#I've been feeling gums lately teeth and gums but especially gums | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

repentarium · 1 year

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the truth is i've been dreaming of this tired, tranquil place tag 10/??

ao3

Steve wishes he were touchier. Not emotionally, but physically. He doesn't think about it a lot, not with his brain at least, but he feels it with his whole body, like he feels like he barely exists unless there's a physical touch on him sometimes. A tether. It's hard to explain with words, especially when the words that come to mind are usually of the 'well we didn't really hug in my family' variety, which opens up a whole big and difficult conversation that isn't really something that Steve wants to talk about most of the time.

When someone else claps a hand on his arm or whatever, he feels hyper aware of his physical body, like he's watching a mannequin of himself and he has to control it Tekken-style. He'll see other people touch arms or knock knees or ruffle hair and it's like he has to catalog it to maybe learn how to replicate it eventually.

He remembers being called clingy by his parents when he was a kid. And the way his first girlfriend broke up with him because he ‘wanted to hug her like all the time’. It brings to mind shouting matches from his dad over him hugging Tommy H. goodbye once, or resting his head on a friend's shoulder in middle school to share a walkman.

The swearing and yelling and slurs have made him jumpy with touch, withholding and standing stiff most of the time, as much as he'd love not to. When he got caught kissing Courtney Boscov freshman year his dad scolded him lightly but later, after his mom went to bed, he’d clapped a giant hand onto his shoulder and told him he was proud of him, and she was a looker, and her parents always spoke so highly of her.

If he thinks about it, he knows that it's part of the reason he placed so much value in being A Good Boyfriend. Girlfriends like to be touched, and Steve likes to be allowed to touch, so it makes some kind of sense. Sometimes they'd even touch back - he'd briefly dated Karla Hurley sophomore year, and she liked playing with his hair and to be the big spoon sometimes. She moved away from Hawkins and they had to break it off, but more than how nice it was to kiss her he still thinks sometimes about her hands in his hair.

It's not even a sexual thing, not really. He just spent so long like a ghost haunting his parents' house it's nice to be reminded he exists. He connects it to the need to yell and to scream and to run, or to drink water in gulps after. Feels human.

Luckily for him, he's best friends with Robin and Eddie, who are both 'shove first, ask questions later' kind of friends, and his merry band of teenaged charges are like puppies who don't realize how big they are and are just as likely to crawl over a person as to walk around them.

The last few days, though, have worn on Steve in a way that he feels physically, in his bones and his skin.

He doesn't personally think he's being very charismatic because of it, but some senior from the high school comes in to look for a movie for some project and she giggles at him and touches his arm and her own hair and her eyes shine and she leaves him her number on the wrapper that held the cinnamon gum she's chewing.

She's too young and too bright and he's not really feeling the whole dating rigamarole these days, not really, but he tucks the wrapper into the front pocket of his jeans and thinks briefly and happily that he exists.

Of course it doesn't last long because a group of kids comes in and they somehow knock an entire shelf of tapes over, and the shelf is broken so badly all he can do is stack the movies up in a semi-orderly fashion against the wall and let Keith deal with it when he comes in to close. On his way out Steve sees him tearing into a roll of duct tape with his teeth and muttering.

By the time he gets home and is faced with making dinner again he’s blank. He loves making food and feeding people and he just feels like it's another thing he hasn't done well enough lately. He's not exactly inspired, he definitely doesn't want to go to the grocery store, and they've eaten out so much lately he shouldn't really spend anything on pizza.

When Eddie comes in later, he doesn't shout 'honey I'm home' and he nudges the door carefully past the stuck spot, doesn't fling it open.

'Hey.' Steve smiles tightly, plating some mac and cheese.

Eddie hangs his jacket up and comes over to peek at what he's doing, throws an arm around Steve's shoulders when he does so he can really get in there and poke at some chicken. Steve shakes him off.

'How was your day?'

Steve shrugs and hands him a plate, then brings his own to the couch.

Of course Eddie can tell there's something wrong, there's no way even one of the kids wouldn't have been able to and this is Eddie who has the uncanny ability to read people's minds or whatever.

'It's kind of been a rough couple of days, babe.'

'Pfft. Rough life.' Steve sighs.

Eddie follows him to the couch, and they sit and eat while Star Trek plays at nearly no volume. Eddie talks quietly with his mouth full but gesticulates grandly, tells stories about his day at work and how they didn't get some shipment or other and of course it was exactly what all the customers were looking for, like every single one of them. He emphasizes his stories with a light kick, an arm smack, a hand clasping his shoulder and lightly shaking him.

Steve mostly nods and hums his way through the conversation, and the more he focuses on how he’s being a shitty roommate the worse it gets until he’s feeling a little worked up about it.

Eddie takes the plates into the kitchen and washes them quickly. He brings beers back for them and stands looking at Steve slouched into the couch, eyes crunched tight.

'How's your head?' Eddie asks softly.

'Hmm.' he hadn't noticed, but there was a telltale pressure behind his eyes that suggested that he should take something for it to ard off another headache. He rolls his head on his neck with a little wince. 'Not great, but I'm fine.'

Eddie clicks the lights off before he sits down. 'No, come here.'

He pulls at Steve's shoulders until he's twisted around with his back to him, feet pulled up onto the couch and tilting against Eddie's chest and side in a way that feels both like it's home and also like he needs to leave immediately. Eddie’s feet are up on the couch too, and his legs form a sturdy brace for Steve to lean against.

When he pulls forward and tries to get away, to chuckle it off, Eddie pulls him back again and clucks his tongue. 'Stop it, come here, damnit, I can see your brain working. You're allowed to relax on your couch.'

Steve delicately sits against him again, barely ghosting a touch. He can just feel the hard line of Eddie’s curled legs and the knob of his knees at his back, the tilted stretch of his chest right at the back of his head.

Eddie puts his fingertips at Steve's temples and pushes circles into them, firm but gentle, and it's like the rubber bands in his body are all snapped at once. It’s a little embarrassing how quickly Steve feels himself relax into it, but he manages not to sigh or groan too dramatically.

It’s like there was a badly buzzing light in the back of his head, like the one in the back room at Family Video that you can feel with your whole body even if you can’t trace it, and someone has just hit the light switch.

Eddie is pressing light little circles right along his hairline. The way he’s sitting can’t be comfortable for Eddie, but the sheer proximity feels great against Steve.It was like he’d managed to chase the headache away before it even fully took root.

'How was your day?' Eddie says quietly, again, like he hadn't asked like an hour ago when he came in.

‘Fine. Annoying. These kids knocked over a whole shelf in romance and like ran away. Keith was pissed when he saw it, but it's like what am I supposed to do, I'm not a carpenter or a welder or whatever.'

Eddie is scrubbing his fingertips into Steve's scalp. The dry skin of the calluses on his fingertips catch a little, but not in a hurting way. He murmurs 'Fucking kids, man, you need hazard pay from three to five.'

Steve chuckles, relaxes more against him. It’s quiet.

'You know how I said I had a bunch of concussions?'

'Yeah.'

Steve swallows. 'The first one was probably when I was a baby, it's kinda hard to tell when you're that young but I fell down the stairs when I was learning to walk. I don't really remember it.'

Eddie hums, and even though Steve's eyes are closed and he's facing away it's like he can see his frown when his hands pause for a second, just a stutter really.

'My second one though, that was my dad.' Eddie's hands leave his head completely before coming to rest on his shoulders instead.

'An absolute peach, as I’ve learned.’'

'He uh, he was yelling at my mom, and I came home late. I don’t think he was expecting me, they probably thought I was asleep. I was fifteen and Tommy and me got trashed that day, so when I walked in I started screaming at him, and one thing kinda led to another. I’ve never known how to shut up, and he just slapped me, but it hit hard, and I guess the drinking didn't help 'cause I went down bad and hit the wall on the way to the floor.'

It's quiet, and Eddie goes back to rubbing at Steve's head, scratching at his scalp, tugging a little at his hair.

'You're real brave, Stevie.'

'Pfft, I'm an idiot.’

‘Brave.’ he insists.

‘What did it get me? Eight concussions?'

'You're not an idiot. It got you family that actually loves you. And you’ve saved lives! Practically the whole town. You saved my life.'

For all their leaning on each other and shared trauma, they haven’t really talked much about the actual day. Maybe when it isn’t so fresh, even years later. 'I guess that's true.' Steve tilts his head back a little so he can see Eddie, and he's looking back at him, scrubbing into the base of his skull. 'I'm glad that you're here, Eddie.'

Eddie laughs at him, rocks his head lightly back and forth. 'I bet you tell that to all the sweethearts you rescue.'

Steve chuckles and remembers the girl. 'Oh!' he lifts up a little to cram his hand into his jeans and holds the gum wrapper up at Eddie's face. 'Some girl gave me her number! It's been a while.' He grins up at him, waves the trash, but Eddie doesn't take it.

He just clears his throat a little, pats his shoulder and pushes it up to sit him upright again. He stands and goes into the kitchen, putters around a little.

It's like the energy has completely changed, and all Steve can think is that he's dumped a lot of trauma on Eddie. He probably shouldn't have.

He tries to keep talking about non-trauma, sits at the stool at the island and says, 'She was cute! She was like blonde and seemed nice, I don't know. Maybe I'll call her.'

'Cool, Steve.'

'I could like take her to a movie or something.'

'That'd be nice.'

He's rummaging around the kitchen, cleaning up and setting out the things to make a vodka soda.

'I don’t really know what’s playing, and I mean, it's been a while, you know-'

'I'm real sorry, Stevie, I'm actually feeling pretty wiped, I think I'm gonna go to bed.' He doesn't wait for Steve to answer, doesn't look at him, just grabs the vodka bottle (bottom shelf, they pay bills now and can't get fancy) and takes it to his bedroom, closes the door behind him. That's room temperature too, there's no way just drinking it is fun.

Steve watches him go and feels incredibly fucked up about it, actually.

Eddie is his friend and he's so kind and it's completely out of character for him to blow him off like this. He must have really said something wrong, crossed some kind of boundary that, to Steve at least, was totally invisible. He hears Eddie’s music kick on. He doesn't recognize it, but that's not much of a surprise.

It's only 9pm, so he calls Robin. He brings the phone into his room, glad that they got a cordless.

'Hey asshole!' Robin says into the receiver, too loud so it crackles.

'Hi Robs.'

'Okay, what's wrong?'

'I miss you.'

'Aw, I miss you too, babe!'

'Can you just. Talk to me?' Steve doesn't know where to start or how to explain anything.

Robin talks, about her classes and her roommate and this girl she has a crush on, the teacher she hates and the ones she loves. It makes his breathing come more naturally just to hear her ramble.

'So.' She says eventually. He knows she's not out of things to talk about, she'd never run out, but she's ready to dig. 'Talk to me.'

'My dad came by.' It comes out without him even thinking about it.

'Oh.'

'Yeah. He was kind of yelling at me, but then Eddie came home and like. Escorted him out. He wasn't mean really, but you know Eddie. I don't think I've ever seen Dad so speechless.' He tugs at a loose string on his quilt. 'He thought we were boyfriends, called us a bunch of names. Haven't heard from him since.'

'I'm so sorry, babe.'

'It wasn't so bad though, that's the thing. Like it was way worse in my head, the way I used to build it up. Eddie being there helped. A lot'

'I wanna fight your dad.'

'Eddie said the same thing.' Steve sighs.

'So tell me what's really wrong then, if it's not your dad.'

'It might be my dad? I don't know, Robin. Everything was fine, I thought, Eddie seemed fine and normal and like worried about me but fine, you know, and he was-' he's suddenly feeling like it's too intimate, saying that Eddie was what, giving him a head massage? Using some kind of energy spell to fix his headache? '-we were like, sitting together today, and I was talking about my dad and growing up and he really pulled away. I think I said something that upset him. He's drinking vodka in his room.'

Robin clicks her tongue at him down the line. 'That doesn't sound fine, Stevie.'

'I know, I - that's why I'm calling, I guess. I don't know how I pissed him off, or what I need to do to fix it, you know I suck at this.'

'You should go talk to him.'

Steve frowns into the phone. 'He wanted to be left alone.'

'I think you should talk to him. It's the only way to figure it out, babe.'

'I guess.' He scrubs at his face. 'Do you think it's like. Because of his dad? Like it brought back memories or something?'

'I have no way of knowing. You gotta talk to him.'

Of course. The talking thing. Which he can totally do.

‘He’s one of your best friends, Steve, he loves you, you know? Even if you said something truly terrible you know he’d forgive you.’

Steve just worries at his quilt and hums.

‘And you probably didn’t say anything terrible! You know it’s probably just something he’s working through on his own.’

He doesn’t say it kind of hurts that Eddie wouldn’t talk to him about whatever it was, but it does hurt.

By the time he wraps up with Robin, he's feeling better. Well, maybe better isn't the word, he still feels terrible, but he feels like he can talk to Eddie at least.

He ventures into the hallway and Eddie’s door is closed, his music is off, and the lights are dark. He presses his ear to the door to see if he can hear a sign of life, but it’s still and quiet.

Tomorrow, then.

#tranquil place #steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #stranger things #stranger things fic #eddie munson #steve harrington #mine

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goodsuuplement · 16 hours

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health-productsformale · 23 hours

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dzpenumbra · 1 year

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2/23/23

To quote me 30 seconds ago, "oh fuck, I knew I was forgetting something..."

Hi. I got some shit done today. Not a ton, but for me, a decent amount. It's a tough part of battling a lot of mental health shit at once - PTSD, social anxiety, depression, maybe other shit too, who knows anymore - is like... a successful day for me, a day of huge accomplishment, especially at a time of grief, looks like a normal day in the lives of many others. I wish I didn't compare so much. I would be much happier if I just used my own life as a metric, not the loud college kids who just galumphed down the hallway at 2:15 in the morning, or the kid at the grocery store who just tossed shit in his cart carelessly that made a sound so loud I could hear it through my very loud headphones.

Today, I did yoga. It was like 15 minutes, but again focused on neck and back. Talked to my mom briefly and coordinated car stuff, which worked very well and was very respectful on all sides. I did dishes. I quickly showered, did food inventory and then headed out to the grocery store. I was feeling a bit... hesitant to even get out the door. Like there was a 1 foot tall wall of fire on the other side I would have to hop over to head out. So... like... not that bad. No specific thoughts about why I didn't want to go, just a reflex, a vague instinct. Then I headed out and did groceries.

I actually did this thing I used to do back in my old hometown where I had the entire layout of the grocery store basically committed to memory, so I would actually like... speedrun route my grocery list... Yeah, for real. I gamified my grocery runs. And it worked really well. And I just... threw shit in order from right to left so I could do the run smoothly, because I had my therapy appointment today too and I didn't want to be late.

Everything went according to plan... until I was thrown a curveball in the dairy aisle. And it shook me. I smelled tooth rot. Decay. Maybe not tooth, maybe the rot of a piece of meat stuck in someone's tooth that didn't get flossed or brushed out? And it was powerful. And my anxious brain, my protective brain, immediately did what it has been doing since I was a teen, probably even preteen, maybe even my entire life. It said "that's you". And I started like... swirling saliva around in my mouth to bring scents out, i tried breathing into my hand. But it didn't like... consume me, overwhelm me... which was good. It was still powerful and it stuck with me. And I looked around and saw a person... I hate to say this but... kinda androgynous? And kinda didn't really seem to have a lot of teeth? And kinda didn't look like they had a lot of money? And I didn't like being judgmental about it, but they fit the trope, to the point where I didn't really know why they were in the grocery store. I still don't feel... good about that. It feels... unfairly presumptive. There were other people milling around, but I kinda just... assumed it was either them or me.

I moved on. I, ironically, looked for ice cream. Yep. Don't worry, definitely gonna brush my teeth tonight. OH. Yeah, I should mention. I had periods of horrible dental hygiene in my life, and I never really ever at any point in my life had... proper teaching? Or proper habit development? Neither of my brothers either. So... I brush my teeth once a day, and there were a few years in there where it wasn't even every day. And I smoked for 18 years. Never really flossed or did mouthwash. And no one ever talked to me about it, not even the rare girlfriends. And I only recently got these floss with handle things, which make flossing much easier and more convenient. But the habit is still not really there, my gums bleed like crazy every time and sometimes the floss gets stuck and it feels like I'm going to pull out my crowns, which is really scary feeling. But that's kinda... how I know what that smell is. Because I've smelled it before. Just... not that powerful, even with the floss right under my nose.

I went on my final pass of the store, went "oh, I should check for ramen bowls, just for like... emergency 'meals'". And there was that androgynous person looking at the ramen. And I just... pretended to look at Chef Boyardee and shit until they left. And then grabbed my ramen and left.

Then I did a lap over by the flower shop section to look for succulents, it's kinda part of my closing routine there now. They never seem to have them... And when I finally got in line, guess who? The androgynous person again, right there in line in front of me at the self-checkouts. I smiled at them and just brought my attention back to my music. Headphones make the shopping experience so much easier for me. I can be in my own little world. Until some Boomer comes up and asks the one person with headphones in (me) whether they're last in line. Luckily, I can read lips decently, I nodded and smiled, he moved behind me. He said "I guess I am now", and chuckled. And I was like "bro, I have headphones in," but not really, just in my head, but I was just not really in the mood for conversation at the checkout line for some reason, just wasn't really feeling it. And... then it happened. I smelled it again, the tooth smell. It came from behind me. It was him the whole time. He must've passed me in the dairy aisle.

And the whole time, I either thought it was me and my horrible self-care, or I was judging this other person. And I noticed that judgment and I corrected myself, that was like... the intention of my smiling. It was like... "hey man, people judge you too, be kind, you don't know someone else's story." And it was a genuine smile, saying "hi human, hope your shopping experience wasn't as awkward as mine." And the whole time, it was the dude behind me. And I just immediately connected the dots and went "I need to fall into my music right now, because I am not going to be the person to break the news to this dude that he's got pretty big-time halitosis going on right now." Though, at its core, that would be a very kind and compassionate thing to do, very thoughtful, and if someone did it for me, it would make me super self-conscious but I would be deeply grateful. But my abuse victim self came out there. And he said "bro, if you 'criticize'... if you 'complain'... that's a crime to some people. That's an attack. Doing that is dangerous."

My inner voices are getting a lot of quotes tonight, damn!

So yeah, as much as the self conscious experience of that smell (which is clearly a big source of anxiety/self-conscious triggering for me, smell) was really shitty and difficult... it wasn't the worst part. It had me on edge, but I recovered shockingly quickly. What sent me into oh-fuck-mode? Friendly confrontation. Being the bearer of bad news. Being thoughtful about something that might get me... attacked. Being the messenger that gets kicked down the fuckin well in the movie 300. That image is pretty spot-on. To bring something that is known to set off peoples' defense systems to their attention, and then have all of their defense guns that are supposed to be pointed at the focal point of their self-consciousness... the threat itself... instead they point at me. The person who took a huge risk in order to help them. And I get turned to swiss fuckin cheese, without even a warning shot.

THAT is my family. My mom. My older brother. My younger brother. And, most of all, my dad. Though, to be fair. My dad, when he gets set off, just does childish low blows to try to hurt you more emotionally, and then just unceremoniously leaves. My younger brother learned this from him, unfortunately. My mom does this too sometimes, but it's rare, she is more... angry. And I relate to her, I'm more like her, which is why I devoted so much of my life to anger management, from a very very young age. Like starting at 13ish. It was a very wise investment. My older brother, I can't really tell, it seems like he avoids conflict at all costs and internalizes, which is not healthy at all of course, but... clearly healthier given the context... But yeah, my family is like a minefield. And I guess I used to be that too. And I think in some ways I still am? I really do think that, and I want to be fair to them and honest with myself, so I can really identify those moments and work on that. But like... that's definitely trauma. All of it, for all of us. Being completely on edge at all times and then someone drops a pin and the whole room is jump-scared. I just think I'm the only one in the family who has deliberately worked on this, intentionally, for what it is, and has worked on it for... going on half a decade now. And I think it shows. If only they could see the value in that, in what I have learned, I might even be able to help teach them. <shrug> I guess we all do our own work, yeah? And the best you can do is be there when/if they ever decide they're ready to try.

So yeah... the self conscious social anxiety insecurity? The "omg my breath, people are going to judge me" shit. That used to be fear #1. That was the source of my first phase of agoraphobia, my freshman year of college when I just locked myself in my dorm room and didn't come out. I was afraid something was wrong with my body and I smelled and people weren't telling me and laughing at me behind my back. I wish I talked to a counselor about it, honestly, but... I didn't trust anyone back then. Rightfully so, I was surrounded by really manipulative, impulsive, self-centered people all the time, who was there to trust? And holy shit have I come a long way in the... oh god... almost 20 years since then... ouch. Time flies, huh. That fear, which would have sent me into like... tunnel-vision, walls closing in, high-contrast vision, low-pass filter, "I need to get the fuck out of here now" weed-freakout level panic attacks... until way into my 20's... that shit was like... a 20 second "oh I should check my breath... naw, I don't think it's me... hmm..." Talk about progress, holy shit.

But the big bad wolf absolutely bared his teeth. And showed me where my fear truly lies. How my fear has evolved. Because judgement is scary, yes. It hurts, it's unfair. It feels bad. It feels like... you don't have control. Like someone else is deciding your story or something, right? "Ew, he has bad teeth, he must take really shitty care of himself, he must be a complete asshole." Or something, i don't know, anxiety doesn't often... explain itself so literally... it likes to kinda let your imagination fill in the worst case scenarios vaguely and just pat you on the back and assure you that something worse will happen. But this... this fear that my fear has evolved into... it goes beyond judgment. And I've talked about this before pretty recently, I think, I'll retell the story again for anyone who doesn't feel like digging back through chapters and chapters of my life. And for myself, because I think this was one of the biggest revelations I had in therapy, and my therapist at the time... just kinda missed it entirely and I don't think he even really understood what I was saying...

I was hiking at a spot that I used to go to in high school, it's a hike up the side of a mountain and there's a really tall thin waterfall at the top of it. It gets pretty steep at parts. I had my dog with me, leash tied to my belt as usual. It was early spring, this area was all mud and rocks and occasional snow patches. We made it pretty high up, but we weren't going to make the waterfall. We were crossing a flooded part of the trail, I can see it so vividly in my mind's eye, like the weird brown-maroon color of the mud on the rocks under the freezing cold water. My pup plodding ahead through the water like it's nothing, drinking as she goes. And I remember being in the lead, telling him that I was not so much afraid of the judgment. I was afraid of what people do with it. The things people do when they act on judgement. Oh for fuck's sake, does judgement have an "e" after the "g" or not?! Come on, spellcheck, what the fuck. Is that an Anglicism thing? Whatever, I'm doing it with an "e" now.

I remember struggling to find the word for it. I remember asking him and trying to brainstorm, and I stumbled on... "Justice". What people perceive as justice. Like "I'm going to give this person what they deserve". So... more like vigilantism, or something. I still don't have the right term, I guess retribution? I don't know. When people make snap judgements, then get outraged, then take action. That. Retaliation? Punishment? I guess? Punishment seems most... accurate, I guess.

And... and this sticks with me... my therapist just... didn't get it at all. It did not click with him. I feel like he kinda... dismissed it? Pushed it away, maybe? And maybe I just hit a personal experience reflex defense from him? Maybe I hit him too close to home and he wasn't really there yet and he just.. deflected. I don't really have another good reason. I've had it happen in the past, I know it's a thing. Like... in an ideal world... it shouldn't happen in a professional setting, but... we're all humans. I get it. But that moment is so fucking visceral for me. And I didn't need his validation or discussion really, the connection was already made. That was very clearly my Achilles' Heel, and has been for a long time. Being brought to "justice" for something I didn't do. Being falsely incriminated, due to... superficial judgement. Because I'm different, because I'm weird, because I'm sensitive, because I'm creative, because I'm poor, because I'm rich, because I'm white, because I'm male, because I'm healthy, because I'm sick, because I'm traumatized, because I'm not traumatized enough, because I don't accomplish enough, because I picked the "wrong career", because I'm privileged. Any reason, really.

It's not the witch hunt that scares me, it's what they do to the witches. Otherwise, I'd fucking tattoo witch on my own goddamn forehead, flanked by dual middle fingers.

I haven't shared this. Let me share this. I was gonna say my first tattoo... but that's not true. My second tattoo. My first tattoo was just some... design I came up with that's my initials in the shape of a human figure, that has a yin-yang for a head and the arms turn into Libra scales, and the bottom turns into roots (it was supposed to be veins fading into my arm, but the artist was shit and I was very young and trusting). My second tattoo... that was a three-session piece that I ended up designing the second and third stages of. The first stage was, interestingly enough, done in Salem, Massachusetts. I got a crow. The rest of the design that I drew myself was two other crows perched on nearby branches, one all flesh, one all bone. These tattoos were done by the artist that was supposed to apprentice me and didn't. She didn't do the best job. But they're sentimental, not art gallery pieces, so who fucking cares. Here's the story.

I was in a freakout in college, that first semester. I don't even remember the context. I just remember being super panicked and going for a walk at dawn to clear my head. My college was on the top of a mountain in the middle of nowhere, so I was walking down a dirt road away from campus by myself at the ass-crack of dawn. And I remember this vivid feeling that I was trying to translate into words in my head. It was so garbled and overwhelming. It felt like what I imagine channeling spirits that spoke another language would feel like. And I came to this finality of... the best I could translate this like profound feeling was... "if they find out what you are, they're gonna lock you up". Whoever "they" is, whatever "what" is. And again, this whole message/thought/insight was much more... conceptual, much more thought-imagery based. So "lock you up" was like... an analog of "do something bad to you" or "stop you" or, I guess, "punish you". And it brought back this feeling of like... going to the Holocaust Museum... the feeling of like... echoes of persecution. And a deep, deep self-protective fear. Like that kind of fear. Like being actively hunted, and having to hide. And it's so odd to me even now, because at that time? At that time... I don't even know what about me I was hiding. And honestly... I still don't!

Maybe that was the culminating point where my subconscious mind couldn't take the thousands of suppressed "maybe they're laughing at me?" "naw, no way." And that confidence started to fade, and I started to question it, and go... "maybe they actually were?" Maybe it was growing more paranoid, maybe it was growing more perspective. I still can't really piece it together exactly, but it was absolutely a first time thing for me and it was... dreamlike. And I remember that I was very, very sober. And the sun was like a reddish orange coming up through the trees, lighting up the cold green-blue dawn sky. And three crows flew overhead in a triangle formation. And I looked up. And I came back to Now. --- I just accidentally hit ctrl+n instead of shift+n... and finished writing "Now" and autocorrect filled in "Owls". That's pretty cool. Right when I'm talking about crows. Because owls and I have a similar but very different kind of relationship. I have a lot of bird connections, damn.... hawks, crows, owls... --- But yeah, seeing the crows and hearing them just like... brought me back to the present moment. And it was really beautiful out, and peaceful, and I remember it being a nice, peaceful moment, and I think I remember smiling. And it stuck with me. It felt important. And I think I understand much more about that importance now than before.

It's not just about this message that I was obsessed with for like... 18 years. This "If they find out what you are, they're gonna lock you up" thing. This like... Anne Frank kinda feeling. That's important. And it's something pivotal to a lot of my life that is really tough for me to articulate to others, and clearly still lingers today. But what I just noticed about it was... how nature just pulled me right out of it. How in the stillness of nature, I was just part of the environment. I belonged there. I belonged in that scene. The sun greets me. The crows say hi. I stop and greet them back. And drink it all in. And it just... is. And it's beautiful. And moments like that, where everything just... is. And it's all how it's supposed to be. They're very sacred. So, maybe I should really remember that half of that experience as well, really celebrate that. Not just the insight, which was life-changing. But also the dichotomy between this chaotic, layered, billions of moving puzzle pieces, 3D chess game of the human world, and the honest, simple, organic existence of the natural world. And to remember that I can return to that stillness, that just... being. Any time I need to. It's always there. The peace, the beauty. And I find it much more often than most. And people think I'm a weirdo for it. Squatting in rivers looking for pretty stones. Looking in awe at the handcrafted masonry in old churches. Listening to an album for the first time with my eyes closed, swaying to the sound as it moves me.

And I really hope that I can cultivate a sense of confidence, and safety. Safety. Let's really not understate the importance of that feeling for someone with lifelong PTSD. Because the confidence will absolutely come naturally after that, duh, right? A safe hunter feels confident. A safe weaver feels confident. A safe banker feels confident. Does a threatened one?! XD So... I really hope I can cultivate a sense of consistent safety so that I can truly just... be myself. Without having to worry about punishment. Without having to worry about persecution. Without having to worry about "retaliation". Without having to worry about being "locked up" (contained, prevented, restrained) for being myself. For being what I naturally am, who I naturally am.

Yo, check this out, I'm actually gonna connect the dots here! HAHA! When I have that sense of safety, of security, that I need... I truly believe that I will be able to reach up and pause my music in my earbuds... turn around... look that white-haired man in the eyes with a warm and compassionate gaze that I try so hard to keep present as much as I can... and say, "hey man, this is really awkward and I really don't want you to feel self conscious, but I think you got something stuck in your teeth or you have a cavity or something? I've gotten it before too, and sometimes you don't notice because like... you're always around the smell, you know? Like I was a smoker, and I never smelled that I smelled like cigarettes all the time, you know? So like... just wanted to let you know that your breath kinda has that smell to it, out of kindness, because like... I don't know if anyone told you, and if I was in your shoes, I would want someone to tell me."

Someday I'll get there. I've been there a few times, just... not consistently. And I really feel like... that's the kind of person I want to be. That's what the real me inside wants to be in that situation every time, but I'm always so afraid. That's a hell of a goal, huh? Some people want to be billionaires, some want to own a Lamborghini and drive it 35mph in residential zones, some people want to intentionally fail at procreating as many times as they possibly can, some people want to be idolized for the fabricated image they display to the public. And I want to just be confidently, honestly compassionate with a complete stranger - at "risk" to myself - and not feel fear. And not cower and run and hide myself from it. I just want to make a memorable, positive impact on people. And as little negative impact as I can. That's all.

Good lord, I just went to the grocery store and this came out. Welcome to my brain. I have to live with this every day.

I got Chinese takeout. It was good, as usual. I worked on one of the stones that my mom mailed me. I think it might have silver in it. I'm pretty excited about it, it's definitely metal, definitely tiny little veins. I spent... close to 3 hours on that. Let me put it this way. I ate dinner, I started working on it, the streams I was watching were pissing me off because literally every goddamn stream is running bundles of like 6-8 ads now... and they're doing these pop-up ads that just throw a fucking ad right there under the stream. In bright white on top of the black background, burning your damn retinas. I remember when coming across ads like these meant you were stumbling into a questionable part of the internet, now it's like... it's fucking everywhere. This is so embarrassing, people. Give these fucking assholes an inch and they'll take everything. See? See how upset it makes me?! XD No wonder I left. I fucking left. I went back over to YouTube, where I finally caved and got a Premium account and it's the most peace I've had in ages. But I wanted to watch something long-form. So I put on Batman Begins. I didn't remember the plot, I didn't really pay much attention to it at the time. Or the last one in the trilogy. I remember Dark Knight, I saw that a bunch of times, but the other two, not so much. So... I did like an hour of sanding before Batman Begins... and about 15 minutes of finishing up the polishing after. That's how much non-stop sanding I did on this stone that's like... less than an inch long. And it looks fucking gorgeous. I can't wait to see it in the sunlight tomorrow!

So yeah, that was basically my day. And as I said in the beginning... it doesn't feel like... a full day. I did like 3 things. Groceries, dishes, polish stone. Oh, and therapy, and that did go well too. But for me? It was a big day. A really good day I should be proud of. So... I'm going to be happy about that.

I miss being comfortable embracing being different. Maybe it's because people just... thought I'd grow out of it? Or be pressured by society to conform? Like... "oh, he'll quit eventually, he'll come to his senses eventually." I mean, he's in his mid 30's... how much longer can he keep this up? Or maybe I just think people think that.

At the end of the day... I just want to live a life where I look at my day and go "I'm happy with that." "I did good." And I think today fits that bill. So I'm going to give myself permission to smile and stop beating myself up. :D

Goodnight, and if you read all of this, I hope you have a pleasant tomorrow!

#diary #journal #online journal #stream of consciousness #stream of thoughts

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themindofcassiopeia-blog · 6 years

Text

Reality isn't photogenic

Hey Astrophiles⚡

So everybody talks about the good. They publish, post and publicise the good, the things they want everybody to see and admire, desire, and applaud. Sometimes people talk about the bad, the sugar coated truth that still comes with the glory of it's own that sucks sympathy out of listening souls and ends the story with a praise that upholds their egos to the highest standards.

But what about the ugly? What about the fact that people around us are dying. Not just physically but mentally and emotionally and spiritually too and it's messed up how nobody can talk about it without being an attention seeker...

Today I was talking to a girl in my class and she asked about the bandage on my hand. I told her my cat scratched me and she continue to make a comment how "at least I didn't take a knife and stab myself or something". Now normally I can brush things off but she pissed me off with the way she said it. I proceeded with a simple "huh?". And then what she said next put me over the edge...

"You get some stupid pschyco thingie people who do stuff like that and cut themselves for fun"

Again "huh?"

"You know those people with those scars on their wrists and stuff?"

Self harm...she meant self harm.

And then I lost it. Mentally I slapped her, in reality I just walked into class and ended the conversation there.

Recently I spoke about OCD on my page and the same girl made a comment about OCD as well...

Just the other day I find out from my best friend that the people I used to once call my sisters were trash talking me and the fact that I have bipolar disorder and I'm "too sensitive". Mind you that one of them bursts into tears to gain attention and has done so many many times.

The point I'm trying to get across is that ignorance is a reality and it's ugly as heck. How are individuals, especially teenagers going through the hell we call high school, expected to cope and be okay when mental illness is not taught in our education syllabus? When ignorance drives people to feeling like they are worthless because they fight demons in their heads every single day but "it's not that bad". Feeling like until you are dead it will never be "bad enough" to not be attention seeking. And even when it's too late we are never enough.

As I said over the course of this blog I'm gonna talk about different things in the hope that I can eliminate at least one person's ignorance if nothing more.

So lets talk about the ugly because this crap is real and real is something that slaps us in the face all too often. We all have stories and struggles that nobody knows about and we have our ugliest moments inbetween the bad and the good. So let's be real now. I don't want your guys's sympathy. I don't want to be praised or apologised to. I don't want to be hated on or accused of seeking attention because if I could I would disappear from the face of an earth in a heartbeat because I'm not invisible. I'm painfully visible and completely ignored until I'm being criticised. Here's my ugly.

At age 8 I was already being called fat by my mother and the memory still sticks with me. From age 12 onwards I went through phases of not eating, starving myself for days and when forced to eat would shut myself in my room and exercise only to have no numbers drop. Resorting to purging which left me with my emitophobia. But was I really afraid of vomit or afraid of dying? As years go on I'm just getting worse and I'm lying to everybody. I go through phases of overeating, undereating, binging, purging, starving, 1000 calorie burning exercises and chewing gum on an empty stomach. Eating infront of a mirror and googling thinspo to one day achieve. But guess what, fat girls who get skinny are a success story and heaven forbid you fail like I am.

Holding a knife to my skin and making elaborate stories about paper cuts and looking my scars and not seeing scars but seeing a lie to my mother and invisible ink saying help me. Knowing that 2 people have seen those scars and getting a weird look from one and a lecture from the other. Scratches, getting into baths of boiling water and burning my skin, punching walls and bashing my head on door frames, scratching scrars and pitching my flesh to bruises.

Holding a knife to myself, standing over the railing at a school and having one person out of everybody grab me and pull me back into the corridor. Setting up a belt in my wardrobe, having a depressing as heck notebook that would make somebody scream like they were in a horror movie. Taking pills for the sake of it and getting to a point of not being able to do anything without taking pain killers because one day I hoped it would stop the pain.

The fear of messing up, not being good enough, being hated and alone and uninteresting and unloved haunting me while I stay up day after day with no sleep. Feeling too stupid to be anything and too smart because what's the point of being a brainiac if you're ugly and fat too?

So my life is ugly. It's freaking ugly and I hate it and I've been trying to change it for years. I'm not skinny, my face is too chubby, my teeth are scew, my hair is lifeless and falling out, my skin looks like a packet of red m&ms and I'm too smart, not athletic enough, too boring, not artsy enough, unpopular and too quiet?

What do I want? I want to be what is seen as perfect these days and reality is that I can't be that. Reality is that I sit on my phone but I have no messages. I sit on this blog but nobody follows it. I sit in my bed and feel like crying but no tears come out and I'm exhausted but my brain never turns off. I see the photos, the stories, the captions, the perfect lives of all my peers having a good time while I sit alone every day. Just be more social? Even when I am nobody wants me.

But all I am is attention seeking by marking up my body, all I am is a gluttonous freak because I'm fat, I'm a lame nerd because I struggle to speak up and I get good grades (which recently proved to not even be good enough). Ignorance. We don't know each other's stories. Some people don't make it to tell the story.

One day. One day it will be me turning down guys who ask me out, one day it will be me wearing skinny jeans and not looking like an elephant. One day it will be me who is called pretty and is invited to things and has a social life. One day I will be enough. One day I can feel like it's acceptable for me to be happy.

So here's my ugly rant. It's contoversial. It's my raw thoughts. It's real and this blog is the only place I feel safe being real because my name is Cassiopeia...not my real name. My baggage isn't glued to me, my life is unknown. Guys if you have a problem then please talk to me. I want to help. Let me know your ugly because no matter what it is it matters to me. Rant, scream, shout, cry, just let it out because I won't judge. The only person I judge is myself if I'm being blunt. So let's open up the conversation and stop the ignorance.

We need more real.

I love you guys so much and I hope this wasn't a waste of time. I needed to vent so thank you if you read all my crap. Thank you for following and reading this if you did💙

xx Cass xx

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existentialstatesofmind · 7 years

Conversation

Opening up

Clare: chose her words carefully. “We’ll see. I don’t want to keep you from your work. I’m still looking forward to meeting your grandpa. Hopefully after the trip.” She wanted to make a good impression on him especially since they had to reschedule it after Clare already went shopping for it with their money. She didn’t want to be the girl who was taking up all of Kota’s time ‘that should be spent on more important things’. Even if they were just teenagers. “But if you can give it your undivided attention first….then I’ll come over if that’s what you really want.” Clare could watch TV anywhere. Kota’s was preferred because cuddles. But she just wanted to feel welcome and not in the way. If she went home, she’d be interrupting the Saturday Night Screaming Match. The Torres family knew all about her parents. So did the Bhandari’s. Clare gave up on trying to keep it a secret when she kept needing somewhere to hide out. She laughed at the description of octopus suckers getting stuck to the roof of your mouth. “That never stops me. Taffy sticks to the roof of your mouth too and peanut butter, the worst. I also get popcorn in between my front teeth. They’re all so good I have to risk it. I don’t know if octopus belongs in the same category…” She laughed again knowing there was a strong possibility it would be disgusting. “I want to be brave like Emi and try it though.” Clare made a mental note not to offer Kota any gum. She had a few sticks of watermelon in her purse from a pack she’d bought a few months ago. Clare smiled. “I do want a job but I’m not sure about taking money for something I would do for free.” She explained letting Kota know she’d watch Emi whenever he needed her to. But she might get a weekend job at the cinema or a clothing store, or something, too. What she was really hoping for was an internship at a newspaper but that wouldn’t be possible until next year or later. It also wouldn’t pay. Luckily Clare was more interesting in gaining experience. She bit her lip as Kota described what Anya was going though. “Even if Anya couldn’t scream or communicate much, she said no because she didn’t say yes. You can’t give consent in that state. Choosing to drink doesn’t make you at fault.” Clare nodded. “I won’t let on that I know unless she brings it up. If I had known it was something that sensitive...about Anya not you, I wouldn’t have pushed…” She felt like she had a right to know Kota’s personal business but his friends were another story. Clare’s own sister never went into much detail about being drugged and raped. “I’m not going to tell anyone, anything.” She never went to that kind of party so it wasn’t like she had to explain why she was avoiding them. Sav already kept Alli from going, which meant Clare didn’t have to think of another reason to keep Alli away. “Probably not. I just don’t want you taking chances.” She admitted. “Oh. How big is your jet? Simpson can’t let any last minute students come if there’s not enough room. Sure, I never mind entertaining Emi. Really it’s the other way around.” Clare chuckled. “How long is the flight? I’ve only flown a couple of times and those were short distances.” She grew a little nervous as Kota talked about helping to fly the jet. Over the ocean?! Or was it TWO oceans? Clare wasn’t even sure of the route. “Um. Wow. Is that safe? Sorry. Um. How long have you been taking lessons? There’s going to be a real pilot too? Sorry.” She had to agree about Simpson. He had enough strikes against him, Clare was sure, without messing up the exchange program. “I think Simpson will have to look the other way.” She glanced around the food court and quickly decided to go to the chicken place first. “I’m going to start with a chicken wrap and coke. Then get a big pretzel and cheese dip...for dessert.” Clare told Kota honestly.

Kota: chuckled a bit when Clare mentioned keeping him from work. "You won't be, I mean Emi will be there and you can play with her or we can lay down on the couch and I can wrap my arms around you as I type on the computer and talk on a headset." He offered almost joking about laying on the couch with her. "My grandpa is still trying to clear his schedule again, but he said he's looking forward to meet him and from what I tell him you seem to have a good head on your shoulders." He added and chuckled when Clare mentioned taffy. "I don't eat taffy either or peanut butter, or popcorn, or certain gummies. Not all get stuck in your teeth. Though I do chew gum during take offs and landing." He admitted. "The funny thing is Kota is absolutely terrified of heights. His twin is too, both of them fainted on the ferries wheel." Mel laughed as she took out her phone and showed Clare a video of the three of them on a ferries wheel and both Kota and Dom fainting when Mel pointed out how high they were. "But this is him in a plane." Mel said showing Clare a video of her entering the cockpit of a plane while Kota was co-piloting. "Kota, how high are we?" Mel asked on the video and it showed Kota glancing at a gauge. "We are approximately 50,000 feet in altitude." He answered and looked at the pilot for correction. "Correct." The pilot said as the two focused out the giant windshield. "Ok, kid. You proved that you can take off on your own, now prove that you can land." The captain said as the video continued. "They allowed me to remain in the cockpit as long as I stayed quiet, but Kota landed perfectly. I laughed historically once we landed and the pilot took over." Mel said honestly. "And she did too, she even showed the pilot the video and he is also terrified of heights and it turns out that most of the pilots I've met after him are terrified of heights too." He added in self defense. "You can try it, they serve it at a tariyaki cart I like. We also have to go to this store it sells vintage office supplies. They have a sharpener Mel would like, its a dolls head, you stick the pencil in the eye and the shavings come out the mouth." He chimed. "Is this the one you were making exclusive MB stuff for?" Mel asked. "Yes, I asked before and was told to bring back product she can use and the price of each untit as well as talk to her supplier so the items don't conflict. I ended up making college lined notebooks. If she agrees to sell them, I'll have to help rearrange her shop to make room. We'll probably stay the night there or somewhere so we have to go after school on a Saturday. Someone there normally supplies the food and I usually help out with breakfast since there are literally no hotels in the city. I met a college student that was an English major so she helped me communicate a lot rather than relying on my phone. She also allowed me stay at her single dorm room while she stayed with her boyfriend." He explained. "Wait, they go to school on Saturdays in Japan?" Mel exclaimed. "Yes, only till 3. We have half a day, normally we get done school at 6. The shop opens at 6:30pm to 11:30pm, Saturday's it's open from 3:30 to midnight and Sunday's it's open from whenever Satchi opens it till midnight." Kota added. "Does it even get business?" Mel asked. "Yes, it's in a small town and is one of the only shops that still sells origami paper, fountain pens, and office supplies like that." he answered and looked at Clare when she mentioned the party. "I agree and thank you for not saying anything." he smiled and listened to her questions. "It's got some room. I mean there's only 6 of us going so far and honestly, it's not too late for Simpson to tell me he's adding someone to the list because the school in Japan has room for 12 of us and there are still families willing to house kids." he said honestly and looked at her. "It's 14 hours, but don't worry there's a working TV, video games, movies, dvds, and wifi." he explained and chuckled when she started to ask questions about him flying. "If it wasn't safe, I wouldn't be flying. Yes, my instructor will be piloting. I just need hours as a co-pilot before I can get my license and fly on my own. I have 400 hours of flying experience and looked at her when she mentioned Simpson looking the other way. "Well, if the police start investigating more he'll be unable to leave the country." Kota shrugged and followed her as she got food, he watched as she ordered and added fries to the order and paid for it before walking over and getting a pizza for himself along with a drink, then headed to the table to sit next to Clare. "Where is Alli meeting you?" he asked curiously as he started to put the fries on his cheese pizza.

#ou

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