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madsdefencesquad · 3 years

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The semi-companion piece to Kevin's one and it's all about Mads, of course. Dedicated to Kevison Nation (every single fudging one of you) and to @flythesail and @penny259 (your comments have me weeping haha 😚). Also on ao3.

A little into Madison Pearson by x (with additions) Summer 2026

I first met Madison Pearson a year ago at George Clooney’s 65th birthday celebrations in Perthshire, Scotland in a fashion closer to that of long-travelled friends who haven’t seen each other in years than that of complete strangers who just so happened to enjoy the same foodie indulgence (bacon-wrapped dates, anyone?). Despite the grandeur of the guests present at the lavish affair – politicians, laureates, philanthropists and A-list celebrities (including her own husband actor Kevin Pearson) – Madison Pearson had the kind of invigorating energy that just drew absolutely anyone in.

Perhaps it was the enchanting mix of contained excitement and understated class she exuded that will warm you upon beholding up close, or perhaps it was the charm of a more loquacious woman of California mixed with the rare intelligence of a world-traveller. Either way, despite the taxing social waltz her husband took her throughout the night bumping elbows with the elites, Madison was one of those people who truly left a lasting impression.

Squeezed next to her in the back of a cab, Madison is head-to-toe in Temperley London x Axel Arigato (vintage-inspired nautical jumpsuit and platform suedes) en route to a baking class where her five-year-old twins Nick and Franny are waiting for her to join them along with their father.

“I was supposed to get changed,” she says, lamenting on her attire worn for a meeting with some West Chester development executives that’s perhaps too luxurious for an afternoon of mixing flour and butter and sugar. “But you have to make at least a bit of an impression, right?”

Madison has been the powerhouse head honcho of the Pearson family business, Big Three Homes, since its establishment three years prior. With a solid background in business management and a surefooted ability to navigate the mores of an ever-changing property development landscape, it was no question that Madison would rise up to the challenge of breaking into the market with a business model founded on family, philanthropy and sustainability.

Despite growing up largely independent without people close enough to call family, Madison has also found the means to speak about her experiences in an effort to encourage and give hope to the younger generation of girls and young women who may be going through an ongoing battle between themselves and their self-worth.

“I never felt enough,” she says of the origins of her battle with her eating disorder that began when she was still in middle school. “I look at Franny and she’s so small and carefree and I want to give her everything I never had, but I know that even that won’t be enough unless she herself realises how worthy she is of all the good and all the love that she deserves.”

We pull up outside the baking studio and she brightens at spotting her husband and twins’ silhouettes behind the frosted glass windows. Nick and Franny almost topple over their stools as they rush to overwhelm their mother while their father scrambles to keep his heart rate down—a close call with their foreheads hitting the edge of the marble benches as they got down will just about do it.

Even with her petite frame, Madison carries the twins like she’s just holding a bag of groceries. Unsurprisingly, both Nick and Franny are as enamoured of their mother as she is of them and are on the verge of complaining when put down just as Kevin, grinning ear to ear, envelops Madison in his huge arms—to be fair, he’s always been quite remarkably chiselled but the Tom Ford sweater and those tailored jeans (chosen by his wife “of course” as Kevin credits) is a different level altogether. He leans down to give her a kiss.

Back in Perthshire a year ago at the Clooney extravaganza, I caught up with the married couple the day after the festivities over a traditional Scottish breakfast as we overlooked the highlands of the Gleneagles.

Perhaps unlike the Clooneys, who were still entertaining their guests from all over world, the Pearsons were much more relaxed within their own family bubble. Having just celebrated Kevin’s twin sister’s wedding three days prior with close family and friends, the pair was grateful to spend some quality time with each other and their twins without the need to be anything but present.

From my perch, Kevin and Madison were the kind of couple that were very much “old souls”. They held an affection for each other that is rooted from sincere fondness and adoration for each other—they converse like deep friends and trade wits like secret lovers. And despite the media attention of the adorable moments shared online (often by the social-savvy actor), Madison is uncompromising when it comes to the privacy of their children.

While the twins dipped in and out of the table pilfering scones or taking over their mother’s green juice, neither one of their parents were the least bit bothered by the constant attention they need to provide such a rumbunctious pair.

“They’re so funny,” Kevin said, a careful eye on little Nick who was staring at the whipped cream on his tiny finger like he was contemplating on wiping it on his dad’s face.

I do recall having a good laugh when I accompanied the family on a tour of a nearby 17th century castle and little Franny, a copy-and-paste of her mother, pointed at a wood-cut table decoration of what looked to be intertwined lovers and confidently yelled, “That’s mommy and daddy!”

The fierce mama bear of the Pearson household of four (Madison sometimes calls her husband “kid number three, but don’t tell him that or he’ll get ideas of trying for another!”), remarks that forging her own path away from her husband’s spotlight had been remarkably easy, and she gives much of the credit to the rest of the Pearson clan who all treasure family more than anything.

Even with the notoriety of her brother-in-law, rising political star Randall Pearson, who currently serves in the Philadelphia municipality and is on track for a career in congress, Madison says that quality time to rest and recuperate is a must.

“[My sisters-in-law] and I have a girls weekend every other month when we can where we literally book ourselves a gorgeous Airbnb and just glamp down. I’m talking sleep-ins, endless mimosas, spa sessions… you name it! It’s the kind of getaway that [our husbands] get really jealous for.”

And upon being reminded, Kevin, now sporting Franny’s tiny chef’s hat, shakes his head at his wife conspicuously as if in reprimand that he most definitely should be included in the gals’ next glamping session despite him being, well, not a gal.

While Nick proudly counts five of about a thousand sprinkles that are scattered on his side of the bench, Madison congratulates him with a warmth and pride that is infectious enough to make you think that she’s proud of you too. And despite her husband’s very obvious possessiveness over her—you could count only one occasion where the actor is not at arm’s length from her—when Madison focuses her attention on you, it’s not difficult to believe that this powerhouse woman could truly do absolutely anything.

“She is that and more,” Kevin says about his wife. “Sometimes I can’t believe that this is my life. Our life! Like, she’s mywife, and these two are our kids. It’s just wild! I’m grateful, just grateful.”

Despite the doubts and fear that had been Madison’s constant companions for most of her life and especially going into adulthood, there is a fierce resilience in her that she could only credit her dear grandmother Frances—her own daughter having been named after her.

“She always believed in me,” she recalls, an eye on the twins squatting by the oven watching their creations rise. Despite the deep grief and loss that are quite intimately shared by the married couple, Madison says that it has only made them more resolute in loving their children and each other as best as they possible can every day.

“You just don’t know when it’s your time,” she says. “So, Kev and I make sure that there are no ‘next times’ when it comes to our family.”

When I had asked Madison about Big Three Homes back in Scotland, she squealed at the origin story of its founding, which started with Kevin’s late father Jack Pearson having asked his wife Rebecca to start the business together as partners.

Although Jack’s tragic and unexpected passing put an indefinite hold to this dream, its fulfilment through his son Kevin and through Madison is a testament to the kind of legacy that Jack Pearson had begun through his kids.

“I mean, it started off as more of a passion project for Kev,” Madison says. “But we knew it was always going to be something really special. Especially because his first project was the house that Jack had wanted to build for his mom. And when Kevin had this wonderful idea of bringing the family together to start the business and he asked me to be a part of it, how could I have said no!”

Kevin makes a point to say though that even if the idea of Big Three Homes originally came from his parents, its fulfilment is as much a part of his and Madison’s own story as it is his parents’. And choosing to have Madison work alongside him wasn’t just the best choice (given how much of a boss she is), but it was the only choice he ever wanted or considered.

“I know this is cliché, but I can’t stand not being with her,” Kevin says. “I made a point of this when our twins were born, and I meant it!”

Madison and the family split their time between California and Pennsylvania both for Kevin’s work and for the business, but nowadays, it’s more of an 80-20 split in favour of the east coast.

When asked about a career path carved away from her hometown in California, Madison says fondly, “It surprises a lot of people when I say this but I’m actually an east coast girl.”

This fun fact translates quite well in Madison’s day to day. She could turn any conversation into an erudite discussion, and she will utterly beguile you with her knowledge of books and literature—her constant companions when she can sneak away to her own personal Taj Mahal, a stunning Japanese garden in the backyard of their Pennsylvania home which Kevin built especially for her.

As the Pearsons continue to make a splash in the world of construction, politics, arts and entertainment—a rare mix indeed for a family in the spotlight—Madison is determined to continue writing a story with her husband and her children that she never had growing up.

With the twins happily destroying their creations by the mouthfuls, Madison promises that another visit is a must and perhaps this time, she can show us a collection of Kevin’s baby photos coupled with her own personal commentary to boot.

And who would say no to that.

#kevison #kadison #kevin and madison #still not over that kadison tag but loving it coz yes to more madison yeeeeee #I tried to not let Kevin get away with being gushy but he keeps taking over!!#lezbereal he's in too deep we get it boyy #I need to do a combined one because Uncle Nicky and some of the fam has to feature am I roighttttt #anywhoo hope y'all enjoy this <3 #this is us #tiu #kevison fanfics #kevison fanfic #tiu spoilers #I know most of the deets won't be canon after season 6 but whatever I do what I want #kevin pearson #madison this is us #madison pearson

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shezowhero · 4 years

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Why future versions of Static need to take from both his original comics and cartoon. Part 1. Static’s supporting cast.

I’ve talked a little about this before but future versions of Static really need to take from both his cartoon and original comics. They especially need to take things from his cartoon. His cartoon is the most popular and most well known version of him. Literally almost all of Static’s fans come from the cartoon or at least a big chuck of his fans come from it. I feel like people underestimate how popular his cartoon is to his comics. There are people who still don’t know Static has comics. The comics and cartoon should be combined.

So what things from the cartoon that should be taken ? His supporting cast, his villains, his costumes and joining the Justice League when he’s a adult.

First let’s look at his supporting cast from the cartoon.

Future versions of Static especially need to take the way his support cast is/was in the cartoon. His supporting cast in the comics are good but they’re slightly better in the cartoon. The show kinda improved them.

First his parents.

With Robert he is a good dad in the comics but he’s even better dad in the cartoon. Him being a social worker and running the Community Center as a head counselor is more interesting than him being a nurse. We don’t see him that much in the comics so the cartoon kinda did more with him. He got more focus. There aren’t that many good black dads in media. He should eventually learn Static’s identity. The way he is in the show should be brought into future versions of Static.

Jean.

His mom should be dead. Even though Jean is dead and we only see her in two episodes she’s kinda better in the cartoon. She’s more motherly. In the comics she mostly just nags at Virgil and Sharon. Even though Static’s creators don’t like her being dead I think she's better off being dead. Her death makes Static's character interesting. In the show she was a paramedic who died saving people. With the cartoon I’ve always thought Virgil get’s heroic morals from his parents but especially his mom. His mom getting shot also gives him the whole hating guns thing with makes him a bit interesting. Most people who know Static thinks his mom is dead so you might as well roll with it. She should be dead like in the show but with flashbacks of her when she was alive.

Next Sharon.

In the cartoon Sharon is older while she was slightly older than Virgil in the comics. She’s in college, volunteers at a hospital, and counsels young people at the Freeman Community Center but we don’t see much of her doing that in the show. The cartoon kinda did more with her character by having her going to college, dating Rubberband Man, working at a hospital and the community center but the show still didn’t do enough with her. Just like in the comics when we see her she’s mostly just bickering with her brother. I would expand a pond her working at the hospital with her trying to become a nurse and later a doctor. Let us see more of her life outside of her brother’s life. The only time we see her is when she’s with Virgil. She should eventually learn her brother is Static and help him out when he get’s hurt. Her relationship with Rubberband Man should be taken from the show too.

Speaking of Rubberband Man.

Rubberband Man had a great redemption arc in the show. In the comics he’s just a villain and doesn’t have much character. He just wanted to fight Static to get famous. He started out as a villain in the show who wanted revenge from the person who stole his music. He really wasn’t that much of a villain, he just wanted his music back. He became good thanks to Sharon. He’s also a superhero with a learning disability, dyslexia. Not that many superheroes have that disability. Future versions of Static should definitely use this version of Rubberband man or at least parts of him. He should be apart of Static’s supporting cast.

Next Frieda.

Frieda is one of the few characters I like equally from both the comics and cartoon. Both versions are good. It’s a shame she’s not in the cartoon that much after the first few episodes. She’s actually a major part of Static’s cast. She just disappeared for a bit after Daisy was introduce in the show until season 2. Her role was basically given to Richie in the show. Frieda is Virgil’s best friend and knows his secret identity. He goes to her when he needs hero advice. The only thing different about her is she’s not nerdy or becomes a superhero like Richie. She’s also Static’s endgame love interest. Future versions of Static really need to remember Frieda. She’s important to his character. A lot of his character development comes from her. The cartoon got away not using her cause they made Richie into Frieda. Future versions need to make Frieda and Richie both be Virgil’s best friends. Her being a reporter for the school paper should taken from the show. Being a reporter gives her more to do. It gives her agency outside of Virgil’s character. When it comes to the comics, future versions need remember her eating disorder and her being Jewish. Just combine the comic version and cartoon version of Frieda. And also let Static and Frieda actually be a couple. They’re suppose to eventually be together and get married with kids but we never see how they got together.

Next Richie.

If you’ve seen my Electric trio post than you know that I think Richie should be brought into future versions of Static. Richie was created for the cartoon. He doesn’t exist in the comics. He’s based off Frieda and Rick Stone from the comics. What I forget to put in my electric trio post is that if future versions of Static brought Richie in and have him become Gear later on we would have a gay superhero. Richie is based Rick who is gay and Dwayne McDuffie has said that Richie is gay too since he’s based off Rick. It should be common knowledge that Richie is gay but people still don’t know or don’t like him being gay since there’s a lot of fanfics that still pair him female OCs in fanfics, which is really annoying. It doesn’t help that he wasn’t explicitly gay in the show but there was hints that he was gay. He wasn’t allowed to be gay cause of censorship but if he was brought into the comics and other media he could be explicitly gay. There’s a lot of gay superheroes but there’s still not enough of them. If Richie was added into the comics and becomes Gear we would have another gay superhero. If brought in he should evolve into becoming Gear like the way he did in the show. Let him come out as gay and be a gay superhero. Don’t give him too much spotlight. He and Frieda should be the only/few white characters in Static’s series.

Daisy.

Daisy is important but she's not that important. She’s not a big deal as people try to make her out to be. She’s just a detour love interest and the show made her the main love interest when they shouldn't had. She’s Virgil’s first girlfriend. I’m only talking about her cause I think her personality should be taken from the show and expand her personality more. She’s doesn’t have much of a personality in the comics. I love Daisy but she’s boring, both in the comics and cartoon. She’s boring cause she’s not given much to do. She’s just there. We just never spend time with her when she’s not with Virgil especially in the comics except that one time during the Hot Summer crossover. She’s not a bad character or a good character, she’s just boring. I think the cartoon version of her has the potential to be a good character cause she has a bit more of a personality. She’s super smart which is what I would take from the show into future versions. She’s not smart or anything in the comics. I can see why people don’t like her in the show but I think she get’s too much hate in the fandom. She’s not worth hating. Future versions need to make Daisy super smart like the way she is in the cartoon. Fresh out her character. Have her eventually join team Static when she learns Static’s and Gear’s identities. Have her and Frieda actually be friends like in the cartoon.

She-bang

Just like Rubberband Man, Shenice should be apart of Static’s supporting cast. When you think about it Shenice is kinda interesting. She was genetically engineered in a lab. The scientists who created her fell in love with her and want her to be their daughter. She had to pretend to be a quiet girl when she’s a athlete, hyper, and very energetic person. She has enhanced strength and agility. She’s really cool and deserves more love by the fandom. Another reason why she should be apart of Static’s cast is cause Static doesn’t have a lot of black female characters and the ones he does have don’t do much. The only major female character in Static’s series is a white Jewish girl Frieda. All of the major important black girls are in other Milestone books. Adding her allows for there to be more black girls in Static’s stories. She-bang is a good character and should be add to the comics.

If Static ever comes back they need to take from the cartoon especially his supporting cast. The comic canon and cartoon canon should be combine. Basically the cartoon canon in the comic universe.

Unless they researched Static after watching the cartoon most Static fans don’t know about his comics. They don’t know about Rick Stone, they only know about Richie. They don’t know Richie only exits in the cartoon. They don’t know Virgil’s mom is alive and not dead. They don’t know Frieda is a important supporting character with her being Static’s best friend and love interest. At least take some what people know from the cartoon and bring it into the comics.

#static shock #frieda goren #richie foley

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artsystranger · 4 years

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Karma’s Playlist Chapter 1

Karma’s Playlist. Chapter 1. Introduction to the Snow.

Content: Beetlejuice/OC, language, inappropriate beetle behavior, he’s a creep what do you expect, oh my god they were roommates Word Count: 7040 Summary: Karmilla has always been able to see ghosts; something that becomes immediately more troublesome than ever when she makes eye contact with the sandworm-dodging demon-ghost. Author’s Note: I have an actual playlist for Karma. I will be using songs in there as titles for chapters. Sometimes the songs will be very telling on what’s going to be happening in the chapter.

The rain had started in the middle of her shift, something she should’ve expected given how cloudy it had been lately. It was just a light rain, though, so she felt her jacket would suffice for the short amount of time she would be out in it. The sound of the continuous pitter-patter of drops soothed her, letting her mind settle easier into the mindless monotony of her job.

Soon enough, her shift was over and she was able to leave. As she tugged on her jacket, she brainstormed on how fast she was going to have to walk to the bus stop while staying as dry as possible. There were a few trees she could take cover in, but they, of course, only did so much good. With a heavy sigh, wishing she wore a thicker jacket, she pushed through the store’s door and began her trek.

It wasn’t that far of a walk to her bus stop, thankfully. Just around two blocks. With her quick pace and there being so few people out on the streets thanks to the rain, she was able to get to the bus stop cover with her jacket being minimally soaked through. With a sigh of relief, she took a seat at one end of the bench, which had remained dry thanks to the metal cover surrounding it. An older woman sat at the other end, giving Karmilla a smile and a nod.

As she relaxed in her seat, bringing out her phone to pass the time, the rain began to pick up, desaturating the area with it’s dreary greys. It would’ve been much more enjoyable if she didn’t have one last walk to suffer through after the bus ride. Still, the sound was nice and helped her space out and let time pass.

“FUCK!” The shout came from across the street, followed by cackling laughter.

Looking up, Karmilla saw a man standing under a cloth covering that now has a large hole in it, presumably because it wasn’t able to handle the sudden downpour. He was soaked head to toe, staring in disbelief as he continued to stand under the hole. To the left of the man was where the cackling was coming from; a vividly green-haired individual in strikingly odd clothing, pointing and laughing at the victim of misfortune. While his style could by eccentricism, his floating mid-air as he laughed could not.

Karmilla couldn’t stop herself from staring at him, exasperation overtaking her mind. It had been a long while since she had seen a ghost out and about, but never one quite as relaxed or unconcerned as this one. Either he didn’t know about the weird, ghost-eating worms that evaded her supernatural perception or he had a way of avoiding them.

As a whole, ghosts were not a new development for her. She had always been able to see them ever since she was little, even if she didn’t know why. They were few and far between but even the occasional sighting and telling her mom of such had landed her being sent to many doctors to try and see what was going on in her head. Still, the sightings of ghosts didn’t seem to be enough for doctors to diagnose her with any hallucinatory disorders. Something she was very happy to escape.

When she came back to reality, the drenched man had wandered away down the street, leaving the ghost’s laughter dying out slowly before it stopped very suddenly, his interest in that small accident being lost. His dingy shoes rested on the ground as he started looking around, as if trying to decide something. His scanning gaze stopped very quickly when he noticed the woman staring at him.

Karmilla diverted her gaze quickly down to her phone, acting as though she was very much engrossed with whatever was on it. She flicked through her screens, looking through different social media to try and distract herself from the green-haired stranger, hoping that he would think she was just looking past him and go on his merry way. She had a feeling this wasn’t the case when she felt a lingering chill begin to hover in front of her. She looked slowly up from her phone to the upside-down, pale face that she had seen across the street. With the sudden closeness, she could very clearly see patchy stubble, which was mostly green, very much matching his darker-rooted to vibrant green hair. With it just being stubble, it seemed that his cheeks were also stained green for whatever reason.

As a smile started to brighten his face, she looked back down on her phone from his dark, trying one last time to ignore him.

“You can see me!”

There was a pause for response, but she just continued looking at her phone, pretending she saw nothing. She’s found that talking to ghosts in public brings nothing but weird stares and trouble. This one was not easily thrown off, however.

“Hey, don’t ignore me!” he shouted, rotating back right-ways up before bending down and almost shoving his face into her’s. She flinched back just a bit, but pulled her phone closer through his cold face, trying harder to ignore him. “Our eyes met! Our souls bonded! Well, maybe not my soul, but- LOOK AT ME!”

Karmilla heaved a sigh, letting her hands and phone fall into her lap before giving in and looking at him. He looked particularly pleased with himself when her eyes met his own again.

“You got some pretty greens there, babes.” He kept his face uncomfortably close to hers, smiling almost lecherously at her.

She leaned as far back into the bench as she could, trying to create some space as she looked off to the side. His cold presence moved from her front to her side, taking a seat on the bench very close to her. From the chill behind her, she could easily assume that he had stretched his arm out to rest behind her. This guy really had no concept of personal space.

“You’re not just gonna sit there and ignore me, are you, babes?” He was facing her, legs spread with an arm still resting behind her back.

Looking down at her phone again, she clicked on the closest thing with a text box and typed out, “Not gonna talk to a ghost in public.”

He leaned over her shoulder watching her type, silently mouth the words as she typed them. The ghost was quiet for a moment, staring deadpan at her phone and then back at her face. “You’re a millennial, aren’t you? Don’t you all carry fuckin’ headphones or something? Just pretend you’re calling someone. You know how to do that, right?”

She couldn’t help but roll her eyes at him.

“Hey, it’s true and you know it! Don’t roll your beautiful eyes at me and act like it isn’t!” He snapped his fingers in front of her face a few times before pointing to himself. “Hey, hey, hey, look at me.”

She didn’t look full over at him, but gave him a sidelong look.

“Talk to me, or I’ll start begging. Ask anyone who knows me, I am very good at being annoying.” The expression he had on his face made her believe that he was 100% serious.

Suppressing an annoyed sigh and seeing as she wasn’t going to be able to get rid of him any time soon, she shifted her legs out so she could reach into her pocket and grab her ear buds. As she plugged them into her phone and connected them to her ears, she could feel the green-haired ghost smiling very contentedly at her.

“You’re pretty easy, huh?”

Her eye twitched as she tried to keep herself from outwardly grimacing. Once she had herself situated in as relaxed a way as she could get, she finally spoke, her tone very deadpan. “Hello?”

“You got a very sexy voice, lady. Such a nice one to come back to, just for little ol’ me.” He relaxed back into the bench, stretching his legs forward. Were he corporeal, he would’ve surely been leaning his head against her tensed shoulder. “Oh, babes, it’s been so long since someone has talked to me and not through me. There’s lots of interesting, juicy conversations out there but, holy fuck, sometimes a dead guy just needs a little back and forth.”

“Sure, but did you need something?” Karmilla did her best to keep her gaze either forward or down at her phone, not wanting to draw anymore attention to her.

There was a short pause between them as the ghost shifted in his seat again, turning himself toward her, the grin reappearing on his lips. “What? A creepy, old demon can’t just strike up a conversation with a sexy lady?”

God fucking dammit. “Oooh, a demon? Then definitely no.” She wasn’t exactly sure if he was serious about the whole demon thing, but there was a lot she still didn’t know about what exactly resides in the Netherworld.

Sneaking a small peak over at him, she noticed a few small changes. His dark eyes had taken up a golden spark while his hair seemed to have dimmed. She could’ve sworn she saw some strands of red coming to the surface. He held a hand against his chest, mocking a shock of pain. He was still grinning, but it looked sharper now. She couldn’t really explain it, but the change in his demeanor was overall more threatening than before.

“Well, shit. Your words cut me so deep.” His voice seemed a bit more rough now too. It’d probably be an attractive thing were she not in public and felt her anxiety begin to well up. Something about her own expression must have pleased him, as the new colors began to fade away and he relaxed again. “You know, your reaction to everything so far is very chill. I usually prefer to get at least one good scream, but-- for you-- I’d gladly skip to-”

“Bus is here,” she interrupted him. During his brief spiel, she heard the familiar engine of the approaching bus. She waited for it to get halfway down the street before standing from her seat, remaining in cover from the rain.

“Oh? And where is that fine ass of yours headed?” His choice of words made her think he was almost certainly staring at her aforementioned ass.

“Home,” she said simply. “I’ll talk to you more when I get there.”

“A lady usually has to buy me dinner before I let her take me home, but for you, babes, I’ll wave it.”

As the bus pulled up, she felt the older lady who had been sitting at the other end of the bench step up next to her. When the doors to the bus opened up, Karmilla gestured her arm forward and let her get onboard first. The older woman thanked her with a nod and a warm smile before moving as quickly as she could to the steps of the bus.

“I woulda tripped her.”

His voice suddenly in her ear made her jump. She had not noticed the cold almost fully encompassing her back, like he was almost pressed up against her. She took a deep, calming breath before stepping into the rain and into the warmer shelter of the bus. Of course, it didn’t stay warm, as she felt the ghost-demon following after her. It was a bit irritating but easy enough to deal with, she guessed. When she found and settled into a seat, she pulled the buds from her ears and phone, wrapping the wire around her hand before shoving it back into her pocket. Even if there wasn’t any jostling from him sitting down, she could feel the cold and see his striped form plopping down next to her.

As she brought out her phone again to help pass the time, she could see him lean over a bit to look and see what she was doing. She had a considerable number of games on her phone, most of which she had forgotten were there but kept because she might go back and play them. To keep herself busy, she pulled up a tapping rhythm and key game. It had music to go along with it but didn’t want to bring any attention her way, so she kept it muted. Scrolling through the long list of songs, she picked one of the faster ones and started tapping away at it.

The ghost stared down at Karmilla’s phone, squinting his eyes as he watched her thumbs tap quickly away on her phone. “Jesus fucking Christ. How much time do you gotta have on your hands to keep up with that shit?”

With a little finesse, she stuck out her middle finger at him while still keeping up with the tiles as they sped down the screen.

She heard his gasp of mock offense, almost certain that he put his hand on his chest in a similar way to last time. “Well, that’s just downright rude. What a way to treat a new friend.”

His words were enough to make her pause, slipping up enough to miss a note in the game. With that song essentially over, she looked up from her phone and to the side at him. He was still leaning very close to her to watch whatever she did on her phone, but as soon as that stopped he turned his attention to her puzzled face.

“What’s up, doll? I got something on my face?” Just as he said a few bugs crawled out from his hair and ran across his face.

Unsure of what to do, she just stared wide-eyed at him before slowly turning her gaze back down to her phone. Better play a few more songs to wipe that from my memory.

“Ah, come on, that was funny! I coulda done something a lot worse. Like this!” From her periphery, she could see his hand go up to the top of his face and peel it down. Even from what little detail she could make out, she was able to tell there was nothing more to the horror than the grotesque musculature of his face.

Doing her best to communicate in a mute fashion, she made a so-so gesture with her hand, trying to say that it wasn’t so bad. Or, at least, not necessarily worse than the sudden appearance of bugs crawling over his skin.

“You’re not even looking at me,” he said, in mock offense. “You never look at me during.”

Her lips flattened out into a straight line, trying to stop the small laugh that she felt coming to the surface. Karmilla didn’t like admitting it, but his sense of humor was right up her alley. Usually, strangers had a harder time getting her to laugh. Maybe her guard was down because he was a ghost and couldn’t really do much to her, aside from visual-auditory hallucinations and gags.

She looked over to him again, after she successfully held down her laugh. The skin of his face was hanging off of his chin, revealing the muscles and tendons that made up his face. It wasn’t scary or shocking to her, just a little unsettling and surreal as she had never been able to get such a close look at facial muscles as she was now.

“Wow, really?” He had no trouble speaking apparently, even with a lack of lips. “You are a really tough cookie, aren’t ya?” After he finished his words, he slapped the slab of skin back onto his face, pushing and pulling it around to fit back where it was supposed to. “Well. I’m gonna go fuck with someone else now. BRB.”

The green demon pushed himself up from his seat and started striding down the aisle, looking for someone to properly torment with his limited power. At most, he's able to put people on edge and make them more irritable. Essentially, just being an annoying presence. Looking back down to her phone, she started again on another song, putting a majority of attention on it as she waited for the bus to reach her stop. She would occasionally hear the angry grumbling and cursing of another passenger as the demon-ghost messed with him.

Time passed relatively quickly on the bus, reaching her stop just as another round of her game came to a close. As soon as the bus came to a halt, she got up from her seat and made her way back down the aisle to get off.

“Aw, are we leavin’ already? I was this close on getting this guy to break,” the specter called after her as she walked on by, not responding to him. He hummed for a second in thought before fucking with his victim one last time before following after his friend.

It was raining harder now, the cold droplets sinking easily into the fabric of her thin jacket. Keeping her electronics as close to her center as she could, she started her fast trek through the rain. She lived only a few blocks away from the stop, so-- if the crosswalk lights were kind to her-- she wouldn't have to be in the rain for too long. If they weren’t working in her favor and there was no one hurtling down the road, she would book it across the street. Anything to get out of the beating, cold rain.

Minutes later, she was finally able to take cover under the overhang of her small apartment building. It wasn’t the fanciest place, but it also wasn’t the dingiest. The only thing that could be construed as concerning was the ivy growing up the front. Pulling her keys from her pocket, she unlocked the door and pushed her way in, getting a loud buzzing noise as it closed and locked behind her. The inside was similar to it’s exterior, nothing really standing out in the lobby aside from a few dreary paintings and a small grid of mailboxes on the wall. Dredging past it, she started ascending the steps to her apartment. It was days like these that made her wish she had gotten one that was closer to the ground instead of being at the top of the stairway. Given the small size of the building, there wasn’t any room for an elevator to be put in, making it virtually inaccessible to those with physical disabilities.

As the ghost followed her, floating up the steps rather than walking them, he would occasionally divert from the path to sneak a peek inside the other apartments. This one definitely had no sense of personal space so it wasn’t really surprising to her that he would be ignoring her neighbors right to privacy.

Finally reaching the last residential floor of the building, she walked up to her door and started unlocking it. By the time she got it open, the demon-ghost was by her side again, passing through the doorway before her.

“Oh, yeah, just go right ahead. That’s fine,” Karmilla mumbled, finally feeling like she was allowed to speak now that she was home. She followed in after him, closing and locking the door behind them. When she turned back around, she saw him still standing in the short entrance hall leading into the rest of her apartment.

“You know, I did not peg you as a dog person,” he said, still not moving forward.

Even though she knew she could pass through him, she opted for skirting around him instead, not wanting to deal with the uncomfortable chill and feeling that happened whenever you passed through a ghost. At the end of the hall sat her dog. Her tail had stopped slapping against the floorboards as soon as her new ghostly tag-along showed up.

“That’s Bingo. She’s not a fan of supernatural stuff,” Karmilla said as she walked by the alert Malinois, who continued to stare at the ghost. “Bingo, rechts.”

Without any hesitation, the hound stood and did an about-face, walking along her person’s right side as Karmilla walked to her bedroom. Karmilla had a feeling that because of how anti-boundary the ghost was, that he would try to follow her in there to watch her. She wasn’t sure how long he was going to be sticking around, but even if it’s only for a few minutes, she felt she had to set some sort of boundary for him to follow.

As soon as she threw off her jacket and got to her dresser, she saw his green hair pushing through the wall before his head popped out.

She gave him a stern look, something easily mustered by her. “Listen, ah- I don’t even know your name, but if you’re going to be in my home you’re going to have to give me some space. Now, shoo.”

“No show then?” He made a face as if he was contemplating something, looking from her face, down to her chest, then back up again. “Alright. Fine. Because you’re my friend. And friends do friends favors.”

She wasn’t sure she liked where that thought process would end up, nor was she sure where he got the whole idea that they were friends, but at least he slipped his head back through the wall, allowing her to change in peace. Bingo laid down next to her, watching the door as Karmilla stripped out of her wet clothes.

“What is your name, by the way?” she called out.

“I can’t tell ya.”

She paused for a moment before continuing, changing out her normal bra for a sports one and replacing her shirt with a loose band tee. “What do you mean? Can’t or won’t?”

“A big ol’ no can do, babes.” His voice sounded further away that time. She guessed he was looking around. This was only a 1-bedroom apartment, so there wasn’t really going to be anything else to see. “You know how it goes; fuck with higher-ups, get cursed, lose your fun powers, and can’t give your own name to a lovely lady without jumping through hoops.”

During his explanation, she had replaced her wet jeans with grey sweats, snatching the earbuds from jeans before tossing all her wet clothes into a laundry basket in the corner of her room. As she walked out of her room with Bingo following on her right, she pulled her hair from the bun it was before shaking it out. Sitting at the end of her couch that was farthest away from her TV, she could see the ghost sticking his head through the door that went into her bathroom.

“Sounds rough,” she responded, propping her bare feet up on the coffee table as she watched him.

When he heard her voice coming from somewhere different, he brought his head back out from the bathroom and spotted her on the couch. In the blink of an eye, he disappeared and reappeared right next to her on the couch, lay back with his head at the other end, one leg fully up on the couch’s cushions as the other dangled off. He laid the back of his hand over his eyes in a dramatic fashion. “Such woe is my existence. Like taking it up the ass with no lube.”

Bingo growled lightly at the sudden appearance of the ghost on her couch, because of his proximity to Karmilla and the fact his feet were passing through her. A hand on the head was enough to quiet the dog, luckily.

“I’m almost afraid to ask, but why your name?” She tried her best to not react to the cold chill from his foot sitting essentially inside her.

“Well, you know that one guy who made the fish fucker village people and had a giant free-swingin’, octopus head thing? Yeah, my name’s like his cat. You know exactly the one.” Even lying down, he was very animated while talking.

From his description, she assumed he was talking about H.P. Lovecraft. “Yeah, I know what you’re talking about.”

“HA!” He sat up suddenly, pointing at her. “I knew you were a fuckin’ nerd. But, nah, I’m just fucking with ya. My name is nowhere NEAR as terrible as that.”

As he laid back down again, her mouth flattened into a straight line, trying to keep the fact that she thought his roundabout shenanigans were funny. No need to encourage him. “Okay, but you didn’t answer my question.”

“Look, babes, I love talking about me, don’t get me wrong. But I feel like we need a bit more of a back and forth here.” He was using more hand motions to emphasize his point. “You’re learning all of my deepest, darkest secrets, but I haven’t gotten anything juicy from you.”

Her brows furrowed as she looked at him. “All I asked was your name. You gave me your life story freely without answering the actual question.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not my fault saying my name became so complicated.”

“Isn’t it, though?”

There was a pause from him as his mouth turned into a tight-lined, exaggerated frown. “Alright, you got me there.”

There was a long bout of silence between them, one that felt awkward and a little tense. Karmilla took this time to think of a way for him to tell her. He’d probably think that just spelling it out was too boring, so turning it into a game might help it go down better.

“Would a word game work as a loophole?”

He perked up at the sound of ‘game’, almost in a way a dog would when someone would say ‘play’ or ‘walk’. “A game, you say?”

“Yeah, like charades or something.”

He sat up quickly and turned to sit more properly, waving his hand off at the suggestion. “Nah, not that one. I did that last time.”

She gave him a curious look, wondering what exactly that meant. A question for a different time, she thought to herself as she stood up and went back into her bedroom to fetch a pen and a notebook. Walking back into the living room, she plopped back down on the couch before putting her feet back up on the coffee table.

“We’ll do it like this then,” she started, flipping open the notebook to a blank page and turning it horizontal. “I guess a letter. If I’m right, you tell me where it goes. If I’m wrong we’ll do a little thing of truth or dare. Good?”

A smile curled his lips. “Oh? Adding some stakes for moi?”

“Yeah, why not. Might as well make it an actual game, you know? Now, how many letters?” She laid the notebook on her lap so he wouldn’t have any problem seeing it.

After scooting close enough to her that they were touching shoulders, he started mouthing the letters counting the letters on his fingers. “Uhh, eleven.”

She drew eleven evenly sized lines on the paper. “Alright then. S.”

It takes a moment for it to click with the ghost before seemingly going over it in his head. “Go fish.”

She sighed, writing down the letter under the lines so she wouldn’t say them again later. “Not ‘go fish’, but I will choose ‘truth’.”

“Boring. Ah well.” He leaned back, stretching his arm out to rest behind her. “Much as I love just callin’ you ‘babes’ and ‘sexy’, I’d love to know to be callin’ out.”

“Don’t get any illusions that anything could or would happen, buddy,” she responded quickly with side-eyed, half glare before looking back at the page. “My name is Karmilla Nazarian. You get the surname as a freebie.”

“Karmilla, Karmilla, Karmilla,” he repeated, trying out her name. “Karma’s a good nickname for you. It even has its own-”

“Yeah, yeah, Karma’s a bitch and all that,” she cut him, tapping her pen on the journal. “Any ‘f’s?”

“Rude to cut off a guest like that, Karma,” he said as he leaned forward and shifted around so he could look at her unamused face. He could only guess how many times she’s heard that classic line in her life. “And that’s a hard no on the ‘f’, babes.”

She groaned in annoyance this time, looking up at the ceiling and blindly marking down ‘f’ in the used letters row. “Truth again, I guess.”

He tapped his chin in thought as his eyes wandered around the room before landing on her again. Then down a little lower. He kept his eyes there even as Karmilla turned her head back to face him. Completely unashamed, he turned his eyes up to her and grinned. “What cup size ya packin’?”

“Wow, you really do not shy away that shit, do you?” The question was rhetorical, asked in an astounded state of mind.

“What can I say? I know what I like,” he said cooly with a shrug. “Now, spill.”

With a few moments of hesitation, she answered. “I’m a C. Happy?”

“Very.” The wide, pleased smile on his face definitely attested to that.

Rather than going for conventional letters this time, she went with ‘x’. Third time’s the charm, right? Or maybe not, given the look her ghostly guest was giving her. Fuck.

Taking her feet off the coffee table and slapping the pen and pad down in their place, she stood up, careful to not step on Bingo and turned to face him with her hands on her hips.

“You know what? Fuck it. Dare.”

He was amused by her sudden change in attitude, giving her a toothy grin. “You’re a competitive one, aren’t you?”

“Just give me a dare already, chucklefuck.” She had to admit, she did have a competitive streak. No matter how often she would try to play it cool in any sort of game, after a few bad turns her attitude would sour and desire to throttle people would kick in.

He did, indeed, chuckle at her words. “I gotta say, I am loving this color on you, babes. Very hot. Now, why don’t you show me how flexible you are?”

The glare on her face became harder, almost looking like a snarl had she decided to bare her teeth at him. She did growl at him a little, so there’s that. “What? You don’t want me to do a handstand while singing ‘I’ve got a lovely bunch of coconuts’?”

“Not for this one, but thanks for the idea.” God, she wished he was tangible so she could punch his stupid face.

Moving her feet to keep her balanced and from falling over, she started bending slowly and fully backwards, making an arch with her spine. All the while, she kept one hand up to flip her ghostly ‘pal’ the bird. As she went back, he tilted his head to follow her until her hand finally reached the ground. He would go over there, float above her and tease her, but he knew he was already pushing it with her this go-’round.

Straightening his neck back out, he slapped a hand on his chest. “Oof. Babes. If my heart was still beating, it woulda stopped just now.”

Getting back up was a slower process than bending back, but she made it without having to lay on the ground. She walked back over to the couch, dropping down back into her spot with a bit of a bounce. Grabbing the journal and pen again, she grumbled to him, “Fuck you, we’re doing the next letter.”

He laughed at her words, ready for the fun to continue. Seeing her getting frustrated at the game she proposed seemed to scratch an itch for him. It wasn’t as good as when he scared the daylights out of someone but it was still fulfilling. The added bonus to it all was that he could actually talk with someone. It had been a good long while since he had that chance with someone who wasn’t dead or a 1-dimensional clone.

The game continued on with Karmilla guessing the wrong letter a few more times before she finally got one. When she finally did, she was probably too ecstatic. Not jumping up and down ecstatic, but the quick, in-your-face yell of ‘fuck you’ before moving onto the next letter. By the end of the game, he learned a lot; the black padding she had lining the walls of her apartment was to save her neighbors the trouble of having to listen to her blaring music and her singing along with it; she’s slept with a good few people, gender never really coming into play for her; she’s always been able to see ghosts and knew more about the Netherworld than the average breather should know. There were a few more dares involved, none of them fun for her but all of them entertaining to him.

Eventually, the game came to an end, much to Karmilla’s relief. With all the letters lined up on their spaces, she stared at the pad.

“Beetlejuice?”

He leaned more forward at the sound of his name. “It sounds very nice when you say it. Why not give it to me a few more times?”

She gave him a suspicious look as she closed the journal and tossed it on the coffee table with the pen she was using. “Why?”

The smile on his face tightened. He was probably a little too eager with his words. Standing up and walking through the coffee table, he started to pace slowly in front of her, watching her eyes follow him. “Oh, you know. Curse stuff. Can’t say my name, can’t talk to the living, can’t get summoned and get all my powers back.”

She shifted herself on the couch, tucking herself comfortably into the corner as she watched him. “It’s that easy?”

He stopped his pacing and looked at her with a tight-lined smile. “Is it, though? Usually, someone would think the whole ‘living people can’t see me’ would be a pretty big kink in a plan to return to full power.”

She mocked his expression, inadvertently making him laugh. “Whatever. So, I guess the summoning requires your name? Is there more to it? Sacrificial lamb? Blood of the willing? Sacrificial virgin?”

“You could bring a virgin to me, though there wouldn’t be any blood letting. Unless they were into that, then maybe a little blood letting.” His words earned him a disgusted look from his friend, which just made him smile all the more. “Lucky for you, there’s no ghosty mumbo-jumbo you gotta deal with. Only thing you gotta do is say my name three times in a row--” he held up three fingers to emphasize his words-- “Nothin’ in between.”

She gave a small hum of contemplation as she nodded at him. At least, there’s no murder involved. Unless, that’s something he planned on doing when he’s ‘summoned’. From what she’s seen so far, she’d just assume he’d be more of the practical joke type that might sometimes end with someone getting hurt. Still, she hasn’t known him for more than three or four hours now, so there could still be a lot under the surface she hasn’t seen yet.

“What will you do when you’re back at full power? What exactly happens?” Better to ask up front than try and be clever about it. All she could hope for now is that she could spot any lies he tried to use.

“Would you believe me if I said it was to become a better part of the community and help those in need?” Beetlejuice put on his best attempt at an innocent expression, batting his eyes at her. The visual itself got him a half-smile from her but also a shake of her head. He dropped his little act quickly. “Didn’t think so.”

He sat on air, crossing one leg over the other and put his hands on the top knee, like he was trying to sit pretty. She wasn’t able to describe the voice he was doing as anything other than a peppy lady at an interview. “Well, what I really want to do is have some fun. Ya know, go out on the town, wreak some havoc, scare the daylights outta people, and maybe throw in a few dismemberments to spice it up.”

Her eyebrows arched up as he spoke, putting more thoughts of what exactly she let follow her home. Nothing harmless, that’s for sure. “Yeah, I’m definitely not going to do that.”

He groaned dramatically, rolling his head to emphasize his eye roll. “Uuugh, but why? We could have so much fun together!” He stood up from his air seat and took a few steps towards her. “And you look like a gal who could use it.”

She opened her mouth to object to the last part, but in all honesty he was right. The most she ever did was work, college, home, and dance and sing with Bingo when she’s drunk. “Causing harm to people is not fun.”

“Unless it’s someone who really deserves it.” As he was about to take another step forward, Bingo growled. He did a quick, mock growl back at her before continuing on, staying in place this time. “And you didn’t say ‘no’ to the havoc wreaking and the daylight scaring, so-”

“It’s a no to the whole thing, Beetlejuice,” she said flatly, looking him right in the eye. She noticed that hearing the sound of his name made him perk up, his hair seeming to brighten in color and the air around him feeling more electric. At least, electric enough that she felt a tingle in her limbs and warning bells going off in her head. “Listen, I just met you. I don’t know you. I don’t know why you’d think I’d help you out.”

“Because we’re friends?” He said this like it was the most obvious thing to him. Come to think of it, she had noticed that he had referred to her as a friend every so often between the come-ons and general sexual harassment.

She let out a long sigh, letting her head fall back to rest on the cushions of the couch, trying to think of what she should say. When she finally had it, she brought her head back up. “Don’t wanna break your heart, dude, but I’m pretty sure we’re not friends. There’s no real basis for it, other than I’m the only one that can see you.”

He deflated a bit at her response, but continued trying to keep up his relentless attitude. Of course they were friends. How could she not see that? “We made a connection! This is destiny or fate or whatever the fuck it is. You talked to me!”

“Didn’t have much choice there.”

“You brought me home with you!”

“You would’ve followed me anyway.”

He paused again. “Both valid points. But come on, Karma! You’re not really gonna leave a dead man hanging, are you?”

She didn’t respond, just leveled a deadpan stare at him.

Dammit, lady, you’re killin’ me! He bit the inside of his lip as he tried to think of a way to convince her. He thought he had been very good and friendly thus far, but he may have come on a little strong with her.

“Alright, alright, okay,” he started as he came back to the couch, walking through the table again to sit next to her, facing her as fully as he could. “What if I prove myself to you? So, you can trust that I won’t be going out and killing randos on the street. Unless you want me to, then I totally will. But I’ll behave! As much as I can, anyway.”

She continued just staring at him, but thought over his words. Until she noticed him starting to do his best attempt at pleading puppy dog eyes. She’d hate to admit it, but the longer she stared back at him the more she felt his look getting to her. God, he’s really good at playing up being pitiful. Doesn’t help that he probably genuinely wants a friend. Fuck. Something about her eyes must have softened because she could see a small smile coming back to his face. God dammit, now it’s cute.

Karmilla had to break eye contact with him, losing out in the battle of wills. Curse her empathetic heart. “Fine, I guess.”

As soon as she relented, Beetlejuice jumped from the seat up into the air in a cheer, going higher than normal physics would allow. He landed on the coffee table facing her. “Oh, babes, thank you! You are not gonna regret this one bit!”

God, I hope not, she thought to herself as she pushed herself up from the couch. “Make yourself at home, I guess. I need to walk Bingo, so I’ll be back in a bit.”

He turned as he watched her go back to the counter where she had left her keys, seeing her pocket them and grabbing a leash, the dog following alongside her. “Want me to come along, my new best buddy?”

Karmilla attached the leash to her dog’s collar before pushing her feet into the shoes she had been wearing earlier. “No. I’m not gonna be long. Like I said, just make yourself at home.”

He shrugged even though she wasn’t looking before falling back and laying on air before floating gently down to the couch, hands interlocked behind his head. “Whatever you say, boss lady.” Oh, sweet, sweet freedom here I come.

He looked over and watched as she picked up what she needed, hooking up her dog and walking out the door. The click of the lock bolting into place was very audible even in the sound deadened room. As he continued to stay reclined on the couch, he looked towards the TV. Probably should’ve asked her to turn it on before she left. Live and learn. Well, maybe not live. The point stands that without his friend here, there was nothing in the apartment that would help pass the time more easily.

“Well--” he jumped up from the couch suddenly, taking a few steps towards Karmilla’s room. “Time to complete the invasion of privacy before I gotta dial it back.”

#karma #karmilla #beetlejuice #beetlejuice oc #beetlejuice the musical #musical!beetlejuice #musical!beej #beetlejuice x oc #beetlejuice x karmilla #expect nothing from me and you'll never be disappointed #my writing #karma's playlist

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blythecreamer · 4 years

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Finally...

I’m writing again. For a long time I felt like there was nothing to say. It often feels like Groundhog Day around here. But actually a lot has been going on. It’s been 19 weeks of quarantine. It’s crazy to think about. I am still very anxious. Still taking only 1/2 klonopin a day (amazing!). But somehow managing my anxiety. Coloring helps me immensely. I do it every day and I feel relaxed, focused on that process only, my mind is still for a few hours. I’ve also started meeting with my therapist twice a week instead of monthly. That has made a world of difference. She pushes me to confront my anxieties and challenge them, taking baby steps. She wants me to move closer to accepting the “new normal.” I have major anxiety about leaving the house. She wants me to take walks without Mark (which I still haven’t done). We haven’t even been going on walks together very much lately. I’ve got to motivate. But I HAVE left the house 8 times!! Once to the dentist, 3 times to the grocery store, twice to Royal Farms, once to get my hair cut, and once to CVS. And CVS wasn’t a quick run—I had to deal with them fucking up one of my prescriptions. I DID IT!! I am amazed!!! Mark and my therapist were so proud! It’s SO crazy going into the grocery store. It’s totally surreal. It’s like you get into this primal mode where you’re just like “grab anything that looks good!!!!” Its crazy. My other main source of anxiety (besides the other larger and most obvious anxiety-me or Mark getting COVID and dying) is about Mark going to work. I worry about him SO MUCH. I am so stressed about how I will manage his return to work. What will I do to fill up me empty days alone? I am afraid I’ll get depressed. It’s so fucking stressful. This has been another issue I’ve been unpacking with my therapist. We are developing some strategies to keep me busy while I’m alone. I’m still freaked the fuck out. So my anxiety is always there-manifesting itself in different ways-at bay some days, perseveration other days. I have chronic nightmares. One minute I’m fine, the next I’m overwhelmed. Things are going ok with my new psychiatrist. She has kept my bipolar/anxiety meds the same-and I can’t really blame her. It seems like a potentially dangerous move to switch things up considering the situation. I feel a bit overmedicated on my antipsychotic but fear I’ll have an episode of some sort or another if I lower my dosage. If I had a hypomanic episode right now i would be SO FUCKED! And even though I need to get off lithium to save my poor kidneys, that 300mg might be keeping me stable. As far as the klonopin goes I am kind of in a shitty place. She wants me off it. She won’t prescribe any more until we meet in person. All I have are the refills Misty gave me. They’ll last a while with my rationing but the question is when will we actually meet in person. If things continue to go south it could be months before we meet and I CANNOT just go off a benzodiazepine. That is dangerous and life threatening. So yet another source of anxiety. My mood—in terms of hypomania and depression—has been very stable. My sleep is good and consistent. My mood is fairly even. She seems to think I’m doing pretty well in terms of anxiety. I’m not huddled in a ball in bed, unable to do anything productive. I agree with that. But my anxiety has definitely become more of a generalized anxiety situation, rather than the panic disorder I’ve been diagnosed with. I have had few panic attacks since COVID, but my anxiety is pervasive and definitely problematic. My therapist also thinks I’m managing my anxiety pretty well and keeps telling me I don’t give myself enough credit for the strides I’m making. I can see that, but believing it is much more difficult. I’ve basically stopped eating because of my anxiety. I eat dinner but that’s all. I’ve lost at least 15lbs maybe more (our scale blows). I just can’t eat. It makes me sick just thinking about eating. I know this is not healthy, contributes to my low energy and tiredness (effects of my antipsychotic), and is just a bad idea when all I have is a stomach full of meds. I kind of feel like I’ve developed an eating disorder on top of everything else. In terms of my sobriety I’m doing well. I hardly think about drinking with everything else going on. I had one incident when Mark and I got into an argument and I got in the car threatening to go to Wine Source. But that was unusual. I’m feeling strong on this front. I’m not in danger of relapse. This current situation seems 100x harder than rehab. I’m doing fine without my continuing care group. I still have all the support I need from friends and family. The major positive that’s come out of all this is having Mark home with me for 19 weeks. When he is commuting we spend a few hours together every day. We’ve had a couple blowouts but reconciled with things back to normal rather quickly. What can you expect when you’re trapped in the house with each other for almost 5 months. I adore Mark and I want him home forever!! It’s been such an amazing way to bond—to reinforce our love for one another. I can’t imagine my world without him in it. I JUST CAN’T. We have had some socially distant hangouts and that has helped IMMENSELY!!! We’ve seen my parents 4 times-and on the last visit I finally gave them hugs! I finally felt safe enough to do so (they wore their masks) and it was soooo good!! We’ve also had 4 friends over. Including one of my best friends/acupuncturist who gave me a treatment in my living room! So awesome!!! These hangouts give me LIFE!!! Things are simultaneously so weird and normal. It’s a good thing to have human contact!!! I’m hanging in. I’m on media blackout. Have been since this all started. Mark fills me in on the important things I need to know. Media coverage/articles are too much for me. Anxiety through the roof. I know things are SO BAD and I have made them worse in my mind so what’s the point. Not to bury my head in the sand but I’ve got to do what I need to do to preserve my sanity. Reaching out to friends and family, even a quick text, really helps. Just to make contact and make sure everyone is ok. I talk to my mom & dad several times a day. Mark. Mom. Dad. My friends. My rocks. Keep them close even though they’re far. ❤️ So overall I am making it happen. I see my strength, my resolve. I’m pressing on day by day. I am doing the best I fucking can and that’s all I can fucking ask of myself.

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magnoliadarling · 6 years

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I took a lot of photos documenting how the stress of this summer affected me, physically, in ways I didn’t know it could affect the body. For me, this photo kind of sums it up. I think I ate 1/2 of a sushi roll that dinner. I was unable to eat. I had absolutely no appetite. I was empty and somehow went days and days with eating nothing and never felt weak. I was content being empty. I was barely 102 pounds in this photo. And this wasn’t my eating disorder. My tongue was affected with probably 300 or more inflamed taste buds for some reason. It was painful to eat. I developed a cold sore that took up almost half of my bottom lip. I get cold sores from time to time, but this thing was impressive to say the least. I didn’t really care. It’s strange for me to look back and while I’m sure my eating disorder did affect me a bit this summer, truly, this time it was driven by stress. There were points in my days where I would stare at the fridge and pantry for hours. I wanted to eat something, but everything would actually make me gag. It’s so strange to think about, looking back.

I was stuck in a constant state of insomnia. Going days and days without sleeping or feeling tired at all, but spent numbing myself with drugs, alcohol, the business of bars and clubs and meaningless conversations that took my mind off of things up until I couldn’t stay awake anymore. I would sleep for 4 days straight, not knowing it wasn’t still Monday when it was Thursday. And I would repeat that cycle over and over.

The main thing you can’t see in this photo that still wrecks me is the tremor I developed. It started in my mouth, spread to my hands, my feet, my whole body. I looked like I had Tourette’s or Parkinson’s. It caused to sweat uncontrollably. I tried once to start writing out the just mass amount of emotions I was dealing with, but I was shaking so bad I could only write one sentence. “You have taken too much from me.” I had people asking me at the beginning what drugs I was on, when, at the time, I wasn’t on any. People made fun of me when I was out, they would try and snap chat me. Eventually, I had to go to the ER because my doctor wouldn’t let me go home. All the drugs they gave me in the ER didn’t stop the tremors. I had a doctor come in at one point and he asked me to stand up and walk for him and my left leg shook so bad, I fell over. He had to catch me. I saw the just pain and helplessness in my dad’s eyes as he watched his baby girl literally breaking from the inside so much, my body was shutting down and there was nothing he could do. I did my best to tell him I was okay and I don’t know why I’m shaking, but it just won’t stop. I was trying to stop the pain I knew he was feeling watching me fall apart because I didn’t want him to feel that. It’s a lot of why I separated myself from my family during this past summer. They saw me broken in ways I didn’t know I could be broken and they didn’t know how to fix it. And, truly, there was nothing they could do and I couldn’t stand to see that just worry and sadness in their eyes. So, I just distanced myself. The shaking definitely caused some trauma because I didn’t know stress could affect the body that way. And it still comes back if I haven’t slept or am not okay. It’s so strange to be so unable to control your body in that way. My mom told me once that my dad took a video of me shaking while I was in the ER. I’m building up the courage to ask him to send it to me.

I was bruised from head to toe because I was so malnourished. I was functioning, but barely. I was politely calling every wedding vendor telling them that my fiancé was ill and we didn’t need them. One by one, erasing the wedding I had always dreamed of. Cleaning up Eric’s mess that all started because he decided he didn’t need to be on medication. I was making jokes just to give people something else to talk about besides my life falling apart. I haven’t really told a lot of people this, but up until the end of July- I still had faith that he could stabilize and yeah, he might be a little manic at our wedding, but I was hoping for the most grandiose of endings to this nightmare. I clung to the tiniest shred of hope that Eric would come back to me in time to meet me at the end of the aisle. I spent countless nights having to get him out of bars because he was scaring people or hitting on girls, politely and very protectively defending him when people called him crazy. Because fuck you, he’s not crazy, he is just very fucking sick right now. I spent the whole summer having people text me and be like what the fuck is wrong with eric- asking me if I had seen some picture with him and this or that girl or if i knew that he was telling people i was a sociopath and generally just embarrassing the hell out of me on social media. And again, I knew (well, I thought I knew) that when he did stabilize he was going to be so embarrassed and feel so much hurt and regret and I didn’t want him to feel that so never once did I talk shit about him. I sent him to the psych ward 2 out of the 3 times he was in there this summer. Once where he tried to fuck a girl in the same unit I was in back in June. That same fucking psych ward where I told myself over and over and over and over again. I know Eric. He wouldn’t cheat on me. He just wouldn’t. I broke myself trying to believe that when this was all over, he would give me the fucking just decency of not even crawling on hands and knees begging me to take him back (which, honestly, he should of) but just letting me fucking yell at him for 30 fucking minutes. Because I understand he was so sick. No one on this planet understands the loss I have felt each time he gets that sick. I lose my best friend. and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. It wrecks me to see him unable to stop the things he does when he’s ill. It’s almost like he’s a child.

So, I understand he was still. but goddamnit. It doesn’t make his actions hurt any fucking less. I’m angry that he has this fucking disorder that causes him to get so fucking sick. I would take it from him in a heartbeat if I could. No one truly gets how devastating his illness is except me at this point. Because no little girl grows up thinking the happiest time of her life is going to wrecked in the catastrophic way mine was. And I’ll never know why, this time, his illness was negatively focused on me because he doesn’t even know. I’m also just so angry at the girls who slept with him. I don’t even fucking sleep with him when he’s that ill. I feel like I would be taking advantage at him and when he slept with them- he was OBVIOUSLY fucking ill. You’re disgusting for sleeping with someone that ill. Fucking trash. I’m angry that, now, you will never see the most perfect wedding dress there ever was. I’m angry that I didn’t get to spend my birthday with you. I’m angry you couldn’t be there for me when I was suicidal in the hospital. I’m angry you didn’t listen to me about staying on your medication. There’s so much I’m angry about. And yeah, there is a piece of me that is just fucking pissed you slept with 3 ugly ass fucking whores. Sue me. But you didn’t even give me that. You didn’t give the validation that yeah, I may have fucked shit up in the past, but this....this was your fucking fault. You didn’t just let me have 30 goddamn minutes where my best friend, previous fiancé, husband that was supposed to be, understood that he wasn’t able to pick me up when I was in shattered pieces and the pain I felt and where that person didn’t blame me or didn’t use my illnesses as a reason not to be with me, but the love of my life who I haven’t even kissed or been in the same room with for almost 4 months just let me yell at you. And just absorb some of unbearable and enormous amount of pain that I had to bear alone. And at the end of it, just hold me and let me weep for all that we lost. Maybe you would’ve wept too. And then given me the true validation that yeah this was your fault and a just real apology and maybe even a thank you for still wanting to be here and never giving up that yeah you go away sometimes, but you always come back.

No, you told me I had no reason to be mad that you came inside an ugly fat redhead because you were sick.

Fuck you asshole. Stop playing the fucking victim. Be a man. Maybe just, if anything, understand you have literally no fucking clue the PTSD I now suffer from and the literal trauma I went through and am still going through because of you. Maybe you could of loved me enough to just show me some empathy at the one fucking time I needed it most. You weren’t there. You were sick. Because you chose to go off meds. Even though I begged, sobbed, and pleaded on the bathroom floor for you not to. And you promised me you wouldn’t get sick and ruin our wedding.

I don’t why I wasn’t enough for you. But I hope you truly fucking know, you’re not find better than me. No fucking woman would stay with through what your illness put me through.

Love wasn’t enough for you this time. I hope you remember all those times we played the I love you more, no I love you more game. I win. I have always loved you more.

I shouldn’t have to go to sleep wondering if my significant other is in love with me. You have absolutely taken too much from me. Because I’ve let you.

And I can’t say that it’ll happen because you know. We were really happy. And that’s what’s hardest to let go of. The love I had in you will stay with me forever. But you, you will always have in the back of your head that I’m the one that got away.

Holy cow. I am not even going to read over this. It uh, I’m sure is a mess. I haven’t been able to write more than 2 sentences about this summer. So, I’m just going to leave it as it is.

#magnoliadarling #magnoliadarling.tumblr.com #magnoliadarling 2018 writing #writing #breakup #break up #you broke my heart #you broke me #broken

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heartsofstrangers · 6 years

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What has been one of the most challenging things you’ve experienced or currently experiencing?

“I don’t know how to word it. It’s like not being trapped in my head so much, if that makes sense. I would have to say, the bullying that I experienced growing up in middle school and high school and from my father. It was like a never-ending cycle of bullying. Back in the day, when I was in middle school, high school, social media was not as prevalent as it is today. You would expect that when you got back to your own home, it would be a safe place. You might’ve had a rough day at school, but you would expect to go home and feel safe at home with your family. But for me, I’d go to school and get bullied, and then I’d go home and get bullied by my father. It was a never-ending cycle. So actually these past two years I’d consider my recovery from being trapped in my head with my therapist. He really helped me with understanding certain behaviors, such as why I would avoid people. When I would come home on break from college and I would see kids from my high school and middle school, and even though they weren’t the ones that were directly bullying me, they were still associated with that time in my life that I wanted to forget. It’s been a challenge get out of your head, because it can be a safe and also a very dark place. It was a very dark place because I believed everything people were telling me and my father would say, so I had zero self-confidence, about things like my body, my ability to make friends, my ability to find love, my ability to understand myself and accept myself. So I would say in my heart the most challenging thing is bullying, and getting over that.”

How would you say that the bullying impacted you and your later years?

“That’s actually what I would like to do going forward in life. When I get my masters in social work, I would want to work with schools, and educate people on the long-standing effects of bullying. I feel like schools nowadays are getting better at responding appropriately. Where back in the day when I was in middle school and high school it was just like, ‘kids will be kids.’ That was the message I got a lot of the time, and it was just awful. I think people don’t realize the severity of how awful bullying can be, especially now with all those platforms where people can take a quick picture and you don’t even know it and they can post it on the internet.

“Bullying impacted me so that I was afraid to like make friends. I didn’t feel like I could ever make friends. I was very overweight growing up, I had awful acne (like most teenagers), and I was very closeted for most of the time, so I was very socially awkward. I just could not make friends, or I couldn’t keep friends because I was so desperate for friendship. I would do a lot of very embarrassing stuff that people would tell me, ‘oh yeah if you do this, we’ll be friends.’ And I would do it, but then they wouldn’t be my friend, so it was just, the lowest self-esteem I could imagine. I was told I’d never find a guy who will love me or I’d never find someone who will want to be with me, and I was really believing that. Whenever a guy would approach me, I just pushed him away, because I told myself it wouldn’t work, it wouldn’t last. It was the same with people throughout college, where I had my core group that I was able to open up with because I felt safe with them.

“But, even during the entire time I didn’t have any reason to believe that they weren’t my friend, but my mind would get me to think, they’re probably talking bad about me behind my back, because that happened to me a lot growing up. So it was a repeated cycle of self-sabotage. I like really believed what people were saying, especially with my father. He really had an issue around some of my femininity, because he’s really stuck in those ways and that mindset that what makes a man a man, like masculine, the features, the masculine duties that people do, like knowing stuff about cars knowing how to fix stuff with your hands. I don’t know that stuff. But that’s what my dad perceives as what makes a man. I was into theater, into pop music, and Broadway, and that stuff. So I had a really hard time accepting that part of myself, accepting the femininity, and understanding that gender is very fluid. It’s not like you’re just masculine, or you’re just feminine, or you’re just a boy or a girl. It’s understanding those and accepting your whole self, if that makes sense. I think that’s what really impacted me. I have to say these past two years with therapy have really been my recovery. So I struggled until these past two years, and that’s also when I started getting on anxiety meds.”

Were there low points along the way? Low points where you were isolated and depressed or contemplating suicide?

“Yes to pretty much all. I developed an eating disorder back in 2012. It was mainly around my weight, because I was closing on 200 pounds. It was the heaviest I ever was in my life. It was because I was eating my feelings pretty much. I was so sad, I would eat super late, I would eat the worst foods. I was also in college so I was broke. So there were many reasons that I was eating shitty, but most of it was because I was just not happy. Even realizing you have all these friends, you have grown so much, but it’s that mask, you just can’t re-see it. You still see yourself as that low kid you used to be. I think what happened with the eating disorder was just that I wanted to be in control for once. I felt so out of control. All this shit was happening. I think being able to control the eating gave me some sense of control in my life, even though it was not in a healthy way. I don’t regret the eating disorder, because it was something I needed to control even though it was really hurting me. I think everything happens for a reason. And it’s led me to where I am now. This past year has been my recovery from the eating disorder. These two years have been with therapy and understanding my mind and understanding my PTSD, the depression and anxiety aspects to that. This past year has been really concentrating on having a better relationship with food and understanding my body more.

“I never had a suicide attempt, but I’ve definitely contemplated it. I definitely had a lot of suicide ideation growing up, every day in middle school, and it was mainly around if I were to die, no one would miss me. Now I’m able to realize that a lot of people would miss me, and I’ve made that big change. I still think about it sometimes, like when I’m really experiencing my low phases. It’s a cycle still. But it’s improving, and I’m able to get myself out of that mindset a lot quicker than I used to. Now I’m able to quickly make that change. I’ve developed a lot of coping skills to get out of that mindset. I had a lot of depression growing up, and I was told I had generalized anxiety disorder for the longest time, and that’s what led me to go to therapy, because I realized I don’t just have that.

“There’s something else that crept right up on it. And then I was finally able to realize the PTSD was really affecting me. It’s been something that I’ve been trying to really educate my family about. When people hear PTSD they think of soldiers, and they don’t really think that there are so many other ways you can have PTSD. Mine is really around the bullying. I want to educate people on the fact that there are so many factors in these diagnoses, and it’s not just that one thing that you hear in the news all the time

“It’s the same thing with eating disorders; a lot of times you hear about an eating disorder and you think about females, because it’s so prevalent in like the modeling industry and everything, and it’s always in the news. People don’t really think about males having eating disorders. In this society they think that women care more about their bodies than men do, but that’s totally false. I mean women do, but men are still told that they have to be these jacked, big, strong, masculine jewels, and if you’re—people still discriminate around weight with men just as much as they do with women. That’s where a big part of the eating disorder came in because, although I love the fact that I love my community, I love the LGBT community, I love who I am, but it can be a little bit vain at times. I felt like when I was at my heaviest that people weren’t as—I don’t know how to phrase it—I felt more excluded from the community than where I’m at now. I love the body I have now. I’m really developing a positive relationship with my body, where I’m able to be more comfortable with wearing less clothing, or if I want to be at a beach, but I’ll always be that person I was when I was heavy. It’s just that my body looks different now. There were a lot of factors that went into my recovery and my story.”

You mentioned that sort of the anxiety led you to seek therapy. Was there a low point that you realized, ‘Wait a minute, I can’t continue to live like this? I need to something about this.’

“I sought counseling a little bit in my college, in my senior year. It was offered for free for students at my college. And it helped, but I just didn’t feel that good connection with the therapist, so I was talking with my mom, who I’m very close with, and she told me she would be willing to pay the co-pays for me to go to therapy. There were suicide attempts in my family. (I won’t say who.) So I think my mom was really scared when I was telling her I was feeling very low and very depressed, and I needed help. I didn’t know what to do. All I do is come home, I work, I come home and I hibernate in my room pretty much. I was not socializing. I felt very disconnected from my family, particularly my father. I was just so trapped in my head. I was not on meds at that time. So my anxiety was just through the roof. I’d misplace the littlest of things, like maybe I misplaced my iPod, and it would be a crisis for me. I didn’t want to live like that. I wanted to be able to control myself. And I could not. I failed so many job interviews because I would have a panic attack in the interview. I remember I interviewed for a DCF in Springfield. That was my first job interview out of undergrad and the simplest of questions: ‘What do you know about DCF?’ And I was in my mindset ‘stand up, get up, walk out.’ That was just how my mindset was. I was so anxious and I just could not manage a simple question. This is bad, like I need to change.

“My mom actually found my therapist, who ended up being the best therapist I ever met in my life. He is outstanding, and he’s helped me so much with understanding my own mind and realizing that I am just like everyone else. That was the big thing. I just felt so different, because I felt like no one else knew what I was going through, even though a lot of people go through the same thing. A lot of times when people talk about being trapped in their head and what goes on in their head, people are scared to put it out there. They’ll feel crazy, or they’ll feel like, I don’t know, people might think I’m a little nuts, but it’s normal for people to have those kinds of thoughts and go to those really dark places. Being able to be so open with that with my friends has been so amazing, and understanding that other people have that same experience. So I think that being able to open up to that to my mom and my mom being able to be like, ‘Well, I know you’re struggling with money right now, so I’ll co-pay for therapy,’ that was a big tipping point for me, just having my mom on my side and have someone to back you up.”

Sounds like support plays an important role, would you agree?

“Yeah, and I think just wanting to get better. That was my big breaking point. My weight was also getting really bad. I was also looking at outpatient rehabilitation for eating disorders, and I was looking at a place in Amherst, I forget the name, but that was also a big point because I wanted to get help around my eating disorder. I was like taking in like 1000 calories a day and then I would go to the gym and purposefully burn like 700-plus calories and then I’d go home and ride the stationary bike and then I’d go to bed and you burn calories in your sleep. So I’d wake up in the morning and I’d be in so much pain, to the point where I’d have to be hunched over because it was in my groin area it felt so empty, and I felt a really sharp pain all the time, and I would be scared to even eat a piece of gum. It was just another five calories, I can’t do that. That will make me fat. So it was like, being in that place and just knowing that a lot of my family was getting nervous. It’s like, you don’t look healthy, you look like a rail, pretty much. And I think, just wanting to get better, developing a better nutritional diet, I was able to line up a nutritionist, and I was able to line up a therapist. I ended up not going to the rehabilitation place, because I was able to get that treatment through my therapy. And just my own, resilient self, I guess, I was able to develop that better sense of relationship with food on my own, but also with therapy and friends and everything.”

There are a couple things I want to come back to. You mentioned experiencing panic attacks resulting from your PTSD trauma being bullied. How did you work through panic attacks when they would happen?

“I realized I had panic attacks growing up and didn’t think anything of it, so I was actually just thinking about that recently with my therapist. I thought, ‘Oh my God, I’ve had panic attacks almost like my whole life,’ but I could never put a name to it, so I thought it was me being out of control and weird and all that stuff. When I first realized it was a legit panic attack was recently. Up until a few months ago, they started cutting back, and it was around my break up. We started really going through the trauma narrative in therapy, so I was reliving some of my trauma. So it was a really scary, vulnerable place. There was a time with the body dysmorphia, that I also have on top of my eating disorder, and the mask was lifted like momentarily where I was able to really see myself and see the definition and my body. Normally I would still look at myself and even though all my friends would be like, ‘You’re fit, you’re in shape, you eat healthy. You can treat yourself to ice cream once in a while. You’re not going to gain the weight that quick.’ And I finally reached the place where I was able to see myself in the mirror, and I was like, ‘Oh my God, I’m not who I think I am in my head. This is who I am.’ It was scary and I felt myself go to the back of my brain, and then I had my panic attack because I saw my reflection. I basically have been developing my own coping skills around doing deep breathing in those moments. I also call my friend Rosa, who I’m going to be living with. Sometimes, I just say, ‘I’m having a rough night. Could you please talk to me?’ And she talks to me and she’ll stay on the phone for hours. Or I’ll just call her and be like, ‘I’m having a rough night. I can’t talk about it. Can you just distract me?’ And she’ll just talk about random stuff. Really reaching out for that support has been amazing for me, and then also being able to distract myself in those moments. I’ll listen to music. That’s incredibly therapeutic for me. I love to dance, so I’ll dance. I’ll have my own little dance party of one in my room. Or I’ll just watch TV shows and movies; that’s also been very therapeutic for me. Just trying in that moment to remind myself, you have your support group, you have a lot going for you right now. You’re not the same kid you were years ago where you felt so lost. You really put in the work. Trying to remind myself of all that I’ve accomplished. I think sometimes when you get really low, you just completely forget all the good things in your life. You’re just so focused on the bad. I think that’s been really helping me with the panic attacks and understanding what they are now. That was a big help for me, because I thought, ‘Okay, so that’s what it has been my whole life because I didn’t know what they were and I didn’t know how to control them. I felt so out of control in my body when that happened.’ Also working with the demographic that I worked with, working with that population also helped a lot. I would see my kids I worked with have panic attacks and I’d be able to see my kids also who have PTSD. Just seeing their behaviors and understanding them was making me look within myself when I was a kid and think, ‘Oh my God, I did the exact same thing when I was a kid.’ And understanding where their behaviors are coming from and being able to relate that to myself also and share that with them has been very therapeutic.”

Did you (or do you still) find it difficult to reach out for help when you hit some of those rough patches?

“Not anymore, because I’ve really developed an amazing support group. I know that the people I reach out to are not going to judge me. That’s really the mindset that I’m in now. I used to always worry that they would judge me because of the poor friendships I had growing up. But just knowing that my friends that I reach out to, even aside from my roommates, I mean I’m very grateful to have an amazing group of friends now that I’m not afraid to reach out to. In the past I would not reach out to people, except for my mom. But back then, my mom, just like myself, didn’t know what was wrong with me. We didn’t know what was happening, so my mom tried her best, but she just didn’t know what to say or how to react. But now, my mom asks me questions so she wants to know how to handle it, because there are other relatives in my family who have mental health, mental illness. And also because I’m a social worker now, my mom is always asking questions. But it was very difficult for me in the past, because I really didn’t have many people to reach out to. I did I have my friend Dave, who I have been friends with since sixth grade, but he lived 30 minutes away. So when you were kids, your parents worked, so you couldn’t ask your parents to drive 30 minutes to see my friend. We could only see each other once in a while, like an over-the-phone friendship. And that was enough for me too, just having that companion. You can’t put all your stock in one person. He was my safe place growing up, but we went to different high schools, we went to different middle schools. We didn’t get to hang out as much, so he could only do so much. But now I have a huge network of friends.”

Have you found that sharing who you are and where you’ve been and some of your experiences has created meaningful, deeper connections in your life? It sounds like that may have been what it has cultivated, support . . .

“There was a moment in my senior year in college, when I was home on a break, I was in such a low space—but it was also interesting because though I was still in that low mindset, I had the most friends I’d ever had in my life at that point. And like they were good, healthy friendships so it was interesting look back because I had what I had always wanted. I had a core group—but I was still so low. It wasn’t until I really came back from break and we got all together, that I was able to sit down with them and talk about our break, and I told them I was in a really low place this past break and I was thinking a lot about suicide. And I only said, ‘I don’t think I would ever attempt suicide because I don’t want to not be here. I want to get better.’ But I always had those thoughts in the back of my head, and I felt so vulnerable telling my friends that, and then my friends were like, ‘We’ve been there.’ So that was when I thought, ‘Okay, so I can start telling people a little bit about what goes on in my head and how I really feel,’ because you can put all these happy images of yourself on your social media and you can seem like you have it all together and really deep, deep down you’re like a mess. It was nice to know with those friends that they were really able to relate to me. You can feel that you’re not alone. Two friends I’m going to be living with now are outstanding. We talk openly. We’re freaking nervous as hell about this move to a different state. It’s been great to be able to be more of my authentic self and be more who I really am.”

That takes courage. But it sounds like, by putting yourself out there and sharing who you are and where you’ve been, others are encouraged to do the same. That creates this vibe of authenticity between you and your friends, the people in your life, which I think is such an important space to be in.

“Yeah, my friends are my family. I love my family of blood, but I definitely feel safer with my friends. I think it’s going to be great because they live in Boston. I’m not going to be far from Boston where I’m moving now. So it’s like I’m going to be closer to them. I think building that good, safe place among your friends could open many doors for them. Having that friendship done a lot for me, and I hope it’s done a lot for them too.”

What are some of the things you’ve learned about yourself over the last couple of years and in your recovery?

“I’m a lot stronger than I give myself credit for. A big like wake-up call was this past summer, when I joined the gay men’s volleyball league in Northampton, Dunes Boys. I was so terrified to ever interact with men, especially gay men, because I was so nervous about how to talk to them and how to put myself out there. I didn’t really have much experience interacting with gay men, and I had a very limited amount of gay friends in my life, so it can be scary to walk in on a group of people who have probably been going in to this volleyball for like five, six, or seven years. There were about 45 gay men there and I knew only one person, my friend who got me to join the volleyball team. But I still went every week and pushed myself to go, but I didn’t go the first two weeks because I was terrified. And then my friend was like, ‘You need to freaking go.’

“So I finally went, and it’s been outstanding. It’s been so rewarding, and I’ve met so many great friends. A couple of them are going to help me move tomorrow. So it’s been a really therapeutic big part of my summer and my life, these past three months, and it was what I looked forward to the most every week—just going to play volleyball for three hours, go to the brewery to grab a couple of drinks with people and talk. It’s been amazing because I didn’t really have that outlet to really talk about guys, you know when you get together with a couple of friends and you could just talk about guys. Talk about sex and talk about life in general. You know I have a lot of girlfriends that I love them and I could talk about guys with them, but it’s not the same. It’s been great knowing that I have the confidence that if I want to walk up to a guy and be like, ‘Hey, I’m Cale. How’s your day?’ That kind of stuff. I think how resilient and strong I am, and how I am a likeable person and that I’ll be fine. It’s also great knowing that I always have friends in this area. That was the big thing in the beginning, when I first told my friend I was going to move in with her, I was ready to be like, “Fuck you, Easthampton. I’m done with Western Mass.’ I hate this place because of so many bad memories. Since I’ve been playing volleyball, I’ve been invited to so many parties and gatherings and ‘Hey, I’m going to the mall. You want to come with me?’ I didn’t have that before. I had a couple of friends, my main crew of friends in this area, but they were about three people, and they’ve been my rock for so long. But you can’t rely on the same people all the time because we’re adults. My friends can’t be by my side every second of the day. You have to learn to be by yourself. I can learn to enjoy my ‘me’ time again and that my ‘me’ doesn’t mean I’m lonely. For a long time, I associated being by myself with being lonely and not having friends. I couldn’t be by myself. And the people I’ve made friends with here over the summer at volleyball are still going to be my friends when I’m away. So I think I’m just learning who I am, day by day. And just figuring my life out and knowing I’m going to be okay. I think that’s the main thing I’ve learned.”

What message would you offer to your younger self, say 9 or 12, who’s getting bullied?

“Some of the bullies will eventually message you and apologize. That is what has happened. I think in social work, it really helped me a lot in understanding why people act the way they do when they’re growing up. It taught me so much about my behaviors. Why I acted certain ways to people. I mean, I myself was a bully a little bit growing up too. I had my moments when I was a bully. I never in a million years thought I would be in shape and be physically fit and be confident. That’s what I never thought. I thought I’m just going to be this mess of a person my whole life. And just realizing that you really put in the hard work, which I did—granted, how I lost the weight was not healthy—but I’ve been able to keep my weight these past year and a half. I don’t know how to phrase it. Like basically just don’t give up. Keep pushing. If you really put in the effort you can get what you want. I put in the hard work at the gym and it’s paid off. I’ve put in the hard work in therapy and it’s paid off. I’ve put myself out there by joining clubs in college, by joining volleyball, and putting myself out there with my colleagues at work. I’ve made amazing life-long friendships with people. Just know that middle school and high school is only a portion of life. It sucks. It’s a long eight years, but that’s all it is . . . eight years. It’s a long time, but it’s not your whole life, and that’s why I went to college. Not the ones in this area.

“I went to the ones in North Adams because I wanted to get away, and that was the best decision I ever made. There was no one from my middle school or high school there. It was a fresh clean slate, and it was the most accepting college campus I could ever imagine. And it was the Massachusetts College of Liberal Arts, so I do want to give them a plug. It’s the most accepting student body I’ve ever met in my life. They were amazing. It gets better. I mean that’s pretty much what it is. It’s one of our Trevor Projects Slogans, but it’s true. This one quote I saw perfectly resonates with me: ‘A bad day is not a bad life.’ So don’t let those eight years, as shitty as they were, define your entire life the way I did. I lived in the past for so long. I could not escape the past. And now when I finally, you know see people from my middle school and high school, Now I can walk up to them and be like, ‘Hey, how are you? Hope everything has been well,’ whereas before, I would dodge them. Easthampton is a very small community, so you can’t really dodge people. But I did it for so long. I didn’t interact with anyone because I didn’t want them to see how low I still was. People will eventually realize who you really are. Because the people, my bullies growing up probably had their own troubles. I wasn’t able to realize that back then, back in the day. I just thought they were assholes. Some of them are just assholes, but everyone has their struggles, and sometimes people just don’t know how to express themselves in a healthy way. It will all work out in the end. That’s pretty much it.”

It sounds like being uncomfortable is part of the process. You mentioned being sort of nervous about joining the volleyball league, and even going to therapy and being willing to confront things you know were painful Would you say that has been part of the process, sort of having to move through what’s uncomfortable?

“Totally. I lost out on a lot of opportunities in college because of my anxiety. I’ve always been a theater kid, I’ve always loved theater. I’ve always loved music, I just love everything about it, but I didn’t allow myself to do it in college. That is one thing I wish I did, because it’s an amazing outlet for me. And ever since I graduated I really wanted to push myself to put myself out there more, to go to more clubs and dance and not care if people see you. Or go out to join this volleyball league and make friends. So it’s putting myself in those positions that make me uncomfortable and make me like me feel vulnerable, as scary as they are, that has really led me to more happiness. I went to Bloke a couple of days before I joined volleyball and I went, you know, I didn’t ‘pregame’ before, you know, I didn’t have my liquid courage before I went to Bloke. I went in totally sober and I immediately thought, ‘It’s bad.’ I went up to the bar, grabbed a drink, and went out to the porch. I had to do deep breathing because it was so scary for me to be there. And thankfully one of my volleyball friends was there, and he walked right up to me and said, ‘Are you okay?’ I said, ‘I just need to calm down. This is huge for me to be going here.’ But I met a couple of guys I eventually saw at volleyball, so it was nice having other people I knew briefly. That’s a perfect example for me. I wouldn’t have met those other guys before I went to volleyball, and I wouldn’t have been able to notice that I can put myself out there and can make more friends, and some guys might be attracted to me. There are some guys talking to me that night, and it felt nice to be noticed. So really just putting myself in those situations. It took a couple of weeks into volleyball, but eventually I was walking up to guys I didn’t know and introducing myself, ‘Hey, I’m Cale. I’m on your team today. How are you?’ Just like knowing now that sometimes you have to make yourself feel vulnerable, as scary as it is. It will lead to better things.”

Vulnerability is huge. It’s something we are often very afraid of because we think being vulnerable means you’re going to be hurt, you’re going to be susceptible to people taking advantage of you, or it somehow means you are weak; but I think being vulnerable gives other people the opportunity to also be vulnerable, and then go to those parties and be open and willing to receive beautiful things.

“I realized that I thought, when I was younger, that being vulnerable meant you are weak, when being vulnerable means you are strong, because you are putting yourself out there. And you’re putting yourself out there to what may come your way. You might get hurt along the way. You might end up finding better things. It’s just scary because it’s the unknown. When you put yourself out there, you don’t know what’s going to happen. And thankfully I would say for the most part, I had a lot of great experiences these past couple of months and this past year by putting myself out there more. In my senior year of college, my group of about ten friends knew how much I loved to dance, and they went to my audition to join, it was a club on my college campus called Dance Company, and you had to perform on a stage. I hadn’t performed on a stage in almost four years, because I was too afraid to. So like all the other people that auditioned for the club, everyone would be accepted, so you just had to go to the audition. And no one else had this big group of people cheering them on. I was approached right after the audition by two girls who said, ‘We want you in our piece.’ And it was ballet and I’d never done ballet and I was super nervous because that’s like the most intense form of dancing. How am I going to do that? And I ended up doing it. It was terrifying, and I almost cried before going on stage because one of my close friends, Michaela, who was in Dance Company with me, was in one of my dances; and just being able to share that with her and her encouraging me the entire time, saying, ‘Don’t give up, don’t give up. You got this.’ I’d never thought I’d ever be on a stage again. And it felt really good. The same group of people who supported me at the audition was there in the crowd too. It led to great things. I’m still nervous on stage, but I’m less nervous now. And I think also with my job that I just ended with the CH New Hampshire Continuum, I had to speak openly in large meetings, and I had to interact with all different kinds of youth and families. Just being able to believe in your abilities to help these kids taught me confidence. And me being more assertive and not being a doormat. I was a doormat growing up. It was being able to realize your worth. I think that’s been huge.”

Would you say that your past has inspired your future? You mention that your social worker was that. Did that inspire you?

“Definitely. I was a sociology major in college and I signed up for a random social work class because I had to fill credits. Within the first day, I realized this is what I need to do. Because I was able to look at myself and see that I was the scapegoat in my family. I was able to really look at my past and put some pieces together. I was finishing the puzzle. And it definitely led me to my current career. After my freshman year, my mom and my middle sister picked me up from school, and they told me that one of my family members attempted suicide. Thankfully, she was found. So she was still alive. I think that was another big wake-up call for me, knowing that I wanted to help people, because it was someone in my own family. I was about eighteen at that point, and I never would’ve thought she was incredibly depressed and feeling alone. So it was just by knowing that, and then by doing my own classes in social work, that I was able to realize that this is what I should be doing.”

Has there been piece of advice or quote or a song lyric that resonated with you that you would like to share?

Beside the ‘it’s just a bad day not a bad life,’ there are so many quotes I love. But that was one that has really resonated with me, because I felt like that’s what I focused on a lot growing up. Just trying to explain to yourself, it’s just a bad day, you’ll have a fresh start tomorrow. That was a big thing for me. There are a couple of artists out there that like Sia, Demi Lovato, who speak very openly about mental health. I think that because I’m so in tuned with music, when those artists make songs that clearly come from personal places for them, you can listen to the music and it could be your own little story too. You could take it into your own. So I don’t have specific lyrics off the top of my head right now, but I know a lot of the music from those artists has really helped me.”

What inspired you to connect with me to do this interview today?

“We have a mutual friend, and he told me about your project. I looked into your project on Facebook, and I really enjoyed the work you did. I reached out to my friend and was like, ‘Is it okay if I reach out to him?’ It’s nice to know, by reading through all your stories and reading through all the work you do, that someone understands, like your story, or could understand your story. You didn’t know my story at that time, but knowing there is someone out there doing good work and bringing more awareness to a population that needs so much more resources. I feel like, with mental health and mental illness, there are so many people out there that are so lost. They need a lot more resources. I really enjoyed the work you did, and my friend spoke great about you, so I think that led me to be less nervous to message and be like, ‘You don’t know me, but can we meet up sometime and share our stories?’ Having someone you can talk to that can understand your story was the biggest selling point for me. It just felt less random than messaging you, even like knowing a mutual friend.”

Sounds like you sensed a capacity for empathy. You feel comfortable?

“Yeah, because when you meet someone for the first time, telling your story is vulnerable. You don’t know how the person is going to react, but the fact that you work in the field made me think there’s a pretty good chance he’s not going to be a judge-y person. I would hope if you’re in the mental health field you’re not judge-y. So just knowing you’re in the same field was a big point, it was more of a secure place.”

And how has it felt to share these thoughts, feelings, and experiences?

“I’m so much more open about it now. So it’s just part of my story. It’s part of my past, and I’ve accepted it. This wasn’t scary at all. It felt personal, and I like that personal connection. And I mean, I’ve shared my story with all my kids, with my friends, and with my therapist, so I think it’s lost a good deal of vulnerability, and in a good way. It’s just me talking about my life, instead of before—when I would first tell my story to people I would shake. I would shake and I’d be so nervous, my heart would be racing. But it’s been a good experience.”

Do you think it’s possible that sharing your story might potentially inspire or bring hope to someone else out there who can relate?

“I would hope so. I think with social media platform that there is today, there are good benefits, but also, as I mentioned earlier, it could lead to you know people getting bullied. I think it’s therapeutic for me to put it out there. But I would hope that if someone were to read it, maybe they would feel more of a desire to put their story out there. It just helps to know you’re not alone. I know that my sharing some of my story with my clients has really helped them develop a trust with me. A lot of my kids have reactive attachment disorder, and a lot them have their own trauma, so opening themselves up to trust a total stranger (which is what I was when I first joined their case) is hard at first; but by using my peer mentor role and my outreach worker role and developing the healthy sense of boundaries, I was able to share parts of my story with them, so they were able to realize that may not be my provider but he’s been through similar things that I’ve been through. We all have our own stories, and that’s how I would always phrase it to them: I have my story and you have your story, I could never take your story away from you. But I can relate to certain aspects of it. I had a couple of kids with PTSD and told them I have PTSD too. And just encouraging them and motivating them to be like, don’t let your diagnosis define your whole existence. I’m not just Cale with PTSD, I have so much more about me. And you know, I went to college, I graduated with honors, I have my degree, I have my job, I’m getting my first apartment; so it’s being able to tell them there is so much more to life than your diagnosis. It doesn’t define you. It doesn’t mean you’re disabled. Sometimes, when they hear ‘disability,’ they think you’re handicapped, so I say, ‘No, you’re not.’ So I hope that I am able to reach out to kids, and that this is a different platform, so I think I would have the same outcome.”

#bullying #heartsofstrangers #vulerability #yourstorywillinspireothers #mentalhealth

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textbylex · 4 years

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(H|H) ‘Hurdles To Happiness’

What do you and I and all four of the seasons have in common? Change. Beauty. A delicate balance between hard and soft, hot and cold, lightness and darkness and all of those little evolution's in between.

It is officially the month of May. And as many of you don’t know... That means it is Mental Health Awareness Month. A month that is meant to bring it up. To normalize it and take down all of the nasty social stigmas out there regarding it. This month is all about education, enlightenment, and is meant to remind those who need sanctuary from their daily battles that they are not alone. To provide resources and a safe place for those that suffer from the demons that no one else knows about.

We are currently living in a very unprecedented time. A time where more and more individuals are getting a taste of what isolation feels like. What it’s like to feel trapped. What it’s like to feel restless and not be able to make it stop. What it’s like to feel anxious and not have a remedy for it. What it’s like to be hypersensitive to anything and everything within your surroundings. What it’s like to have everything feel unfamiliar.

Now more than ever we need to be there for one another. At the end of the day we all want the same thing out of life. We want to be loved and to feel like we are safe. You have no idea what your neighbor is going through, and you have no idea how far a simple smile or genuine “how are you doing?” can go for someone.

I remember back in 2013 laying on the living room floor of my mother’s house almost paralyzed by incessant panic. For weeks I couldn’t drive my own car, couldn’t go to work, couldn’t eat, and could barely gather enough strength to stand in the shower or change my clothes.

Anyone that knows me knows that I love to take photos. My social media is practically an endless blog posting of photos with short narratives. To be honest my posts almost feel naked without a photo attached to it. But that’s beside the point I’m trying to make. Photography became an escape for me. I didn’t realize that when I first picked up a camera and took it with me on my nature walks, hikes or when taking the dogs out on a walk. But, in hindsight that’s what it really was for me in the beginning.

Anyone that suffers from any type of mental illness develops a safe place- so to speak. Somewhere they can be where their inner demons don’t bother them (or at least- not as much as all the other seconds in the day). Or something they can do that occupies their mind just enough to where they can keep their composure enough to be able to function like a “normal” human being.

I had realized that something was really wrong when I started not being able to escape my daily battles on my nature walks anymore. The two other safe places for me was always when I was at work or if I was asleep. That’s where I felt invincible, or as if I had a shield of sorts. But, those soon became over-powered by my severe panic and major depressive disorders. I would describe these panics as endless echoes in my mind that were almost haunting. I couldn’t make them out either. They weren’t words. I wasn’t hearing things per-say. It was more of just endless loupe of sickening, heavy energy following me constantly. It always started in my subconscious and then brought on very real and physical symptoms along with it. Making me feel sick, dizzy, hopeless, lost, weak and like I couldn’t breathe and was suffering from a heart attack 24/7. No really. I ended up in the ER a few times because I felt like I was dying and all of my symptoms matched to that of a heart attack.

But, then of course it’s always a coin toss on if the Nurse and Doctor believed you or if they had the ideology of it “all being in your head” and “not real” and thinking that you’re only there to get drugs- and yes that is a thing. Which, by the way (if you’ve never been given Benzodiazepines before) often times make you feel even worse after taking them because of their gruesome side effects. Or they flat out make you feel like you’re a ghost who is having an out-of-body experience.

I remember a male doctor coming in to talk with me telling me that there was literally “nothing wrong” with me. I’ve never been angrier in my entire life. Pretty sure some obscenities left my mouth in that exam room if I remember correctly. The nurse I ended up with though, looked at me and told me that what I am feeling is real because she had been through it with her daughter and seen what it did to her. After doing blood work and testing to rule out any other underlying conditions I was finally diagnosed with Severe Panic Disorder, Major Depressive Disorder, OCD (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder), and generalized Anxiety. Oh and by the way Anxiety and Panic are two incredibly different things with incredibly different feelings.

For a long time I didn’t like the idea of Therapy and realized after almost two years of attending it every week that it is one of the best things that you can do for your mental health. Before starting it I was hesitant probably because I kept everything to myself. All of my thoughts and feelings up to that point were locked inside of my mess of a mind. Maybe part of me didn’t know where to even start or how to navigate it all.

I then had to go through the hurdles of trying different coping methods and medications to find the right balance for myself. They definitely don’t call it “Trial and Error” for nothing because going through the process of finding what “worked” was one of the worst experiences of my life. Exhausting both mentally and physically. It’s why I ended up on my mom’s living room floor that day. Sobbing on the outside and screaming on the inside.

Trust me when I say this. I didn’t want to even be on any medication. I fought it for so long and got to the point of telling my doctor that I wasn’t strong enough to battle all of this on my own. Sometimes on a bad day I still resent the fact that I have to take something to feel “okay”, and to be able to function.

For a long time I was angry. Angry that none of those “home-remedies” worked for me. Angry that going back to the gym wasn’t enough released endorphins to make me feel alright. Angry from all of the side effects that came with the medication that took me almost two years to get used to. Angry of how my illness and this new medication were getting in the way of every aspect of my life. And not going to lie... I still get a little angry when I forget to take it and start to feel those horrendous withdrawal symptoms.

But through all of these hardships, hurdles and unknowns I have come out of it anew. With more strength than I had before. Knowing who I am and what I want. Having a broader understanding of the mind and how some things are completely out of my control. I have accepted that my illness is a part of me. Part of my life. Part of my story. I have developed more compassion and empathy than I’ve ever had and want to do anything I can for those feeling the same pain that I’ve felt over these past few years. It may not feel like it right now, but it does get better. You will get better.

So, for all of you out there suffering. I want you to know that you are truly not alone. I see you. I am here for you. I will listen to you. Your illness does not define you. How you feel is real. Mine has shaped me, and for that I am thankful. So embrace your seasons. You may end up discovering one you love without even expecting it. You may even end up discovering yourself.

If you or someone you know or love is struggling please don’t hesitate to reach out. You are not alone. During the current COVID-19 pandemic happening around the world checking in on our neighbors has never been more important. If you see or hear something that doesn’t seem right, lend a helping a hand and call Emergency Services if needed.

Here is a small list of some helpful contacts:

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline (800)-273-8255

finder.psychiatry.org

www.apa.org

members.adaa.org/page/FATMain (240)-485-1001

nami.org

We are all in this together.

#breakthestigma #breakthesilence #mentalhealth #mentalhealthawarenessmonth #covid19 #ditchthelabel

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one-more-for-the-sky · 6 years

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[01/12/18, Friday]

its day 11 it started out rocky again due alarm problems. what the hell! it's been ringing at 850! im supposed to be out the door by 850 or sooner but 850 is definitely the latest i can leave the house that i could speed into work. but mom needed me to come home anyway (yeah i work for my mom. its good work and i take it seriously and anyone who wants to look down on me for it can suck it; i'm doing the best i can right now with all the coliding mental stuff. i'll talk about later on in this entry) John left some of his notes on a certain issue one of our clients is having at the house and i picked them up. kind of lucky there. we loligagged a little. i took out our new pet bunny. she's surprisingly very cuddly for a bunny. i have no prior bunny experiences mind you but still. not what i expected from a large rodent. or any rodent or smaller than a cat like animal. my gliders are certainly not that well behaved though i don't expect it either, energetic and lithe creatures that they are. still she is more endearing than i anticipated. i still am not very fond of rabbits but this one is okay. we chatted for a minute about my baby sister's room. and i was off with the notes and to grab john some water and get gas (not in that order). fridays are my favorite because its a slow day and people generally dont bother me much.

the last bits of yesterday where kind of exhausting and i find myself really challenged by the excuitive function disorder i have. i kept thinking about where i want to put this or that and thought to myself, just do it! but ultimately didn't. i rewarded myself too early. to my credit, i was exhausted. but still. today i will try to work first THEN reward myself. it is a habit of mine and it enables my EFD (excuitive function disorder). so basicly i just played a lot of video games yesterday.

i just feel jittery and unfocused for right now. hopefully it will change.

the house is a mess of laundry. i am sensing a much needed "20 minutes of cleaning" (read: 120 minutes of cleaning) from mom which is a chance for attitude from everyone. not excited. so when i get home, i'll definitly clean first. i think i'll start with tiding up the dinning room because that's really how you can tell if the house is in dire straits. If the dinning room is messy then it is time for a family cleaning session. i didn't even make the mess. i would agree to cleaning the kitchen or do the laundry but nothing else, but that's not going to fly, really. i should either start in the music room or the dinning room... Probably the dinning because you see it when you walk in and its the most visible eye sore, and then the dinning and move to the kitcheny part the den, the den i'll leave to vannah and mom. savannah's stuff is littered across the floor and even for me, its agrovating to look at. but i have to remind myself that my baby sister is probably worse of than me when it comes to EFD and adhd. there is definitly going to be a fight about that, i can feel it. i hope im wrong though.

mom suggested i log what i end up eating. at the time, i was offended by the suggestion. sounds silly but you have to keep in mind the historical obsession about my weight and food intake my mother has expressed over the years, sense i was small and still very impressionable. i still don't really know what to make of it, all the dietary routine changes i was mad to go though and shamed for. i was 13! 14! 15! I was young and still growing. i was in an important part of my developing as a person and myself worth, and what did i learn? that im too thick. i didn't really think i was at the time, but how can i say no to the person driving me around and im not in charge of my destination? it was wholy unfair... im not really saying that this is the root of all my self-esteam issues but it didn't help. not only did my peers see me as imperfect and flawed, so did my family. its hard to think about. i try to forget. so therefore the suggestion of working out, of listing what i eat or anything else by mom is offensive initially. in hindsight, yeah it a good idea. i just hate to admit it because of the implications.

speaking of my peers, my social/educational/school experience in childhood? fucking. awful. about the time i was in 3rd grade i really started to notice people didn't like me much. i can't remember much else than that. i know i wasn't a popular person in 1st or 2nd grade and i'm not even going to count kindergarden, but 3rd grade is where most of my memory begins. my teacher didn't even like me then. said i was a trouble maker and a bad person. not to me, but she made the mistake of saying that to my mother. why did she say that? because i decided i was going to clean up the class room. she said i was a manipulitive little trouble maker for cleaning her class room. this is were my earliest descriminations against me and my adhd and learning disablities really begins and i remember it. forget about my peers for a moment; my teacher hated me for reasons i didn't even know or understand. i wasn't even that hyperactive like some with adhd, but i did have an issue with attention and being a little disruptive with my best friend. at the time, pokemon was the new wild thing and i was utterly obsessed my friend was too, but that was my doing. instead of paying attention, we were playing. i was just a kid being a kid. when it came to start doing the standardized state testing, no one explicitly stated how important these tests were. i seem to remember someone saying that they were just practice and didn't count towards a grade and i thought oh okay, so its okay to mess up. so much so, i chrismas treed the whole thing. the whole goddamn thing, i just put in random bubbles just because i wanted it done and out of the way of whatever. well. that was the catalyst to a lot of issues i had from then on. without the consent of my mother or any discussion to anyone, they placed me and my friend in a "special ed" class, where you basically just colored stuff and glued stuff together and what not. i was in this class for half of a year before our parents found out and were enraged. upon finding out, they rained hot fiery war upon the school, they tried to cover it by saying how worried they were, that weren't sure i could even read. they didn't do any testing. they didn't ask me or my mother anything. long story short, that's a lot of school i missed. it put me behind in reading for years until i was in 7th grade. from there i struggled because of the things i missed out on because a teacher didn't like the disabled child they were responcible for. i think about that a lot. i think about all the late nights being screamed at because i wasn't doing well and struggled in elementry school things. i remember certain things my mom did that i dont really wish to describe, but while school was a battle sometimes going home was worse. it wasn't always like that, but if mom was in a mood, it went there.

my peers were really no better. a throughout, i was very much picked on because i really liked certain things, and they were my hyperfixations. and i was weird and my teeth were wrong. some of my favorite things ive been called when in elementry school: a cockroach, r-slur, someone said they humped me (they didn't but it was still humiliating), called me useless, made fun of my teeth, made fun of me because i made eye contact with people by saying i had a crush on anyone i looked in the eye (it mortified me as a kid because i definitely did not like any of those assholes, i still struggle with this), i was told that 9/11 was my fault, people tried to cut my hair, people stole from me, spat on me.... it was rough. i'm going to stop talking about it for now.

mom, if you're reading this, then you're probably thinking wow, is this really all i think about? or wow i guess im just a terrible awful mom (or some reverse guilt trippin thing you tend to do to try and make me feel bad for validating myself and addressing what you do that hurts me, even though you're the adult and primarily in control of our relationship) or also wondering why i never talk like this about my father. my father doesn't know me. i am my dad's only child and all he knows about me is that im gay, what i went to college for, and basic likes and dislikes. beyond that, my dad doesn't know me. maybe its the same for my sisters and everyone else but im my dad's only child. i have no competition with him for attention.

i've also have been thinking about myself growing up and my relationship with my sisters. full disclosure: i was not as nice to my sister sabrina as i am today. i was mean. i acknowledge it and think about it all the time. i mean, i was no more a kid myself, but i wasn't nice at all. i didn't even think nicely of her. and worse, i was nicer to savannah than i was her, and im sure that killed her a bit. mom would talk, beg, for me to be nicer. i wasn't like her abusive sister, but it felt like i was taking notes. in part, i blame society and media for what learned about being a sibling. most media i saw and consumed growing up, siblings hated each other, were mean to each other and competed against one another for attention, even in cartoons, that's what i picked up on, and internalized, obviously. my parents obviously didn't do anything to reassure me of that not happening, but i can shoulder some of the responsibility. i have to keep reminding myself, and others that i was just only 8 or 9 or 10 when my sister was born and i already had all these thoughts in my head but by the time i was 13-14-15, it starts to be a combined effort of me and my parents and upon 16-17-18, i made little to no move to change my ways. i sincerely regret it now. after college and being apart from my family for so long and learning powerful lessons on what stands against the grains of time the strongest, family - particularly my sisters - became the centerpiece of my life. in college i met some interesting people, but the most notable thing i remember hearing from some of them, was how much they hated their siblings, younger or older or otherwise. just hated them for whatever reason. im not sure what exactly i thought, except that i was tired of listening to people act like this and that i had sounded like this too. and after failing some classes and being abandoned by friends, i realized the most important connection i could make was to my siblings. from the moment i decided to stop bad-mouthing them, i embraced them, their quirks, and loved them with everything i had. i still get aggravated with them ofc bc yaknow, nothings perfect, but they were perfect as they were. all i wanted and still want to do is spend time with them. i constantly think on how i was when i was growing up, especially for my little sister sabrina. i wasn't kind, as if the i didn't even know the word. i apologize a lot for it. every so often, i take her aside to talk to her about it. im still afraid to full acknowledge just how much damage i might've caused, but its still my responsibility to make it right and to mend it. sabrina, bless her, tells me not to worry, that she understands, that she doesn't remember a lot, except for a few things that make me cringe at myself. i apologize a lot. even now i am still sorry. i hope i am making up for it. i hope she doesn't grow to resent me, as i likely deserve. i love her so much i just want her to be happy and fulfilled and safe. i hate myself for how i was.

and i worry. a lot. its not exactly the same, theres a lot of different aspects to their dynamics, but i sometimes see myself in how sabrina acts towards savannah and it worries me. savannah is a lot less forgiving. a lot closer to bina's age and therefore harder to impress later on should sabrina change her tune. they both go at it though. savannah gives as much sabrina does, and especially so that she's 13 and moody as 13 year old typically are. all the same, i feel like the example i led has won out to the example i try to lead now and it frightens me. i want all 3 of us to be close. for all we've suffered together, to be alone in the world once our parents are gone frightens the shit out of me. more than anything, i want us to remain close. all three of us. i worry a lot about our relationship with each other...

anyway, so yeah i'm currently living with and working for my parents. i do take the work seriously even if doesn't look it and im proud of my (few) acomplishments. and living with them has its ups and downs. it feels good on hand to start from the ground up on how to like. live. how to be a person. or something. sorry i know i was going to go into this, but the previous topic got me down a little. i'm changing the subject.

my desk came in early, and im excited to put it together. can't wait really.

eh. i'm bumbed. will consider the listing of foods i eat.

peace.

#journal tag #text

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