the funniest thing was this screaming voice wasnt saying anything nasty or bad it was just my thoughts screaming at me like everything was angry, so genuinely just everyday life thoughts but those screaming at me, like, imagine thinking "leanne dont forget to pack your PE kit" but in the voice of Gunnery Sergeant Hartman from Full Metal Jacket... it. was. TERRIFYING!

Anyways, so yes high school was a massive contributor, then i made the choice to leave college at 17 because i, like many others, didnt have the faintest clue what i wanted to be when i grew up (little did i know id live the life of peter pan and neverland would be my sesh house OIOI!!!) In leaving college i went into full time work, as a 'temp job' until i decided what i was going to do... unfortunately, 8 and a half years later i was still their prisoner! haha, Nah, dont get me wrong i met some absolutely amazing people in that job and i did love it but i knew at the end, if i didnt get out it was going to kill me off. I'd gotten to the point in that job that i cried myself to sleep knowing i had to go back in the next day. that place contributed alot to my depression not because it was a bad job but because id made a wrong decision and was stuck there. i had to leave.

my next massive contributor, and this is where i divulge some of my REAL heartbreaks. PCOS - Poly Cystic Ovarian Syndrome or what i like to call Poly fucking Cystic fucking Ovary fucking Syndrome or "lets just fuck shit up!" (no im not bitter about it at all lol) because of this shit, from the very young age of 14 (like puberty isnt hard enough - spots, hair in places you never wanted boobs growing overnight, bleeding once a month being the biggest inconvenience) i have also had to deal with weight issues, hersuitism, depression, anxiety, hormones that sent me bat shit crazy, pain, headaches, fatigue, you name it i had it. but the biggest heartbreak, being told that id always have difficulty concieving and carrying a child. Anyone who knows me, and knows me well, knows i have always wanted to be a mam. (and not the sesh mam who looks after all my drunken idiotic friends on a night out ... coz i swear thats all they ever think i do lol) I mean a real mam, to a real baby. and being told at a young age that i had the prettiest ovaries the gyneacologist had ever seen wasnt the compliment i thought it was because it turned out my ovaries were absolutely covered in cysts. And for years i have tried to have a baby but alas nothing ever happens. i've had a few close calls and ive miscarried, or at least i think i did, the test came back positive but then about 3 days after that pretty pink second line, i had the heaviest period i had ever had for around 4 hours and then my body went back to normal as if nothing happened. it broke my heart.

They say the human body is delicate and intricate and should be treated with respect... i say its a machine and its a absolute twat at times, and why should i respect what in essence has caused me heartbreak from a young age FOR NO FUCKING REASON. but hey ho... life. goes. on.

so... thats my life story or just a snippet of it. and some of the reasons why i have depression.

heres how i cope...

Well, for a long time.. and i mean a VERY LONG time i didnt. i hid it, i hid away from the world. i drank alot. i avoided family, i avoided my best friends, i avoided anything that would have brought me back to reality.

For a long time though, thats what i needed. now im not saying running away from your issues is easy and thats what you should do because its definitely not. im saying i NEEDED to do it at the time because i had no other way of coping and i NEEDED too to learn what not to do in the future. So masking, for me, was better than facing things 'alone'. In that time though, i made my issues alot worse and in fact caused more issues. it hurt my family, my friends and well hurt myself too, because in the long run i still had to sober up and i still had to deal with the same issues that got me down in the first place, i ended up in debt which contributed further too my issues. I did some very silly things which when i look back on them now i could have hurt so many people. i took an overdose of painkillers at one point around 2 and a half years ago. I felt so weak i saw no other outcome but instantly regretted doing it and made myself sick so that they came back up. i've told my mother and close friends about this previously but i think to really show how much i've learned and to reach out to anyone who is feeling the same way i did, to tell them IT REALLY DOES GET BETTER AND EASIER. i think saying that, shows my honesty throughout this post and allows for my experience and honesty really show that i want to help anyone going through the same thing.

Masking just makes the pain go away for a short period of time. learning from your pain and making it your strength is how you really overcome your own mind and depression.

It wasnt until i realised i was never alone, just how selfish and stupid id been all that time, because in masking, hiding and running away, id stupidly stopped myself from a faster recovery, less heartache, less pain and mental and physical torture. and really i stopped myself from helping others in the same position as me.

it wasnt until i learned to make my pain my strength that i truly found peace in who i am.

i still have days where those voices wont shut up, and they win and thats ok.

i still have days where i cannot climb out of bed and thats ok.

i still have days where i cry and the pain is too much and thats ok.

because i learned all of it really is ok! everyone has those same thoughts the same feelings the same illnesses. and i know that tomorrow WILL be a better day.

you just need to learn how to make it and own it as your own!

nothing has changed for me, all of those things are still true they're still real, my body hasnt miraculously healed itself, i still made poor life choices, it hasnt changed my hormonal imbalances but it has changed my mindset. it has changed my life. i made a choice to change my mindset and not let it beat me i decided to let people in. my family are my guardian angels because they never gave up on me, they dragged it out of me and frogmarched me to the doctors for the help i needed but some people dont have that support in their lives.

i'm lucky enough now, to have lived with this for long enough to know my signs, and when i know what i call, "going dark" is coming. basically when i start slipping and losing control of it again, i identify it and know how to manage it head on. unfortunately my body because of the stupid "intricate machine" i have and how broken it is (believe me the day i can swap out into an AI robot body imma sign straight up for that shit imma have me a body like Jennifer Anniston) my body however tends to go into a meltdown, i end up with more migraines, pain and infections. i also get extremely tired to the point i can sleep for a good 15-20 hours a day and thats not me being lazy (although if sleeping were an olympic sport i'd be the universal champion of it BED=LIFE) thats really me needing to reset. at that point in time when i know this is coming, thats when i reach out; i tell my friends and my family "I'm not okay" because i know now i can do that, i can talk to them.

i, personally, take medication daily, and for some reason we live in a society where people are actually shamed for doing so. i know if i dont take those 2 little tablets every day i will lose control and become a shell of who i really am. my seratonin levels drop and i practically become a robot barely functioning. so why should i be ashamed of those 2 little 'happy pills' which make me the person i want to be and know i truly am! no chemical imbalance is going to get the better of me! if i can have the help, im damned sure going to take it. along with the happy pills, aswell as alot of sleep, sunbeds, spending time with family and friends whenever i possibly can, i now have a job that i love, i also retrained as a beautician, and i love going to the gym and swimming whenever i can, ive found i can manage mine alot better. one thing that massively changed my life was limitting when i drink. i rarely go out drinking anymore and the reason is because i know deep down i will end up in a very low state afterwards. alcohol is a depressant and i wont allow that kind of thing to get me down. so now instead i choose to drink once a month if not less. i havent cut out the drink completely i just know if i want to get blinding drunk i need to be in a very happy place to do so. so i am careful where i drink, who i drink with and what i do whilst im drinking and unfortunately much to my neighbours disgust that tends to be in the house whilst singing along to whitney houston or disney songs at the top of my lungs, but thats how i know i'll not plummet the day after, and lets face it anyone whose heard me singing knows whitney had nothing on me ;)

In all seriousness though, the best advice i can give anyone living with depression is talk to someone, talk to your family, talk to your neighbour, talk to your friends, talk to your doctor, talk to your dog, your cat, the postman, the man on the bus who sits oddly close too you... just talk to anyone. tell them how you are feeling tell them your experiences. tell them what is getting to you. Find someone who you can trust, find a stranger. write it all down in a blog. video it. GET IT ALL OFF YOUR CHEST! SAY IT OUT LOUD! Just. Bloody. Talk! please!

everyones experiences with depression are different some people mask it, some people show it, some people (like me now) shout it from the fucking rooftops because im not afraid of my emotions anymore.

everyones ways of coping are different too, some people find the gym helps, some rely on medication, some rely on talking therapies... there are so many different ways of coping out there now... the only way that doesnt work is not admitting something is wrong and fighting your own mind without help, knowing something isnt right but still doing nothing about it. The only way of not coping is living a lie, you dont have to do this alone!

Basically do those things just for you, the ones you've always wanted to do! get that tattoo you wanted, quit your job, retrain, change your hair colour, buy that car, buy that dog, book that holiday.

do what makes YOU happy!

live for you and open up, people would rather know how you are feeling than see you struggle or ultimately not be here.

open up you never know someone might be feeling the exact same way you are and it could bring you closer.

but remember most importantly:

You ARE NOT Alone..

You ARE NOT Crazy..

You ARE NOT insane..

You HAVE NOT lost the plot..

You ARE NOT hopeless..

You ARE NOT worthless..

You ARE NOT unloveable..

You ARE NOT pathetic..

You ARE NOT weird..

You ARE NOT a psycho..

You ARE NOT strange..

And..

You ARE okay...

You ARE Beautiful..

You ARE Worth it..

YOU ARE Loved

i hope this helps...

thank you ☺

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lcofowler · 4 years

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THE CHARACTER STATISTICS

FULL NAME — leopold kristoff fowler

NICKNAME — leo pretty exclusively methinks........ one of his brother’s used to call him krissy to annoy him n stopped after leo finally punched him over it snickers

D.O.B. — november 12th, 1996

LINK TO THEIR PINTEREST BOARD OR TAG ON YOUR BLOG — board | tag

STAR SIGN / MOON & RISING — scorpio sun, sagittarius moon, virgo ascending

MBTI — estp - the entrepeneur

MORAL ALIGNMENT — chaotic neutral

MARITAL STATUS & SEXUALITY — single & pansexual

LANGUAGES — english & dutch

TALENTS / HOBBIES — guitar, bass, drumming, partying titters, soccer, wastes way too much time making tiktoks

TOP 5 MUSICIANS — creedence clearwater revival, dababy :/, elvis presley, run the jewels, glass animals

FAVOURITE BOOK — has he ever even read a book................. a genuine good question. definitely liked some comics tho, like the walking dead ones probs

FAVOURITE FILM & TV SHOW — hes tht person whose fav movie is like . step brothers or something. like i unironically think leo loves tht movie n im sry abt it. he jst doesnt rly care wht he watches at all bt stupid humour like tht wld probs entertain him enough if he was watching something on his own / was attached to the walking dead cuz of the comics but otherwise doesn’t watch too many tv, probs watches marj’s Soaps w her whenever he has free time

FAVOURITE VIDEO GAME — i dnt kno much abt video games. he was probs more of an outdoors than video game kid bt feel like he’d like games w a story like life is strange or dumb ones tht rnt taken seriously n u can jst play simply on ur laptop like coming out on top or tht old computer game façade

WHAT DID THEY DO THIS PAST SUMMER? — worked A Lot to make up fr the damage he’d done after his last Episode at a local grocery store, jst hung out n partied w friends mostly otherwise

WHERE HAVE THEY TRAVELLED? — florida n new york mostly in the states before connecticut, amsterdam a lot, greece and italy as well

DO THEY TAKE ANY PRESCRIPTIONS? — has been given a fuck ton of mood stabilizers to try n hes only jst recently started Actually taking carbatrol tht hes been prescribed after basically being begged to by his aunt n uncle

DO THEY HAVE ANY DIAGNOSIS’S? — bipolar i, adhd

FICTIONAL CHARACTER THEY ARE MOST LIKE? — stu from scream (minus the murder lawl), jj maybank from outer banks, valerio from elite, ransom from knives out (minus the murder once more this pattern is getting scary)

ARE THEY EMPLOYED? WHERE DO THEY WORK? — yes they work as a florist at his aunt n uncle’s flower store fowler’s flowers! steve was so proud of all his hard work this summer he promoted leo to supervisor! :D

WERE THEY POPULAR IN HIGH SCHOOL? — he was definitely talked about, but he also went to like 5 diff high schools, people jst basically heard rumours n saw the stupid stuff he did n if they stuck around to see it it was merely bc they wanted to see if he had the balls to go through with his next stupid plan instead of with the intent of friendship or anything like that

DO THEY DO DRUGS? — ya he kinda jst does wtvr

DRINK? — too much yes.

SMOKE CIGARETTES? — not as much as he used to

SMOKE WEED? — a bit mostly if someone else offers it up

WHERE WERE THEY BORN? WHERE DID THEY GROW UP? — he was born in tallahassee but grew up between there n manhattan a lot depended on wht parent wasnt sick of him yet titters

DO THEY PLAN TO GO TO GRAD SCHOOL? — he doesn’t even kno if he’s gna make it thru his undergrad

WHAT ARE THEIR PLANS POST-GRADUATION? — there are none..... he wldnt b surprised if he jst ended up working at fowler’s flowers fr the rest of his life hes jst so comfortable there n has no idea wht hes gna do.

PARENTS NAMES — renata & archibald (mom n dad), marjorie & steven (aunt n uncle, current guardians)

DO THEY HAVE SIBLINGS? NAMES & AGES? — Yeth theres augustus (28), mikhael (26), vaughn (21), n willhelm (18)

DO THEY HAVE PETS? TYPES & NAMES? — mitzie’s a tortoiseshell cat tht lives at marj n steve’s tht he does love quite dearly bt thts it

ARE THEY RELIGIOUS? WHAT IS THEIR RELIGION IF SO? — lawl no, his dad is 7th day adventist tugs my shirt collar but leo hated it growing up, is pretty spiritual tho thanks to marj n steve

HOW MANY PEOPLE HAVE THEY SLEPT WITH? — god. a Lot. 100+ frankly idek........ he jst doesnt care.

WHAT VEHICLE DO THEY DRIVE? IF THEY DON’T DRIVE, HOW DO THEY TRAVEL AROUND TOWN? — he doesn’t have his own car but he borrows his aunt n uncle’s if they’re not using it, rides his bike around a lot

DESCRIBE THEIR FASHION — so . insanely all over the place. jst doesn’t care. once wore a pair of his aunts leggings to a fkin funeral bc he didnt have anything clean. wore a crop top he made with the words ‘this is what gay looks like’ to a job interview. a sweater that said ‘big dick is back in town’ to a family reunion after he hadnt seen his immediate family in like . a year. jst a lot of absurd thrift store finds n wtvr he wants. patterns tht dont match. very proud of his neon green dr martens w aliens on the side. anything loud rly.......

DO THEY PREFER TO BE BEHIND THE CAMERA OR IN FRONT OF IT? — either/or

DO THEY BELIEVE ANY OF THE STORIES ABOUT RADCLIFFE? WHICH ONES? — not really, but he pretends he does and relays them all to his aunt to freak her out bc she RLY believes them

DO THEY THINK THE MOTHMAN IS HOT? — yes<3

A QUOTE THAT DESCRIBES THEM — “It is an act of rebellion to remain present, to go against society’s desire for you to numb yourself, to look away. But we must not look away.”

A SONG THAT THEY WOULD RELATE TO — morning in america - jon bellion

#ruhqtask #ruhqtask001 #ok does rosa's tmrw bc im so tired #sry i didnt get 2 replies either promise im gna get a rly nice nights sleep n fk up the dash tmrw :yum:

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bigskydreaming · 5 years

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fhalkfhaklfhlkak i hate this

TW really truly literally ruined the word ‘spark’ for me. Like the whole damn word. I hear it now and I’m like, NOPE, like...idk, some people who cringe when they hear the word moist or panties. Apologies to anyone who hates those words and cringed, i dont actually know if thats a thing or if like, I just have weird friends. Probably just the latter.

But anyways, Im just like...lmfao. Its so visceral too? Like I have this one original project, Waveriders, that I’ve been fiddling with off and on in the background of other projects for awhile, might have talked about it on here, idk, I don’t keep track.

Basically its a far future sci-fi novel/setting for linked shorter works set on a gas giant that was settled by humans who figured that they can’t possibly be stepping on anyone’s toes there, its a freaking gas giant, hello, no one’s home, right? They literally have to make their own ground by using technology to form anti-gravity wells in the habitable zone of the atmosphere and like, make floating cities and then these kind of buoys scattered across the planet that create these electromagnetic currents that flow in specific ‘routes’ between the cities, and people travel between them in these flying ships that use magnetized hulls and solar sails to ride these currents, and blah blah blah, yada yada yada, bc like, why would I resist an opportunity to have floating cities and sky pirates and ancient cyborg machine dragons? Doesn’t make sense.

Anyway, so couple thousand years after settling this planet, and by then for Plotty Reasons there are people who have what’s called waveriding abilities, like they can ‘hack’ certain wavelengths or types of energy and manipulate them in various ways, but only one kind of energy per person, and they each have their own little names and niches.

So, y’know, basically just like ATLA, except for like, its energy powers and there are cyborg machine dragons and floating cities and sky pirates, obvsly. Plus areas of totally fucked up gravity called the badlands that are all like, criminal underworld metropolis because normal people are like lol nope, we like it when up is up and down is down, all of this is very just...nope. And also because shocking and totally unexpected plot twist, they were totally wrong about the planet being uninhabited just cuz it didn’t have Earth type ground...like, so in addition and on top of and in conjunction with all of the above and whatnot, there are these beings called Chaos Angels, that are basically like sentient quantum waveforms that can take any shape or appearance, but just, have no physical substance and yet are really good at faking that they’re not totally there when they fuck with humans, which they do a lot, because well. Why not, y’know?

But other than that, its exactly like ATLA. I’m a derivative hack. I disgust myself, truly I do.

BUT the point of this particular synaptic misfire aka ADHD ramble, is that so, okay, these different types of not!benders are all called waveriders as an overall umbrella term, but with ten different subsets of this in total, right? So people who can ‘hack’ light and manipulate it in various ways are called brightriders, and people who are tuned into soundwaves are called echo-riders, and some can manipulate the more electricity-skewed side of the electromagnetic spectrum and those are shockriders and the ones who skew more to the magnetic side are steelriders but I’m probably gonna change that because it sounds like a porno? Yeah no, just saw it outside of my notes for the first time and can confirm, definitely sounds like a porno so they’re not gonna be called steel-riders, but they will be called something steel-rider-esque. You get it.

And then there are the five weird ones that people aren’t totally quite sure how their waveriding shticks work because the kinds of energy they hack aren’t like....the kinds that work in the same way as the others with their easily discernible and patternistic wavelengths, and scientists and scholars are always arguing like but skyriders aren’t even in the same FIELD as the other waverider types because gravity isn’t even an actual ENERGY, just because we talk about gravity waves doesn’t mean they’re remotely the same thing as lightwaves, they make no SENSE, and I’m just like hahaha, I am your god, fictional scientists. Fucking deal with it. Plus it does make sense, you just don’t know the Secret Rules and Logistics that I do, pfft.

Anyway, so the other types are boomriders who hack kinetic energy and skyriders of course obviously manipulate gravity, and then the last three are really weird, and super rare and thus don’t really have set names and just have lots of nicknames and are often just thought to be rumors. So those are the bio-riders who manipulate chemical energy though it often gets mistakenly referred to or just handwaved as being ‘life energy’ as though that’s a thing, ugh future way advanced people are so dumb sometimes, honestly. But so they can manipulate biological processes in various ways and do things with healing and also hurting, and basically just don’t piss one off ever. Like. You’ll die. And then there’s the psi-riders, who are essentially psychics and hack brainwaves, and I’m not at all bitter that I lack the balls to just go for broke and call them ghost riders like I want to, because ghost riders obviously sounds way cooler?? But also, Marvel would definitely sue?? Because they’re just, like that.

And like, the last of the Weird Ones are the ones so super rare and also so hard to actually....tell if someone actually IS one, that most people think they don’t actually even exist and are just an unsubstantiated like, theoretical idea some scientist had once while high and then just, never shut up about so eventually the idea caught on. And those are the quantum-riders, or luck-riders, basically they theoretically manipulate quantum wavelengths in ways that are almost impossible to identify, like theoretically they wouldn’t even know they were doing it? Anyway, so lots of times, what are actually quantum-riders are just jealously thought to be like, really fucking lucky assholes. Even though the way their powers work really don’t have anything to do with luck or even probability, specifically, like that’s a simplistic approximation and its more like they manipulate possibilities but also shut up me, nobody cares.

ANYWAY, people who can count and who actually bothered to would probably notice by now like the funky little geniuses they are that all of those still only adds up to nine. And that’s because of the last one, the one that SHOULD go up in the brightrider, shockrider, notpornIswear!steel-rider hierarchy or taxidermy or whatever the fuck. And these are the ones who manipulate what’s essentially thermal energy, or more accurately the microwave-skewing side of the ultraviolet spectrum whereas brightriders are just the ones who skew more to the infrared side of it.

And the long and short of all of this Unnecessary-ness and the source of my fit of pique and ensuing ramble-palooza....is that ORIGINALLY, they were SUPPOSED to be called sparkriders.

But OBVIOUSLY I can’t call them that anymore, because like. I tried, and I was like ugh you drama queen slash whiny pissbaby, it was just a shitty teen supernatural show and SPARK WAS NEVER EVEN CANON, do not let THEM win and ruin a perfectly good classification name! But I did. I did let it ruin them, and its. Well. Its a problem, because I kept thinking up ways to kill off the sparkrider characters for absolutely no reason at all instead of like....thinking up ways to make the plot do what it was outlined to do in their parts of the story.

This may come like, way out of left field, and just SHOCK and STUN and BEWILDER some of you, like....no way, srsly? But yeah, true story, among my many canon mental neuroses like ADHD, PTSD, magical depression hour and super fun anxiety like....there is a tiny possibility (aka actual diagnosis) that while I don’t talk about this much, or ever really, I do have a smidge of ye old OCD? Its not like, a big thing and doesn’t really affect my daily routines and that’s pretty much why I never usually bring it up or list it alongside the rest of the crap on my neurodivergence resumé or whatever, because like, there’s already WAY too many misconceptions out there about what OCD actually is and what constitutes it, and tons of people are always jokingly but also thinking they’re kinda half serious, like ‘oh I’m so OCD about this and this and that’ and its like. LOL. Are you though? You sure?

Anyway, but point being, the way mine manifests for me is like...not actually a problem? Like, I don’t actually have any REAL complaints about it at all, just half-assed little fits of pique ones like this, which is the other part of why I never bring it up, because too often ppl just can’t fathom that OCD or even any kind of neurodivergence can be...WANTED, or a good thing, and lololol, that’s ableism, folks. But its true, I don’t actually mind mine at all, even if it occasionally makes things frustrating, when I get stuck like I am now. But the flip side of it is....its actually a pretty huge part of my creativity and just the way my mind works in general....like, what people accredit to me being particularly insightful about character analysis or drawing connections or stuff like that in meta or fics or my novels or worldbuilding...that’s what it is. That’s my OCD in action.

My brain like...REQUIRES that I find patterns in....pretty much everything. Even day to day mundane stuff too, though like I said, its mild enough there that it doesn’t fuck with my routines too much, but like, I have to order things into nice, neat patterns and groupings. And if there aren’t any that are immediately obvious, I kinda pretty much HAVE to dig deeper until I find some on a slightly deeper level, something beneath the surface or first glance, and keep going until I find something.....or worst case scenario, I have to like....add stuff and embellish and fill in gaps with my own ‘content’ until I have the rough edges rounded off into something that CAN be stacked neatly atop some other part of the story or whatever it is I’m focusing on? And the obsessive-compulsive part for me is like, lol, I gotta find it SOMEWHERE, SOMEHOW.

My brain literally won’t shut off or grudgingly accept being diverted to a different subject until I’ve made some kind of pattern or flowchart or classification system. It will literally keep me up for hours, going over the same things over and over from every angle until I find SOME way to....reassemble or restructure it in some nice, neat little order of some type. I mean that’s basically what it is. My brain insists on me forming some semblance of order out of any glimpse I have of what I would otherwise term creative chaos. And it won’t give up until it gets what it wants, which when you throw in my ADHD and how often I’ll get derailed off on slight tangents but with my OCD then sooner or later forcing me back to the original focus, rinse and repeat ad nauseam....like. LOL. I learned to operate on very little sleep from a pretty young age by necessity, its just...my brain, dudes. Its just like that.

But the perks are like, I pretty much think this is WHY I’m so creative....because my brain, for as long as I can remember, has always just kinda....forced me to be? Also probably has a lot to do with well...eh, I don’t need to talk about that right now. Whatever. Anyway, point being, so....I do like the end results very much so, and for all its....Why Must You Be Like This eccentricities, I’m quite attached to my brain and would not be very likely to agree to a trade even were one possible. I mean don’t get me wrong, I could do without the PTSD and anxiety, if we’re just, like....talking some pruning shears or whatever, but the actual creative machinery, I’m keeping. Ultimately it just means I really fucking like patterns and finding patterns or making patterns where previously there were none, or at least none that were easy to spot.

But ugh, man, these are the rare times when I’m like omg, just call it a day, we don’t ACTUALLY have to come up with the perfect replacement name for that one relatively small and insignificant detail of a much larger story that isn’t even in the Top Ten list of my main priorities at the moment. And my asshole of a brain is just like....yeah no, we gotta. You know the rules dude, you decided it was official, that name didn’t work anymore and was never gonna, so now we gotta find a replacement or else things will be UNEVEN?? The pattern will be...missing a piece? There will be CHAOS AND ANARCHY IN THE STREETS THAT RUNNETH OVER WITH BLOOD? IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT??

And so I’m like....literally sitting here googling synonyms for spark because I’m just like that sometimes, lmfao. Oh and of course its gotta be a GOOD replacement, naturally. I can’t just shoehorn in a somewhat acceptable substitute that in the back of my mind I’m expecting to only be temporary, until I come up with something better. See, because my brain will KNOW, and it will NOT be okay with that, because that is CHEATING. And my brain, apparently, has strong feelings about cheating, which is weird and fairly unexpected of me, IMO.

Anyway, kudos to anyone who actually read through that instead of scrolling, I honestly have zero idea why I felt like sharing it, I just did and thus I did. *shrugs*

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undiagnosedautismfeels · 5 years

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Not A Feel / Questions

- sometimes i’ll get a word or multiple words stuck in my head and they’ll just go through my head over and over and i’ll spell them in my head and i feel like i’m gonna burst because they’re just so big and i have to say the word out loud really loud to get it to stop. i was wondering if this is something other autistic people experience?

Idk dude that could be echolalia or it could be a compulsion or something. I usually think in concepts so usually when this happens for me it’s song lyrics or something of the like.

- (1/2 Alex) hi, here's Alex. So I've been seeing various psychologists for 10 years since I was 6, because an almost complete lack of social skills, an apparent lack of empathy and frequent and often violent crisis and meltdowns. When I was 14, I found some papers about Asperger's among my mother's stuff, and it was me. Since then I'm researching. I am a trans man, but I never got accepted or recognized as a boy.

(1/2 Alex) when I was 18, I got my gender dysphoria diagnosis, and only then they seemed noticing my aq score of 43, and other signs and behaviours that I would now consider symptoms. They referred me to a psychiatrist, but for other reasons I had to stop. Ive been living on my own in a foreign country for almost 3 years now, and I finally make it to gain 2 friends, they are the only people I'm comfortable hugging, (sorry I'll need a part 3)

(3/2 Alex) and I'm really thankful to them for trying to teach me social rules with a lot of patience and without judging me. Still, although I learnt to cope with many issues, my awkwardness remains and my doubts with it. Is it possible that in 18 years no psychologist, no teacher, no family friend an not even my mother ( a kindergarten teacher who worked with Asperger's little boys) recognized that I have Asperger's, or is it just me mistaking in my search for an answer? Thank you very much...

It’s fully possible that they’ve all just missed it, especially with the ableism surrounding afab people being autistic & the fact that afab autistics tend to present differently due to differences in socialisation.

Social skills can be incredibly hard for some people to learn, and while learning to understand them is a good goal it’s important to accept that you may struggle with certain aspects for the rest of your life (which is not necessarily a bad thing). If you believe you’re autistic and that’s what fits all of your symptoms and experiences, I would recommend trying to find a psychologist who is willing to listen and take you seriously when you are able to do so.

- Do you have any sources or can you explain Executive dysfunction disorder? I’m confused about it and I need to email my teachers about it to see if they can give me a break because I just broke down 4 times in 1 hour because I’m trying to do projects but cant. I also wanted to know if thats what it is, Not being able to do work. I dont know how to explain it but it just I cant get anything done and I iust get called “ lazy”for it or people tell me that “im not trying”when Im trying 10x harder

Here you go:

[Additude]

[Healthline]

[NCBI]

Executive dysfunction is one of the primary reasons that I dropped out of high school. I was completely unable to focus throughout any of my classes, unable to motivate myself to do any of the work, and unable to actually process and learn the material I was given. It didn’t matter how much I tried to study, or how much I wanted to succeed; my brain wouldn’t allow me to.

#not a feel #mod dylan #echolalia #social skills #diagnosis #self doubt #invalidation #executive dysfunction

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obsessed-fanatic · 3 years

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I'm just a Dude!!!!!!!!

A fan. Who grew up with so much fun stuff. A kid who woke up at 6:00am every saturday morning to watch SONIC X.

Played Sonic adventure DX Director's Cut on an old gamecube.

I, at the time, had no intent of evil or anything crap or childish. Just watching cartoons, on my ANTENNA tv WITHOUT internet.

Outside all of that, it was chaos.

Fights at home. Alcohol involved. But not me and my brother. Who do you think?

To the point things were smashed and broken and tears were running down me and my brothers faces. And lies were told.

Do you honestly think we lie about reasons for stress relief or methods of how we young ones blow off steam? Not even one coping mechanism.

Cause im just smoking cannabis, looking for a job, while getting stressed the hell out at home.

Cannabis at least for calming down, killing the fear and anxiety and pain. Emotional, Even and Especially physical.

Just had my 22nd birthday come and go recently and now im just starting to think this is very fucked up.

How can i forward that i just don't want, let alone EVER, hurt anybody and calmly follow my dreams without messing with, hurting, or offending people?

Is it really my life when i turn 18?

Cause i also remember hearing something about being your own person.

Why would I want to be a criminal or anything unpleasant or flat out negative?

Hell even the showoffs in cartoon episodes on many shows throughout the years have literally depicted that kind of person.

March 22nd 2013.

I got stuck in the bathroom for 25 mins to what felt like an hour.... Meanwhile on the outside EVERYBODY WAS FIGHTING.

This was screaming and honestly Hell.

I dreaded going outside of the bathroom.

So i stayed inside until everything was over eventually.

I told one of my guidance counselors at middle school this while she was taking me home after i missed the bus at school.

YEAH. you can miss the bus at school and if your parents have the whole night of work until 11pm and no one else to pick you up THEN YOU WERE HONESTLY FUCKED.

So my counselor at middle school took me home. She owned 11/22/63 by stephen king.

Let me read it for a bit.

Saw the series later on Hulu later in life.

Though, at least my brother got a bus ride. At least he didnt have to share the fear and little bit of hopelessness i was feeling.

But when i got a ride from a fellow stephen king fan, i was beyond caring of any distress.

And i was still a big Sonic fan at the time and also beginning to go into the brony fandom.

Now to tell you the truth nitty gritty, i first saw MindlessGonzos Tumblr dubs. One of the very first things that got me into the fandom. After that it was Quemdolum or JackTHerbert. They made me laugh and kept my head above water while i was also getting heavily bullied in 7th grade to 8th.

Then it was onto music from the fandom

Teithepony or AcidUsagi now -- Love me cheerilee. Tried to look and find that one but in time i got it. I think it was the first pony remix i ever heard. The rest of the iconic music/ songs like Winter Dance up from SimGretina, or Discord from Odyssey Eurobeat were just amazing.

But however just to bring things back to reality and TO BE HONEST 2013 sortve ruined that. On July 6th 2013, i was ultimately and just devastatingly disappointed after so much hope was built up even by my mom. Told it wasn't possible for a trip to BronyCon 2013. Mom was then telling my brother in the kitchen to NOT tell me "I told you so."

That's how shit that was. Even when my brother was telling me "No i wasnt going to bronycon".

Then for some reason my mom shouted

"Yes he is!"

This was before the disappointment.

This was a good shot of hope for a bit.

But yeah it was a stupid but inadvertent fake out. I know it wasnt all on purpose to hurt me. Well then mom why did you say Yes He Is like everything was going to be FINE AND DANDY???

I know it wasnt deliberate because she never showed hostility or a "fuck you deal with it" mentality.

If that happened i would've snapped. More than i would think or imagine.

I feel like Henry Creedlow off of George A Romero's Bruiser.

Now there's no more pony cons at all............................ . . . . . . . . . . . . .

. . . .i dont even know whats gonna happen with Gen 5. Lets just wait and see.

To be honest i hope its not gonna get worse where in one scenario:

No one will care or know to the point where i could be dying of cancer, and no one would know or know for sure if it was cancer cause i had no doctors visit/appointment let alone Diagnosis to prognosis.

I'm Just a fan of so many interests that made me and lots of others who probably went through shit i went through maybe even WORSE,

But it doesn't mean i have no life.

Been through shit and honestly don't even know if i can even do shit. Its hard living down here.

Went through all 12 grades

But got no diploma or didnt went to the graduation ceremony or kinda sadder, could not afford the cap and gown.

All the chaos at home and on the outside of home. Just got worse after that. Way way worse.

Im very scared of approaching 2018.

This year was a defining year of what i call

"Crazy heartless Bleakness" that just ignored mental health, human problems, and abandoned all consideration empathy and compassion. Thats what i felt in 2018. Let alone losing friends.

Later it became surreal and terrifying because this was the year i got arrested at a wawa for having a crazy mental breakdown.

This was the moment i snapped out of reality and it was probably vaporized out of my head as i would describe it.

They said i was talking crazy, something happened and that my family was looking for me. My mom put out missing posters/papers.

But what happened to me in the jail.

You wouldn't believe me.

After that things were very different.

Then.... Weird very coincidental things started to happen.

To be continued...

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aurikale · 3 years

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a quick catch up

tomorrow will be 6 months on testosterone. holy shit. this year has just flown by. im so very grateful to my friends who have gone with this change like it was no big deal and continued to be there for me time after time. ive learned a lot about my self this last year. not even just the trans stuff. finally seeing a good psychologist and getting an adhd and bpd diagnosis has helped me find the help i need and get working towards a better future. i feel like i wasted so much time being miserable and stuck, and now im trying to make up for lost time, but its good. it feels good. i have so many things i want to do and i can actually see a future for myself now. my dreams dont seem as far away and impossible. going back to school is the next step and thats scary bc im old lol but its what i want to do.

there are still missteps and things that get me down, but it’s easier to pick myself back up. my roommates have been so great with the debacle that has been my “love life” lmao. august hasnt been perfect. it started out not so great ("love life” and family complications), but between my roommates and dnd friends, i’m back to feeling better. the rest of august has been great. i even had fun around my birthday! which was weird! i didn’t think i would at this age lol.

cheers to having hope and finding that will to live again. god it feels like its been so long.

#text posts about life #it's not perfect but based on where i was just months ago its #its so much fucking better jfc #much love to anyone going thru their own shit atm #keep going. i made it thru. so can you

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wondermentishere · 3 years

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its kinda wild how fast feelings can change and what can call it to.

e•motion

im back in dallas now. just got done spending the last two days (involuntarily) in atlanta. i had to go down to finish mailing off the rest of my things from my old apartment. i kinda want to write this entry in a physical journal but... im in the bathtub now, its nearly 8 am, and i dont feel like it. 😂 anyway, yes ive been pretty miserable and confused. very angry in a stuck place that i didnt feel like i could move on from. until yesterday, ive been trying to piece together and make sense of a tragedy all on my own. for months... years even ive tried my best to get the person i was in a relationship with to open up all the way to me. i wanted them to slow down and process their actions so i could know what was going on in real time. i struggled to always maintain a safe space for their truth even when mine was discouraged from being shared.

seeing my partner flip into someone i could no longer understand and being forced to deal with their unacceptable behavior has been alot for me. i was minimized, gaslighted, mocked, discarded, and devalued and never understood why. the entire time i l begged for her input. i needed an explanation and she couldnt give me one... until yesterday. i truly thought i was beginning to crack the code on her. i found videos on narcissistic abuse and just based on my experiences and assumptions alone i couldve easily classify our relationship as that. and thats exactly what ive began to do ever since i moved out, but it never felt 100% right. it was just something to fill in all the holes to a story that would allow me to accept and understand my reality enough to move on. to think ive been with a cold blooded narcissist this entire time made me so angry beyond belief. she definitely shares traits, but thats not who she is. and this last conversation proved it. ive been watching videos on what results id get from confronting a narcissist and what professionals have detailed have definitely aligned with what ive been dealing with the past few months. but i was still able to see how the pressure of our environment and having no real space could cause someone to act out and repress their emotions the way thats shes done. so i still took my chance. and also im a tropical scorpio moon with a sidereal libra moon lol. aint no way imma let a chapter completely close without real communication. its so important to me. cause i got some shit to say always lol and also i know the other person does too. its never something i want to miss out on; i know the value of it all.

writing our relationship off as a narcissist abuse case wouldve meant that everything about our relationship was a lie and i didnt believe truthfully that it was. i was so angry and in the process of demonizing my ex partner that it was easy for me to apply such a terribly detached diagnosis. this way id never need her input again in life if she wasnt ever going to be willing to give me one. there definitely were some crazy unbelievably disrespectful moments, especially in the end, but that wasnt all our relationship was. and i needed her honesty to verify that.

i dont feel like writing anymore i’ll finish later lol

#diary

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mistyeyedpea · 3 years

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I've been feeling so stuck lately.

I ran a fever today, which honestly isn't unusual for me since I get low grade fevers from time to time. My body likes to freak out on me. Because I dont have a ln actual diagnosis for what I go through I feel like it drives me a bit nuts. I tell doctors what I can remember, but honestly I've lived.my whole life thinking most of the things I felt and experienced were normal and doctors are so uninterested, unmotivated and unwilling it makes the mundane task seem so painful. Its even more painful when you tell them for years you have these symptoms and they only write down what they think is necessary enough to explore. The rest is dismissed as being anxious, paranoid, dramatic... its ironic isn't it? How you go to get help and these very people continue to perpetuate the pain and suffering you go through. I wouldn't go down such spirals if I had answers.

The craziest part is when you have been doing research all your life, and having lived experience with chronic physical and mental conditions... but because I appear fine on the outside, to someone who doesn't know a this about me.... to deny me is absurd. I wouldn't designate a label that isn't meant for me, but this ableism in the medic field... it needs to stop. The stigmas need to stop. Doctors need to understand that its okay to not have all the answers. Whats not okay is harming them further by gaslighting, invalidating peoples lived experiences. Where is the compassion?

We as patients, as people, can be highly aware of our issues where as some arent. I happen to be someone who's highly self aware. I observe everything from sensations to what and how I feel... I monitor my own person. I once saw a post that said "having anxiety is being hyperspace of your own existence" and they really hit the nail on the head there. I feel my anxiety stems from be being highly sensitive to what I feel and my surroundings.. I feel anxiety is just a symptom of other conditions...

It drives me crazy that I am only realizing how many signs were missed. How did people not notice? I had to learn to adapt all my life on my own... immersed in it day by day I learned to survive. It hurts me almost everyday. Im learning to let go of this feeling. This feeling that I was a victim of the system that couldn't understand me, rejected me. It made it harder to understand myself throughout the years. But now I understand..

I know that as the years go by and im alive i learn more, and I know that doctors do too.

Despite all I have been through, and still continue to go though, I push through this painful existence hoping one day, ill actually be seen. And that ill be in the hands of a doctor who won't judge me when I tell them my concerns... cause I have many.

I literally stayed up all night the other night cause I couldn't sleep.. trying to remember to document articles of research I find trying to keep them saved on favorites. I often forget how to find the favorites page so I started a notes with the links.

I started doing this in the event a doctor tries to get smart with me... I truly don't have the patience or bandwidth for it anymore. They dont do it in a nice way. They do it in a condescending way. At least the people ive dealt with..

I am a person who was born female so naturally... this is fucking oppressive as is.

I tried talking to my mom about me being Autistic and having adhd, and how im finally accepting it because for years I had "episodes" which i now know, were fucking meltdowns.

I could go on about it, but I dont want to get off topic.

My mother asked me "wow so you finally got diagnosed?"

The last time I went to an Evaluation the man I met with was a total douche who told me I was a hypochondriac had conversion disorder and my anxiety was what was causing everything... He also went off my previous diagnosis and asked me very broad questions about their symptoms to which I replied yes or no... I met with this man for less than 20 minutes and he literally went off my old diagnosis.

He knew nothing about me other than what we talked about and my previous medical records. He made stigmatizing statements when I told him about my body pains and how its possible fibromyalgia, he said he doesnt diagnose women til their thirties.

When I mentioned that I suspect im autistic he basically laughed in my face and told me im not autistic and if I want to see "the autism room" so I can "see" what "autism looks like"

I didn't contact these people back for a long time after that because it took so long to process.... medical gaslighting is real. And gaslighting in itself is insidious as it makes our imposter syndrome so much worse. We question our own existence and realities which attributes to even more mental and physical anguish... psychologically so damaging and these people have no idea.

I think I may have a case with them.. but anyways...

I learned to live in this mind. In this body. In this life to the best of my knowledge and abilities. I have to remind myself its not my fault im chronically overwhelmed or feeling behind. Im coming to terms to the fact that I am disabled. I hate to limit myself, but I have to acknowledge this in order to accept myself and release the internalized abelism.

I have to accept that I never was and never will be like other people and that's okay.

I also need reminder that being diagnosed doesn't make you (autistic). Being (autistic) makes you (autistic).

I put autistic in parentheses because you can literally change it out and tweak it to fit almost any medical condition and it holds true.

Anyways im signing off. I think I've done enough ranting for the night.

Perhaps I'll rant again and plunge deeper. I try to not give to many details but as a neurodivergent person I can't help but go on tangents at times. I'll forget what I thought if I dont write them down, so letting my brain puke words is the best mental exercise I can give myself.

If I do end up seeing a therapist, it makes it alot easier to sort myself.

I have also been trying to orient my mind with art. I try to think of the art I can make .. but when the time comes, im blank. All these ideas for my mind to run into a wall...

Sometimes I wish I had a therapist as a friend.. or a psychiatrist.

It would be good to have someone invested in you the way a friend would ... signing off

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inkstainedfanfics · 7 years

Text

How to Survive

Request: "So I accidentally sent my request unfinished so here it is😂 Can you do newt x reader where reader is seriously ill and Newt is traveling around the world to find the cure? Like you can leave her at London or make her go with him, your choice! Maybe it gets angsty af but at the end everything works out and it's pure fluff♥️"

Word Count: 2,990

Pairing: Newt x Reader

Requested by Anonymous but also tagging @dont-give-a-bother @red-roses-and-stories and @caseoffics

The hospital bed with its thin mattress and crinkly sheets makes no noise when the doctor approaches, a sheet of paper in his hand and a look on his face that leaves a sour taste in your mouth. Newt stiffens next to you, but he doesn’t stop rubbing small circles on your back. You lean into his touch as much as you dare, not wanting him to feel the terror pulsing through you with every heartbeat. You hide your trembling hands in the folds of the thin gown the cheery nurses wrapped around your body earlier today before they pricked your arm in four different places with four different needles. A line of sweat beads up in your hairline, threatening to drip down as the doctor’s heavy boots thump against the cream-colored tiles that line the floors of Saint Mungo’s. Your mouth is dry and you want to shout at him to hurry up, to come tell you already how they’re going to solve your splitting headaches and wobbly legs.

You don’t, though. You wait with a pounding heart and held breath as your physician lifts his chin, face contorted into a pitying frown and sad eyes, and he tells you the readings.

“We’ve found what’s causing your symptoms.” His voice is gruff, factual, uncaring despite his expression as he describes first in medical terms then in simplified terms exactly what your body is doing to kill you.

The news comes with a ringing in your ears and a sense of hopelessness that spreads through your chest faster than your thoughts can process it. Terminal. No cure. Two years. Your hands shake as Newt sits beside you, hand unknowingly tightening its grip on your waist, the questions he asks coming out in a tight, clipped tone that reveal that the absolute terror you feel is also pestering him.

“Surely there’s something… You must, you must know some cure.” Newt says, still processing what the doctor said.

“I’m sorry.” He places what’s supposed to be a comforting hand on your shoulder; you just feel faint. “I’ll give you some time to talk with one another. When I return, we can discuss possible treatments to alleviate any pain.”

Then he walks away, pulling the paper curtain that hangs near your bed closed, giving you and Newt the option of grieving your lost future in peace.

Neither you nor Newt move a muscle, though, as the doctor’s words sink in. Terminal. No cure. Two years.

Two years, he’d said with a pitying look you know he painted on moments before he decided to tell you. Two years, he’d said with no inflection of real grief in his voice. Two years, he’d said as if those two years aren’t supposed to be filled with love and happiness and living without the threat of death hanging over your head at every turn.

Two. Years.

Tears slide down your cheeks, snapping Newt into motion. He pulls you against his warm chest, resting his chin on the top of your head and murmuring comforting words, but his voice shakes. It shakes the same way your entire body does as the words repeat like a record in your head.

Your breathing quickens. This isn’t fair. You and Newt have plans, goals. Marriage, a family, some time with just each other, no one else, no other distractions, just a simple life with the love of your life.

The tears spill faster, wetting the sleeve of Newt’s jacket as you watch every dream you’ve ever had melt away into nothing but a year of bed rest, two of misery, and a lifetime of Newt’s own grief.

Oh Merlin, he doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve this at all.

Newt holds you tight, pretending he’s not falling apart like you are, trying to be tough, to hold himself together for your sake right now. You know it, and your heart breaks. He’s too good. Too good for this, for such imminent heartbreak, for such a horrid injustice.

Still, he holds you, heart hammering in his chest, keeping you close the rest of the afternoon until a grim-faced nurse approaches you with kind words and a release form. You sign it quickly and accept her well wishes with a nod, turning to Newt.

He wraps his arms around your waist, lips brushing your forehead in the ghost of a kiss. “I’ll fix this, love.”

Then he apparates with you, dragging you through that narrow pipe that always leaves you sick, supporting you when the wooden floor of your one-bedroom apartment slams against the soles of your feet. You falter and lean completely against him for a brief moment. He doesn’t let go, just holds you until you steady yourself.

When you look up, tears line the bottoms of Newt’s eyes and his lip is caught between his teeth as he looks you up and down.

He gives you a weak smile when he notices your glance. “Sorry, not the smoothest landing. At least I didn’t lose either of us an eyebrow.”

You don’t bother trying to work a smile onto your face in response. The doctor’s words are too busy playing over and over in your head: the painful side effects that have yet to appear, the cost of the pain remedies, the support groups that don’t exist, at least, not in this area.

The diagnosis sticks like a leech to you and sucks all your energy away, so you just look up at Newt with what you assume are blank eyes and ask him to help you to your shared room.

His smile fades at your look, but he helps you hobble into the bedroom and sit down.

You sit on the bed, lifting your leg to pull your shoes off. “Are you going to see your creatures?”

Newt shakes his head and kneels in front of you. “I have more important worries.”

So it’s starting already; he’s already giving up his passion for you. “You can’t give up your life for me, Newt. You heard what the doctor said.” You choke on the next word as it comes out of your mouth. “Terminal.” You clear your throat. “That means permanent.”

His lower lip trembles the slightest bit, but he holds himself together with a grace you wish you could master. “You are my life. I would never give you up.”

He reaches up to brush two tears away with his thumb as you start to break down again. “Don’t say that.”

“Why can’t I be honest now?” He tries to grin again, but it’s more of a pained grimace. “If you’d told me lying is okay years ago, I would have saved myself some arguments.”

A humorless chuckle breaks past your lips, but the easy moment passes quickly. “What are you going to do?”

He tilts his head, still chasing the tears away from your cheeks with his thumbs. “I’m going to save you.”

You rub your eyes. “You can’t. You heard the doctor.”

Newt swallows, voice cracking. “The doctor doesn’t know me, now, does he?”

You run your hands over your face. “Don’t do this. Don’t give yourself any hope.”

Newt’s eyes soften as he cups your cheek in his hand. “Too late, love, and nothing you say will change my mind. You may have convinced me to throw that ratty pair of boots in the trash, but this is different.” His voice falls quieter. “So different.”

“Newt—“

“You need sleep.”

You don’t want to argue. That leech is still stuck to you, still draining you of everything in you, and Newt isn’t helping. You won’t let him win this, though. He needs to understand, needs to be able to let you go.

The gift of moving on: It’s the least you can give him.

“You need to accept that I’m going to…” You trail off, trying to muster your anger at the universe and channel it into accepting this fate yourself.

He pushes himself to his feet, pressing a kiss against your chin, your nose, your forehead, before cradling your face in both his hands and softly kissing your lips for only a few seconds.

“You’re going to sleep and when you wake up, we’re going to figure this out. There’s nothing else, no other path we will travel down. This is together. We’re going to be together.”

You let your eyes shut as you lie down. Thin sheets drift down moments later as Newt covers you with them. He presses a final kiss to your forehead before walking to the doorway and stopping, facing you.

You open your eyes, watch him as he flicks the lights out with a twist of his wand when it appears in his hand. He pauses, staring at your unmoving figure, and you swear he wipes at his eyes before he turns and leaves.

Your heart grows as heavy as your eyelids.

Your sleep is restless for the next two weeks, filled with dreams of the doctor and Newt’s face at your funeral and your future lost to catastrophe after catastrophe. You toss and turn and toss and turn and wake every two hours with the bedsheets Newt so kindly lays over you twisted around your legs, only covering half your torso and dragging over the ground.

Today, you’re on your stomach, miserable from the horrid sleep and the terrifying dreams that left you unable to scream. You flip onto your back and stare at the ceiling. Newt snoozes next to you, finally in a peaceful slumber now that you aren’t rolling around every twenty minutes. You swallow your guilt. He’s had bags under his eyes every day since your diagnosis, partly because of your sleeping habits — he’s up every time you are, there to wrap an arm around you and murmur slurred words of comfort in your ear to remind you that it’s all fake — and partly because of the stack of books next to the bed. Research. He researched everything even vaguely related to you, searched every textbook ever printed, read every researcher’s note. He’s determined to find the cure.

He won’t listen when you tell him to stop, that it’s no use, but he keeps reading so you stay silent, not really wanting him to give up on you.

Lying in bed, thoughts heavy from sleep and heart heavier, you consider leaving. Consider it even though you know you won’t be able to tear yourself from Newt. You’re too selfish to truly leave him, to say goodbye while he sleeps and apparate away to some place where he’ll never find you, where he won’t have to watch you as you die. He’s too good and you’re too selfish.

You snort at the thought. How could you ever have deserved someone like him?

You fall asleep again with these thoughts on your mind, resulting in another two hours of ghastly dreams and worthless sleep.

This time, though, you wake because of a noise in the room. You reach out for Newt on the other side of the bed but hit empty sheets. Confused and scared, you flip over, calling for him.

His name dies on your lips.

He stands a few feet away from you, back to you, lantern next to him the only light on in the room, placed behind books to block it from hitting you. The light illuminates Newt, though, as he stands at the dresser, lifting clothes and sticking it in a bag.

Packing. He’s packing.

Oh Merlin. You can’t breathe. He’s leaving you.

Tears start down your cheeks as you watch him work quickly, hands nimbly plucking up shirts and folding them away in the open suitcase on top of the dresser.

You sit up noiselessly, watching him with a hand over your mouth, holding back the sobs trying to break out. He needs to leave. This is right. You should have left him, really. You shouldn’t be the one driving him away. He’s just trying to move on before the inevitable.

Still, it stings. It stings worse than you ever would have imagined.

A strangled sob makes it way out of your mouth as you imagine how different your life will be now that he’ll be gone. You’ll have to buy a cane or something, and try to find a job willing to employ someone that can’t work for more than a few hours at a time.

Newt peers over his shoulder at the noise, certain it’s from another dream, but when he sees you sitting there, his task is forgotten as he crosses the three steps separating you and sits on the edge of the bed, hand reaching up but hesitating, unsure of what to do.

“What hurts, love?”

You blink tears out of your gaze and drink in as much of him as you can. The shadows outline his face, offering the first view of him without heavy bags under his eyes that you’ve had in weeks. His breath crosses your face and his straight nose nearly pokes yours as he leans forward to examine your face.

“Are you crying? Merlin’s beard, tell me, please. What hurts? Is it your legs? I can get the medicine.”

You grab his hand as he starts toward the kitchen. “No.”

The word is soft but he hears it. “Your head?”

You shake your head as you draw up the courage to tell him that you saw what he was doing. “You’re… you’re leaving me.”

He searches your face and frowns. “It was just a dream, love. Remember?”

You glance at his filled suitcase, blinking three times and reaching up to pinch yourself, praying Newt’s right and this is just a dream.

You don’t wake up.

Newt looks the same way, realization dawning on his face. “Oh, the suitcase.” He looks back at you. “No, love, I wasn’t leaving you. I promise.” He pauses, running a hand through his hair before attempting a joke. “I know you’d just track me down, anyway.” He smiles dimly and takes your hands into his.

You stare at the open suitcase, heart breaking in ten different places at what it represents. “It’s all right, Newt. I understand.”

His voice is strained when he answers, so different than it usually is, so revealing of his stress. “I’m not packing because I plan on abandoning you when you most need me.”

You take as deep a breath as you can. “I want you to know I don’t blame you if you choose to.”

Any semblance of joking or happiness melts from Newt’s face as an overwhelming grief replaces it with hard lines and a clenched jaw. “You can’t honestly believe you don’t deserve me, can you?”

You shrug, eyes still stuck on that suitcase for a moment longer than necessary.

Newt’s voice breaks, the first time it really has revealed the depths of his grief since that day in the hospital. “I could never—“ He pauses, staring at your joined hands. “I could never imagine a life without you right next to me, without you laughing at my jokes so I don’t feel alone or singing to my creatures. I can’t…” He has to stop again, try to compose himself.

It’s your turn for the first time in the past two weeks to wipe tears from his face.

It takes a full minute before he can speak again. “Don’t think I want to leave. Please don’t think that poorly of me. I’m doing everything I can to be sure we help you. Please don’t assume I don’t want to be with you because the world is cruel. I love you too much to know you feel so poorly about me.”

You shut your eyes at the vulnerability he’s showing, the complete honesty, the break in his voice as he falls apart at the thought of being without you. You wish now you’d said nothing.

When you open your eyes, Newt smiles. It’s feeble, but the best he can pull together at the moment. “I do have one important question for you.”

You do your best to help him ease the tension filling the room after he says nothing. “Are you planning on telling me or do I have to call up Queenie?”

He doesn’t smile, but the corners of his lips twitch up. That’s enough for you.

He tilts his head. “Oh Merlin, she’d have me in therapy in a moment. My creatures would starve.”

You chuckle once, and his lips curve up into a real smile.

He clears his throat. “I know you don’t want us to hope, but I can’t stand the idea of letting this happen, and I’ve always been one to interfere in plans,” he smiles at your sleepy smile, “so would you accompany me in ignoring fate’s decisions and travel to other various countries in search of a cure?”

You take in the intensity of his gaze as his eyes dart around your face and search for a ‘no’ before you can say it. Your heart swells and flutters at the unwavering, assured love present in every plane of his face. He feels so strongly for you, he’s willing to risk everything of his just to help you.

You start to cry at the thought and curse yourself as the tender love disappears from his face, replaced by a devastatingly intense concern that would drop you to your knees if you were standing.

“Love, are you okay?” The worry even pervades his voice, leaving it in a panicky, raised tone.

You lift a hand to his cheek. “I’m fine, Newt. I am.” You take another breath, making your decision. “Just stay next to me wherever we go, okay?”

A gentle smile returns to his face as he nods and places a hand over the one you’ve laid on his face. “I would never choose to be anywhere else.”

And with those words, the two of you agree to set out to help you save yourself.

#Newt scamander #Newt Scamander x reader #Newt Scamander imagines #Newt Scamander one shot #fbawtft #angst #ish #oh look your author is back to writing full fics finally #I hope you like this #It's definitely the beginning of a series #that I am excited to write #there'll be close to five parts I think #idk I really like this idea and Ik where it's going to go #requested #I hope you like this anon!!#and everyone else #as always #have an amazing day!!!!!

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