#(i was diagnosed about 2 and 1/2 months ago i think!!)

[bella-but-not-hadid444]

idk wether this is an autism thing, or maybe its just me

but whenever i talk for extended periods of time, or im hyperverbal on a certain day, i feel quite guilty about talking, the guilt makes me want to never talk again, idek whyy i feel guilt after talking lots, i just do. 

but every time, wwithout fail, it makes me want to never talk again, the compel of being silent for the rest of my life is so strong.

like im supposed to be the quiet, reserved, socially awkward one, so when i chatter and talk with different people i feel bad about not fitting those adjectives all of the time :(

#btw i am fully verbal #but sometimes i dislike talking #and i wanted to share this weird feeling/experience that happens to me #i tried to word this is a way that did not undermine the struggles of non-speaking/semi-verbal (etc) people #pls tell me if ive written anything tone deaf/rude/incorrect as i am still fairly new to all the terminology and stuff #(i was diagnosed about 2 and 1/2 months ago i think!!) #thank you #:) #neurodivergent #autistic

[thebiscuiteternal]

I dunno what exactly set me off thinking about it, but I am suddenly thinking about how a little over four years before her death in 2011, my mamaw went through two important things.

1) She was diagnosed with clinical depression and dyscalculia.

2) After spending her entire life with a fairly pronounced limp that she had always been told couldn't be fixed, she came across a doctor who took one look at her x-rays and was actually willing to perform surgery to realign her lower spine and fix the bone spurs she'd developed in her sacroiliac joints.

She'd been on medication a few months before the surgery and went through three months of physical therapy recovery after, so she had been under eight months or so of total treatment when one day she just suddenly broke down in tears in front of me and my mother. And when my mother, understandably alarmed, asked what was wrong, my mamaw said

"I could have been feeling like this decades ago."

Her whole life, her parents and sisters had badmouthed her as just being slow and moody, and she'd internalized that so much that she'd never considered it might be an actual problem that could be helped. Her whole life, she'd been told she was going to have to just put up with being in pain every time she moved, and it was something that could be fixed with a surgery that ended up being less invasive than 90% of the other procedures she'd been through.

And she was sitting there in tears because for the first time in over seventy years, she wasn't hurting.

She only got two and a half years to enjoy it before colon cancer reared its ugly head and put her in and out of the hospital for the last year of her life. During that last year, she (who understood better than my parents did that something was going on in my brain that religion couldn't fix) asked me every time I visited her if I'd gone to see a "head-shrinker" yet.

"Don't be like me, honey. Don't be like me and wait too long."

I almost did. It took my second complete breakdown before I finally made an appointment at the public mental health clinic.

She passed two months to the day after my first consultation.

I'm not really sure where I was going with this. There's no big epiphany or pithy advice for y'all. It just felt too big and heavy in my head not to write it down.

#mental health tw #mental disorder tw #rambling #family dysfunction

[softstarlite]

The Casualty of Love

CHAPTER 2

Summary: He's back home. You have almost forgotten how warm his eyes were and how big your crush for him was.

Warnings: Age gap (Javier is 40 and reader is 27), talks of baby loss, talks of pregnancy, angst, cheating, mentions of cancer, mentions of death.

Rating: +18 (not explicit)

Word Count: 2.9k

Chapter 1 / Masterlist

A/N: here you go guys!! Second chapter is up!! I'm feeling so much better from my stupid cold. I would like to keep a schedule with posting, my goal is to post at least one new chapter every week but I had a cornea transplant less than 5 months ago (I still have 14 stitches on my right eye) so sometimes I need to rest my eye from screen time or the pain sometimes gets too bad and I need to rest in general, so I don't know if I'll be able to meet my goal every week, sorry in advance. I hope you guys like this new chapter!! <3 <3

Divider by @saradika

Javier wipes the sweat of his hands on the front of his jeans for the fourth time in the last hour since he started getting ready to go to Maria´s house, he looks at his reflection on the mirror, he can feel fear engulf his body, fear of disappointing Maria, he wasn't the same man he was when he left for Colombia. That day…

His mom, Alma, had been diagnosed with lung cancer four months before it happened, when Lorraine had told him that she was pregnant, he was shit scared, how could he be a father? He didn't know anything about being one, he was only 27, he assumed that he had at least 5 or 6 years more before even thinking about having a family of his own.

He didn't hesitate to get on one knee and proposed to Lorraine, part of him was happy that his mom would be able to meet at least one of her grandchildren; the doctors had already prepare them for the worst, the cancer was very aggressive, and even if his mom was still young, only 44, they had detected it very late.

The night before the wedding Lorraine showed up at his parents ranch, crying her heart out. They were sleeping in different houses since it was bad luck to see each other before the wedding. He got really worried, he didn't believe in that tradition, she had been the one very keen in doing it so it was already rare that she had showed up there unannounced but even more that she showed up crying.

“Lor? What happened?” he had been sitting on the front porch when she appeared, he got up from his seat quickly and headed to her putting his hands on her cheeks “What is it Lor? Is the baby okay?” he asked her with so much worry in his voice.

Lorraine only kept saying sorry and shaking her head no again and again. “Please baby, tell me what is happening, are you hurt?” he pleaded her.

“I'm sorry Javi… I'm so sorry… There´s no baby…” she said, not able to meet his gaze.

“What? Baby…” he could feel tears in his eyes already, he thought that she had lost it, he never would've thought that she had done what she did. He tries to make her look at him ¡. “Baby…Lor, look at me. Baby it's not your fault, we need to take you-” he was interrupted by her.

“No, Javi… There's no baby, there never has been a baby…” she took a step away from him, feeling shame in what she had done.

“What? Lorraine, this is not funny… Stop it” that was the only possibility in his head, she must have been pranking him, she would never hurt him this way, she loved him, right?

“I'm so sorry Javi, baby…” she tried to reach for him now but he didn't say anything and just walked inside without a word.

The next morning no one could find Javier, until his mom saw a little note on the kitchen table where he had written that he had accepted the job with the DEA in Colombia that the rest could be explained by Lorraine.

You were only 14 when you were sat down by your mom and Alma and got the news about her sickness, that was your first heartbreak, but definitely not your last. You loved Alma like a second mother, she was there when you said your first words, she had been the one encouraging you when you took your first steps… You couldn't imagine a life and a world without her, without her smile or her kindness… No, it had to be a mistake, the doctors mixed up some papers and they gave her the diagnosis of someone else, she couldn't leave you…

When Javier left, you weren't given the real reason from the adults around you, they told you that he and Lorraine weren't together anymore and he had to go work in Colombia, that was it. Obviously, living in a place like Laredo you heard the truth very soon, and felt heartbroken all over again for him, as big as your crush for him was, when you saw how excited he was when he talked about anything related with the baby in the weekly dinners your families shared, it filled your heart to see him just happy, so you couldn't understand how Lorraine had been able to break him like that, she said that he loved him and wanted to spend her entire life with him but then do that? How can you be so cruel to someone that you supposedly love?

A year later from Javier´s move to Colombia, Alma passed away, you only remember crying for three days straight without even sleeping. You remember your mom telling you that “Javiercito is coming for the funeral, he'll be here tomorrow morning”, then the next thing you remember is been dressed in all black, that made you think that Alma would´ve hate it, then not been able to see the casket through the tears and the last thing you remember of that day was how Javier had put his arms around you, caressing your hair and telling you how much Alma loved you and that would never leave you. It never did, you could feel her love everyday, in little things like the chirping of the birds outside, the warm sun, the little desserts you would bake with her recipes, etc…

That was the last time you saw Javier, when you were 15 and crying for the biggest lost in your life.

He parks his truck on Maria´s driveway and gets out with a nervous sigh. After he knocks on the door twice, you open the door with a big smile, fuck, he thought you wouldn't be here. He didn't have a problem with you being here, on the contrary, he was very happy when he saw you the other day, it had been way too long without seeing you. But the problem was that you had grown up… And fuck, did the years had treat you amanzingly. You were a full on woman now, and he didn't like that, because it made his body feel things that it shouldn't. If Maria or his own father could read what had gone through his mind since he first saw you a few days ago, he would definitely be six feet under.

“Hey! You're here!” you say with that big smile on your face. He doesn't say anything, just nods and gives you a tight smile back.

“Come in!” you move a little to give him enough space to come inside. “Mom is still cooking what must be her twentieth dish” you chuckle. He slips inside but you hadn't anticipated how broad his shoulders were so he bumps one of his shoulders into you.

“Oh, sorry” he apologizes and you can't help but feel a million goosebumps all over your body. “She shouldn't have trouble herself…”

You shake the feeling away, you weren't a stupid teenager anymore. “yeah, tell that to her” you smirk knowing he would never dare.

He walks to the kitchen with you behind, he remembers the way as if no time has passed, as if he hadn't gone through more than a decade without putting a foot in this house. When he makes it past the arch of the kitchen, he sees your mom, her back facing him, he can see the grey conquering her whole hair. For a moment he can almost see his own mom beside her cutting some vegetables.

Seeing his silence, you decide to clear your throat to make your presence known to your mom. She turns around starting a sentence that sounds like a question about who was at the door, but as soon as she sees Javier there, before her, her mouth shuts and she freezes. Knowing they'll need a moment, you walk around them to the stove to continue to stir whatever dish your mom is making now, so it doesn't burn while they catch up.

“Javiercito!” she almost screams, launching herself into him, a hand on the back of his head and the other arm across his back.

“Maria…” is all that he can get out of his mouth, apart from the biggest breath out that he has ever let out. He didn't even know that he was holding that breath for so long.

“Déjame verte bien mijo (Let me get a good look at you, my son)” she pulls away from him and pushes him a little back by the shoulders, then looks him up and down like she was examining that he isn´t missing anything.

“Ma, esta bien, no le agobies (Mom, he's fine, don't bother him)” you say from the stove, not even looking at them.

“¿Bien? (fine?) Have you seen him? Está demasiado delgado, gracias a dios que prepare suficiente comida. Siéntate, mijo. (He's too skinny, thank god i´ve prepare enough food. Sit, my son) I'll bring you some food right away” She says, patting his cheek and signaling with a hand to the kitchen table, then she goes back to the stove and replaces the place you were filling.

You chuckle and shake your head in disbelief. “Do you want something to drink, Javi?” you ask him while opening the fridge to get a beer for yourself.

He talks again after feeling overwhelmed by the situation. “Sure, whatever you´re having” with that you pull out another beer for him and after uncapping them, you hand him one. “Thanks” he says, not meeting your eye.

You sit across from him on the kitchen table and take a sip of your own beer. Your mom puts a bowl of Pozole in front of each of you, and while you eat, she and Javier talk about a million things, how things around the house had been since your dad died, how you and her go to Chucho´s every now and then, how you help Chucho everytime the fruit trees need harvesting (which brings a blush to your cheeks when Javi asks if that's right and looks at you), and of course your mom starts to let Javi know about all the gossip he has missed in Laredo, which by his face, he couldn't care less to be honest but i guess your mom didn't want to pick that up. He just nods and hums while eating, while your mom tells him about how the girl from the Gonzalez´s was seen in the local theater every week casually talking and giggling with the guy working there; after a bit something pricks his ears, specifically when your name is mentioned.

“And you wouldn't believe all the commotion that it caused , pff, nos tuvimos que quedar en casa varios días antes de que ella se atreviera a enseñar la cara (we had to stay at home for a few days before she was brave enough to show her face)” she says while picking up both of your bowls to bring to the sink. You don't know where to hide in that moment, you couldn't believe your mom was telling him about that.

“Ma…” you say, trying to make her drop the subject. She obviously doesn't want to catch your desperation.

“What? Sorry i was lost in my head for a moment” he says not realizing that you don't want the subject to be brought up.

“Ay mijo, te estaba diciendo (i was telling you) about how she used to go out with the Lopez´s boy, Diego, and she heard from Doña Lucía about him and a girl, that no one knew, been seen in Jacinto´s ice cream shop, then she decided to confront him that same day, but she instead saw him and the girl on the town square just there,” she makes a dramatic gesture with her hands like she was physically pointing at them right there. “just sitting on a bench, muy acaramelados los muy sinvergüenzas (very lovey-dovey, those scoundrels). Doña Lucía told me that she just took the lemonade in the girl's hand and threw it to him, allí delante de todos, ¿tu te crees, mijo? (in front of everybody, can you believe it, my son?)” she shakes her head in almost disappointment.

“Well, if I'm honest with you Maria. Creo que le hizo poco, yo le hubiese dado un buen puño” you can see how his hands become fists, and his jaw becomes more tense. Javi feels a fire inside of him that he hasn't felt since he left Colombia, he already knows that if he crosses paths with Diego Lopez, he won't be exactly kind towards him.”Wait, he cheated and you had to hide at home?!” he asks, now looking at you.

“I didn't hide, she did” you say pointing towards your mom, who's washing the dishes, with your head. “I was just going through a breakup like a normal person” you shrug your shoulders to try to take some weight off of the conversation.

He nods, understanding now the situation. “Good, you shouldn't feel embarrassed, it's his loss” he huffs “He must be as stupid as he was when he was a kid” he says more to himself than to you, it makes you blush again.

“Javier Jesús Peña!!” your mom scolds him from the sink, turning her head towards him. Javi for a moment feels like a teenager again, being scolded by Maria and his mom for saying a bad word in the kitchen of Pena´s ranch while they make empanadas.

“What? No podes defender al desgraciado, hizo daño a nuestra vampirita (you can't defend that bastard, he hurted our little vampire” he chuckles sincerely now. You gasp at the mention of your old childhood nickname he gave you for being obsessed with the book Dracula when you were 9 years old.

“You don't want to play that game, Peña” you challenge him, squinting your eyes at him, but a little smile in your lips betrays your facade. He laughs with his whole belly now, throwing his head back. You decide right then that you like seeing him laugh sincerely a lot.

After some hours of more delicious food and banter, Javier informs you that he needs to go back to the ranch before his dad comes looking for him for leaving him all day alone with the chores.

You walk him to the door, his arms full of mountains of tupperware full of leftovers that your mom had insisted him to take for himself and Chucho.

You open the door for him since he has his hands occupied, those hands that you´ve been stealing glances to all day, you wonder how rough they would feel around your own hand, around your neck, around your- “Thanks for um… everything” he says interrupting your thread of thoughts.

“Don't mention it” you give him a shy smile, like he could´ve read what you had been thinking. Next thing you know, your mouth is working by it´s own mind, you ask without thinking.”Are you going to the barbecue at Doña Lucia's house this Sunday after church?” when you realize how eager your voice sounds about the prospect of seeing him again in less than two days you add “I believe she invited Chucho the other day, and i'm sure she did it in person with the sole purpose of having you at the barbecue and confirm the rumors of you being fully back home” you chuckle trying to play it cool, god you felt like you were 15 again, drooling for him.

His dad had told him about the gathering but he wasn't planning on going, but now, seeing the slight spark your eyes got when you asked him about his possible attendance, he couldn't think of a better plan for Sunday. “Yeah, my pops told me the other day. I take you´re going too?” you nod with doe eyes and he can't help his eyes for going down to where you tongue tips out of your mouth to wet your lower lip, he gulps and can feel a drop of sweat going down his spine; his mind wondering how you tongue and your lips might feel against his own, against his neck or his chest…

Your mom suddenly yells your name from inside the house. “Dani is calling you, mija!!” you both can hear her voice coming from the living room where the telephone is.

“Dila que voy ma!! (tell her i'll be right there mom!!)” you yell towards her, turning your head over your shoulder, then you turn towards Javi again. You guys keep looking into each other's eyes for what feels like a second and an eternity at the same time until you decide that if you don't stop it, your mom will come over and ruin the moment even more. “I'll see you on Sunday then?”

He nods and then does something that makes you melt into a puddle of water into the ground, he kisses your cheek and with a breathy and deep whisper wishes you a good day to then turn around and walk to his truck on the driveway. You can't help but to stay right there frozen with your heart going way too fast and an almost shocked expression, watching how he puts the leftovers on the passenger side then gets behind the wheel and drives away; it isn´t until your mom calls your name again that you defroze.

Next chapter

#narcos #javier peña x reader #javier pena narcos #javier pena x reader #javier pena fanfiction #javier peña #javier pena x you #javier peña x f!hispanic reader #javier peña x f!reader #javier peña x female reader #javier peña x you #javier pena x female reader #javier pena x f!reader #javier pena x f!hispanic reader #javier peña fanfiction #javi pena x you #javi pena fanfiction #javi pena x reader #javi pena #javi pena x female reader #javi pena x f!reader #javi peña x you #javi peña x reader #javi peña #javi peña fanfiction #javi peña x female reader #pedrostories #the casualty of love

[thewickerking]

mutual 1: WDYM none of you have heard explosion gun ???? theyre from the 1930s, sure but they literally made the best song ever [long title or series of numbers that have no meaning]

mutual 2: hey guys can you fill out this survey for my class? its about 15 minutes and it would mean a lot!! i love you

mutual 3: ughhhhh can this guy stop flirting with me? i told him to kill himself after he said [horrifically racist sentence] and he hasnt gotten the hint

mutual 4: im liveblogging a game from 12 years ago if you dont want spoilers im tagging my posts about it as #plwm3 liveblog !!

mutual 5: [poll] should i brutally murder this oc before or after he gets divorced

mutual 6: ok I knowwww im learning 6 languages rn but it would be so fun to learn russian.....

mutual 7: what do you mean you freaks dont dip your bananas in orange juice??? This is literally so normal why are you call me the weird one

mutual 8: just finished meeting up with mutual 9 irl it was so fun im gonna miss you now that you're home again </3

mutual 9: mutual 8 locked me in a basement for 4 hours and played clown music. i wish i couldve stayed longer

mutual 10: OMG THE NEW TRAILER FOR BRIMBLUS JUST DROPPED?????? EVERYONEEE LOOOOOOOK

mutual 11: my dad got me a milkshake breakdown cancelled everyone 🎉🎉

mutual 12: this post reminds me of *******

mutual 13: mutual ^ is talking about scorblo btw

mutual 12: HEY???? MUTUAL 13???? CAN YOU KILL YOURSELF????

mutual 14: [describes the most horrific repeated childhood trauma] but idk if im allowed to say i have mental illness cause im not diagnosed

mutual 15: guys do you think im more blue or purple coded :3

mutual 16: in response to all the transformers fandom callout calling me lesbophobic and racist: [ten paragraphs that make it clear they're clearly the only normal person in this scenario]

mutual 17: wait you guys are actually going to pumpkin patches? i thought those were made up ive never seen a pumpkin irl before...

mutual 18: guys can anybody see me. Please. No one's responding am I shadowbanned or do you all hate me [they're shadowbanned]

mutual 19: ugh this one customer keeps brutally murdering our servers at the restaurant i work at i wanna quit sooo bad but i might get promoted soon so idk

mutual 20: [reblogs a web weaving post about judas] UGH i need to fuck him sloppy style and **** ****** ***** **** *** ***

mutual 21: spam reblogs a genshin character

mutual 22: [screenshot of mutual 21s blog with filtered tags of the characters] you're lucky i care about you so much.

mutual 23: i think im losing my grip on reality. omg wait but look at this cute dog i saw walking home the other day

mutual 24: hi everyone! i just got back from a 6 month social media break :) hope everyones been doing well!

#i could keep going. this seems excessive already though 😭😭 <- guy who doesnt know how to shut up #suicide mention #ask to tag further!! #pentaphobia #.ares

[jwnchstr]

waiting for superman | m.s47

title: waiting for superman part 1

characters: you/reader/catherine, mick schumacher

summary: when your father (a former ferrari mechanic) was diagnosed with alzheimer's, your world turns upside down. you had to give up your city life, get back to your village to take care of your father. but what hurts the most is being so close to him and seeing him not remember you (catherine) as well as every precious moment in his life with you. you start to questions about everything until mick schumacher (your childhood best friend) comes back into your life and teaches you life lessons that you're sure will remember forever.

other f1 fics | masterlist | my wattpad

waiting for superman part 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

*

i.

working is stressful enough. and driving 30 minutes just to get home can make you feel like killing yourself. those traffics. people breaking for no reason. people driving above speed limit as if they're in a drift competition. but oh well, except for today.

    you decided to take a longer route home today even if that means you will be spending extra 10 minutes on the road to reach home. but with your current life, you know needed those 10 minutes because it's literally the only time that you have for yourself. accompanied by nothing but the hum of your tyres and the sound of the car engine. that little white noise somehow makes you calm than the sound of the ocean meeting the shore.

    there were a lot of things you are thinking right now but for once, it's not about money. you have some savings enough for the next four months (you've been saving up since your first year at an engineering company in the city centre). so even though you're now only working as a barista, you don't worry about money much. and with your father's condition, the financial assisstant given by the government are quite enough for his medication and to pay for his caretaker.

    in the car, your mind takes you back when you were little. how you were always in your father's shadow. despite being a girl, you would always be seen with bolts and nuts, spanners, hammers, car spare parts in your hands. oil and grease on your face. instead of playing with dolls, you'd play with karts, toy cars, nerf guns, video games. the amount of time you spent with your father's colleagues in the hotels. you would follow everywhere your father goes. you would often be seen at the ferrari's garage, surrounded with ferrari engineers and mechanics, asking them this and that. watching them like you're the boss.

    but the clouds aren't always clear. things would always crumbling down while you're at the highest of high. it's like the god is calling you and to humble you down. after getting a phone call from your neighbour who told you that your father was always found at the police station, they suggested you to get your father diagnosed. he has alzheimer's disease for a year now and it's not getting any better. if anything, it gets worse and fast deteroriate.

    because yesterday specifically, he didn't remember who you are. he didn't remember your name. he wasn't sure why you were in his house. he even called his mom (who died many years ago) and kicked you out of the house. you know your neighbours saw what happened. you just hope they didn't get the wrong idea about your family because you know your father will not kick you out of his house if he didn't lost his mind. good thing annie the caretaker lives with you. she sedated your father. when everything's calmed, you locked yourself in your room and cried.

    yesterday was not the first night you cried since your father was diagnosed. but it was the most painful yet. to witness your father calling his mother who was dead for years. to see an unknowing look when he sees your face. your name didn't give him a clue of who you are. he said something about calling andrea. and you know who andrea and that's where you know you're fucked. because both you and you father hate your mum.

    all of the times you spent together with him got deleted from his memory just like that. you remember when you were younger. you used to get mad at your father for not giving you enough attention but if you knew your father was going to get alzheimer's and that he won't remember you ever, you wouldn't beg your father for attention.

    so what now? you can't just make a conversation with him now. you can't get straight to your point because every time you will try tell him something exciting, you will have to tell him from the start. from before the news. the concert your favourite is going to make. your plan on seeing them. when the ticket purchasing is open and you got yourself the very expensive one (the package includes meet and greet with the band backstage before concert, a handful of merchandise that include lanyard, rainbow light stick, bracelet, photo album from the first few concerts, free drinks.) the songs list. though at one point, you stop talking.

    "nevermind. you won't remember it at all," you'd tell your father.

    "i'm sorry."

    "it's okay."

    no. it's never okay. because he used to remember things that you like, love and hate the most. he remembered things that made you cry and laugh. he knew the bad jokes just to put a smile on your face. both of you used to say bad things about your mum and laughed about it. now he talks about her.

    and he definitely hates you now. you know it's his routine to go out at 11 in the morning to meet his friends somewhere in the neighbourhood. he would usually be back home by lunch time. he would walk home since most of his friends are also too old to drive. but after a few times being found by the police and your neighbour had to fetch him at the police station, he's banned to leave the house without a partner even if he's not meeting his friends. annie will usually tidy and clean the house in the morning and you work in the morning until five. like a teenager, he's in a rebellion phase where he doesn't want to talk to you though he's still being friendly with annie.

    you're lost. you don't know what to do. you tried asking the doctors some advice. you tried asking a community for a solution. you tried inviting his friends over to your house instead but at the end of the day, your father still wants to go out during the time that neither you nor annie were available. it hurts you everywhere realising that you lost your lovely father.

    you feel your eyes sting. they water a little bit before you blink them away. but it's not like you to cry on a daylight. so you sit in your car as you drive within speed limit, head hurts from holding back your tears. the traffic is as normally heavy today but you're not stuck. you enjoy every second of the drive until a big dog crosses the road. you to slam your break. your tyres screech.

    luckily you were already inside a rich neighbourhood. the familiar, quiet and deserted neighbourhood where there are less cars, more trees, big and well-maintained park. you rarely come here unless you're visiting one of two of your rich friends. shocked, the dog doesn't move. he stays in front of your car in the middle of the road, crying for his mistake. you pull your handbreak and press the hazard light button before you leave your car to check up on the dog.

    "hey, buddy."

    the dog whines. he watches as you approach him, gives you his best puppy dog eyes so that you would not be angry at him and help him instead. he belongs to someone because there's a collar around his neck though without a name and a phone number. smoothing your fingers through the dog's fur, you help him calm down.

    "oh, thank god, you're okay," you'd say. "are you supposed to be here, little buddy? where did you come from, huh? where's your human?"

    the dog whimpers while you continue to caress his neck, his back, his head. you can feel him shaking uncontrollably under your palms. instantly, you feel bad for him even though it's not your fault to make him scared in the first place.

    "augustine!" comes a male voice from over the dog's shoulder. "augustine. oh thank god! there you are! you got me worried sick about you!"

    every problem you had about your life was gone when you see the dog and when you had to hit the break paddle but now as the familiar blonde-haired man with blue eyes is in front of you, you feel your heart explodes. something caught in your throat. your blood withdrawn from your face. you feel like your world is crashing down and rebuilding with a new kind of good problem. out of the many places and times, why must you see mick schumacher now?

    mick was your childhood bestfriends. since he's inseparable with his sister gina and since your age is not so different with her, you're best friends with her too. and being bestfriends with the siblings is like being the third child to their parents corinna and michael. so they know you. you know them. your father is a friend of michael and he was one of the few people that was allowed to see michael when he got into that tragic accident. things changed when mick got so busy with his formula siries career and you're busy studying to be an engineer. it's been years since you last saw him. well, until today.

    mick, who has yet to notice you there, lets out a long sigh. you watch him as he puts his attention on dog---augustine. he kneels in front of augustine, checking his body for cuts and bloods. when there's nothing serious, he sighs one more time. relieved, his shoulders relaxed.

    "augustine... what did i tell you about running off the street?"

    the dog shoves his muzzle into the male's underarm, hiding his face and continues to whimper. it's as if he is apologising to mick that he's being reckless and maybe promise not to do it again.

    "you could've been killed, do you know that?"

    mick looks up at you now after feeling like it's enough to scold augustine. plus, they're still in the middle of one side of the road. and his reaction mirrors you when you first found out that it's mick in front of you.

    "catherine?"

    "hi, mick."

    you smile. you feel like being a high school girl again for having your crush looking right at you. he is exactly the kind of prince charming most girls used to dream of when they were children. only you have had met your prince charming ever since you were little.

    mick's eyes studies your face that he hasn't seen in a few years. "h--- hi."

    things get awkward. you didn't know what else to say. you keep smiling.

    "i'm--- uhh--- i'm sorry about augustine," mick stutters a little. "we were just playing freebies. at the park. and then she thought we lost the freebies so she went hunting for it."

    so agustine is a she.

    "don't worry about it." you wave a hand. "what's important is that she's fine, isn't she."

    "a bit traumatised, i bet. but other than that, she's fine, yeah." mick smiles at you even though his eyes are on augustine who is sitting like a good dog near his leg.

    a short silence falls between you and mick again until mick feels augustine nudges his leg.

    "i--- i should get going."

    get going? five minutes ago you're sure you felt like running away when you saw mick. in face, you didn't want to meet anyone you knew who lives in this street because you hate telling stories about your father. the shock in their faces. the simpathy. they send condolences but they never meet their hearts. because none of them never experienced what you're experiencing now. but when mick stands up, pets his dog to follow, turns around towards the direction they came, you feel like stopping them. because when interacting with them you weren't thinking about your problems for once. it feels fresh.

    but despite that, you didn't have the courage to call mick even though you were his childhood bestfriends. even though you grew up in the same village. even though both of you used to play with dirts together at the horse barn at your neighbour's. all of your learned how to ride a horse together with your neighbour's kids but only gina turned out to make it a career. how he would follow you and your father hunting in the woods. you were there when he decided to be serious with karting. you would reconsider to do it if you still had that dream job, one where you and mick weren't having that huge gap in terms of your career. but it's different now. mick is a succesful formula one driver and you're just a barista. it sounds crazy if he wants to go out with you.

    but you haven't seen him for years! you could kill yourself if you didn't go out with mick for at least once in your youth. to see how he is like as a someone closer than just a friend. if it didn't work out, it's okay, you think. you can still be friends with him like he is friends with justine. so you open your mouth to call mick. you were glad nothing came out because before you could find your voice, mick stops on the road divider. augustine follows just as when he stops. he turns around and approaches you once again.

    "sorry." he chuckles nervously. "i know this sounds a bit crazy but i'm free for the rest of the day today. and i was wondering if... if you'd like to have some coffee with me."

    you heart blossoms. "i would if you don't mind me driving for you."

    you definitely didn't plan to say that though. it's just that your car is kind of brand new so it's hard to put a trust on somebody else to drive your car even though he is an f1 driver.

    mick chuckles. "i don't. new car?"

    "kind of," you answer as mick inspects your car. the tyres. the sportrim. the skirting. the tinted windows. the custom colour of your car. "it's two years old though but it till feels like it's new."

    mick is definitely in love with your car.

    "look at how shiny your car is."

    mick rounds your car, pushes augustine into the back of your car and apologises when augutine's legs cause a dirts on your seats. though you wish you brought old towel or newpapers, but you dismiss mick and drives him back to the park (though you have make to u-turn) for him to collect his belongings that he left when chasing after augustine. good thing nothing was stolen.

    you ended up settling down at a coffee shop in the city centre with mick beside you and augustine comfortably lying on her stomach by mick's foot. you recognise this particular coffee shop because a year ago you were one of their regular customers to get coffee first thing in the morning before work. their coffee never felt expensive to you.

    until now...

    "the fact that we haven't seen each other for years, i feel like i should introduce myself," mick jokes.

    "we just haven't seen each other, mick. we're not strangers."

    mick laughs. "how have you been doing?"

    to be honest, you don't know how to answer mick's question. well, how do you answer when a year and a half ago, you learned that your father has alzheimer's disease. and then you have to resign from your old company, say goodbye to your dreams, pack your bags and return home. you weren't ready for what comes next. nobody from your circle told you what to expect when your father has alzheimer's. so when he starts to forget about you, it hurts so bad.

    "i'm... good."

    "the delay doesn't sound good."

    "i don't have anything else to say."

    mick stares at you for a few seconds. it feels like he is reading your mind. it feels as if he already knew what happened to your father but didn't want to feel like he knows everything so he keeps quiet. you're damn sure he is waiting for you to tell him but the question is, are you ready? even if he already knew about your family?

    didn't feel comfortable, you gulp and look away before returning your gaze to him.

    "enough about me. how about you? how are you doing? how's your career?"

    mick doesn't look pleased with the question. he presses his lips together. as trained, he answers "there are many ups and downs with the teams. didn't manage to finish last race but we're looking forward to the next race and definitely we will work harder."

    "seriously? you're using that voice with me?"

    "what voice?"

    "your working voice," you state. "when you're answering interviews. you have this kind of voice. and that staged answers--- i know you memorise them. come on. tell me something i don't know."

    mick wonders and he wonders a lot. and you definitely didn't know what you don't know and mick decides to wait and see if he's right.

    "well, seb is visiting us next week."

    "really?"

    your face lights up hearing sebastian vettel's name as you're close to him too. his kids are a bundle joy. though you only meet them when he's visiting mick but they remember you and that's what matters. having a father who was once a part of the motorsport team gave you a lot of advantages and experiences a normal girl didn't have.

    your father was michael's mechanic at ferrari. and michael was close to him at home but closer since they spent so much time together around the globe. and michael was close to sebastian so that makes your father closed with sebastian. and you too. at some point, all of you are connected.

    you thought of bringing your father to see sebastian at mick's house but your face falls as soon as you remember that your father isn't going to remember who sebastian is despite being close. those times he and michael spent with sebastian in the red bull garage after both of them retired. those times they spent together watching junior drivers in their go-kart, standing outside of the go-kart circuit with hands behind their backs, judging other people's kids. your father isn't going to remember them all.

    "hey, what's with the sour face?"

    you give mick a small smile. "nothing. i probably should head home."

    "but we just like here like... three minutes ago."

    "i--- i just feel like to be alone. i'm sorry, mick."

    "o--- okay."

    mick gathers his belongings and you gather yours. he pulls augustine up by the leash and minutes later, all three of you are inside your car again and on your way home.

*

mick's house is exactly how you remember it used to be. the same colour. the same gravel road that leads to his house. the same frontyard with a little garden on the left though corinna have few different flowers and trees now. his mother or gina might have traded their old cars but other than those, nothing really changed. as you slowly pull your car in front of the house, you see gina at their front porch, reading while her dog roger is chasing the butterflies away.

    "thank you for the coffee. i really appreciate it."

    "ah, it's nothing," mick scratches the back of his head absent-mindedly. "i think we should do it again."

    "you think?"

    "no. we should do it again."

    yes. you wanted to do this again even though at first, you didn't think there is "again" especially when you were being hard on mick. close to being rude to him when he was nothing but a sweetheart to you. he even paid for your coffee when normally you would your own meal when you go out with your friends. and even a few guys you dated back then.

    you're not sure where this is going. you wished to go out with mick for at least once in your life. but god is giving you another chance with mick so you definitely isn't going to say no. right? wrong! just when you thought you finally found your happiness, a thought about your father crosses your mind. you've been neglecting him for hours now. a part from his rebellion about you not allowing him to go out without supervision, he could be sulking now at home because you've been neglecting him. another reason for him to hate you.

    "i don't know, mick."

    "you're worried about your father, aren't you?"

    this is what mick has been waiting for you tell him about. he's been itching to hear them from your own mouth. he didn't dare to ask you himself in the first place because he knows what it feels like to talk about something you hadn't truly accept. but the reason mick is asking now is because he wants to see you more and he cannot bear the fact that you keep saying no becaue of your father as if he didn't understand your situation.

    he understands alright!

    your eyes instantly water. "how---how do you know?"

    it hurts to see you cry because the catherine he remembers was always laughing. if you're not doing that, you'd be smiling. even if not that, you'd be mischievously smirking at him with gina. both of you were quite pranksters back then. even if you weren't doing any of the above, you were not crying.

    "mum told me." mick pauses. "i didn't believe her but last week i found your father at my old karting club with annie. i tried to talk to him but he didn't remember me. and that's when i know."

    you wipe your tears on your cheeks.

    "is that why you've been distancing yourself from me?"

    "no."

    mick raises his eyebrows. "are you sure?"

    "maybe."

    "why else?"

    "well, isn't it obvious? that you're always busy and constantly traveling. meanwhile i'm here struggling with double hours and taking care of my father that i barely had time for anything."

    "aren't you an engineer?"

    "were," you say. "i have to leave them behind, mick. right when my father was officially diagnosed with alzheimer's. i came back home. and i'm now a barista."

    you lift up a logo on the left side of your uniform.

    "i'm sorry you have to through this, catherine."

    "i'm... getting used to it."

    "you know what, why don't you come with him when seb comes next week?"

    "thanks but he won't remember anything, mick. he doesn't even remember me."

    "shit."

    mick looks down. mourning. mourning for you and all of your memories you had with your dad.

    "but this isn't going to be the last time we ever see each other again, okay? i'll see you tomorrow at your house. i want to see your father. i don't care if he doesn't remember me. i still want to see him."

    "no. you don't have to---"

    "maybe i'll bring gina along. we'll see." mick smiles. "bye."

    you watch as mick opens the back car door and whistles to augustine. as soon as mick and augustine step foot onto their frontyard, roger barks happily at them as if announcing to the people who live there that mick and augustine are back from the park. gina puts down her book and looks up. she smiles brightly as soon as she recognises it's you in the car and waves at you. you wave back, returning home.

    when the next day comes, mick didn't tell notify you that he's on his way to your house. good thing you are on your off-day and you just finished having your late breakfast when your door bell rings. your father doesn't move from his seat. he didn't ask you to get the door. it's as if he didn't hear the bell. or maybe he is sulking about yesterday. meanwhile you and annie exchange looks.

    "did we expect any visitors today?"

    "uh. i think that's mick."

    "mick? as in the schumacher?"

    you nod your head.

    "you didn't tell me he's coming? i didn't prepare anything."

    "and i haven't taken my shower," you say. "that's alright. i'll get the door. he's here to see dad."

    when you finally open the door, you realise that mick isn't alone. a beaming gina is one step behind mick's shoulder. while mick is wearing a jumper and jeans, gina is wearing a button-up shirt tucked into her trousers and her trousers are tucked into her horse-riding boots. she must be from the barn. as usual.

    "were you at the schmidt's the whole morning?"

    schmidt is your neighbour. the who one has the horse barn where all three of you---including schmidt's children---used to play together when you were kids. the way all of you used to play like there's no tomorrow. not worrying about pimples and acnes and allergies. while the fathers would be watching over you, drinking coffees (because it's not a good moral to drink alcohol with kids around) and talking. sometimes they'd be working on an old tractor that they know was not going to work but still tried to make it work.

    gina chuckles. "do you mind if i use your bathroom. i just finished---"

    "yeah, yeah. go ahead. you know where the bathroom is. my turn next."

    gina leaves her boots outside, enters your house without any more words, leaving mick in confusion as he watches his older sister making your house like her second house. just like how you did to theirs.

    "is she always like that?"

    you smile guiltily.

    "how come you're still close with her and not with me?"

    "i don't know, mick. i guess it's easier when you're always home."

    mick doesn't like that sound. he's home as much as he can when there's no race. his manager tries to accept less interviews, appointments, photoshoots to free his schedule and let him home because he understands mick's family situation. and when he's home, he is home. and yet, he never stumbled into you before.

    mick enters your house and the sense of familiarity hits him. every precious moment he created with you and the house when he was a little boy hits his memory core. the kitchen where you'd all eat cereal despite it being pass breakfast time. the silly arts on the wall are still there. and then there's the living room where all of you used to watch cartoons. your father travels alot when he was a ferrari mechanic but somehow always manage to reserve this old house foor the sake of the memories. miracle.

    then mick sees your father sitting on the single chair, staring into nothing. mick glances at you.

    "ever since he... you know... he doesn't like noise. he hates the tv because he says he cannot understand whatever the hell they're saying. though i think he is particularly quiet today is because i was not home early."

    "mum says you'd walk with him on your off-day."

    "that's true. but in the evening. i--- uh--- i usually woke up late on my off-day."

    as if somethng clicks in his mind, mick's eyes catch an abandoned set of bowl and mug on your kitchen island. "you just finished your breakfast, aren't you?"

    you sheepishly smile at him. you know mick and his family are early risers. maybe it's in their genes but it's also might be because they're athletes and with their training schedules, diet, mental health they're trained to sleep early to wake up early the next morning.

    because it doesn't feel foreign inside your house so without being offered, mick takes a seat in front of your father, you in front of him so you can see the day his blue eyes dilate with hope as he opens his mouth to greet your father.

    "good morning, herr erberhardt."

    when your father looks at mick, there is the smiliar confusion he has with you. the first time felt like thousands of knives impaling you and though it still hurts to see the same unknown look on his face when he looked at you this morning but since you have accepted it, you stopped feeling sorry for yourself. and it amazes you with how fast you could accept.

    "who are you?"

    "i'm mick. you know my father michael."

    "michael?"

    "schumacher?" mick's face falls but he doesn't look hurt that your father didn't recognise him and his father. "you were his best friend and mechanic."

    "oh."

     mick quickly pulls out his mobile phone. you watch as mick presses some icons for a while until you finally understand what he's doing. he opens his camera roll, picks one picture and shows it to your father. you lean closer to look at the picture. and though mick didn't slightly turn his phone for you, you can see the picture clearly. your father and mick's. both of them are wearing the familiar red t-shirt.

    your father definitely have tons of pictures of him at work but not this one. based on the quality, you would know that it's from one of the least photographers who was allowed to enter the paddock back then.

    "see. this is him. the one on the right. and this is you. it was both of your last day with ferrari."

    you weren't there on your father's last day with ferrari but you remember him coming home with lots of gifts from brasil. and you still have them in a big box in the garage where you keep good ol' stuffs there.

    mick continues to tell stories to your father. and it was at this exact moment that you know why you weren't allowed to follow him to brasil because he knew there were having a farewell party and he's going to get drunk and not able to take care of you. maybe it's better to find this out as an adult because otherwise, you wouldn't want to speak to your father again if you found this out when you were little.

    it looks like mick doesn't care at all that your father doesn't remember anything that he's telling as your father listens to them without showing any interest at all. mick keeps his composure well and you wonder how he does it until you remember that his father is sick ever since he was 14. when you were 14, you still had your father to help you with a guitar.

    gina comes into the living room, smelling like your shower gel and hair shampoo, when mick is telling a story about him and sebastian. and you excuse yourself because it's your turn to take a shower. and you could've missed mick glancing at you if you hadn't turn towards them at the living room.

*

when it's time for lunch, gina was first to be seated at the dining table, too hungry from her session at schmidt's barn. everyone eats only when everyone is seated at the dining table---including annie---and gina is treating herself as if she's at her family's house. not like you mind though because her presence brings a little joy in the house.

    mick on the other hand is embarrassed with his sister's behaviour even though he too is used to having lunches and dinners at your house. but that was several years ago. to be able to do this again feels like he's starting over with you and your family. but maybe with gina there he can get used to this sooner.

    everyone is doing their own part at the dining table. one asks questions. one answers the questions. one more person makes fun of the person who asked the question because she likes to make fun of her little brother. the late-30 woman is keeping an eye on an old man who is feeding himself slowly. for a moment, everything looks so perfect at the dining table until the old man stops eating, leaves the dining table and starts hunting for something.

    four of you stop eating immediately. everyone wears a worried look on their faces as you watch your father looking around the house for something. he stops in front of the tv where the coffee table sits. he upturns the rattan bowl, rummaging through its content scattering on the table. then he takes out everything inside the sofa remote holder. when he didn't find what he's looking for, he moves towards the tv cabinet.

    he opens the tv cabinet, takes out every cd, dvd, book, extension wire, more remote controls and dust. you hear him mumbling something but he still hasn't found it.

    "dad, what are you looking for?"

    you dad doesn't answer you.

    "dad, do you need help?"

    "ma! where's my... where's my..."

    mick knows you have no one except your father, though when you were little, diana (your nanny) was in the picture and annie came only when your father was diagnosed with alzheimer's. your father's mother died before you even existed. maybe mick's father knew her but not the next generation. now it makes you wonder how far back his memory is deleted from his brain.

    but it seems that even by calling for help from his mother, he doesn't know what he's looking for. you get up from your dining table and approaches your dad. you try to tell that it's okay to forget what he's looking for now and that he can try and find it later when he remembers. the house is already a mess like there was a thief here but your father is not giving up.

    "dad, why don't you sit down for a minute. i'm sure it'll come back to you if you calm down."

    "no. i can't," he says. "it's important."

    "why don't you tell me what you're looking for and i'll help find it?"

    "i--- i don't remember what i'm looking for but i will know when i find it."

    frustrated, your dad starts hitting himself. this is not the first time, though. it has happened a few times before. though it's only been a year since your father was diagnosed but this disease is eating him way faster than the doctors claimed.

    while you try to stop him form beating himself (you getting beaten in the process), annie jumps out of her seat to get the seductive in her room while gina plays a soft, melancholy music in the background. once again, mick is left in horror as he watches everything unfolding itself in front of his eyes. what's more surprising is how his sister looks like she knows what she's doing.

    mick certainly doesn't know what to do in the situation and how to offer any help. it's hurting him to watch your father hitting himself just because he cannot remember what he's looking for. and seeing you gets beaten... by the time your father calms down, he watches you slumping onto the ground with a loud thud. he sees your eyes wet. you look tired despite the fact that you just had your lunch.

    gina helps annie carrying your father to his room while mick approaches you.

    "hey. are you okay?"

    you feel mick's hand squeezes your hand gently. you hear his voice breaking though you did not understand why. you nod your head to answer mick's question.

    "annie and gina already brought him to bed. do you want to take a walk?"

    "okay," you answer without actually understanding what mick was asking you.

    mick stands up and pulls you up with him. mick helps you put on your jacket and shoes after doing the same for himself. you're still too tired from tending your father to speak and to think so while your mind is empty, you let mick leads you out. you follow wherever mick is taking you, talking hand-in-hand in silent, looking at the greens and blues and yellows. some cars pass by but you don't care.

    "i'm sorry you have to see that," you finally speak after 30 minutes of walk.

    "your father doesn't bother me," mick says.

    you made a sound that you didn't know it was coming from your throat.

    "gina did."

    "why?"

    "i don't know. maybe the fact that gina knows about your father. not me. and the fact that she knows what to do when herr erberhardt starts misbehaving tells me that she knows for awhile now."

    "i'm sorry, mick. i just didn't want you to worry about me."

    "so you told gina not to tell me?"

    you sigh. hate to hear the irritation in mick's voice because you know you're wrong. he is your best friend. if augustine hadn't cross the road yesterday and you hadn't almost hit her, you probably is still not ready to tell mick about your father because you're just insecure with yourself now. you lost your dream job while mick is striving. people can't tell you that you're wrong to feel insecure about that.

    mick knows not to want to argue with you especially when you're tired, so he drops the topic. that's okay, he thinks. he can ask you next time he sees you. it not tomorrow or the day after tomorrow, he has next week. because he will be seeing you again next week when sebastian comes to visit him and his family even if you didn't bring your father (he hopes you will) because you're close with sebastian like how he is closed with sebastian. but either way, mick knows that he will want to keep seeing you for as long as he can work this out.

    when both of you get back to your house, gina is sitting at the front porch to wait for mick to get back home together. annie is nowhere to be seen but you bet she's inside, cleaning up the house after the hazard.

    "don't forget next week, okay? i'll ask mum to cook your favourite cheesecake," mick says while hugging you.

    "and tell us if you need anything. you know we're always ready help you whenever you need us."

    you nod your head and smile at gina. "thanks."

    when the siblings are out of your vision, you turn around where your house is. the house that holds thousands of memories and one who doesn't remember them at all.

*

part 2

#mick schumacher #ms47 #f1 fanfiction #mick schumcher x reader #mic schumacher x reader #mick schumacher fanfic #haas #mercedes #ferrari #alzheimer's disease #mental illness #michael schumacher #sebastian vettel #sv5

[bitchesgetriches]

I think i'm about to get let go from my job. I got a full-time job writing for a magazine right after undergrad, and i moved across the country for it and resettled in a new place, where i knew no one and had zero connections. It's been almost two years now, and it's been a wild ride. I also (finally!) got clinically diagnosed with anxiety and depression in the last two months, and started medication. About a month ago, my boss sat me down and told me a few areas i've been underperforming in, and said we would need to meet with HR. I agreed, thinking it would be to talk about ways to get me some assistance. Meeting happened last week, with less than 24hrs notice to me, and i was told i was getting put on a PIP (i didn't know what that was) and it would last 1 month, before getting reevaluated and the PIP would be extended, or I would be let go. This was without express verbal warnings, and i'll be getting a written warning alongside the PIP. I am starting to look for other jobs, but I feel adrift and abandoned. Do you have any advice for me?

(PIP means "performance improvement plan" in business-speak).

Kiddo, this really sucks. I'm sure it's not a pleasant process to go through.

Our advice is to definitely polish off the resume and start applying elsewhere. That's never a bad idea, and you should always keep in practice for job interviews.

Also, since you've just been diagnosed... don't stop there! Seek help or treatment for your mental health! If you have anxiety or depression, it's absolutely going to affect your work. Improving your mental health will help ensure your PIP is successful.

Lastly, be proactive about the PIP. Stick with it, seek regular feedback, ask lots of questions, and take notes on your progress. At the end of each work week, email your supervisor and HR (or whoever is overseeing the PIP) some notes on how you've succeeded in improving your performance that week. And include some notes on how you'll approach improvement NEXT week. If you want to keep this job, you'll need to go above and beyond to impress them with proof of improvement.

It's also ok if you don't want to keep the job. If it's time to move on, pull the trigger. We believe in you, little one.

Season 1, Episode 1: "Should I Tell My Boss I'm Looking for Another Job?" 

Season 1, Episode 2: “How Should I Behave on My First Day at Work?” 

Our Best Secrets for a Successful, Strategic, and SHORT Job Search 

If you found this helpful, consider joining our Patreon.

#getting fired #laid off #losing my job #job search

[its-ticsticstics]

Hey, I saw your post on things that can give you tics and what can’t and I have a few questions.

About 1/2 a year ago I developed tics, and I mean BAD. Happened over the course of a few days and it hit me like a damn semi (mainly because I’m in middle school in a small town and people are assholes, they’ve chilled out by now though).

A few months ago I went in to see a professional psychologist (at least I think that’s what he was, it’s something along the lines of that), when I got my results back I was told that the only things I had were minor ADHD, depression, and severe social anxiety. I was told that literally all of my major issues (unable to stay still, randomly going nonverbal, inability to make eye contact, and the tics) were because of the anxiety and now I’m seeing a bunch of posts like yours and I really don’t know who to believe.

Could you maybe provide me with a few articles so I can figure, like, figure a few things out?

(Also I would like to add that I have 41 tics as of current)

Hope I’m not being too too much of a bother/rude! Have a good day/night/afternoon.

(One more thing, I am writing this on 2 hours of sleep so anything I said that was stupid/grammar mistakes can be blamed on that)

First!

I can't diagnose you, but in my almost (haven't graduated from uni yet) professional opinion would to get a Cunningham blood panel test for PANS/PANDAS/BGE.

The sudden onset paired with periods of mutism (inability to speak) along with tics sounds like the source could be brain inflammation in the very early stages.

If a blood test rules this out, it could just be the classic Tourettic Triad of symptoms of ADHD/OCD/ASD but this would also need to be diagnosed by a neurologist. Reading about tics is not enough to give yourself a diagnosis- it is a neurological disorder and not the same as self diagnosing ADHD or autism. People can DIE from misdiagnosed tics.

Unfortunately, especially those who are AFAB, are likely to be misdiagnosed and have a harder time being diagnosed with a tic disorder or Tourettes than AFAB counterparts.

The fact that you weren't sent to a neurologist to evaluate your symptoms is medical neglect and you deserved better.

Second-

The argument that anxiety can't cause tics really comes from the fact that there are NO studies to prove anxiety causes tics. There are no studies to say they don't, because there is no clinical or scientific evidence that they do in the first place. It's sort of like asking "use scientific studies to prove to me that Santa Claus doesn't exist" .. You can't find those studies because everyone already knows Santa Clause doesn't exist so no one does a study on that in the first place. In this scenario, anxiety tics and Santa Claus are the same thing.

All studies agree that anxiety can worsen EXISTING tics, but none say that anxiety alone c a u s e s tics. Those are two very very different things. Ticcing when anxious does not mean being anxious makes you tic, it means that being anxious worsens and makes noticable tics that you already have.

What I can give resources to though, are genuine Tourettes and Tic Disorder websites:

#tics #actually tourettic #anxiety tics #tics and tourettes #tourettes #tourettes syndrome #pans/pandas #motor tics #vocal tics #tic disorders #tic disorder

[doberbutts]

I went into the CAH tag to see if I could reblog or link someone’s long writeup about it for folks who wanted to learn more without having to dig through scientific studies like I did when I first was told that my birthing doctor suspected I had it (thanks mom)

But instead of finding anything like that what I found was a terf arguing that 1- Nonclassic CAH doesn’t count as intersex because hormone levels might be fucky but it doesn’t virilize the female body or result in ambiguous genitalia and 2- without counting NCAH as intersex the 1-2% statistic drops to under a half a percent since NCAH vastly dominates most intersex diagnoses.

I have NCAH as confirmed by my endocrinologist last month. I was told a few years ago that my mother was informed at my birth it could be a possibility. I was told very early on in life that the doctor glanced between my legs and was about to pronounce me male until something caught his eye, where he then decided female was a better descriptor. I’ve been told by multiple partners that I am, um, large, and I am capable of penetrative sex when using tools intended for either afab people with significant bottom growth or amab people who are comparatively very small. I have had, er, more than two amab exes could offer. I’m also distinctly very hairy and grew a beard long before any hormone therapy started. Without hormones it was about 50/50 on whether strangers regarded me as male or female. I have an adam’s apple.

You call that... not virilized or ambiguous?

The second point is only half true- you’d have to not count NCAH, PCOS,  Turner syndrome, and Klinefelter syndrome, as those are the most common types of intersex and the ones often debated as whether they count as “intersex enough”. Interestingly, bodies of research run and maintained by intersex people acknowledge all of these conditions as intersex, and basically have the opinion of “if you have something fucky going on with your hormones, genitals, chromosomes, or secondary sexual characteristics, and you find comfort in the label of ‘intersex’, you’re intersex”. Being that I’d rather listen to someone who is actually affected by this than someone who isn’t, I think I’d rather go with their POV on this tbh.

[wooglebear]

This is how season 4, or TETOCUIS, would play out in this universe.

[WARNING]

[THIS POST INCLUDES HEAVY SPOILERS FOR MY TETOCU FANFICTION, I'M NOT YOU. SO IF YOU'VE NEVER READ THE FIC, YOU MIGHT WANT TO BINGE-READ THE WHOLE THING TO GET UP TO DATE. IF YOU HAVE NO PLANS TO DO SO AND DO NOT WISH TO BE SPOILED, CLICK AWAY NOW!]

[SPOILERS START HERE]

Episode 1: Captain Underpants and the Senseless Torment of the Space Toilet

This episode is mostly the same, just with Melvinborg there.

there's a cute little scene where Melvinborg debates whether he's wearing one of those blue spacesuit things, but decides to be the only one not wearing a spacesuit, so it would make more sense for him to be a cyborg.

When Moxie shows up, Melvinborg just fanboys over her, since he's a Moxie fanboy in this universe.

When they go to space, Melvinborg tells his future self they're all in this together.

Since Melvinborg and Ree's interactions have been rare, Mr. Ree attempts to talk to him. But when he mentions his brother, Melvinborg just gets flashes to getting hit with Camoflush's paintballs, which confuses Melvin and he asks why his future self is freaking out. George explains that Melvinborg was brainwashed by Camoflush last season.

When the Space Toilet attacks, Melvinborg just goes into a catatonic state in part because he's still dealing with Camoflush PTSD, and in part because he has PTSD from the whole Doom Dome thing two seasons ago.

Eventually, he is slapped out of his catatonia. But since Captain Underpants has standards, and I don't think the boys would have been angry enough to slap him, Melvin does it.

After the fight, Melvinborg goes to the school psychologist, Miss Labler, and talks to her. She diagnoses him with PTSD, and she basically makes her debut this way. I imagine she’d be voiced by Miss Yewh's voice actor, Maggie Wheeler.

Episode 2: Captain Underpants and the Abandoned Artifact of the Absentee Aliens

After Melvinborg has a nightmare about Camoflush, he asks Mr. Ree about his PTSD, but Mr. Ree drags him into a talk about how Magic the Gathering is getting a Cartoon on Netflix, and how he hopes they get Tom Wilson to voice Lord Konda. Melvinborg has another flash to Camoflush.

The Dr. Fitzgibbons scene would play out the same, as well as the comic making scene, but when Moxie reads their comic and says they shouldn't trust him, George then says this is like the Dr. Vil Endenemys situation from season 1.

Then the rest of the episode plays out the same, just with Melvinborg there. When his past self gets kidnapped, Melvinborg is genuinely horrified for him.

Episode 3: Captain Underpants and the Hazardous Hysteria of the Hangry Hypnosinger

So, everyone gets placed in cyrosleep for three months. Yup, that includes Melvinborg.

When Krupp unfreezes George and Harold, he also unfreezes Melvinborg and puts a shock collar on him like last season.

Minutes of repeated shocks later, Krupp tells Melvinborg that he should have thought of this shock collar thing two seasons ago.

This might seem questionable, George and Harold quickly try to bring the old Melvinborg back. They comment on things like how his hair looks burnt from the repeated shocks, and that his skin looks damaged, which makes Melvinborg mad at Krupp for ruining his looks. But it's all in vain, because Hangry Hypnosinger shows up.

Melvinborg gets kidnapped by her, and she tells him the same thing Ragley said to Underpants in season 3, but changed - "I'll make you the dessert to Underpants, the main course, and them, the side dishes."

After the battle, Melvinborg would have a newfound anger for Dressy.

Episode 4: Captain Underpants and the Disturbing Dilemma of the Dysfunctional Doppelgängers

Another episode that's more or less like canon.

When they crash land on the planet, Melvinborg cries about his phone. When they discover the alternate Piqua, he would be confused.

Melvinborg meets Livmen-Borg, his blue-skinned counterpart. Livmen-Borg doesn't have the hat and acts more in-line with Melvinborg's season 2 portrayal, only with a side of slightly more murderous.

Melvinborg would be as traumatized as George and Harold to learn that the kids are toxic towards adults. He is thrown into the dungeon, too, but he escapes.

The land-shark scene would play out the same, but with Melvinborg there. Livmen-Borg doesn't turn into a shark though, and instead uses his laser eyes.

Episode 5: The Confusing Crisis of the Covinning Captive

Since Melvinborg's still around, he goes with the mission to rescue Melvin. After all, he has limits!

The treehouse scene would play out the same, only with Melvinborg there. He would mimic his past self by saying "move your butts out of here, you leaky faucets!". Then everything still happens with Krupp spraying everyone with mustard and joining the MISFARTS. I have the humorous mental image of the "Don't Do That Again" scene being recreated with Krupp and Melvinborg.

The episode would then play out the same as canon, just with Melvinborg there. He would be horrified at what his past self has become. Saying "this isn't you, past me!" and would say the f word after he betrays the boys.

Melvinborg would break down in the tears as the episode ends. After the two-farter joke, he would say "…This episode is my least favorite."

Episode 6: The Arragavting assault of the Alien Armada

The finale would be the same as canon, but with stuff changed.

Melvinborg tells himself, "How did my life come to this?" when he's doing spa duty for the Biglyans.

During when Fitzgibbons reveals his identity, Melvinborg gets a flashback to his brief stint as Vil Endenemys.

When asked why he's staring into space, he says "All the way back in season 1, I posed as the school's superintendent… who didn't exist."

Then the episode would play out the same, just with Melvinborg there. This is true until the final scene, where we don’t get Future!CU.

The final scene would have Melvinborg rooting around in the school's boiler room, looking for something he can use to get revenge on those boys.

He eventually finds a DVD marked "George and Harold's Worst Prank" and smirks. The narrator then said "And so Melvinborg found the perfect means to get revenge on those boys. That tale is for another time. That another time being whenever the people at Netflix make a season 5."

Then the credits roll, and Captain Underpants in space ends.

And that would be TETOCU in Space in the I'm Not You-Verse.

Complete with cliffhanger for a possible season 5, which will apparently never see the light of day. I'm not planning on making this outline into a fanfic. I'm just not interested in writing TETOCUIS.

TL;DR: A lot of shit would be different in season 4 because Melvinborg isn't dead.

#melvinborg #i'm not you au #captain underpants #outline #moxie swaggerman #TETOCUIS #the epic tales of captain underpants in space

[dollsonmain]

Random babbling

That lot of dolls with Jetta is on track to arrive tomorrow. It’s in Hagerstown today which is one stop away from our delivery hub.

The other Goodwill buys haven’t shipped, yet.

There’s a mystery package OFD that’s coming from where MiL lives so either she’s sent something for That Guy or Son and forgot to tell me. She usually tells me when there’s a package for Son so I can let her know when it’s arrived, so might be for That Guy. It was his birthday this past weekend.

-

Things have been disappearing lately.

The take out food containers I’d been reusing to work on dolls and ponies all just vanished at once. All of them. Poof. They’re the shallow, plastic ones with lids. One of the boys must have recycled the whole lot of them. Don’t like that. I used them a lot to hold things while working on things, keep them separate, keep them off the counter or touching other things I’m working on if it’s something gross like rusty tails, etc.

It’s frustrating to have something I use a lot suddenly gone.

Another thing is the cleaning cloths. That was a pack of 12 and I can locate about half as many, now.

However, I have caught myself throwing those in the trash without thinking a time or two, like I would a paper towel. I may have thrown them out and not realized.

-

I realized that I have That Guy’s credit score in my hands and that’s very weird. I could easily rack up his card pushing him into over-use (though his credit limit is really high so that would be rather difficult), or not pay the bills without saying anything and let it go to collections.

Not that I would do either of those things. It’s just weird that, in a situation and relationship where I’m very much cut off from money in such a way that I can’t stash any away in my savings or use it to buy what and from where I actually want (like dolls and stuff off of stores like Mandarake), I also have that kind of possible influence.

It seems illogical.

-

I barely ate this past week, and that’s very likely contributed to my hard crash over the weekend.

I did eventually get through the bag of apples other than two that I had to toss because they were prematurely gross. I ate all of the peppers. Ate the loaf of bread and 2 pieces from the bag of pitas. The boys ate a good deal of the pita chips I’d made. I know I ate 1 stove top and 1 microwave ramen at some point, and I think 2 TV dinners.

For a whole week, that’s not much food at all.

But also I’ve noticed things don’t smell or taste right again. The microwave ramen smelled like elephant poop, and lots of different things have smelled and tasted like play-doh. I wonder if I picked up covid again at that school meeting and am just not having many symptoms this time, or if it’s the same occasional Smell Wrong that I’d been experiencing since the first couple bouts of covid a few years back.

But it triggered a memory of having a similar kind of problem causing food aversion a long time ago and now I’m wondering if that bout of diagnosed anorexia was really a months-long struggle with an unrecognized viral infection.

Though I do still have the body dysmorphia (50 pounds ago I felt like I look the way I do now).

-

I’ve been inundated with makeup and hair videos on Instagram again, likely because I interact with doll faceups and styling videos.

It’s.... How to say....

I still find it uncomfortable that so many people feel obligated to go to such lengths to make themselves look different than they are.

Like, grooming is one thing. Being clean, you know? Putting some goop on your skin so it’s not itchy and cracking and you’re not picking up little infections. that kind of thing. Grooming.

But it’s so much of curly haired people straightening it, straight haired people curling it, wear a wig even though it’s itchy, put on those fake lashes, your nose is the wrong shape regardless of the shape it is so change it with makeup, do not dare to have uneven skintone...

I think that I am very lucky to be ok with how I look. Like, I don’t find myself attractive, but I also don’t feel a need to put on makeup or spend lots of time styling my hair into a shape it doesn’t want to be.

I found the haircut that suits my hair and it happens to be a wash-and-wear cut, too. I have lots of pimples and pick at them because they annoy me but don’t feel a need to cover them up.

Which has nothing to do with people that do their hair and makeup in a way that ISN’T meant to conform to “beauty norms” and do it to be more colorful and for fun.

I think I am lucky in that because so many people can’t feel content in their own skin.

(Though, going back to the body dsymorphia thing, I do feel a need to cover up my body because it feels like I’m doing the general public a disservice if I don’t, and that’s silly.)

-

Also thought it was funny that Volks released Tall Wolf Man BJD, and then Luts was like Oh? GIANT Cat Man BJD, then!!!!

[hiswordsarekisses]

Blessed is the fact that Christians can rejoice even in the deepest distress; although trouble may surround them, they still sing; and like many birds, they sing best in their cages. The waves may roll over them, but their souls soon rise to the surface and see the light of God’s countenance; they have a buoyancy about them that keeps their head always above the water and helps them to sing amid the tempest, “God is with me still.”

…Trouble does not necessarily bring consolation with it to the believer, but the presence of the Son of God with him in the fiery furnace fills his heart with joy. He is sick and suffering, but Jesus visits him and makes his bed for him. He is dying, and the cold, chilly waters of Jordan are gathering about him up to the neck, but Jesus puts His arms around him and cries, “Fear not, beloved; to die is to be blessed; the waters of death have their fountainhead in heaven; they are not bitter-they are sweet as honey, for they flow from the throne of God.”

Jesus says, “Fear not, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom.”2 Thus strengthened and consoled, the believer is not afraid to die; no, he is even willing to depart, for since he has seen Jesus as the morning star, he longs to gaze upon Him as the sun in his strength. Truly, the presence of Jesus is all the heaven we desire.

(Charles Spurgeon)

I have not always understood His ways - but I do know this for sure: He is good.

He is trustworthy. He knows what He is doing. And when something tragic (to my heart) happens, I absolutely know that it was the right thing somehow, and that some how He was protecting them by taking them early. (Isaiah 57:1) He would not have allowed it unless it was part of His loving and strategic plan.

Our joy is not about this earth, or affected by circumstances, and this is why we have hope even in loss.

We are here, so VERY temporarily, but we are on our way home for forever. The people we lose who love Him are not in our past - they are in our future.

Everything He does is perfectly and beautifully arranged and no matter how bad or horrible it may look - I promise I know that it is not.

Here on earth we see as if through a glass ~ darkly. This means that it is like looking into a foggy mirror. Our perception is distorted and incomplete. God sees the complete picture, and we don’t. But we can trust His eyes as much as we can trust His heart.

Our understanding on this side of heaven is limited, and what we do see isn’t always an accurate reflection. We have to remind ourselves often.

But we do not have to stumble in dark anxiety. Instead we have to fix our eyes on the unseen things, and on God’s Word, and God Himself. This is how we begin to focus in such a way that we have an eternal perspective.

Cause sometimes life gets crazy.

A year ago my husband was laid off from his job. Although he received a nice severance check, it was unexpected and heavy.

At that same time we lost my dad’s wife to Breast cancer. While that was happening I was diagnosed with breast cancer, myself.

Then a few months after she died, her brother died completely unexpectedly.

My dad, at 81 years of age, and grieving, came down with Covid, and that took him months to get over. Then he went into depression because of both of their deaths.

I ended up having to have a double mastectomy and a little over a month of radiation treatments.

Then on this past Memorial Day we lost my brother - also very unexpectedly. I think we are all still in shock over it all.

My brother had escaped death more times than I can count during his lifetime and 3 times he did actually die and was brought back.

The night before he died he had hit rock bottom and was very distraught. He expressed to my mom how tired he was of this world and his struggles, and he told my mom he wanted Jesus to come and get us.

In the wee hours of the morning Jesus took my brother, quietly, as he fell asleep sitting in a chair on the porch, and he went home.

One month later, this past weekend, my cousin unexpectedly passed away of a massive heart attack in her sleep, and she went peacefully home as well.

In my walk with Jesus all these years I have been through a lot, but this past year has been unbelievable. But God has always been faithful through it all.

God is at work behind the scenes, in spite of how things appear. Through the hard things our hearts are softened and we are transformed into His image.

May God give us eyes to see beyond what is in front of us.

[bulimic-bunny]

My experience with Ozempic [-20 kg in 2 months]

I think many people have heard of it as a magic weight-loss medicine, but in this post I would like to explain HOW NOT to take it. First of all, if you have been diagnosed with any eating disorder, please give up the idea of taking it! The problem is that all of us in the ed community are obsessed with weight loss and you start living in a sense of euphoria from constant weight loss. You get into a utopia where there are no binges, no hunger, where even your most favorite food doesn't interest you anymore, where you have a lot of energy, even though you might have eaten your last meal a couple of days ago. Anyway, I've had 2\4 shots, but it keeps its effect for about another 1-1.5 months. After the first shot, the feeling of hunger was gone the next morning, but it's not that shitty feeling like other pills, when you feel sick and nauseous and other symptoms and so you don't want to eat. Here you just stop craving food, like all my bulimic thoughts of filling my stomach got removed from my head. I used to drink sugar-free energy a couple of times a week, just for the taste, but I was full of energy. When I looked at the food, it seemed like an object of furniture. The weirdest thing was that my stomach wasn't rumbling, I just didn't want to eat. I lost the first 10 kg in 2 weeks. During that time I ate baby food three times because my mom was worried and drank about 4 cans of sugar free energy drink. In two weeks! Ozempic has to be injected, I am very afraid of any injections, so I decided not to take it anymore. For the next week I continued to fast, because I didn't want to eat at all. But it turns out that the body can not starve so long, one day I woke up feeling nauseous. I vomited bile for two days. I had to have a glucose drip because my glucose levels were so low that all the doctors were horrified. Then I stuffed myself with food at least once a day and lost another 10 kg in a month. So what was the problem? When you are a person with any ed, you cannot force yourself to eat under the influence of this medicine, because the delight of your condition and the lost kilograms is maddening. What could be more perfect than a constant feeling of being full? I can't help but admit that I wouldn't want to do it again, because my whole life is about losing weight, but I just ask you not to make my mistakes and if you decide to take this medicine, make sure that you eat at least a minimum amount of calories.

It's been half a year now, I had a binge after not very pleasant events in my life, so I got 10 kg back, but fasting is absolutely easy for me now, so I lost -5 kg again in the last month, because even after half a year I have no feeling of hunger and I eat 100-150 calories a day. I do not wish this to anyone, because I understand the damage it does to the body. That is why I recommend any diets, medications, etc. other than this. before(1,2)\after(3 same jeans,4,5)

I know that the result is not huge, so this is just another confirmation that this kind of violence on your body is not worth it

#an0r3c1a #bul1m14 #bul1m1c #tw ed diet #tw ed rant #ed vent #ed not sheeren #4norexi4 #tw disordered eating #ed not ed sheeran #ed di3t #ed bllog #anablr #before and after

[crippleprophet]

(feel free to not respond to this, hell feel free to be like “please don’t do this again”)

so i’ve had join problems for like 3 1/2 years now and they just got diagnosed like 2 week’s ago, turns out i have runners knee

so i feel bad because 1. it feels lit not as big of a deal as i feel like it is (it is a big deal, it’s impacted my life (thank you therapy))

2. i’m worried that pt and more exercise won’t make it better (i’m on my schools swim team, so 4 practices a week during the season, plus a swim meet on friday)

and 3. i feel like (at least for now) i need more support. my pt doesn’t start until february and i can’t remember the last day i haven’t been in pain or had sensations that are probably due to nerve wackiness. i have used a cane in the past and it has helped me immensely. but i feel bad for wanting something that works for both legs. i’ve literally have had 2 dreams about me having forearm crutches.

i’m just really exhausted, sorry for dumping this all on you rn, i feel like even though i was listened to i still was just told to exercise and loose weight

hey, it’s absolutely no problem & i’m so deeply sorry you’re dealing with this 💕💕

i’m gonna throw like a billion disclaimers on this that, in addition to my usual line about just being Some Guy on the internet, i am definitely responding from a place of trauma here - i don’t know your body & you are the authority on your experiences, i’m just tossing some stuff out there based on my experiences, which might be totally different in other (or underlying physical processes yadda yadda) ways. also like big tw for medical neglect

so. i ran cross country in high school and my joint pain originated in my left knee at age 16, no specific injury or incident, RICE etc barely did anything. xrays and mri showed nothing. tried cortisone shot, euflexxa injections, some sort of topical steroid that was originally used on racehorses, nothing. because i was a runner no one ever considered it could be anything but an orthopedic issue.

i had two exploratory arthroscopic surgeries (which i’ve since learned are as effective as a placebo) with extensive debridement - first dx, plica syndrome, “we have no idea why this was this bad,” cleared to run again after post-op PT, pain came back even worse after ~7 months.

second dx, grade II chondromalacia patellae aka runner’s knee. told never to run again. i knew in post-op PT that something was wrong, this wasn’t the same pain as recovery previously, it felt like the underlying issue was still there. this wasn’t pain of healing, it was making something else worse. my physical therapist didn’t believe me, just kept pushing me, literally told me once that there was no way i was in that much pain. the pattern of swelling, location & sensation of pain, nerve symptoms, etc never made sense to anyone, no matter how many people they called over to poke & prod.

i don’t think i’ll ever know why, especially when he then didn’t fucking do anything with this information, but one day he had me try a lumbar extension stretch. you know the scene in the little mermaid where she’s propping her upper body up with her arms on the rock, waves crashing behind her, triumphant music? it’s basically that pose. it was both the single most excruciating and relieving thing i’ve ever done; even my chronic migraine of 2 years lessened. but we proceeded on a normative linear recovery arc, i got cleared from PT, the pain was better but still there.

flash forward four more years of intensifying pain - first my other knee, then the bottoms of my feet, then more constant and prominent in my lower back, then my upper back & worsening of the neck pain i’d been told and believed was from looking down at books/phone, what i now know as neuropathy increasing all the while - using a cane, then forearm crutches, then a forearm rollator, then a mobility scooter, spending more & more time unable to leave the bed - and i stumbled across an article about ankylosing spondylitis that matched my history fucking eerily, right down to the car crash as a younger teenager. it turns out AS commonly first presents with knee pain, not back pain, in juveniles.

so here’s what i’m gonna tell you: even if it’s “only” chondromalacia, your pain is real and serious and you should listen to your body. and, with again the mega disclaimer that you might be experiencing something totally different, i gently suggest:

read my posts about AS. read my google doc about AS. read anybody’s posts and articles about anything that originates with knee pain, especially if it involves neuropathy.

keep tabs on your body and don’t believe anyone who tells you something is normal until you’ve investigated it for yourself. does your neck hurt? how much? how often? what about your upper spine, between your shoulders? your lower back?

try a lumbar extension stretch, just in case.

if you haven’t been to a rheumatologist before and it’s at all possible for you to do so, do it. if you have a GP and can get a blood workup from them instead, do that. more info on blood testing here - but keep in mind that negative blood work doesn’t rule anything out.

if you can get forearm crutches, one hundred thousand percent do it. make sure they’re sized properly - more info on that here.

do whatever you possibly can to shore up your trust in yourself and your experiences. surround yourself with as many people as possible, in person or online, who believe your pain and make you feel solid in your knowledge of yourself. i’m a big fan of putting up signs with reminders if you can. whether you have chondromalacia, something else, or a combination, your pain is real, it is disabling, and it is in your best interest to develop strategies to cope with the systemic gaslighting that is existing within an ableist society & medical system.

if there is literally anything at all i can do to encourage you, answer questions, etc, please feel free to dm me or send another ask any time. my whole fucking heart goes out to you - you are not the only one who’s been through this, and that is both the horror & deepest relief of chronic pain. so much love to you, may you receive everything you need.

#chondromalacia #chondromalacia patellae #runner’s knee #knee pain #knee problems #joint pain #chronic pain #ankylosing spondylitis #asks #faq #read this to my gf bc i go to her for feedback on a lot of my stuff & she said ‘this is a love letter’ which. yeah

[purp-rabb-bnnuy]

Just to get some things out there.

1. I have adhd and was diagnosed about 2 yrs ago

2. I just accidentally deleted my 1st Tumblr account trying to delete the alt I created

3. If swearing/bad grammar offends you in any way, fuck off and go find another blog

4. I am still slightly learning Tumblr as I've only had it for about a month

5. I can and will shit post, reblog, and actually answer genuine questions that I come across

6. The term nerodivergent typically means a person on the autism spectrum or, more generally, to someone whose brain processes information in a way that is not typical of most individuals. Nerodivergent is also a non-medical umbrella term that describes people with variation in their mental functions, and can include conditions such as autism spectrum disorder (ASD) or other neurological or developmental conditions such as attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder (ADHD). <In other words, Nerodivergent means more than ADHD/ADD/Autism, but does typically mean ASD/ADHD/ADD.>

7. I tend to forget to put tags on my posts cause idk what to tag them as or I just quick post

I think that's all, if not will edit/update later

#actually adhd #adhd #fml #tumblr #shitpost

[sysmedsaresexist]

Maybe its bad on my part but im native, trans, bi, afab and disabled... Ill never get an actual diagnosis just because of one of those but all 5? No way and tbh... I dont think it'll do me any good other than give me another hurdle when it comes to getting gender affirming care or adopting or even getting treated like an adult. Me and my system are ok and i dont experience distress from my system enough to think i need psychological help.

Idk if i can handle some white ass cishet abled doctor walking up and saying i dont have it and gaslighting me.

I hope this dosent conceded cause thats not my intention but even though im anti-endo, i get their distrust in the medical system and why diagnosis is something many wont persue. 1 because many of them know the doctor will diagnosis them correctly(as having trauma or having something different) and 2 because american doctors are not a safe place like... Ever. If your not a cishet abled white man.

So, a lot to cover here.

I'm white, afab, trans, bi, with multiple partners. I was diagnosed at about 21, and I've been in and out of therapy ever since. I'm also Canadian. Getting diagnosed was the best thing to ever happen for me, and I have several friends with the same experience.

And several who had bad experiences.

My experience will not be everyone's.

I am not pushing for anyone to get diagnosed. Doing so is a personal choice, and a decision that should be made by you, and your therapist if you have one. There are many reasons someone might get diagnosed (access to resources and specific care, financial support, etc) and just as many reasons someone might not want to get diagnosed. You also don't need a diagnosis to get the help you need.

What I DO want to people to hear is: whatever decision you make, do it with the REAL facts.

If you're going to choose not to get diagnosed, don't do it based on bullshit you see or hear on the internet. I made a post several months ago about someone going around saying that a diagnosis will stop you from getting housing, a job, and being able to buy alcohol, of all things, as if you have to present your mental papers to the cashier.

None of those are true. Gender affirming care also can be still be given and received, with an added step of a psychiatric evaluation (which is mandatory in Canada anyways for everyone, regardless of mental health, so if you think about it, you're not really losing anything). You can still adopt and have a family. You can own a home and have a job.

If you take anything away from my blog, it should be this:

Know your rights, and know how to exercise them

There are assholes everywhere, I'm not denying that. There are people who will bend rules and laws and who will use personal information (like diagnoses) against you. I'm not blaming anyone who has had this happen to them, either, as if they should have preemptively known better. No, that's not it at all.

Being aware that it happens, though, know that you have rights-- you're protected by employment, privacy, and human rights laws (yes, even in America, I debunk more American myths than Canadian). You do not need to disclose for work, except for positions in the military, certain healthcare positions, and when working with vulnerable sectors, and even in those cases, not always, and it can't affect their decision to hire you. You don't need to disclose for housing. You don't need to tell anyone anything, and you shouldn't, unless you need reasonable accommodations, and once they have that information, it can't be used against you. Don't let them. Easier said than done, I know, I've let things slide myself that, looking back, I wish I hadn't. Sometimes it's just easier, even if it's not right.

Point is, when in doubt, question everything. Do your own research, find your own answers, look for sources, question facts you see that aren't cited.

When you make decisions for yourself, be certain you're making it for the right reasons, and with the right information.

#syscourse

[findingmypeace]

Medical Malpractice

I am so incredibly pissed off. My insurance has a patient portal and if you see a doctor within their network that doctor is required to post their chart notes on the patient portal. My doctor posted her note from our last appointment yesterday. These are the things my doctor either diagnosed me with or said about me in that note:

1) First, she wrote in all caps, that my treatment team said, “NO WEGOVY” and then she added that she’s not doing well with her diet”. And here’s another quote, “she’s already trying to lose weight but has poor relationship with food”. I mean if you take that last qoute quite literally it is actually the truth but these comments are exactly why someone that is not educated in eating disorders should not treat them. My bulimia is not a “diet”.

2) She also diagnosed me with Disruptive Mood Dysregulation Disorder. Honestly, I think she’s just throwing any diagnosis at me that has the words ‘mood disorder’. She put this diagnosis in three different places on the note. DMDD is a mood disorder only diagnosed in children who are physically/verbally aggressive as a way to cope with their mood instability. Um, i’m 41. I am not a child. And, as a result of trauma, I am so afraid of confrontation or upsetting someone to the point that I just avoid the situation altogether. So I am neither a child nor someone who is physically or verbally aggressive.

3)Additionally in that note, she said twice that some of my symptoms are related to my history of having covid. This is a direct quote, “does have hx of having had covid and has felt worse since then”. She also wrote that I needed to see cardiology to rule out POTS due to my, “Hx of having covid”. Here’s the thing: I’VE NEVER HAD COVID!!! Never! And I would have known if I did have it because up until about a month ago I was required to get tested every time I had ect. I also told her that I had never had it during that particular appointment. This is not just her forgetting if I said ‘yes’ or ‘no’. This is her saying that my symptoms are caused be a disease I have never had!

4) This part (ie:the diagnosis) that is the most shocking to me, is something I have NEVER been tested for therefore there are no records of test results and no possible way this could be a legitimate diagnosis I have. She diagnosed me with, “Mood disorder caused by cerebrovascular accident”. I had to look that up and apparently that’s just a fancy way of saying I have a mood disorder as a result of a stroke. Again, I truly think is she just throwing everything with ‘mood disorder’ at me. Does she not know what cerebrovavascular accident means? She’s an MD!in my (stupid ) message to her I mentioned that she had diagnosed with a stroke and she said she saw nothing about a stroke. Am I wrong about what a ‘cerebrvascular accident’ means? Every google article calls it an ischemic stroke. I’m so confused.

This is all on top of prescribing me weight loss medication “to help me reach my goals” and (this was said by her nurse practitioner from my first appointment) “if I lost weight I would feel better about my body and then feel happier in life and then I wouldn’t need the eating disorder anymore” Okay, that actually is so completely illogical and not possible, and especially not how eating disorders work that I’m am actually speechless. What the fuck was she thinking?

Anyway, I filed a complaint with the state medical board and will never be seeing her again How is this even possible from someone who attended medical school. I feel like I’m making it up because this can’t be real but it actually is!

#personal #bulimia #eating disorder #ed treatment