#NO REASON to be traumatized but here i am crying over the smallest things | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

winter-soldier-vibes · 3 years

Note

Can I request HSP + depression reader (who thinks they are just weak and being crybaby) x Bucky, please? I understand you are super busy right now and I didn’t mean to rush you or anything but I'm just struggling with both HSP and depression and couldn’t help but send it right now. No need to hurry, just when you are free and maybe when you had nothing to write. Thank you and I love you!

Thank you for the request, I’m sorry it’s been a difficult time for you! I’m here if you need me and I hope that this helps!!!

It’s called empathy

Bucky x reader

Word count: 1981

Warnings: depression, HSP (highly sensitive person), low self worth, negative self talk, swearing (that’s normal for me but this one’s a little extra), angst (more so internal idk if that needs a warning), fluff/comfort

Taglist: @buckys2thicc @babydaddy-buckybarnes @barnesplums @peggycarter-steverogers @mardema @abitgryffindorky @buckys-blue-eyes @strawberrimae @thatfangirl42 @freigeistundanderes @bucks-bunny @broadwaybabe18 @im-sick-of-failing

Taglist Masterlist

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Breathe in

Breathe out

Out

...in…

You felt a tear escape your eyes

Goddamn it

You didn’t want to cry, you couldn’t let yourself. It was stupid, it was just some shitty remark from someone when they were in a shitty mood, it wasn’t your fault, all that bullshit you tried to tell yourself. It never worked.

You were trying to control your breathing, looking up at the ceiling trying to will the tears away, biting your lip. You would not cry, not over this. Not over something that wasn’t worth your tears

Not when you didn’t even know what exactly you were crying over.

Yet here you were, gripping the edge of the bathroom sink with white knuckles, looking up at the ceiling trying to keep the tears at bay. And it wasn’t working.

Weak sensitive piece of shit.

What good were you to the team if you cry in the bathroom like a baby every time something remotely stressful happens? People usually cry when they're in pain or when they’re grieving - the only excuse you had was you were stressed or sad.

You felt another few tears escape and you angrily swiped them away, cursing yourself for being so weak.

You hated this, you hated yourself. You were so numb most of the time, especially when you were alone. You found yourself alone in your room with racing thoughts feeling like you were falling apart. Yet when you were alone you could only stare at the ceiling wondering if it would get any worse.

The answer was usually yes.

Whenever you would go on missions with the team, you were able to push aside your stress. You had a job to do and you would do it. But when the mission was over and you were walking back through the rubble - seeing all the blood, destruction, fear - then it would start to get to you. You would panic, you would feel tears cloud your vision. Tears for those you were leaving behind, and those who had nowhere to go, those who lost someone. That was understandable.

It seemed to affect you more than the others though. It was understandable to be moved by so much destruction. But for you everyone felt like someone you had known and loved.

You could feel the grief in those left behind, feel the sadness and pain that they were going through.

The same was true when you weren’t on missions. When those who were on them would come back. Whether they were injured or their eyes were saddened - you knew when a mission was rough. You would listen, you would be there for people. It was easy to talk to you, and you were very wise.

But it still overwhelmed you. You couldn’t say no, you didn’t want to. You wanted to help but it would be so emotionally taxing for you. So behind closed doors, you would break. Be there for others, listen when they need to talk, others come first - you took their emotional pain onto yourself.

You were grateful that you could help - but in the process it was hurting you.

You allowed yourself to feel sad when you were alone in your room. No one could see you be weak in the dark of your room. But you never cried much just from the pure exhaustion of your thoughts. Sometimes you wanted to, just feeling so incredibly empty that you just wanted to have an ugly crying session curled up in bed.

But you didn’t get to make that choice.

The crying wouldn’t come until the absolute worst times. If you had messed up on a mission, if Tony said something a little too harshly because to him everything was a joke, seeing something gruesome on a mission- whenever it came to someone else getting involved, the tears would come. Hell sometimes even being overwhelmed in public would be enough to start the waterworks.

You always felt so fucking weak for it. The slightest environmental stressor could stress you out too much and move you to tears. You had no reason to be upset most of the time. But you would get angry at yourself for being upset, which would make you more upset that you couldn’t control it, making it harder to control.

It was a vicious cycle.

Lately it had been popping up more and more recently. Smaller things were upsetting you more than usual. You were becoming more sensitive to external stimuli and as a result, you spent as much time as you could in your room. You were embarrassed by yourself. Both by your emotions and by your inability to control them.

This time you were just upset that you were upset. It had been a long night the day prior, just a lot of paperwork to do. There had been a mission earlier this week that you hadn’t been assigned to, but it had been brutal for everyone who had gone. So far today had been a normal day by anyone’s terms, an emotionally exhausting one for you. One of those where you woke up tired and the thoughts of another day were enough to draw you to tears. Nothing had even happened, but apparently nothing needed to happen.

Your emotions came and went without your consent.

You knew deep down it was probably some sort of emotional build up - that whole quote about bottling things up until they got to be too much - it happened every time but you still thought you could handle yourself better than that. You didn’t want to vent or be a problem to anyone. But when you are the emotional support for most of the team and you haven’t been able to get enough sleep or take time for yourself - you didn’t have much of a say as to when the bottle overflows.

A few more tears fell and you slammed your hand on the counter, wiping your tears angrily once more. “God fucking damn it why can’t you just stop fucking crying!” you exclaimed, feeling a few more tears falling “Weak piece of shit!”

There was knocking on the door, pulling you out of your self deprecating thoughts. You gasped lightly, wiping your face again.

Knock knock

You jumped a little, gasping slightly. No one was supposed to be here, it was the middle of the night.

“Y/n? What’s going on in there? Are you alright?”

You took a shaky breath. Of course it would be Bucky who heard you. Why would it be anyone else?

“I’m fine Bucky, it’s late, you should go to sleep.”

“Then why are you still awake?” Bucky responded. You heard him sigh a little outside the door. “Come out here and tell me you’re okay.”

“Really Bucky?”

“Unless you want me to come in there, but I don’t think Stark would appreciate me breaking your door.”

You took a small breath and walked over to the door, opening it. You crossed your arms and met Bucky’s concerned eyes. “I’m fine, Bucky.”

Bucky sighed, taking in your appearance. Red eyes, flushed face, your hair was messy - you were definitely crying. He hated when you wouldn’t admit that you weren’t ok. “You know you don’t have to be, right?”

You clenched your jaw, trying to keep fresh tears from clouding your vision. “What?”

“You say you’re fine, you always say that you’re fine until you break. I heard you crying, I can see that you’re not feeling okay yet still you try to keep a brave face. And I just want you to know that you don’t have to always be okay.”

You let out a breath. “I - i…” you looked down and shook your head, lost for words.

“Y/n, I’m not here to judge you. Can you try to tell me what’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” you said looking up at him “It’s literally so stupid, Bucky.”

“Y/n, nothing you say right now is going to sound stupid.

You shrugged your shoulders, still not quite meeting his eyes. “I don’t know, I just get so worked up sometimes, but it’s stupid. I tell myself I’m not going to be bothered and then I freak out again. The smallest things bother me and I get stressed out and then I cry like some stupid weak bitch. People have it worse than me, God, you have it worse than me. Everyone here has some sort of traumatic awful thing happen to them and then there’s me and I get sad because I see other people sad,” you were crying again and you wiped at your face, covering your eyes. “God Im so fucking stupid I -”

Bucky pulled you into his chest as you let out a sob. “You’re not stupid, y/n.”

“YES I AM. I get worked up over the smallest shit, I don’t listen when people tell me to take breaks, I take everything too personally and I can’t stop fucking crying when I don’t even know what the fuck is wrong!” you exclaimed, trying to push yourself away, ashamed.

Bucky held you tightly, not letting you go. “That’s not your fault. It’s not up to you how your feelings show up.”

“But I cry at the most stupid shit and I can’t control it.”

“You’re not supposed to know how to control it,” he said, pulling back to look at you. “Emotions can’t be controlled. They just happen and it’s rarely convenient.”

“Then why do I feel so weak? If this,” you gestured to yourself “is so goddamn normal then why isn’t everyone else breaking down every other day?”

Bucky brushed some hair out of your face. “Your emotions are yours, no one else’s. No one has the right to tell you how to feel. Think of it this way - you can’t expect everyone to have the same amount of strength or stamina - no one has the same emotional response either. And that doesn’t make you weak, it makes you you.”

You shook your head. “I just feel so weak all the time.”

“And I’m here to remind you that crying isn’t weak. You are not a weak person, you are not a bad person, you’re not any of those things your mind tells you. You’re a kind and thoughtful person. You put your heart into everything you do. You help everyone you can. Mourning someone else’s loss isn’t weakness. It’s called empathy.”

You took a small breath. “Then why does it hurt so goddamn much?”

“”I don’t know. And I can’t say for certain that you won’t always feel that way. But I know I can tell you that you aren’t weak, and I’ll be here every time you feel that you are.”

You nodded your head slightly. “You don’t think I’m weak?” you asked quietly.

He pulled you back into a hug. “Not in the slightest, y/n.”

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can-i-or-shall-i · 4 years

Text

You fidgeted with your fingers trying not to feel tensed at the situation you are in. He knows you very well. You don't feel safe in a place where you are left alone, where nobody is there to stick with you to protect you. You felt uneasiness and discomfort. Why would he leave you hanging in this type of situation. It felt like eternity waiting for him to arrive but it's only 30mins that has passed since you did.

"Where is he?" You asked yourself trying to contact your boyfriend. He promised a date at your favorite cafe, 8:00 pm and also promised that he'll come as soon as they finishes the dance practice early.

An air of malaise surrounded you 'till he finally came. You felt excitement but mad at the same time. Once he came over to you, you bursted into tears. He felt anxious, thinking of any available solutions to your sudden outburst.

"B-baby? Why are you crying? Is there something wrong? Did I do something wrong? Did anything or anybody bother you? Tell me." He said gently as he held your hand rubbing circles at the back of it, looking into your eyes deeply wanting to know the reason.

"W-what took you so long t-to arrive? I've been waiting for you for so long." You cried not minding if anyone's looking at you with a weird expression.

"W-what? It's only 8:17, I'm only late for 17 minutes. S-sorry baby. I know you don't do well being alone." He said feeling guilty. It clearly wasn't his fault nor yours. It was your phobia.

Eremophobia, Autophobia, Monophobia or whatever you call it, means being alone is too dangerous, too uncomfortable for you. Traumatized when you we're young? Yes it was one of the factors that caused you this type of fear, because being left alone by your parents in a really traumatic incident is no fun.

"I'm sorry too, Chris, i was overreacting again. I shouldn't have cried with a simple and weird reason, it's not your faul-" You haven't finished your sentence yet, he gave you a sweet peck on the lips, calming your trembling nerves.

"It's okay baby, I understand. I love you, and i will always protect you. I would never ever leave your side. I won't leave you alone out in this place anymore. Now let's have our date." He finished his sentence smiling sweetly at you, assuring you that everything he promised you won't be thrown away. Assuring you that he will cherish you, love your flaws and everything. You're his world.

"Thank you chan, for staying with me. I love you too." he chuckled.

"I love you more than you could ever imagine."

Author's Note

So yeah, this is my first fanfic here and it sucks. I know it would get that mich attention of any readers but i did my best. I couldn't think of any topic but i sure am bored so i made this. You can request and I'll make the plot.

Also sorry for the mistakes, grammatically, by spelling or even the smallest little thing you could point out, you can tell me so i can make an improvement.

I love y'all

#stray kids #stray kids fanfic #skz #bangchan #chris bang #fear of being alone #stray kids bang chan #skz bang chan

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momma-luvs-u-blog · 4 years

Text

My Scars

Drugs, sex, violence, assault, blades, self-hate, being hated, taunted, rumors, lies.

Every one of my scars has a story. But, I’ll start out with the most faded scar on my body. When I was about eight or nine, I would climb my favorite tree in the parking lot of the apartment I lived in. Soon after, Colorful Colorado lost its color. I fell ten feet into a pile of rocks and the back of my calf gained a deep slice, about a week later I was molested. But, as time has passed, as life has moved forward, that scar is nearly just a memory, over with, but yet, remembered.

The first time I cut myself intentionally I was ten years old. I became obsessed. I would bring my blade to sleepovers and make microscopic cuts, just enough to see blood leaking out. I don’t have any scars from that year anymore either. I remember covering the cuts up with bracelets and long sleeves, but they never scarred, not physically at least.

I turned eleven, cut my hair, and began openly questioning my gender and sexuality. I received a lot of backlash for this. I refuse to see my openness as a mistake, though. Children are exposed to these things and they are, in fact, normal questions to have when you begin exploring who you are. Age eleven, also the year I began abusing over-the-counter drugs, mainly Advil. I’d take a handful a few times a week during the nighttime because I liked the light-headed feeling it gave me before I passed out.

I entered the seventh grade at age twelve. This was the first time I left permanent scars on my body, specifically, my outer left forearm. But, this was also the first year I had an awakening, in a sense. You see, this was the first year I tried illegal drugs, just weed, about a week after my friend who was a year above me, hung himself. One day he was there and everything was fine, the next day he was gone and nothing was the same. I didn’t want to live. I was institutionalized two weeks after this happened.

I turned thirteen a month later. I’m almost positive that everything I did following my birthday was due to the trauma of my friend’s suicide. But, regardless, it happened. To be transparent, this was the year I began battling addiction and self-hate. I transferred back to the school I went to for fifth grade and sixth grade. It was eighth grade now and I vowed to be a new person, I was ashamed of who I was in sixth grade, I had grown my hair out, learned to do my makeup, and dress like everyone else. I became a mean girl. Gossiping about the smallest things to my four best friends, becoming an entitled bitch and earning the label of a snake. But, it didn’t matter to me, I had a sophomore boyfriend who smoked a lot of weed, and I was part of a clique. Nobody messed with me because I had power over them, people were scared of my clique.

But, one day, the day that changed my eighth grade, my “friends” and I were caught vaping. I threw two of them under the bus before I admitted that it was my vape. This was my mistake and I am willing to see that now, but at the time, I felt betrayed because they turned their backs to me. The only reason I should’ve felt betrayed was when a week later, I was getting dirty looks, whispers and being taunted by these girls. The day it began was the day I vowed to never be like them again. I promised myself I would never be seen as a snake again. After I had this falling out, I attempted suicide for the first time. I popped all the pills I could find in the medicine drawer and passed out at a family gathering. I traumatized my whole family, and I was too lost to think about the fact that they could’ve found me dead when I lied down to rest in my grandparents’ room.

Luckily, I woke up, I was delirious and I hardly remember anything, but I was rushed to the hospital and on the way there I told my parents what I had done, they were angry. I was in an institution for a week. I came back to school, and nothing had changed with my old friend group. But I was able to not focus on this fact as much and try to make new friends, it worked. My mental health, however, was still declining, although I didn’t know this until it was too late. My boyfriend and I broke up and I became addicted to dabs, xans, acid, and Nyquil. I slit my thighs and wrists open every day, not with the intention of dying.

But, a couple of months later I attempted suicide the second time, my parents found out about the cutting because I got drunk with a friend. I was so drunk they took me to the hospital where I was almost transferred because of how high my blood alcohol level was. That night was the worst mistake I’ve ever made. I was taken advantage of, my friend was not nearly as drunk as me and I was assaulted. I hadn’t remembered this for a week, but I began having flashbacks and I asked her if I was remembering things correctly, she said yes. This didn’t begin bothering me until a year later because I hadn’t completely processed what happened to me, I pushed it to the back of my mind and tried to forget about it.

Then, I fell in love for the first time. I’ll admit, he’s the one person I don’t know if I’ll ever get over. I swear it was like a fantasy. But I was too complicated for him. I was in a dark place, a constant negative state of mind. I broke my promise, attempted for the third time. When I came clean about it three days after it didn’t work, he said he couldn’t handle it anymore. He dropped me when I needed him the most. But this is what taught me not to depend on anyone but myself. I promised myself I would never feel like I needed someone again beside my mother and sister. People come and go, but family is permanent no matter your relationship with them. When I was in a dark place they were always there trying their best to take care of me, to keep me alive.

The day after I had my heartbroken for the first time, I chugged half a bottle of Nyquil during lunch and I could not stop crying all day. After school, I was still feeling extremely floaty and lightheaded, I decided to spend time with one of my best friends, and they were debating on whether they needed to take me to the hospital or not since I had overdosed on the drugs in Nyquil. But, I began feeling better after a few hours with them and we decided I was okay. That day taught me a lot about who my real friends were. Although I could not stop dwelling on him, I tried to move on. I joined a production at my school and played a character I felt I could relate to. It felt good to be someone else for a couple of hours, to have something to focus on instead of dwelling on the negativity. The only downside was my ex-boyfriend was part of the crew so I ran into him a lot. I couldn’t get my mind off of him unless I was on stage rehearsing.

A few weeks after the production was finished, May of 2019, I ran away to downtown Denver due to some circumstances I am still not comfortable talking to nearly anyone about. I was officially on my own, no safety or comfort of my home. The night before I was found I fell asleep in an alley. That is when I was raped. After I was found I took many pregnancy tests but none of them came up positive. I tried to move on with my life.

My parents moved my sister and me to Laramie, Wyoming. We got a nice three-bedroom apartment. A few weeks after we moved there, I visited the skatepark and made my first mistake. I walked up to a group of edgy drug addicts that were around my age and asked them if I could hang out with them. They seemed surprised but impressed by my confidence. They said yes and I hung out with them almost every day until school started. I’m going to leave out all of the drama and things that happened because it’s pretty irrelevant until I started high school.

Laramie High School, I had such high hopes for that school. Plans to join the swim team, make a lot of friends and have amazing grades. Unfortunately, very soon after school started, I made my second mistake. I had sex with a senior after he told me he was on a break with his girlfriend, I later found out this was not true. But, instead of talking to me about it (a.k.a. Being civil) she decided to tell everyone I knew they were dating and that I was a slut who fucks peoples’ boyfriends. That ruined my chances of having a lot of friends and I was too stressed to focus on my grades so that began going downhill as well. I was on the swim team for about two weeks before I started getting very dizzy and light-headed every time I worked out, I had to quit.

My mom and I decided to go to the doctor’s office and get my birth control implant removed because we believed that was what was making me throw up and pass out. Not too long after, I had an extreme mental breakdown due to drama and missing my friends in Colorado, I felt isolated and wanted to die again. I went to the emergency room and that is when I found out I was pregnant. I spent two days in yet another institution. A couple of days later, my mom and I had suspicions that the pregnancy was from the assault in May of 2019. A night later I was having extreme abdominal pain so we went to the emergency room and they did an ultrasound, I was twenty-two weeks pregnant. My heart dropped when I realized what this meant, the pregnancy was in fact from the assault.

At first, I thought for sure I was going to get an abortion. I was a mentally unstable fourteen-year-old with failing grades. But, after a few days of thinking and a second ultrasound, along with listening to the heartbeat, I got too attached. I decided it was best for me to keep the baby. I had a feeling it was a girl and I told everyone it would be but for some reason, most thought it would be a boy. But, I was right. I found out at twenty-four weeks I was having a baby girl. I named her right away, Lorelai Emily Brown.

Right now, it is ten weeks later and so much has happened. People have spread so many rumors about me and tried making my life hell. It almost worked but I stayed strong, for Lorelai’s sake. Living here has taught me not to worry about what other people think or say about me. That sounds super cliche, I know, but it’s a life lesson everyone needs to learn at some point. Because of everything I’ve been through I’ve been forced to grow up early and mature faster than other teenagers. I’m sure some women can relate to this story in terms of sexual assault and how they deal with it. I guess my point of telling these few big events of my life is to inform people and if you are struggling, I want to give you hope. There were so many times I tried to give up, but I was letting my depression and victimization take control of my mindset. I took all the good things I had for granted. I want you to know things can always be worse, even when your situation feels like hell, I promise it can get much worse.

And to my beautiful daughter, all I want for you is the absolute best. I know that you may go through similar things that I have and all I can do is pray that you won’t. But, whether you do or not I know you’re going to be an amazing, sweet, gorgeous woman. I hope you will talk to me about your struggles and feel comfortable telling me things and asking me questions. You’re the most important, loved person in my life and that will never change. I am so excited to meet you and I hope we can be best friends, through the good times and the bad.

#suicide #self harm #life story #my story #true story #writing

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serenityssobrietyus-blog · 4 years

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The beginning of my story, definitely not the ending.

In advance, let me apologize for the length of this post. For those who read all the way through, thank you. I hope you follow along with the rest of my journey, share experiences, thoughts and more. I greatly appreciate and love all of you. Here we go!

My substance abuse didn’t start at an early age as a lot of people, it crept up in my twenties like the silent disease it is. I would say the progression really started when I was twenty two-twenty three. A lot of it is a huge blur, I remember a lot of good times, but also a lot of bad times, mentally and emotionally. I remember trying to always do as much as possible to catch up on the times I missed out bring pregnant at eighteen through nineteen, then having a newborn and baby through 20. I’ll say the emotional trauma began when I was eighteen, my first relationship ended and instead of processing it in a healthy way, I gave my virginity away a week later out of spite and this really killed me. I realize now it was because I really didn’t love myself back then.

Shortly after this time period, I met the father of my daughter. There was a lot of drama that followed after, from exes, negative opinions, rumors and allegations of cheating, and an unexpected pregnancy very early in the relationship. During my pregnancy, one of my best friends passed away and this hit very hard. I got to go to the funeral luckily, but I had to miss out on the vigil because I knew it would be too hard on me and my unborn baby. I was already under overwhelming stress and emotional baggage. Not shortly after there was the allegation of cheating and proof, I was a pregnant torn up mess. I have this burning memory of crying outside of Forever Twenty-One when I worked there, sitting in my car holding on to my belly just pouring out my emotions, apologizing over and over and saying no matter what I would do my best to be a great mother for her. We worked through that, then on August 16th, 2011 our beautiful girl was born. Things were great for a little while, she was beautiful and healthy and we were happy. Then my biggest fear happened; another allegation this time with overwhelming proof and a confession.

My whole world crashed around me, because of how and why. All I can say is that it really just made me feel completely unimportant and this was when really everything came crashing down. I self-medicated in the worst ways and unfortunately got myself into a terrible situation, one night there was a boy who just wouldn’t accept no as an answer. Of course, we were all drinking and that, in turn, was the reason that no one took my rape seriously. He pushed and pushed until I caved. I cried after and it still apparently was okay, and the assumption was that I was just drunk. To those who didn’t believe me, I don’t blame you and I’ve moved on. To the boy who raped me, I’ve left you behind with the old me, I’m sure karma will work its way with you and I’ll still be living free.

Unfortunately, after that time period, I’ve spent a lot of nights in extremely sketchy situations and have slept with people while under the influence and have completely regretted it. Waking up in beds that weren’t mine, sometimes hotel rooms and not remembering how I got there or who was there. I’m honestly so lucky to be safe (physically) and alive today. Then comes the biggest relationship to impact my life, negatively and positively. I’ve learned the most from this relationship especially now more so than when it was happening. My alcohol abuse impacted this relationship heavily, my girlfriend tried to help, she really did, but the truth was that I was just not ready to change and face my emotional turmoil. I was heavily self-medicating and denying it completely. This eventually ended our relationship and again, instead of me processing it in a healthy way I resorted to a night of heavy drinking my feeling away and went home with a guy friend. Next thing I know I’m pregnant, depressed, confused, lost and feeling totally alone. He wasn’t anywhere ready to be a father and I wasn’t in any position to have another child.

I ended up getting an abortion, even though that was also the last thing I wanted. My ex-girlfriend and I were trying to work on things and she wasn’t ready for a child either. At this point in my life, I was pro-life and she knew how much this meant to me. I’ll get into this story a little later in my blog, but the end results were very devastating. I attempted suicide and luckily survived, in hindsight, I’m glad everything happened the way it did and I’m here today to share my stories and hopefully will help those still suffering who can relate in any way. Unfortunately after my attempt though, my abuse of alcohol didn’t slow down one bit, it actually got worse, a lot worse.

I knew this would eventually happen that my drinking would get me into legal trouble. My drinking was getting so bad to the point of constant blackouts and emotional explosions. Getting so completely drunk that even the smallest thing would send me off the edge and completely lashing out. One night out, something so trivial as someone wanting someone else to drive made me snap for no good reason, get completely over-emotional and running away from my friends with no words and getting into my car. Boom, DUI. At that time I didn’t consider my tolerance and had no idea just how high it was, my BAC was .26 which is twice the legal limit. Which is also pretty high for a girl of my stature, especially to be as coherent as I was. This whole experience was very traumatic I did stop drinking for about a month and started feeling better; I thought I was fine. I was not fine.

I got complacent and comfortable, I thought I would be fine this time. I had just started dating this girl; this relationship I can’t say I regret, because I definitely see it as a lesson learned. At the beginning of our relationship, I wasn’t drinking, but she was, also cocaine was involved. Eventually, the temptation took over. First I started with just a drink a night, maybe just a glass of wine. Then the next thing I knew I was drinking just as much as before and now drugs were involved. Eventually, the relationship ended, but my drinking was at an all-time high. The drugs went with her too, with is a great blessing to me, because I couldn’t imagine fighting any other addiction like alcoholism with something else on top of it. I wish the drinking could have gone with her too, but life just didn’t work out that way.

Life has a funny way of working, and I really do believe everything happens for a reason. I believe all the things that have happened before have led to this very moment I’m about to share with you. All these things are what make me the person I am today, and give me the strength to continue on today. Like I stated earlier, I really hope someone, anyone, can take away from my story something to help them or even just encourage them.

Here we are, 2019, my drinking at the highest it’s ever been, I couldn’t even comprehend just how high my tolerance had gotten or just how close I was to killing myself through just drinking alone. It finally all caught up to me, all my emotional trauma I was holding onto, all the negative self-medicating through drinking. I was honestly at a point where I stopped caring. So many days day drinking, leading into the night, waking up every day hungover, drinking before work to fight off the hangover. Going into work violently sick, or intoxicated fighting through every shift just thinking of that drink I’ll have after to feel better. Spending days on a friend’s couch not getting anything done, that needed to be done. Ignoring my family and my wellbeing completely, malnourished and a complete and total mess. It finally all caught up to the day that would completely save my life.

This day, such a blessing in disguise, but extremely terrifying that I got myself here. After a night of drinking and staying out with friends, we’re onto day two of this binge; we started off with breakfast which came with mimosas of course, then turned into one bar, two bars, three bars. Completely drunk, completely just not caring. Never showed up for work, with no word at all. Drinking myself into oblivion knowing that I become suicidal and a complete mess every time. For some reason (there’s a lot of reasons, trust me, that I know now) the universe wasn’t ready for me to leave this world this lifetime. The whole night was a blur, but I remember speaking to a young black officer; the one I claim as responsible for saving my life. The ambulance lights. The white walls of the hospital room. The constant flow of tears down my face. I was in the hospital with a BAC of .49. I’m beyond lucky to be alive or not in a coma. This all accrued between September 15–17.

I luckily got sent to a detox center called Pathways, which I’m so extremely thankful for today. It really was a great experience and was a great way to kick start my sobriety journey. I did a lot of soulsearching in that building and decided I was ready to leave that toxic lifestyle behind and start dealing with my issues head-on. On September 18th I saw my BAC at .00 and decided it would stay that way. Now here I am today November 27, 2019, and I’m seventy days sober. I’ve completed and 30 day Day Treatment that helped me a lot just like Pathways did. I’m making tremendous strides to bettering my mental, emotional and physical health. Really working on my relationships that better my life and processing all of my emotions in a healthy way.

I really wanted to start this blog to help keep me driven through my sobriety and give me something to be productive with. I hope to look back on this whenever I feel weak and know that I’m extremely strong and blessed to be alive. A special thank you to those who have been following my journey thus far, some of you have been here from the very beginning and I know you’re just as stoked for me to be here too, Ashley; part of my safety net, Lauren, Alicia, Lani, and Samantha, even though some of us don’t talk daily, I feel your love and support, I love you. And to those who have been a huge impact on me today and keep me strong, you’re my best friends and I couldn’t do this without you, Cody; part of my safety net, Sara, Burl and Simon, I’m so extremely thankful for all your love and support.

I really thank all of you for reading this too and those silent followers. If you take anything from this and would like to share, I’d love to hear from you. Well, I finally got this blog started, let’s see how this goes! Love you guys!

#sobriety #sober #soberliving #healthylifestyle #sober living #healthy living #positivity #my story #mystory #soberserenity #alcoholism #alcoholfree #alcohol free

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atrabiliousse · 5 years

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ooh may i request onyx and dino? thank you!

my angel, it only took me a whole new year to do this and i am so so so incredibly sorry!! but i really hope it was at least worth the wait! 💘

Onyx with Dino

Your fine line between your emotions had always been somewhat of an illusion. You were a fierce magician in that you made the solid yet fiber thin line disappear more often than not, but it was never anything to be proud of.

In retrospect, you blamed it on your undeveloped knowledge on emotions and their delivery. Even as a child, you struggled to convey what you felt, your parents always retelling stories of memories in which you should’ve cried, moments of sadness or hurt in which you displayed no feeling. It had worried them for a while, but it had come to be revealed that there wasn’t anything wrong with you, you were just rather…delayed.

Almost as if a chronic case of post-traumatic stress reoccurred in you with every shocking event to appear in your life, it took you maybe days or weeks to process the stirring of unknown discomfort in your chest, when finally your breakdown would come with the simplest prick of every day’s needles.

So it came as no surprise that you processed all of your feelings towards a certain Lee Chan in the exact opposition to your thumping heartbeat and bright red cheeks.

Bright red cheeks he always took as a sign of your frustration and anger, much to his liking.

Chan took special pleasure in teasing you, if only to see your eyes narrow behind your hair and the puffed out reddened cheeks as you told him off. He never took it too far, always just a small comment and an accompanying cheeky smile until you either turned away from him or walked off, not sparing him any more of your time.

His harmless fun served as a great mask of camouflage for the light in his eyes when he saw you laughing with your friends or fumbling with your things as you rushed into the lecture hall late, tired eyes unfocused and frustrated.

You were disarrayed, brash and much too complicated but every time the boy tried to use these points as reason not to, they served as magnets. Certainly a peculiar ideal type, but his every growing interest had proved to Chan that types were merely little white lies people told themselves to try to contain their hearts to their eye’s liking.

It certainly didn’t take long for him to realize that he much enjoyed seeing through his heart than his eyes.

You however, had a much more debatable time with your encounters. Every time Chan opened his mouth to say something to you, you’d already be on defense, ready to bite his head off no matter what came out, and even on the day he only but complimented your jacket, you couldn’t think of any other way but to respond but in your previous habits of snapping.

“You’re worse than a preschool boy pulling the pigtails of the little girl he likes. Just maybe have a decent conversation with him.” Your friend rolled her eyes, fork digging in viciously into her salad, eyes lazy as they watched you.

“Shut up, it’s not my fault that’s he’s an asshole.”

She let out an obnoxious laugh, her mirth filled eyes telling you that she wasn’t having any of your crap, “He’s the asshole? Sweetie, he told you that your bag was unzipped and you told him that you hope his dick gets caught in his zipper.”

Rolling your eyes, you unscrewed the cap on your water bottle, eyes sweeping over the grassy area, three to four picnic tables scattered for sunny days such as the one you found yourself breathing in. He usually sat outside with his large group of friends, but instead he’d be sat against the old Magnolia tree. He’d have his bright eyes drinking in the antics of the group around him, lips pulled constantly to a smile and then excited babble falling from his lips as he’d push his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

Glasses he wore very seldom, but glasses that you thought made him look all the more cuter.

“Stop staring and actually go talk to the boy.”

Turning back to glare at your friend, you put your water bottle down after a long sip, “I wasn’t staring.”

“And I’m a rocket scientist.”

Being fed up with your friend’s antics, you gathered your things. You’d be ten minutes early but it would be okay if it meant not having to be taunted when you were already struggling to understand yourself.

“I’ll see you later.” You mumbled, throwing your bag across your back before you walked down the pathway back into the looming building, head spinning with thoughts.

You became curious as to when Chan’s smile became your favorite art piece and why his laugh sounded like the best alarm and why whenever his eyes looked at you, every molecule within you shook with such an expansive amount of energy that you were almost sure you would burst.

It frustrated you, confused you and most importantly, angered you. You didn’t enjoy feeling so vulnerable around him, because of him. Chan has made a frenemy in you since your second lecture together, but it was recently that your strong emotions made him an enemy.

“If you glare any longer at the desk, it might catch fire.”

You looked up into his smiling face, amusement and joy clear in his expression. He looked so much younger when he smiled like that, glasses and hoodie and the books under his arm.

“Then I’d have something to throw you into.”

He pouted playfully, sliding into the desk in front of you, “Oh come on cupcake, you wouldn’t actually want to see me burn to pieces, would you?”

Tilting your head and narrowing eyes, you paused for dramatic effect, “I quite enjoy the image of you screaming and crying in a pit of flames.”

Leaning forward, very close to your face, the boy’s voice lowered in volume, “Maybe it’s just the sadist in you hiding your overflowing passion for me.”

With a scowl, you shoved his laughing face away, hating how his laugh simmered to a smile the minute your hand made contact with his forehead, his eyes soft and inviting.

“Focus on the goddamn lecture, you bastard.”

“Yes ma’am.”

But you could barely take your own advice, your mind drifting back to the sound of his voice in that lowered octave, the feel of his warm skin beneath your fingertips and his pretty smile as if your touch brought him bliss. Even the back of his head distracted you, soft light brown locks shining under the beams of sunlight that filtered through the large overhead windows.

It became clear that Lee Chan was everything wrong with you and your heart.

So by the time class had drawn to an end, you stormed out as quickly as possible, aware that usually the boy would strike conversation and walk you out. You grabbed your things hastily and all but ran for the door, hearing him call out behind you.

Your attempt was but in vain as he caught up with you, jogging as he clasped the crook of your arm to stop you, “Where are you racing to?”

Shaking off his grip as subtlety as you could, you sighed, “Just needed fresh air.”

The boy, however was not convinced, that much was clear in his facial expression and the smallest of tilts to his head.

“Is something wrong?”

Concern, undoubtable concern and sympathy painted the shadows of his face and the depths of his irises and it hurt, hurt to see him so close but still so far from where your heart pictured him.

“No.” Your voice was cold, hoping it would put him off and make him leave, but if anything all the emotions displayed on his face intensified.

“That’s really not convincing me.” Chan stepped forward, hand still hovering over your arm, but it wasn’t a grip now, just a gentle reminder of his presence.

Your heartbeat was becoming too much for you and your equally as loud thoughts, everything feeling like it was bubbling to a sealed surface, threatening to cause damage, “Just leave, Chan. It doesn’t concern you and it shouldn’t.”

The boy looked taken back and hurt, but you couldn’t falter.

“I just care because I’ve never seen you like this before.”

“That’s probably because you don’t really know me, Chan, all you know is the girl you love to bother in your psychology lecture. I don’t mean that much to you, and you to me.”

The words felt wrong, even far before they left your mouth. Like an acid bubbling in your mouth, it stung to say but it was impulse and the destructive intent in you that let the words ring in your ears and his.

Chan was starting to get angry now, but still he remained calm, even if the hurt and anger swam in the deep browns of his eyes and steaming reds of the tips of his ears. “That’s pretty shitty to say, don’t you think, considering I’m always making an effort to get to know you? And you’re wrong to just simply assume you mean nothing to me, if that was the case, I wouldn’t be standing here right now.”

“Then leave, Chan, I’m not keeping you here and I don’t want you here.”

Something in his demeanor changed, there wasn’t a bright fire anymore, it simmered so quickly after your words, his shoulders slumped and face slack as if your words had been thieves stealing away his happiness.

He remained quiet for a while but then he opened his mouth again after some thought, “Fine but do me one last favor.”

You waited, a clear signal for him to continue.

Chan’s eyes seemed more aggressive and closed off, they weren’t the childlike playgrounds you had grown to long for on your off days, there was something bright about them now, as they rooted you down to the ground,

“Tell me you hate me so I can leave in one piece.”

Your heart cried, it begged and pleaded as it doubled in weight in your chest, almost as if to pull you to your knees in front of the boy you were deliberately hurting for your own selfish and ridiculous reasons.

Something in you broke in a way you hadn’t felt before and it left you staring at the boy wordless, eyes moving over every detail of his face, the stance he took as if to fight anything you had to say, but there was defeat in him too, something you wish you could take back.

But you knew you owed him a clean end, a solid closure so that he wasn’t left with endless bleeding and in giving him that, you were giving yourself the same thing.

If you told him you hated him, you’d stand no chance of going back and possibly hurting him further, there would be no lingering between the two of you and Chan could move on and so could you.

It felt more and more like a breakup as you choked back the tears, realizing that you had never gotten that far enough and you were ruining any chances of ever doing so.

“I hate you.”

The words were shaky, so small and weak but Chan still closed his eyes and turned away from you, walking down the hallway and away from you.

The boy’s back disappeared among other students and you were left clutching your books tightly to your chest in attempt to stop yourself from crying and falling to pieces from the self inflicted heartbreak as the first boy you had ever felt any feelings for left with his own wounds to nurse.

#prompt list #requested #thank you bby!#lee chan #seventeen dino #seventeen scenarios

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omorainbow · 6 years

Text

wassup everyone, here’s my absolutely garbage r/fa omorashi headcanons that nobody asked for or wanted (under the cut)

ze/n

he has nearly supernatural healing abilities so i feel like he’d also have super efficient kidneys

honestly probably has the smallest bladder capacity in the rf/a lmao rip

(he canonically was shocked that se/ven and yo/osung hadn’t gone to the bathroom for three hours while watching a tv show.... honey, do you think that’s a long time?!)

wetting himself onstage would be his worst nightmare; he’s probably leaked up there a few times but never actually wet

the second worst thing that could happen to him would be wetting in front of j/umin- i think ju/min wouldn’t do much except either a. make a few snarky remarks about wetting yourself being unusual for an adult or b. actually attempt (with a 100 percent chance of failing, seeing as it’s jumi/n) to be ....considerate.... about it, depending on how upset z/en seemed, but either way ze/n would get mad. there’d be some tension in the r/fa chatroom for a while lol

despite his machismo he’d actually probably be a huge baby about wetting himself lmao. he needs a lot of comfort afterwards (specifically from you)

absolutely 0% into omo imo, he’d try it for m/c’s sake if she were into it tho

yoosun/g:

tends to overestimate his holding capacity... would definitely put off going to the toilet if he was gaming (or when he sits down to study)

at the same time, he gets very whiny if circumstances (rather than his own choice) force him into holding. expect this boy to come whining in the r/fa chatroom if he’s ever stuck somewhere without a bathroom

if he drinks coffee it’s over for him

(pass out after drinking caffeine syndrome? more like piss yourself after drinking caffeine syndrome-)

has definitely had close calls during exams from overloading on coffee before, but he never learns

if he wets himself in front of anyone, he’d be as embarrassed as you’d expect and probably cry a bit (though he’d try to suppress it because he feels he’s already made himself look childish enough), but with some gentle comfort he’d get over it surprisingly quickly (expect him to get indignant if/when sev/en teases him later tho lol)

probably the worst thing that could happen to him is wetting in front of v (while wetting in class is a close second). this would be a disaster for everyone involved.

(v: it’s alright y/oosung, please let me help you)

(yoosu/ng (in tears): SHUT UP I DON’T NEED PITY FROM THE LIKES OF YOU)

(v: you’re right. i’m sorry. this is all my fault-)

definitely into holding for m/c (for reasons that are probably obvious to anyone who played his route lmao)

ja/ehee (my love)

jum/in probably doesn’t realize how often normal humans need bathroom breaks so after years of working for him she’s probably in the habit of holding for long periods of time

honestly tho, if she’s passed out from being overworked, she’s DEFINITELY wet herself from it

i imagine she’d get up and go when she absolutely had to, but if something came up on her way there she might not make it rip

also a coffee lover... doesn’t really pace herself with caffeine, make of that what you will

if she wet herself at work, she’d just die. her coworkers already don’t respect her, and her job is hard enough... jum/in would probably allow her to go home but also would complain in the chatroom about it

ju/min: “It’s very difficult to work without Assistant K/ang here. She had to leave due to an accident.”

m/c: “oh no, an accident? is jae/hee okay?”

jumi/n: “I am sure she will be fine. Wetting oneself does not usually pose a risk to one’s health.”

ze/n: immediately fights ju/min

as there’s nothing to be done for it, she’d downplay how upset she was and probably find wetting more of an inconvenience than anything. that being said she’d deeply appreciate it if m/c gave her some comfort

omo is probably a deeply hidden guilty pleasure for her, she’d only try it if m/c suggested it but i feel she might really enjoy it in specific circumstances

jum/in

very strong bladder capacity

would show no signs of being desperate except maybe a few tells like idk, occasionally fidgeting? the only people who’d pick up on these are people who know him very well (meaning like... v and m/c lol)

if he did wet himself, i think he’d show absolutely no emotion. once again, only someone who knew him very well would be able to tell he was actually upset

for most people, comforting him would be pretty difficult and probably a nightmare for both parties lmao

i think he’d be more accepting of it from you tho

it’s hard to write for him, bc i feel like situations in which he’d be desperate are rare

that being said, if he gets drunk enough (which is rare, seeing how his tolerance has built over the years) he might get to the point where he stops caring and just starts peeing. of course he’ll realize halfway through that this may not be a great idea, but it’s usually too late at that point lmao

he’s definitely into omo lol

seve/n

high bladder capacity

that being said, also fucking terrible at self care (... they all are tbh but se/ven is the worst about it) and if he was working, he may not notice he needs to piss until he’s on the verge of wetting and he just doubles over at his desk like. swearing and wondering how tf he didn’t notice he had to go before

definitely has been too busy to get up for a bathroom break, usually would just piss in a bottle/can of phd pepper (i’m sure he’s got empty ones lying around his workstation)

if he didn’t he’d probably just piss himself right there as he continued to work and miserably resolve to clean it later

(vande/rwood, conveniently choosing this moment to drop by: damn, bitch, you live like this?)

seeing as he’s sleep deprived as hell, whenever he gets to sleep he probably sleeps like the dead, nothing able to wake him up... what i’m saying is he’s definitely had dreams where he was using the bathroom and woken up in the middle of wetting the bed

also probably into omo lbr. though he usually hates wetting, he likes doing it for m/c. he’s probably wet his maid uniform for fun

v (oh boy)

probably gets a nervous bladder

the least likely of the guys to just whip it out and go if he needed to

you know how everyone loves those characters who are too concerned about bothering others to mention they have to pee? that’s 100% v. you could keep asking him as he got progressively more antsy and he’d just keep insisting he was fine and that you shouldn’t worry. he might casually mention that he may possibly need a restroom, but isn’t super assertive or clear about it, so most people wouldn’t think it was a big deal (even though he’s dying on the inside)

he does get somewhat fidgety, adjusting his clothes and bouncing his leg, but it wouldn’t be obvious what the cause was; you’d just mistake it for nervousness. only people who know him well (such as jum/in or seve/n) would be able to figure it out

i honestly can’t decide what his number one worst scenario would be, but i think anything in public would be nearly traumatic for him. if he wet himself in front of the other r/fa members he’d just get real quiet and say he’s fine and that he’ll clean it himself, but in reality he’d be deeply upset

this makes comforting him all the more difficult, even when you’re trying to tell him it’s okay he’d probably just keep apologizing and telling you not to worry about him

probably not really into omo but would try it for m/c

#omorashi #judging by how long this is i clearly think way too much about this lmao #feel free to message me if you want to hear more about this (why would you want to tho lmao)

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allycornelius · 6 years

Text

Lots of feelings

(long post, tw: suicide mention)

I’ve been having weird sensory meltdowns all day, and couldn’t figure out why I kept getting panicked and stressed. but, it turns out, my body remembered something that my brain did not. After the third sensory overload of the day, I was rushing to vent out my feelings in a diary app that I write my feelings in, and then I looked at the date. I realized what day it was.

it has been exactly 2 years since I almost died.

1 year ago, on the first anniversary of the happening, my body had a similar reaction. it was several sudden episodes of mania followed by intense panic and immeasurable stress over the course of the day. I would go from feeling really good and productive and suddenly plummet into impulsive chaos, where my head would pound and everything around me freaked me out- every sound and every movement made me feel violent and want to lash out. These things I felt today and last year were also the same things I felt on that day. Compulsions, that made me want to hurt others and myself.

I attempted suicide that day.

I think lots of people occasionally have passing thoughts that are suicidal in nature when under intense stress- people who are depressed even moreso. Some even have them every single day of their lives. That’s where I was, where even the smallest mistake or failure drove me to the edge- I became suicidal at the drop of a pin. Every time something bad happened, my brain pushed the big red button, and sent my body into defcon 2– every. single. time. Of course, not every time I got like this did I attempt- I sometimes came dangerously close, but never close enough.

It’s hard even now for me to understand exactly what it was that caused me to peak on that day. My memory of that night is so fuzzy due to slipping in and out of consciousness several times. But something I do remember before the attempt happened was something extremely significant- I was drawing with rainbows that day. Eye-bleeding colors. That was the first day I drew rainbows. I drew some pretty dark things. Here’s some of them.

Looks kind of familiar, doesn’t it? These drawings I made hours before trying to kill myself became the very foundation for what would eventually evolve into Sparklecare. Bright colors with horribly depressing, nihilistic hopeless messages. That sort of turned into my brand.

I was hospitalized for my attempt for about a month or so, and while in the hospital I drew lots of depressing colorful things in Crayola markers. But here’s where I know you probably were waiting for this story to get to- what exactly happened to me in that hospital? For legal reasons I still am not going to go into major detail about my experiences inside those walls, but to put it simply, the psychiatric ward I was placed in was very bad. Me and all the other patients there were heavily neglected and dehumanized by the staff. To sum it up, the experiences I had there were more traumatic than the suicide attempt itself.

As horrible as that hospital experience was, I was put on medication for a disability I have (one that didn’t work) which was the first step towards recovery. As months passed my psychiatrists fiddled with different medications until I somehow ended up on something that actually started working. Not only did it help symptoms of my disability, but it also helped with the major depression I was experiencing and balanced my chemicals enough that I got a sudden boost in creativity and my ability to be productive. Suddenly I could actually do things! That was when I started Sparklecare.

What actually led to it’s official fabrication is actually pretty interesting. I’ve had lots of different comic series and characters in the past, but lots of them were created and existed through some very hard times in my life and they bore lots of negative memories and associations. I tried my hardest to look past them, but it proved useless as it eventually became too much. I had a breakdown over these bad associations, and basically gave up on everything I was working on at the time. And that’s when something happened. I don’t know how it happened- part of me speculates it had to do with the fact I was put on a new medication about 2 days prior, and that the chemicals kicked in at the perfect moment-

I remembered completely freezing at my desk, and deciding in seconds, that I would start something new.

And so I did. I didn’t even try to think of a story, I just decided to make a character. I went on Twitter and asked some longtime close friends (people who are all now in the ZCP) for an animal species. They gave lots of suggestions but I ended up combining one with my own, and I drew Doom! I literally didn’t even draw him more than once, I just drew him one single time and started a story. I made a few more characters, then started the comic. I didn’t have anything planned or even scripted, it was just something dumb I made with the idea of making fun of doctors who were bad to me in the hospital. I wanted to make something to make myself feel better. I didn’t think anything would come of it, I sort of half-expected that I would give up after a few days, but I kept it going. It was very small at first, but I remember being extremely happy and excited when I got fanart for the first time, from someone who wasn’t friends with me. It was the best feeling ever. And I had no idea back then.

No idea that this little creation I made when trying to not kill myself would actually get any recognition or attention, let alone help someone else. I think in about October of 2016 was when it blew up for the first time. It got so much fanart and people made fan characters, and more and more people followed me. I received messages from people who told me that they related to my story and characters and that it gave them hope to live. I remember crying on Christmas of that year because someone sent me an ask telling me they were spending Christmas in the hospital, but were happy because they kept seeing doctors and thinking about my characters. The fact I could help a single person alone, that I could help multiple people- that was the most surreal thing. I had just turned 16 that Christmas, and people were telling me I was helping them get through being suicidal.

From then on I decided to start to make things that I would have wanted to see when I was in that place. Things that I needed but didn’t have when I was in that dark place, things that I wanted to see exist, things that 9-year-old me would have been obsessed with. Stuff that was unnecessary violent and obscene and colorful and ridiculous and silly, because it made me happy. It made others happy. I realized that by helping myself, I learned how to help others, too.

I’m happy I’m alive. And if I can make just one other person feel that way too, I’ll die happy.

#long post #suicide #text #personal

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time-2-vent · 3 years

Text

So. This is a master post about my grandma. Some of this has already been talked about here but I posted this on my private fb and wanted to keep it here too.

Okay.. so. This is gonna be a long and detailed one.

Ive never had a space where I could vent about my grandma to more than just people close to me without being blamed or her finding out. The only family I have on here is my mom and im hiding this post from her for various reasons. I understand if many of you can't read all the way through this because its gonna be a lot. I just want the people around me to have a better grasp on exactly why im so depressed.

Before I start im gonna add a trigger list because there is a LOT and im probably going to be very emotional typing this. A lot of it ive never spoken about publicly.

So for a list of TW:

Emotional, physical, sexual, and animal abuse, r*pe, p*dophelia, racism, su*cide, hospitals, ableism, be******ty mention, fatshaming, weight mention, f slur.

Okay. Im going to start at when I moved in with her. She tricked my mother into signing over custody of me when I was 10. When I was 9 years old I was forced into a mental hospital after being heavily overdosed on medications meant for adults to the point I was "sitting upside down in my chairs unresponsive and talking about tranquilizers" which i have no memory of. The hospital was probably the worst experience in my entire life and I was almost murdered by one of the older kids. After getting out of there I moved in with my grandma.

Throughout my life shes said and done so many horrible things to me. She would always yell and scream about the smallest mistakes. She used to pick me up by my hair. She was just fucking horrible to me.

Around the age of 10-11 when I started going through puberty she would always make fun of the way my genitals looked. She would ask me to stretch my labia out and move it around. Specifically she would ask me to "show me your bat wings". It was fucking disgusting but as a child I thought it was just haha funny joke.

For a while I thought I just imagined that until my mom brought it up to me and how she CAUGHT HER saying that to me multiple times. So I had confirmation that I wasn't just imagining it. I once confronted her about it and she immediately started crying (ive only seen her cry 3 times in my entire life) and told me if I ever said that again she would tell everyone in my family that I was a "prostitute" and would make everyone in my family hate me, and that it was my mother who did that to me.

My mom lived with me and my grandma for a few years but eventually moved out on her own because she couldn't handle my grandmas abuse.

My grandma dated my moms r*pist, which was my moms uncle, and told my mom she never got r*ped, and said my mom only fucked him for "attention and cigarettes". My mom was 12 at the time.

My grandma told me at 15 that the "only reason you think you're trans is because you got diddled as a kid"

My grandma called me a whore when I started becoming sexually active despite her having her first child at 16.

She once told me I was "just like my father" who is a sex offender and abused me as a child. I was also forced to give my at-the-time step brothers head when I was 3-5 and was taught that it was okay.

My grandma has called me every possible name in the book. Anytime she does something wrong its automatically my fault. She told me she would believe that im trans when I showed her my dick (at 16).

Shes incredibly rude and racist, says she hates how she can't understand Asian people. She's said the n word. She's made so many "jokes" about how "aggressive" Black people are. When my cousin found out he had Black in him she said, and I quote, "I always knew he had a n***r ass" which fucking disgusted me. Shes scoffed at my mother for limping. She scoffs at anyone disabled. Always says "you wouldn't catch me looking like that in public." She would tell my mom she was faking her pain. And coincidentally of all 4 of her kids, one was born with physical deformities. she says thats not the reason why, but she gave her up for adoption. She yells at anyone standing in her way who isn't aware. She is incredibly rude when she speaks to people to the point its embarrassing.

When I hung myself earlier this year and a friend came to pick me up she was yelling at me like "Oh so you went and tattled on me didnt you? Did you say oh boo hoo shes so abusiveeee!!" As I had literally just laid passed out in the snow from hanging myself.

When she found out I hung myself she bitched about how I had her snow boots and how she would have had to climb up the hill to find my fucking body as if it were a chore. She asked me if I wanted to be cremated out of nowhere and when I said no she replied "good I didn't want to have to pick your piercings out of your dead body" when I told her she made me want to kill myself she laughed at me and said "well then you'll never survive" my first suicide attempt was at 12 years old. A few weeks ago I started carving at my throat in front of her because im so desperate for her to LISTEN to me for 5 FUCKING SECONDS. I have legitimately cried on my knees and begged her to treat me like a person time and time again. She laughs at me and turns it around to my issues. She guilt trips me and makes me think everything is my fault. She calls me disgusting for having 1 or 2 shirts on the floor. She told me to MY FACE she will never see me as trans. Misgenders me, misgenders my friends. I jokingly told her one of my cis friends was trans, and when she left she asked me "does he really have a penis?" ABOUT A WHOLE ASS CIS WOMAN. She told me she ran over and killed a dog with a broken leg to "put it out of its misery" she would always use glue traps and I told her not to tell me about it so she waits until were in public and says "yknow whenever I catch a live mouse on one of the traps I throw it into a plastic bag and then go do the litter box to suffocate it". Shes threatened to make me pay the hospital bill when I called 911 because she was unconscious. She says horrible things to me EVERY FUCKIJG DAY. She's always making everying my fault all the time and sits and smiles while I'm sobbing and pouring my heart out because im tired of the abuse. Im so fucking tired. It goes on and on and on every day of my life. I literally slit my throat in front of her and she only stopped being mean for about a week. Im so depressed and mentally ill and this is beating on me every moment of my fucking life.

In not done but im shaking and need to stop typing for now

Edit: some other notable things, when my grandpa disowned me and stopped speaking to me for over a year she told me it was probably because of how disgusting I was. And "nobody wants to be around that".

She will ask me specific random questions about specific friends and if I dont know the answer or I forgot, she goes on a tangent about how terrible of a friend I am.

When I was cutting her hair she kept telling me I was doing it wrong, so I did it her way and she hated it and told me she's glad I didn't pursue hair because im terrible at it.

When my cat was dying she originally refused to take him to the vet because he was "just gonna die anyways so I might as well let him", then gave up her cat to the vet because she was peeing but didn't wanna take responsibility for that so she lied to them and said she showed up at her door and didn't tell them her age or even her name and that was so fucking cruel.

When she starts laughing at me sometimes she'll talk to me in a whiny "baby voice" and be like awwww, waaa im so abusedddd *mocks me crying*.

And she always talks in a tone that sounds pissed off and seems confused when I feel like I'm being scolded.

She gets in my face and puts her finger in my face and backs me into corners sometimes and then when I smack her hand out of my face she says she'll put me in jail for abuse.

Oh yea and simetimes when she gets mad at me she'll be like "ok GIRL" in the middle of me talking. Like its annoying and uncalled for.

I cant believe I forgot this holy shit. Years ago (was a minor here as well) I was attacked by my neighbors dog and it knocked me down and when I got home my grandma was accusing me of be******ty and said she was "watching it fuck me" and I was so fucking disgusted and hurt.. I try to block that from my memory because it was my third dog attack and I was traumatized.

She also regularly calls her brother a F@ggot. He is the only lgbt family member (he's gay) that i have.

She regularly fatshames people while only a few feet from them. And will whisper to me about how disgusting they look.

She asks for all of my friends deadnames and gets mad when I dont answer.

"I can't be abusive because I give you a home. I could have let social services take you."

"I cant be racist because my ex husband is Black"

"You must be living in a fantasy world where you make up shit that ive done."

"Id be depressed if I stayed in bed all day too."

"I need to learn to have lower expectations for you."

"I'm starting to resent you. So ill be taking 200$ a month for rent." (She has stopped this thankfully)(edit #2, she started taking it again im gonna be here forever lmao)

When I was underweight she would say things like "you look like an aids patient." And "Are you trying to look like your mother?"

"You're a hoarder"

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imsfire2 · 6 years

Note

Director's Commentary- chapter 2 of Keeping Faith: "'Captain, a word.'" through "'Thank you for your honesty, Captain Andor.'" -- Basically the whole conversation w/ Draven. This fic made me cry and I still tear up when I read it sometimes :)

Thank you for the ask, and for the feedback! I remain very fond of “Keeping Faith” months after finishing it.

(This whole scene was written to have two people who are not very good at talking about emotional matters trying to address some extremely important emotions. They are both of them very tense and uptight, and neither of them really has much experience of doing this, and least of all of sharing this kind of stuff with each other. But they do care; and it’s through their conversation, as they fight for each word of it, that I wanted to explore Cassian’s state of mind and the agonising decisions and choices he’s trying to make).

“Captain, a word.” Davits Draven touches his sleeve in passing and he stops dead in the gangway. He hasn’t seen Draven since the evacuation. Since – since -

Get a grip on yourself. “Yes sir.”

(So Cassian is really struggling at this point in the story: Jyn is listed as missing following the Hoth evacuation and he’s just about holding it together a couple of weeks later with the help of meds and through having been assigned to desk duties. The smallest thing can set him off to thinking about Jyn & whenever that happens he wants to scream. He fears he will never, ever, ever be whole again.)

“At ease, Captain.”

“Yes sir.”

There’s a long cold pause while Draven stares at him and then at the wall of the corridor, as if looking for words printed there. Finally he says “I saw your request to take part in the recovery operation. Your choice of wording was – unusual.”

(authorial confession: I have no real idea what Cassian actually said in his memo)

“Sir?”

(and already, only days after he sent it, nor has he. That’s the kind of state of mind he’s in).

“Oh for the love of life, Andor, at ease! Why do you want to go back to Hoth? I don’t understand why you could possibly want to return to – well, to return there.”

(I have such a lot of feels for Draven, the bitter, cold man who does what has to be done and gives the orders no-one wants to have to utter, and shoulders it all on his conscience; and a lot of feels too for the Cassian/Draven pseudo-father-son relationship. Ever since reading that Cassian was recruited by the young Draven I’ve never seen any of their interactions in quite the same light. If you want a really heartbreaking one-shot on this relationship, btw, read the brilliant “Biography of a son” by rapidashpatronus).

Cassian stands numbly waiting for the General to carry on speaking. He does want to get a grip, he truly does, but he really can’t find the words to answer; not like this, just standing in a passageway, impromptu. He worked for hours on that posting request, trying to sound professional and make a logical case. He has no idea what this reference to “unusual wording” is about.

His mind is grey, like the ice of his long-ago home. Gripping on to ice is a doomed task.

He’s beginning to wonder how much longer he can go on like this.

(I used words like numbly, doomed, and the images of ice, & Cassian’s feeling that he cannot express himself without having time to work out carefully what to say, etc, are all based on my own and friends’ experience of depression).

Draven does not continue speaking. He meets Cassian’s eyes and his lips tighten to a thin line, thinner even than usual, and he waits.

Cassian says at last “I made a mistake.”

“Does that mean you’ve changed your mind about wanting to go?”

“No, sir. Not that. A – a mistake…” He can’t go on. He can see it all, the enormity of it, but explaining it would be like trying to bring a thundercloud inside the ship just by the power of words, and he can’t find words, he just can’t…

(We know that Cassian in canon is a man of few words. I have a headcanon that he can be perfectly fluent and glib on an undercover mission but when it comes to talking about himself, over time this laconic tendency has become so normalised that he really struggles. Add in the emotional pain he’s in now, and the effects of the sedatives he’s taking, and although he knows what he’s trying to express it does literally seem beyond words to him).

(Also I do like that metaphor about trying to bring a thundercloud inside a space craft; it sounds so unpleasant, and would of course be terribly dangerous, were it not also completely impossible).

Draven sighs. “Well. Who gets to go back to Hoth isn’t my decision. Perhaps that’s just as well. In the meantime I’m extending your temporary re-assignment to the Signals and Comms team, as per your second request. But I wanted to tell you in person that there will still be a place for you in Intelligence, whenever you do decide you are ready to return. You were one of our best. When you’re fit for field work again, I want you to know you can come back. It doesn’t matter if it’s months. A year, even.”

(Draven has a lot of faith in Cassian; after all, he wasn’t just “one of our best” but hands down the best operative in Intelligence).

“Thank you, sir,” would seem to be the appropriate thing to say. But it doesn’t feel right. “May I be frank, sir?”

“Yes.” Draven looks ill-at-ease with the clipped assent he’s just given. But he has given it. (Read: It’s very unusual for General Draven to accept frankness because it usually means the kind of trouble best kept under hatches).

Cassian grabs at the one thing he feels able to say.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to return to Intelligence, sir. Least of all to working in the field.”

“You were one of our best,” the General says again. “I can wait. Take as long as you need to get back to par.”

(The General really, really wants Cassian to reach out and grasp this offer; I guess that to his way of thinking, it would be the beginning of the way back for him, from the disaster at Hoth and from his emotional collapse at losing Jyn).

“Thank you, sir. Nonetheless.”

There’s a long silence; Cassian stands rigid with his hands clasped behind his back, waiting to be dismissed.

(& now Draven, who is also a man of few words - and my guess is that Cassian gets it from him - tries to express his own understandng of the situation and his feelings. Not terribly well, poor chap).

“I realise,” Draven says slowly “That it would be pointless for me to push you for reasons and explanations you are clearly unable to give. I am aware that you’ve been under medical supervision since Hoth. Losing someone you care about in circumstances like these is – traumatic. I do have some idea what you’re going through.”

Out of nothing, out of nowhere, for a fraction of a second Cassian feels sheer rage heat him. He breathes fast, his nostrils flare on a single inhalation and exhalation before he controls himself and commands his face to impassivity again. Tells himself it doesn’t matter; and he looks through the wall, at the base of the vertical hull plating behind Draven and fifty metres back. Goes numb, empty, grey.

(For just a moment Cassian is in touch with all the emotions he can’t face or handle at the moment; it’s triggered by a sudden reaction of thinking Drave is trying to minimise what he’s going through and talk about some minor personnel losses from a few years back or something, and make this about himself. He isn’t; but the rage that thought inspires wallops Cassian like a brick. And then he disasocciates and goes blank, his fall-back method for dealing with something he just can’t handle. Just like in the fight after Eadu, when his emotions break through his usual control, the top layer comes out as anger).

“Cassian.”

Reluctantly he hears the sound. Not Captain or Andor but his given name. He’s not sure how many seconds have passed. He comes back into himself. “Sir?”

“We have to work alone, in this field. We tell ourselves that, we build our armour and carry it with us. But doing the kind of work we do, it kills, it starves something in you. So you decide to take the risk; have a friendship or two, maybe risk a relationship; stop being so isolated. Tell yourself it can be done, you can do it. We’ve all done it. I did it. I did it twice.”

The repeated iterations of do, done, did, did make a pattern, are almost a kind of poetry; but he blinks and realises what’s just been said. It’s an unbending beyond anything he’s known from Davits Draven in more than fifteen years.

(I wanted even that moment of open self-expression from Draven not to be completely successful. Because Cassian is so traumatised right now and only just crawling out of the rabbit hole, he doesn’t register immediately how honest and open this is; which is tragic because this is Draven about to bare his unhappy soul, and an enormous display of trust from him, which he probably couldn’t make to anyone else. But for a moment all Cassian hears is words making noises…).

“Sir?”

A faint mirthless breath escapes (as near as poor Draven can get to a chuckle) and the General says shortly “The first one left me and the second one died. I learned my lesson.” (I wanted his summing-up of his emotional past to be as succinct, and as loaded, as possible). He looks at the deck for a moment, his mouth tightening over swallowed memories. “But I don’t blame you for trying. Your relationship with Sergeant Erso seemed to be strong. It gave you a foundation you hadn’t had before. Had me thinking, if anyone on my team could manage to make something like this work it would be you.”

“But I couldn’t. Sir. It was –“ He’d like to break down and curl up and clutch his head again, right here in this public place, sooner than have to say this; but such melodramatics are unacceptable. He takes a deep breath, holds it for the count of four, looks for each word. “I told myself the same thing. That I could do both. Make it work. I could keep both commitments going. I told myself I wouldn’t let either one slip, I cared too much about them both. The rebellion, and – Jyn. But then I didn’t follow through. When the attack happened, I focussed on just one of my commitments and didn’t even think to look at the other; and I failed her. I didn’t look. I didn’t keep faith with her. I wasn’t there. Now she’s gone and I can never bring her back.”

(Cassian had just assumed Jyn would know what to do and would do it, because he has total faith in her - but this time his devout certainty that she is infinitely competent has backfired and because he has grown used over years to holding himself responsible for every death & mission error, he blames himself, almost out of habit).

“Officially she’s missing in action.”

“But she’s gone. It was – it was an error of judgement. Sir. I should have quit after Scarif. I should never have let myself believe I could handle both. If I go back into the field, now, having to make decisions, having to trust my own judgement, I – it won’t work. I can’t do it, sir. I know now that my judgement is fallible. It’s fallible at the most serious level. If I can fail something so profoundly important to me, then I can fail anyone. Anything. I can fail the cause. I can no longer trust myself in the field.”

(And he manages to express something of the agony that is destroying him. It isn’t just that he’s failed Jyn but that he now knows he can fail the most important thing in his world. This degree of failure cuts apart everything he has known/thought about himself and leaves it bleeding; and Cassian feels himself profoundly broken by that. He has a lot of self-loathing, which has been overlayed with happiness and commitment for the last few years; but failing like this, failing the most crucial person in the most crucial way, has brought it all right back).

Silence. His shift is due to start in twenty minutes and he knows he needs to get something to eat in the mess first. But all he wants is to go back to the dorm and take his pills, and sleep. Turn off life for ten hours and not have to think about any of this.

Draven waits for Cassian to go on. Says quietly, when he does not “I hope in time you will come to feel differently.” His face is set, and sad. “You will remain on secondment to Comms until you request a reassignment. Thank you for your honesty, Captain Andor. Dismissed.”

(& I wanted to end the conversation with Draven trying, in his stilted and shut-off way, to show that he still trusts Cassian’s judgement, even now when he’s this fucked up, and he’s prepared to let him make his own decisions about this).

Thank you very much for the ask!

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ilongrangerfiona · 4 years

Text

Hi :) its been 1 week since we broke up and I still find myself so stupid to have done so much bad to you that you’ve come to this point that you hate me that much. You even said you were traumatized from what I have done to you. Its just so sad to hear those words coming from the one I love when I should have all the chances to broke up with you when I was also traumatized and couldn’t even breath and sleep when you fucked up and hit me so hard in the bones.. but I choose to be strong all over and over again. I choose to never give up because I only not love you but I also want to give you hundreds or unlimited chances to change and be the best version of yourself. Nobody is perfect even me... I know I changed you to be the man that was never you, I have given you SO FUCKING MUCH stress when you are at work, your home, with friends and family. I never gave ALL my trust in you and doubted you all the fucking time. I never made you the man you wanted to be. I never made you do the things you wanted to do. I never let you explore and be with the people you wanted to be with. And all the SADNESS, HURTFUL and UNHAPPY feelings you felt was all because of me. All because of my selfish, insecure and fucked up self. Why on earth did I ever deserve someone like you? Why on earth did you ever liked me? Why on earth God gave someone like you? These past few days I always end up crying early in the morning in our little home. I know I was in our little home but it NEVER felt like home because I know I lost “my home” and that’s YOU. I try and try to be genuinely happy but this thing keeps me thinking all over about you - of how you are feeling, of how your heart is doing and of how happy you are right now.

I just wanted to talk to you about US. I just wanted to tell you how much I miss being with you not physically but truly in your heart. I just wanted to tell you how much I regretted every single “nonsense LQs, selos, overthinking, pangluod, bullshit decisions and arguments”. I just wanted to tell you how much lessons I have realized thru this break up. I just wanted to tell you how willing I am to commit to EVERYTHING THAT YOU WANT ME TO DO for us to be together again. I just wanted to tell you how much you inspire me even if we don’t see each other. I just wanted to tell you how much I am praying to God for you to forgive my old bad habits before and to give me another chance to be in your life and to make you happy again. I just wanted to tell you I’M SORRY A MILLION TIMES even if these words meant nothing to you anymore when it comes from me. I just wanted to tell you I wanted to wait for you even if it takes months, years and a decade, your Regine WILL NEVER GET TIRED OF WAITING. I just wanted to tell you I want to prove things to you, I want to prove to your father that even if I’m tired, I will never give up on his son. I just wanted to tell you how grateful I am to you for you have taught me A LOT in life and in love. I just wanted to tell you I’M SORRY LANGGA :’( . I’M SORRY FOR HURTING YOU MY LANGGA :’( . I know its impossible for you to forgive and be with me together again but I will never give up on you even if you have given up on me. I will prove to you that my promise will never break if it means loving you.

In this 1 week, I learned so many things.. but most especially I learned many things about LOVE. In the beginning of our relationship, I thought that if there is LOVE everything will be alright. By the time we were getting to see how toxic we were to each other, right there and then I realized that LOVE is NOT ENOUGH. Love to me right now means...

*** To be selfless - make your partner happy first before yourself, let him enjoy his life because I don’t own your life (GOD DOES) so who am I to not let you enjoy it? :”>

*** To give your full trust - we all have our own mind to better understand what is good and bad. so I must not forget to give my full trust to you because I know it is your number 1 emotional need as my partner. Its up to you if you will break it or not but I truly know that you don’t want to be sorry in the end.

*** To be willing to forgive and forget - I have learned that if I must forgive you, I must be truly willing to forget the things in the past. Because only in forgiving and forgetting we can genuinely live a happy and peaceful life.

*** To fix problems calmly and maturely - I have learned in the past that I was really a toxic gf and never ever trusted your explanations instead I doubted them. I have learned that listening to you and understanding your explanations is always the best thing I should do to make it easy for us to solve the problem.

*** To be more vocal in a respectful way - I have learned that whenever I get mad, mangluod, selos and magduda.. I always approached you in a very disrespectful manner and I know that that was really really really wroooong. Instead I should always tell you calmly what I am feeling for you to explain things to me too.

*** To have UNLIMITED patience - I have learned that I was always impatient in the past that even if you can’t call me an hour I get mad right away. Instead, I should keep myself busy and productive so that I can also improve myself even in the smallest ways I can.

*** To “ALWAYS BE CONFIDENT and POSITIVE” - I have learned that I was really insecure to everyone that you meet. To the point that I even lowered my standards and talk to them like I am not the LEGAL GIRLFRIEND. Sheeet!!! Grabi ka sheeet! Haha. Instead I should have believed in myself more, I should have believed that you loved me very much and I should have believed that they were all just nothing to you.

*** To LOVE MYSELF MORE - I have realized that I was lowering myself in the past. To the point that I was waiting for you the whole day and not even thinking if you will be back early, chasing you in your own house knowing I am not supposed to be doing those things, forcing and begging you to love me again even if you don’t want to... Imagine??? How fucked up I wasss? I was blinded and I really lost myself in loving you. Instead I should be thinking that if you really want me, then come back and freaking get me. LOOOL! XD hahahaha. Oooopss! love yourself ganiiii. Hahaha. Balakajan! :P instead I should have been doing things that would make my soul happy and improving more in my goals (which I am obviously doing since you broke up with me. HEHEHE)

*** To NEVER CONTROL YOU and LET YOU DO ANYTHING - I have learned that I was always asking for your time, attention and love in the past which I think now is super duper bwesit hahahaha. I just don’t know but right nooow??? I am really fine if you will spend time with me, go out with your friends and do the things you want on your own. I just realized if you want to be with me physically, then okaaay! I not, then still okaaay! :D I just learned that that’s how LOVE TRULY WORKS. You give me the freedom, I give you your freedom too. If one of us messed up like cheating, then... GOODBYE. That’s called SELF LOVE.

*** To MEAN EVERY WORD I SAY - I have learned that I have said IM SORRY to you a fucking million times and never changed my attitude. I was sooo toxic and even myself right now can think of it to leave myself if I was in a relationship with myself. Haha. Amaw. Instead I should have changed myself to a better me and did everything I can to prove things to you (which I am doing right now) even if its hard that you are very cold to me and awkward, I am still doing the best that I can for you to choose me again. :”>

I never regretted my decision to agree with you in this choice that we made because I believed I will also realize many things in this choice. I believed I will be better and you will be healed. I believed that we are here because we are doing this for ourselves and for the family that we will build in the very near future. I believed that we are here to make our future better together. I never regretted because if I would have never agreed, I won’t see where I was in the past and of how much I have hurt my one and only langga. I know I still can’t give anything expensive to you at the moment but I know you already know how much I can give if God will give me the desires of my heart. Right now all I can give is the writings I always carry in my heart and the love that I will never get tired of showing you. :”> In the days were I was alone and you were so cold to me, I really wanted to give up. I really do want to give up. But I always tell myself that when you love someone its when the hardest and heaviest time you shouldn’t. I also always tell myself that I deserve to be treated this way this is nothing to the pain I have caused you my langga. But don’t worry about me because I truly deeply understand the situation. That is why even if its really hard for us, for me, I am never giving up even if I have thousands of reasons to give it all up... YOU ARE MY “ONLY” WONDERFUL REASON not to. <3 (kilig sad imong dragon baaallsss ani oiii! HAHA)

Thank you my langga for the opportunity and decision you have made. You made me a better person. I know it’s just 1 week but within that time, I can’t imagine I learned and woke up from being asleep for 3 years. THANK YOU LORD! Praise the Lord for His goodness and kindness to us. I know that God is guiding us both to the path we should be. To the clearer path of our love for each other. I can proudly say to you that I am really happy without you but life is so much better if you are with me. And if we will be together again, I wanted to say this... I will be happy if you are not with me physically and still, I will be happy if you are with me physically. I also want us to enjoy ourselves company, our friends company and especially our families company. This time also, I want to give, give and give it all to you for me to payback all the pain you are feeling. I only ask for three things and I confidently know you are capable of giving these to me: 1) assurances to every people I don’t know personally, 2) honesty to every word you say to me and 3) for BOTH of us to compromise in every issues/problems we will have in the future.. :”>

I admit langga I was acting so immature in the past and I have really truly regretted ALL OF IT. I am not afraid to tell you all of these because I am also human and I am tired of telling myself that I am correct/right always and that you dont understand me and that you dont have any point when in fact, YOU WERE ALWAYS RIGHT. I just want to be true to myself, accept who I am and be a better woman for myself and for the one I love. I am only human and I also sin. But I know God is never late to make me someone I really am this time and I know I am in the right path. Thank you langga for everything that you have done and for making me the person I am today. =) you have taught me sooo much jud. Thank you Lord for the gift of you.

I am always looking forward that we will be back together my langga. I am always looking forward that your “iloveyou” today will be “iloveyouverymuch” na. Because believe me when I say... it’s still you I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, to be the father of my children and to hold hands together when we grow old. I hope you still do my langga. :”>

Love always, Fiona

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averagelizajane-blog · 4 years

Text

My Speech

I haven’t blogged in over a year ... this post really doesn’t count because it is a copy of a speech I gave this week at the a statewide nurse appreciation event the March of Dimes put on. Nurses were awarded in 20 different categories. There was also a silent and live auction to raise funds for the MOD.

March of Dimes

Nurse of the Year Event

11/22/19

Richmond Hilton, Short Pump

When Latne asked me to speak today, I couldn’t say no because any chance I get to express gratitude to nurses I am going to jump on it! I cannot think of very many honors higher than publicly thanking those who serve others -- especially babies. So if you, all the nurses here today, get nothing else out of my little speech, please hear me when I say “THANK YOU!” Thank you sincerely from the bottom of my heart! You make a difference every.single.day! Latne also asked me to keep my remarks under 5 minutes -- I’ll do my very best, but no promises … it’s going to be quite challenging to share our story in just 5 minutes.

Let me begin with a day I will never forget. It was an ordinary Saturday night in early 2018. Anne-Marie’s health was pretty stable by then. She had long been off oxygen, and she was tolerating her gtube feeds fairly well. Anyways, I got her out of the bath and dressed her for bed. I looked her in the eyes just like every other night and said, “Anne-Marie, I love you.” And then that very ordinary night became one very extraordinary night in a matter of seconds. Anne-Marie looked back at me with the most loving eyes and responded very robotically and very, very softly, “IIII Wuuub wun.” You see, Anne-Marie was nonverbal up until last year. I sat in the floor and cried tears of joy and relished in the fact that I had finally heard the three little words, I sometimes doubted I’d ever hear. I vividly remember after a few minutes of crying, saying a prayer out loud (I usually pray silently and I hate to admit it, only when I need something) but in that moment I thanked God out loud for every single one of Anne-Marie’s nurses by name, doctors by name, therapists by name, her teachers by name, my parents, my best friend, Maggie, and everyone else who has cared for Anne-Marie along the way.

Anne-Marie was born at 25 weeks gestation because I had severe pre-eclampsia and HELLP syndrome. The details surrounding her traumatic birth are a little cloudy. However, I have a couple of very clear memories from that very scary time.

I was admitted to the hospital on January 10th. I was supposed to be on bed-rest because of my high blood pressure, but we had planned a 5th birthday party at the local bowling alley for my oldest daughter, Leah. So while we were at Leah’s birthday celebration, my OB doctor called and said my blood work didn’t look good and I needed to go to the hospital. Upon arrival and evaluation, the doctors said they would try and wait as long as possible to deliver, because they wanted to give me steroids for the baby’s lungs, but things didn’t look good and I may need to have a c-section “soon.”

This news was not okay with me for several reasons. The first and most important reason was that my baby, in my mind, was not developed enough to sustain life outside the womb. At that time, I knew next to nothing about prematurity. I just had this gut-wrenching feeling that my baby was going to die.

The second reason I was not okay with learning the news that a “soon” delivery was inevitable, was that I did NOT want my baby to be born on Leah’s birthday. Again, I had a bad feeling I was going to lose my baby and I didn’t want to have an anniversary of a birth and a death on the same day.

So, we were in the hospital, doing our best to process this very worrisome, new information and an in-depth ultrasound was done to predict the size of our baby. Afterwards, two residents came in to speak with me about the possibility of the smallest breathing tube the NICU has being too large for our baby. This information just lead to more questions with unknown answers. They left and then it was a nurse who came back in, and with the most compassionate demeanor, she asked what we were going to name our baby. I looked at my husband, Bradley, cluelessly … all I could think about is why are we going to name a baby, who probably won’t survive. What’s the point? It will just make this all harder? We explained to the sweet nurse that we didn’t have any names picked out and we didn’t even know the sex, we had wanted to be surprised. The nurse said that they liked to call babies by name when working to resuscitate them and caring for them -- she said they have a tendency to respond better. With that small act of kindness, an overwhelming sense of comfort came over me. I surrendered all and we named our baby.

After that humble conversation with that nurse my feelings surrounding the date of my c-section began to change. I figured if Anne-Marie needed to be born on Leah’s birthday, maybe that could actually be a gift and not a curse.

And that’s exactly what happened. Anne-Marie was born en caul on January 12th. She weighed 420 grams (that’s 14.8 ounces for all of us non-medical people) and was 10 inches long. She was tinier than tiny -- about the size of a big Smartphone with a hard case.

Anne-Marie did fairly-well during the very beginning of her 200-day hospital-stay. I was discharged and tried my absolute best to keep some sense of normalcy for Leah, all while traveling back and forth to the hospital each day and pumping breast milk every three hours.

It wasn’t until right around the 2 week mark when we had our first big scare. I got a call from a doctor who said Anne-Marie’s oxygen stats were really low and they needed to change out her breathing tube to the next biggest size. When we arrived, the normally dark and calm NICU room looked completely different. The lights were bright and there was close to 10-15 people crowded around Anne-Marie’s isolette. A social worker sat with me and explained what was happening. One nurse had a cart with a separate computer and was logging everything the medical team was doing. A respiratory therapist was bagging Anne-Marie. Two doctors were conversing quietly about my daughter but not including me. The air was tense. Everyone was very serious. A hospital chaplin came and introduced himself. He asked me if I wanted to have Anne-Marie baptised.

Prior to her birth, I was the one who thought she was going to die. Now here we are, a couple of weeks later, and the experts think she’s going to die. I politely responded, “No” to the chaplin. I know it’s irrational now, but at that time, I figured if I allowed her to be baptised, I was giving up. I thought if I willed her to live, she would. I was scared. I asked if I should call my husband in from work. The doctor in the purple tie responded matter-of-factly, “Yes,” he said, “your baby is very sick and could die any minute.” I called Bradley then stared at the beeping monitor displaying sats in the teens and 20s for half an hour. I was in a daze, when one of Anne-Marie’s primary nurses asked me if I needed a break. She may have never known it, but she had two patients that day, Anne-Marie and myself. Her calm, professional vibe and consideration allowed me to deal with the situation.

These are just two of countless times during Anne-Marie’s journey where I credit my own success to her nurses. All along, I’ve always credited Anne-Marie’s success to her skilled nurses. And I always will. Through 5 surgeries, several PICC lines, countless blood transfusions, back and forth transitions between the jet ventilator, conventional ventilator, and CPAP, progression from TPN to all mixes of formula, and graduating from an isolette to a warmer bed to an open crib, Anne-Marie’s nurses have been there on the front lines every step of the way. Not only did they medically care for her, but they went way beyond that … Anne-Marie’s nurses were really her first parents before we had her in our true custody. They advocated to doctors on our behalf during rounds, they sang to her to soothe her, they dressed her up when she was able to wear clothes, they took pictures to decorate her bedside and did everything as much as they could to support the emotional needs of all of us.

Today, Anne-Marie is in school and is very successful. She’s spunky and silly and full of life. Anne-Marie loves reading, singing, pretend-play, her Nana, and following Leah around every step she takes. My family is forever in debt to the NICU nurses and doctors, the March of Dimes, and the greater field of neonatology. I reflect upon her journey from time to time and know without a shadow of doubt that each person who cared for Anne-Marie was put in that position at that particular time for a reason. Her outcome would have been different if certain pieces to the puzzle were lost. We will never be able to express enough gratitude for saving Anne-Marie’s life. On behalf of babies everywhere, I sincerely thank you for your dedication and service.

#speech micropreemie lifeafterNICU marchofdimes MOD nurseoftheyear virginianurseoftheyear virginiamarchofdimes gtubekid teachermom

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nobaettadr · 7 years

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discussing the particularities behind leif’s aggressive defense mechanism yesterday with @moiraicknight made me want to write up an official hc post about it so here we are; some insight on why leif reacts the way he does to grief and external aggression ---

instinctively, leif’s first reaction to difficulty and especially outside aggression is to fight back, whether physically or verbally, or to channel his emotions otherwise into physical aggression, whether it using something as a punching bag or otherwise; it’s not a particularly constructive or healthy way of handling things, but it’s both what he’s been taught and what he’s internalized as a result of his circumstances.

a lot of his immediate responses to grief and generally when he feels like he’s losing emotional control comes directly from the aftermath of dorias’ death. in canon, even, he only has about 1 minute between when it’s announced that dorias has been killed and when he has to go directly into battle to save the remnants of his scattered army. he had to quickly shove all his guilt, grief, disbelief, shock, and anger away and channel it into aggression, which you bet he did. he used his emotional turmoil to fight harder.

but the foundations of such a response began much earlier.

as we know, leif didn’t get much of a childhood, or really any at all. since he could remember, he’s been pushed and groomed to be a king, not really a person or individual of his own. he was hardly able to go through the essential emotional development that a tiny human being needs in order to learn how to rationalize and cope healthily with loss, confrontation, and anger. realize that he doesn’t remember lachesis very well ( she left when he was 8 ), and that lachesis herself wasn’t much of a motherly figure who knew how to teach a child to regulate his emotions well -- this is lachesis mun hc here, specifically.

his other role model was finn, who, as i’ve mentioned before, was not a good parent, but he also didn’t see himself as being a parent to leif. he was a knight, preparing his charge to be the next king and protecting him until that time comes. thus, it was his responsibility to mold leif into an appropriate monarch. i also strongly hc that finn has anger management problems due to a variety of his own deep-seated insecurities and other emotional and mental constipation issues that he just doesn’t either want or even know he has to address. he’s very swift to fly off the handle from the smallest frustration ( especially when his pride is in jeopardy ) and has no control over himself when he’s angry. ( and god forbid you should ever point it out to him. )

starting from the age of 8 until 12/13, when he met eyvel, finn was leif’s only guardian figure. but even prior to that, leif’s crying and outbursts -- all normal for a child -- were typically met with annoyance and frustration. finn was quick to instill in him the principle that men -- and kings -- do not cry or show weakness. finn is also one of those people for whom crying only makes him angrier ( “do you think i’m going to feel sorry for you if you cry?”, etc. ) so leif learned early on that tears and being upset = exacerbating the problem / weakness.

on top of that, i imagine that since finn easily lost control of himself and his actions ( and words ) when he’s frustrated, on severe occasions, it would escalate to physical aggression. we already see in the manga that when finn is frustrated / nothing he’s trying is working / he doesn’t know what to do, he easily resorts to physicality -- see: when he strikes a severely depressed lachesis when she’s not seeing “sense”.

i definitely think this was also the case with leif, growing up; however, i don’t think he actually ever struck leif outright, since duty and social subordination likely at least kept him in line. however, he did probably exhibit less blatantly abusive aggressive behavior: grabbing leif’s arm and pulling hard to get him to stop crying, hitting his back and telling him to “man up”, getting up in his personal space, yelling, etc. he displays all the signs of an aggressive, physical presence, coming just shy of outright abuse. he saw himself as being firm and corrective; instead, his behavior was traumatizing.

i imagine he was also similar with nanna, but in fact worse. because nanna is a. a girl and b. his daughter and therefore socially subordinate to him, he feels more at liberty to discipline her as he needs to. after all, he’s her father, and it’s his responsibility to make sure she grows up right ( and presumably not like lachesis ). the liege/knight dynamic that kept him in check around leif was nonexistent around nanna, and i do imagine that he probably struck her once or twice, on severe occasions. ( vague thought that this isn’t just a finn-specific thing, necessarily; there are suggestions, at least in the manga, that corporal punishment of children isn’t as frowned upon in jugdral. )

as leif grew older, about age 11 onwards, he began to realize that just crying more only made finn madder, and sucking it up like finn wanted condoned his actions because they “worked”. one day, he tried plan c: fight back. and amazingly, it in fact worked. finn backed off -- probably stormed away and muttered angrily to himself or something. i definitely think it pissed finn off to hear leif yell right back at him for once, but a. men are supposed to be aggressive, so in a way this is expected -- and accepted -- behavior and b. leif was finally actually using the social power he had over finn, so he was unable to retaliate. “how dare you speak to me this way -- i am your lord!”, etc.

after this point, whether because starting from age 12 eyvel was there to be a much better parental figure and therefore buffered finn’s behavior or prevented things from escalating to that point as often, or because finn no longer felt like he could get away with behaving like this, or some mixture of both and more reasons, finn stopped doing it as often -- and when he did, leif being aggressive right back actually fixed the particular situation rather than made it worse, because of the nature of his and finn’s relationship. thus, he more or less internalized that aggression is a feasible way to respond to aggression, and while he has since realized that’s not always the case ( or even the case most of the time ), he can’t help it still being his instinct.

this is also why leif is typically always a little bit aggressive -- not unintentionally or even consciously, but there’s always just a touch of a shield up when he speaks to strangers, unless he’s trying hard to be formal and polite. it’s gotten better since the war, but it’s still there, and it’s because he’s always anticipating that incoming blow, and wants to be ready to retaliate.

#. of | ► inheritance ;#tw: abuse mention #( has 8 drafts #posts some meta instead )

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kiwischange · 4 years

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Hello Change - How I got to my decision.

I am making this blog to motivate me and to keep me going when the challenge is too much. I need to see my progress and thrive by reminiscing on my achievements.

Before I get into my daily updates and achievements, if anyone stumbles upon this blog, Hi, I’m Molly, I’m a 21-year-old student from Manchester/Lancashire and I am here to give you the 411 to why I have decided to, a) lose weight and b) have a dramatic lifestyle change. Also if you know me reading this, please try not to cringe at my ‘thinking people would actually read this’ way of typing. I find it easier to type and tell my story as though I am speaking to someone, so please be kind to me.

SO! The change... let's go back to June 2016, the smallest I’ve ever been. I was 17 years old, had a part-time(pretty much full time) job as a waitress. I was barely eating due to my busy schedule of WORK and COLLEGE but I drank sooooooo much water, like the water bottle I would take with me to work and college was an 800ml VOSS water bottle and I filled it up at least eight to nine times a day. I was about 47-50kg. OH, forgot to mention, I am 5″1.

Then at the end of July, I quit my job, I hated it and I definitely wasn’t appreciated. Also, I and my partner I had booked to go to Florida for the first time in August and I was going to Plymouth University with him in September, so work was the last thing on my mind.

So the holiday was amazing, I gained a little weight but nothing major, weighing in about 49-51kg. Then I packed my bags and went to Plymouth... This is where things start to get messy.

So I moved to Plymouth with my partner, we stayed in different accommodations but I pretty much stayed in his room every night. So I started Uni, long story short I absolutely hated it, I had no money because I couldn’t get a job down south and all my money was going into my accommodation, I missed my family like CRAZY as my little sister was only 2 and I was terrified she would forget who I am, and the course wasn’t for me. All of these things combined sent me into a spiral of depression and you can guess what happened next... I used food as comfort. I overate massives amounts of food, I wouldn’t leave my boyfriend's dorm room for weeks, I skipped university a lot and I stay awake till five in the morning and sleep till 3pm the next day. You see, you could say my boyfriend should have helped me get out of it, he tried really hard and failed. I would eat behind his back, overeat when he went into uni, I’d be nasty and shout at him if he even tried to ‘challenge’ me but he also didn’t want to upset me any more than I already was.

The year went by and we both agreed Plymouth wasn’t for us. We both left our degrees to start fresh back home but I was bringing my biggest problem with me... my weight gain. In a little less than a year, I went from being 50kg to being 90kg!! I was extremely overweight and hated myself for it. When I got home my mum realized that that was a ridiculous amount of weight to gain in 9-10 months, so she took me to the doctors. After a few tests and an ultrasound scan on my pelvis, I was diagnosed with PCOS - Poly Cystic Ovarian Syndrome (if you don’t know what it is, google it, this story is already long enough, lol). So in July 2017, I started to lose weight, I got down to 80kg in two months due to water weight and restricting my food portions. I then went on holiday, in September and that is where my weight loss can to a halt... for three years. I have been stagnating, gaining and losing but mainly maintaining for three whole years.

You would think that me maintaining for so long would be the kick up the bum I needed but nope. In March 2019 I had my last normal-ish period. From April to October, I didn’t bleed once. Then at the end of October, I started streaking, I was on and off streaking from the end of October to mid-Decemeber. After this I started to bleed really heavy, it is the 10th of January 2020 and I only stopped heavy bleeding one day ago.

I visited my doctor (back in August) and he basically blamed me for my weight which made me cry, really bad. After calming me down he offered for me to go see a gynecologist(which I should have been referred to years ago). My visit was short but very effective, she referred me to a dietitian and sent me to get a colposcopy just to make sure everything was okay. My Colposcopy was on the 12th of December, it was a very traumatic experience and very uncomfortable but I was just glad to have been referred. So this is my reasoning to shift the weight, she told me that the build-up of my periods had caused abnormal cells to form. She told me not to worry as she didn’t think it was anything serious but she took a smear and a biopsy of my cervix for further testing. She then offered me to get the cells blasted which she told me could cause more problems so I said no as she told me previously these cells go away on their own in most cases.

After doing my own research, I wish so badly I had taken her offer to get the cells removed, which is why losing weight is so important to me now. I do not want a repeat of this again because it has been HELL and if it is anything serious I can be a stronger fighter(It apparently takes six weeks to get your results back so I still haven't received them or had my appointment with my dietitian, it’s on the 15th of January). Anyway, after tears and tantrums to all my problems, I read that weight loss is the only solution to the problem so here I am.

Sorry, that was sooooo long, urgh, my exhausted from typing it and that was the briefest version I could give!

So today is Day 3 of my diet, I only decided today I wanted to make a blog just for my own motivation and also, to tell my story for anyone else suffering PCOS trying to just live a healthy life.

Thank you for listening, here’s to a longer, healthier, HAPPIER life! x

#weightloss #newstart #weight #loss #journal

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skystonedclouds · 6 years

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Okay, that post you reblogged about sexual harassment? I know your intentions are pure, but those kind of posts continue to enforce victim mentality (specifically among women in this case) and continues to segregate people based on gender. It enforces the idea that men are in general sexual predators and that all women are continually sexually harassed, it's a very left-wing identity politics victimhood ideology.

Dear Anon.

Ihad to look up the difference between right wing and left wing before replying.I form my ideas before looking at politics views. I am pretty sure I am moreconservative (freedom of speech, pro life, and so on). I do not fit neatly intoa little box. I am from a commonwealth just above America.

Iam actually just raising awareness of a rape problem in society that many are ignoranton. I mean just a few weeks ago three women from my family sat me down to talk (twoaunts and my mother). It was made even worse when my aunt told me her son (mychild cousin) had been sexually assaulted. I found out each one of them wassexually assaulted in their lives while I was so naïve about rape in the world.I had always thought “that could never happen here in this safe city of Canada.I would expect maybe in the crime capitals of the world just not in our friendlyneighborhoods”.

Itdid happen so I asked “Did you tell the authorities?”. My aunt told me she was inher early teens she had told the authorities everything. In return they madeher talk about her experiences in front of her rapist only to let him go free.It turns out they decided there was not enough evidence because she was so traumatizedto be interviewed in front of her rapist she could not keep a consistenttimeline. It left her feeling alone with no one to plead her case because heronly parent was a drunken mother.

Ithen asked “Did you tell the authorities about your son?”. I was hoping for amore rewarding end to this tragedy. I heard that his bus driver had beensexually assaulting him because he was the last child off of the school bus. Iwas told the most they did was make the bus driver drive a different route.

Isthis justice?

Iwant to say I have been reading the bible a lot learning a lot about God. Ifound out one of the things he holds most dear to his heart is “justice”.I see him mention the importance of justice in the nations so many times.

Jeremiah9:23-24 Thus says the Lord: “Let not the wise man boast in his wisdom, let notthe mighty man boast in his might, let not the rich man boast in his riches, butlet him who boasts boast in this, that he understands and knows me, that I amthe Lord who practices steadfast love, justice,and righteousness in the earth. For in these things I delight, declares theLord.”

Jeremiah 22:3-5 Thussays the Lord: Do justice andrighteousness, and deliver from the hand of the oppressor him who has beenrobbed. And do no wrong or violence to the resident alien, the fatherless, andthe widow, nor shed innocent blood in this place. For if you will indeed obeythis word, then there shall enter the gates of this house kings who sit on thethrone of David, riding in chariots and on horses, they and their servants andtheir people. But if you will not obey these words, I swear by myself, declaresthe Lord, that this house shall become a desolation.

Goddoes not even want us to stop anyone from seeking out justice for the weakestvictims without a voice (especially for the widows and orphans).

Isaiah10:1-2 Woe to those who decree iniquitous decrees, and the writers who keepwriting oppression to turn aside theneedy from justice and to rob the poor of my people of their right thatwidows may be their spoil, and that they may make the fatherless their prey!

God even goes asfar as to say it is his will that we visit and plead for the afflicted victimsin their time of need. I have been convicted by these verses making me want tovisit an orphanage or elderly home to volunteer some time for the members ofsociety with the smallest voices. I am astounded by the lengths gone to makethis a point! I mean this just seems important to God.

James 1:27 Religionthat is pure and undefiled before God the Father is this: to visit orphans and widows in their affliction, and to keeponeself unstained from the world.

Deuteronomy 27:19“‘Cursed be anyone who perverts the justicedue to the sojourner, the fatherless, and the widow.’ And all the peopleshall say, ‘Amen.’

Isaiah 1:17 Learn to do good; seek justice, correctoppression; bring justice to the fatherless, plead the widow’s cause.

What about “victimmentality”? Translation “just get over it and keep it hush hush because thefaster you get over it the faster you heal!”. I am not sure why anyone wouldever dare bring this up to a real victim who is owed justice. I mean everyoneheals at different rates so I just want to validate their pain because they wereliterally a victim. It would make more sense to want to execute justice as soonas possible so they can heal as soon as possible. I know a lack of justice canbe a real rock block stunting one’s recovery to healing. I would recommendanyone wanting to heal to find comfort in Jehova Rappha.

Ido think there is a “victim mentality” problem just not with real victims. Isee it when someone shouts “cultural appropriation” when someone wears an elegantdress from another culture. I see it when someone shouts “blue lives do notmatter” when someone distrusts the police. I see it when people say “people arenot using my gender pronoun” when someone is transitioning genders. I see itwhen colleges are introducing mandatory “cry closets”. It is childish that thisgeneration must be so coddled they need to cry wolf at the tiniest discomfort.

Ithas even lead to obstruction of justice. I to my own surprise learned that someonewho was physically assaulted to the point the judge even declaring the assaulter guilty did not receive their due justice. It turns out the assaillant was let go without a penalty. It was because in the hearing the victim “did not use the right gender pronoun” of the assaulter.

What about the idea that “men in general are sexual predators”? Jordan Peterson describesthe nuance of the problem that slight inclinations have on a population in hislectures. I have understood that sometimes rare extreme cases can just be even more extreme from that slight tilt giving an appearance of a big lopsided difference. I recognize men may have more opportunities if they already havethe predator mindset as they often have more physical strength. It may be thereason some people are confused just by the way it appears on the extreme ends.I will just point out that I do not believe most men are sexual predators. Iwill announce it here right as clear as day “I do not believe most men aresexual predators!”. I think most men and women are appalled by rape and would be appalledto learn just how much their family members have been sexually assaulted by aman or woman. I would be just as appalled to hear women had sexually assaultedmy family members. I do not care which gender did it only which individual hadthe audacity to rape another human being.

At the end of theday we get to look forward to the justice that comes from the coming new earth reignof Jesus Christ.

Jeremiah 23:5 Behold,the days are coming, declares the Lord, when I will raise up for David arighteous Branch, and he shall reign as king and deal wisely, and shall executejustice and righteousness in the land.

#orphan #widow #orphans #widows

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viralhottopics · 7 years

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After 5 Years Of Relying On Medication, I Can Finally Sleep

Its been a long time since Ive written anything. And while my intentions were to blog every fortnight, this post has been extremely tough to write. For once I found it quite difficult to articulate my feelings and experiences, because of the personal nature of what I’m about to tell you.

A few weeks ago, I found myself chatting to one of my new friends, who is also an amazing business coach and mentor. He asked me how things were going aside from business, how are you feeling, just in general?. I thought about it and said, did you know, this is the first time in five years that Ive been able to sleep without taking a pill?

Insomnia has been affecting my ability to sleep properly since late 2010. It was kicked off by a freak hockey ball to the head incident, which then transpired into mental health problems (thanks, brain). Around 1 in 3 people have or have had some degree of insomnia in their lives. For an unlucky few (like me) insomnia is/was chronic. If youre one of them and are reading this, know that its okay, there IS a way out.

Back in 2010 I got a wild smack to the forehead from a fast flying hockey ball, I was briefly knocked out and I opened my eyes not even realizing what had happened, but bizarrely, I was laughing! It wasnt until I felt the huge lump on my head that it suddenly hit me (hah, pun intended). Soon after this, I had developed intense trouble sleeping and experienced extreme headaches and photophobia.

In my traditional headstrong fashion I refused to go to the doctor, that was a bad decision. Months later things seemed to be getting worse in my head space. After seeing a bunch of specialists and getting an MRI and all that, it was concluded that I had Post Concussion Syndrome (a minor form of traumatic brain injury).

Because of this, my health took a drastic downward spiral. I was lethargic, had constant headaches, was depressed, irritated, and slightly delusional. The doctors prescribed me dozens of painkillers to cope. I was studying a BMA at the time, and working so I could afford to live out of home and life spun out of my control. The brain does crazy things when it experiences trauma, and for a long long time I was not myself.

I was enrolled in a national head injury study. They interviewed me about the events and my experiences, then they interviewed some of my friends and family. Every six months my reaction time and short-term memory were tested, as well as my mood and general quality of life. It took almost two years for me to get back to normal. I dont know why it was such a long time, perhaps some people are more susceptible to these kinds of things. A lot of people in my family battle with mental illnesses. But even when I was feeling better, I still had to rely on medication to sleep.

Luckily for me, my doctors had refused to give me traditional sleeping pills such as Zopiclone, because of their addictive qualities. That was fine by me, I never intended to be stuck taking pills before bed. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldnt survive without them. At first it was Amitriptyline, a drug in high doses used to treat depression, but I was on it for headaches and as a muscle relaxant.

Sometime after I finished my degree in late 2012, I changed doctors due to not having access to the medical center on campus. My new doctor tried to wean me off taking the medication, I was all in. But it just didnt work. I went back to him after slowly reducing my intake at his guidance and tried a few months without anything. In mid-2013 I had more responsibility with my job which added some stress, and without any pills before bed I was getting between 1 and 5 hours sleep a night. I got sick a lot, gained a lot of weight, my mood was unstable, and I was quickly becoming very unhappy.

So I went back to my doctor, I was attempting to tell him that I still havent been able to sleep but I sat there crying in his office because I was just so exhausted and frustrated. I just wanted sleep. He recommended putting me through a sleep study and to see a sleep therapist, but this wasnt subsidized and I wasnt financially able to pay for such expensive tests (startup wages, am I right?). So, I opted for the easier just for now option. We tried something new, Quetiapine, an antipsychotic drug which in high doses is used to treat people who are bipolar or schizophrenic. I didnt get a large dose, only small enough to help me sleep. But even then I woke up every morning with a drug hangover and it took me hours every day before I could feel completely awake.

I lived like this for a long time, always having to take a pill before bed. Sometimes that didnt even work. I vividly remember how I felt after a huge hike over NZs Tongariro Crossing and then the 2-hour drive home. I was so tired, so exhausted after that I could hardly eat. I was thinking surely, surely I am this tired I must be able to sleep. But then as soon as my head hit the pillow my mind became awake, overactive and as much as I tried, I couldnt settle it down. A few hours later I begrudgingly got up and gulped down that damn pill, desperate for the relief of sleep.

This is when I started researching sleeping techniques. Over the past year and a half I have tried everything; yoga, meditation, walks in the evening, less coffee, less sugar, evening protein, writing down to-do lists and thoughts in a journal beside my bed, sleep tea, calm tea, chamomile tea, peppermint tea, Chinese herbs, sleep drops, lavender under my pillow, hops under my pillow, sleep apps with meditation, hypnosis, screen dimmers, installing Flux on my computer, melatonin, no screens (mobile, TV, Computer) two hours before bed, non-fictional reading before bed, homeopathy just everything.

Sometimes it would help, Id feel sleepy, try to drift off, then all of a sudden my mind would wake, even though Id be so so physically tired. I didnt know it was possible to feel so exhausted and awake at the same time. So I would carry on using my little pills to sleep and feeling hungover in the morning. I hated it, I never truly felt awake in all that time. And if I ever went somewhere and forgot my pills Id always get restless nights with little or no sleep.

A lot of time went past, living like this. After deciding to leave Hamilton to travel, I ended up in Perth, Australia. By the time I got here my little box of magic sleeping pills from New Zealand had run out. I attempted fate once more and tried to cold turkey my way to sleep. It really wasnt working out for me. The smallest noise, a single thought, any slight disturbance would set me off and my mind would begin racing once more. No matter what I did, I just couldnt sleep. There is nothing worse or more hopeless than the feeling of wanting and needing sleep so badly but you just cant get there and you realize your own mind is the only barrier to falling asleep. I remember thinking, how hopeless am I that I cant even perform the simple human function of sleeping?.

The one good thing that came out of these few weeks was my deep inner search for a reason. I didnt feel like my head injury was the cause of not being able to sleep, it just seemed like some sort of instigator. Im not going to share the details, but what I realized was that I had become afraid of sleep, and everything else was just an excuse.

I ended up seeing a wonderful doctor here who prescribed me some medication to sleep again and referred me to a counselor who specialized in sleep therapy. I gladly took the medication and debated whether I was ready for a counselor. I wanted to overcome my insomnia on my own (I had only just started acknowledging that this is really what I had), but sometimes you cant do everything on your own, sometimes you need to accept that you need a bit of a helping hand. And this is what I did.

The first session with my counselor was amazing. She knew what had happened without me having to say much, she said it and I sat there and cried. I cried as years of pent up emotion and holding back just escaped from me and it was so relieving. Her theory was I had developed an unconscious fear of sleeping because I lose control over myself and have to give in to the environment around me. I didnt feel . Of course, I knew logically that I was safe, but there was a deep fear within me that I had never let go of, a blocked memory; trauma. It had nothing to do with my head injury, that was a catalyst, as well as some other events that happened between then and now.

And so started my road to recovery. I went to the counselor once a fortnight. We didnt just talk about sleeping, we talked about a lot and it was really nice. I finally found an app that helped ease me into the sleeping mind-frame, Pzizz. Every morning within half an hour of waking up I get at least an hour of exercise outside. If not, I try to sit in the sun for 20 minutes or be active in some other way. I dont drink coffee after 3pm and limit myself to two a day (on bad days). I dont have much processed sugar, I write to-do lists every day in my diary so I dont lie in bed and think about everything I have to remember to do tomorrow. My bedroom has become an area for sleep every time I watch something on my laptop in bed it affects the amount and quality of sleep I get, so Ive stopped doing that.

Routines are also very important I do the same thing before bed every night. I also try to stick to the same hours, but Im still learning to sleep so I havent been using an alarm, just trying to slowly get back into the right rhythm. Right now I usually fall asleep between 12am, wake up at about 6, then go back to sleep until 9 or 10. Its not the pattern I love, and I still have many days where some nights are better than others, but Im getting there, Im improving and Im not giving up.

My mood has become better, my skin clearer, Im no longer getting sick every few weeks and my focus levels are at an all-time high. I still have a lot of work to do, but for the first time in over four years I can sleep without medication, and it feels so damn good.