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#Persistent Pain
wheelie-butch · 1 year
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Chronic Pain and Chest Binding Poll
Okay after making this post and seeing a few responses there (and also this ask) I would like to know more about if other people who have developed chronic pain have also had to change how they chest bind.
This isn't something I've seen discussed much but there is a big overlap between the disabled and trans/GNC communities so I think it's worth talking about.
Designing polls is hard so I think I'm going to make a separate one for how chronic pain affects if people wear a bra at some point.
This poll is for people who have chronic pain and chest bind (with any means) or have done so in the past. If you've had top surgery please answer how it was before your surgery. If you're comforable to, please add more info about your experiences in the notes because I think it could be useful to others :)
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jhsharman · 2 years
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I have a theory that Archie Comics had this page in storage, to be pulled out when the time came that they needed to fill a page. Because this is from Betty number 98, published in the year 2001. And, granted, the relationship has to trends is one beat behind The New York Times calling up Sub Pop for "Grunge slang terms" -- but they did get to it with the trend and lobbed up a smattering of references to "grunge", at the tail end and then a tad beyond its hipness and usefulness in terminology, from 1993 to 1995. And I gather things got moving in Betty number 6 when the… opposite of hip but can get compelling… writer Bob Bolling wrote (synopsis from comics.org):
At the "Persistent Pain" concert, Betty and Veronica compete for the title of "Miss Alternative Girl".
That was 1993. And somehow gets whatever it is you can call "alternative rock" 180 degree off. (Or maybe just 120 -- "Persistent Pain" is an amusing enough send-up, though it would tend to suggest maybe a Nine Inch Nails?).
And I am thinking that the editor, Victor Gorelick, just did not care enough to look at it closely. Because old fogey he may be, he probably would have known to nix the word. Though, I imagine the editors would then float "should we go with goth?". (Still a tad early to be near the customary end for " emo".)
It is worth pointing out, checking comics.org, all but one story in this comic book sees reprinting. The one story not republished? Archie meets none other than Phil Spector. Something which would not have been easy down the line -- unless he was called in for jury duty or managed a prison meeting.
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majormeilani · 1 year
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something about foreshadowing being more prominent the second time around reading a story but in a way that the meaning is changed forever and you can never view a story the same as you once did before. do you know what i mean.
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zonaphysicaltherapy · 2 months
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Chronic pain is a pervasive issue among adults, especially those in their 40s. It’s a problem that goes beyond mere discomfort, often affecting various aspects of an individual’s life, from physical function to emotional well-being. This blog aims to shed light on the nature of chronic pain and provide practical advice on how adults in their 40s can manage this condition.
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staceyfeitz · 4 months
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My Story of living with autism and a lifetime of abuse Part 1
I was born in 1966 to an unwed, working mother. Up until I was 4-1/2 years old I remember life being happy. You see when your young, Autistic, have ADD or ADHD or, stick out in some way that is not what society calls normal you are a draw for predators, bullys, and the just plain evil people of all ages. And when someone is abused, bullied, and/or, traumatized it doesn’t end when they get out of…
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ky-landfill · 3 months
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miku-meeku · 3 months
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haha so i went out on vacay last week and now im finally going home haha
look what i drew on the bathroom stall
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anws i tripped at one point while walking (cuz my dumbass didnt see the steps) and sprained my ankle and my back also hurts in the process
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its at times like this where the love of my life would appear like in a shoujo manga and say
"YOUR ANKLE HURTETH, I WILL CARRY YOU, MY LOVE"
and ill be like
"KYAA, OH MY PRINCE CHARMING!!!"
oh well such is the way of life
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sidereon-spaceace · 4 months
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torn between wanting to make all my ocs Specialest Little Guys and overpowered VS. the fact I just finished watching all three extended editions of Lord of the Rings and am deeply moved by the struggles and worth of the common man
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arctic-hands · 2 months
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I love food. Would love to be able to actually tolerate eating it one day
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osddid-i-do-that · 1 month
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Alright. I’m curious …
Choose your option and if you can, explain a bit in the notes what your understanding is/why you chose a certain option.
I’ll explain why I’m asking this once the poll is over. I don’t wanna affect results.
FULLY understand == someone explains to you what their symptoms are like, and you feel like you have a good understanding of why the person is behaving/doing/not doing/reacting the way they are. Basically: do you think you “get it”.
* Mentally ill folks without physical chronic illness: I am genuinely curious how your experience informs your worldview!
PLEASE REBLOG FOR LARGER SAMPLE SIZE!!!! ILY!!! 🤟💖
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wheelie-butch · 1 year
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does anyone else with chronic pain find that with the constant background of pain their tolerance for wearing a binder has gone way down?
I used to be able to all day without issue but as my chronic pain has worsened I find it gets painful a lot more quickly, the same with sports bras or bralettes. At first I thought it was the extra effort of using the wheelchair but I experience it even just at home without my chair :/ anyway I've never seen it talked about but that is the main reason I don't bind or wear a bra anymore
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smoov-criminal · 1 year
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if u have to put on a brave face and go to work while in unimaginable pain or having other serious symptoms i love u. we deserve to make $300 an hour fr
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pinkrose05 · 16 days
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In love with the fact that 1) her pose matches Harmony Stelle, and 2) the sword grip is the same as Ren.
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youngchronicpain · 14 days
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hello painsomnia my old friend...
😵‍💫
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jar-of-maise · 8 months
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She takes his hands gently, cradling them in a manner that made Lyney unsure of how to respond. Those hands could never lie. They shook with an awful tremble, like the last flutter of a dying butterfly's wings.
“I’m sorry for loving you,” she says softly, her eyes filled with unshed tears. 
That was the burden of the unsaid, you never once thought that nightmares could be dreams too, until they were there in front of you.
Dread settles in Lyney's chest, it drops like a heavy stone into a still pond, sliding in without resistance. It sinks to the bottom of his chest where it's weight aches with a dull pain, “Don’t say that," he clears his throat awkwardly, "please, don’t say that.”
She stares back at him, unseen dread haunting her dull eyes, “What?”
Lyney swallows thickly, his breath shuddering in his chest, rattling like fragile marbles in a glass container, “don’t say things like that,” he whispers.
She drops his hands, where they hang like dead weights. She searches his eyes for something she can't find, for something she won't find. It was like the sun, desperately trying to reach the moon, yet finding only it's reflection in the burning daylight, “Things like what?”
She does not want to know the answer to that question. But a burning sensation compells her to ask. Perhaps, with a single word, an entire tragedy could be rewritten.
Looking at Lyney now, she knows that the feeling is mutual. That is an awful realisation to come to, she turns her head away to avoid looking in the mirror.
Lyney, the other half of her, the mirror that she never needed to look in. Lyney, who was the only one who could attune to her soul. Her Lyney who had never been lost for words like he was now, who'd never fumbled or been uncertain.
"Things like what?" She cries, when met with silence. Her hands twitch uncontrollably, and then she's lunging forwards her hands reaching out like desperate claws which latch onto Lyney's shoulders.
These hands of hers were gentle, they were kind. So now, seized by grief as they were, her fingers could not quite grasp the hatred that she wanted them to.
They were strangers to force yet they exerted a violence that was comparable to a monster, "tell me!" It's not a scream, by the time the words drag out of her mouth, it's a mangled, broken tangle of words.
"It's not fair, it's not fair," she says hoarsely, "why do you- you can't-You don't get to do this to me!" She yells, and it's a sound that wretches at Lyney's heart.
"Answer me! What things?! What things shouldn't I say?" Her hands were not made for violence, they were crafted with love in mind. But they tightened on Lyney's shoulders, trembling all throughout.
“Things,” Lyney finally chokes, blinded with tears, “that make it sound like loving me was a mistake,” his hands reach up clumsily, with none of the dexterity or reflex they usually moved with.
She was silent, tears streamed down her face in long, ugly rivers. They fractured her face and drew shadows across her face that did not belong there.  
“It’s not a mistake. This wasn't a mistake,” Lyney whispers desperately, not trusting his voice, yet continuing treacherously.
This is a one way path, a lonely dark road with no return tickets, “you loved Lyney, just plain Lyney. You would never lie," he pauses as his voice wavers, "you didn’t take me by accident, you chose me…didn’t you?” 
“I don’t know,” she admits, lowering her head, she had never admitted defeat. Giving up was not an option, yet she could not conquer this mountain. The shadow of its height, and sheer slopes rendered the fire in her heart cold and frigid.
“I don’t know you. Do I really love Lyney? Who was I in love with?” She asks herself, there is no reply.
This is another question that she doesn't want to know the answer to. But perhaps there is no answer, she's left grasping for strings that have already been broken. The gray cannot be defined, nor described, and in the face of such uncertainty, she doesn't know what to do.
Neither does the magician standing before her. His face is the image of forced apathy, like a puppet with no strings.
"Lyney..." Regret, and immutable yearning surge into her chest, where they mix together like a tapestry woven wrong. The strings are tangled, and the only remaining option is to cut the fabric entirely.
"Perhaps the greatest tragedy of it all is, the more I talk to you, the less I know of you..."
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mxwhore · 1 year
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The artist has burned his art hand
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(No new art till hand is better)
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