#and my years of therapy. but therapy can only help to an extent it cant change the chemicals in my brain or my sleep

[sysmedsaresexist]

Hi! I,, have a question with some specific context that could, potentially, spark some conversation.

I’d say its relatively important to the context to note that I’m also a dx DID system, but im an anon, so take of that what u will.

When our system’s body was around 11-12, our system’s host “created” an alter. Basically like the host had an active role in creating him as opposed to, idk, a regular split or something. What we do know is that this headmate/alter of dubious origin, has fronted in traumatic times and took role as primary protector for years until our current primary protector was reintroduced to the host through therapy. It was also how the host established communication internally with “the actual” system so early, before we knew we were a system.

My only question here is would that be considered “endogenic” origins for a headmate? By all means, we are DID system, and only split based on traumas and survival, but *literally* only this headmate/alter has caused internal conflict for the system, but especially the host who created him (and is still around).

The host originally believed that, when we were first diagnosed, there was absolutely no way that we could have DID because of the active creation of that singular alter, which our psychologist acknowledged, but pointed out otherwise, thru a slew of, like, legitimate reasons (its 12am and we leave for a trip soon, my wording isn’t great, but for some reason, I just cant *not* write this ask).

I, unnamed alter in the system, am wondering if active creation in an alter is possible? I guess in general? It was entirely a form of survival for ourselves at the time to make the alter/headmate of dubious origin, he was what the system needed at that time, but we wonder what terminology we would use for him, or what he would be considered, community wise ig. To be blunt, its almost a validation thing in a way.

Our system is anti-endo. We dont believe systems can form from anything other than trauma in formative years, but the active creation thing seems??? Not a normal experience and maybe, like, invalidating to our existence??? We have alters from before he existed, but he was like our ground zero in communication. The alter that helped “bridge the gap”. The host loves him, and he loves the host. They were attached at the hip until the diagnosis because his existence felt inherently invalidating BUT thats not the point and more venting

TLDR ;

The host actively made a dude in our head who ended up being a main factor in our survival at the time but because the host *actively made* the dude, as opposed to “normal splitting”, does that make him inherently “endogenic”?

Hi, that's normal! And anyone who says otherwise can fight me. Thank you for sending this, it's really not talked about enough.

CDD systems can and do "create" alters, though it's typically not quite that simple once you get into the subconscious.

Firstly, once the development of the sense of self is interrupted in childhood, you've already completed the step that "tulpamancers" are trying to learn. Personally, I don't believe it's possible to dissociate to that extent once the sense of self is developed (I think they're already highly prone to dissociative tendencies, take from that what you will), but CDD systems are already ten steps into the process and it's not out of the realm of possibility (and in fact, it's highly reported) that CDD systems frequently create alters in a number of different ways, including processes similar to willing and creating alters into existence. People with DID already dissociate really good, it's not shocking that we would be able to will a new member into existence with enough thought and pressure. We're just not thinking of it as something similar to endogenic or created alters until it's pointed out, or we understand that there's something deeper at play.

But that's active creation, and now we get into:

"If there's a need, the brain will supply."

This is more based on the personal interpretation of alters in the process of becoming aware, but can be applied to brand new alters.

One general interpretation is based in denial and a feeling of a lack of control, and is similar to active creation.

It's extremely easy to convince yourself that you did this, purposefully and with intent. That you chose systemhood and that you chose to create this alter. CDDs are caused by factors entirely outside of our control, and people will look for, and find, a sense of control in any way possible.

Including telling yourself that you're doing something consciously, even when you're not (loosely based on the same idea as this).

Which came first, the fragment or the need? Was there already a fragment floating around that you helped to pick a name and appearance, and that contained traits that you needed, whether you consciously knew you needed those traits in your system or not? Or did you realize you needed those things, and a fragment came forward to pick up the role?

It doesn't help that alters can be created from overwhelming situations (not just traumatic situations), and the brain is notoriously bad at letting you know when you're stressed and overwhelmed. Not only that, but alters can take years to make themselves known, making it impossible to pinpoint their creation (unless they know, but they usually don't).

So did you really pick that name? That trait? Or was it already there?

The second interpretation is simply misinterpretation.

I have an alter that took a liking to an OC and became that. Again, which came first, the character or the alter? Does it matter? Was I writing based on an alter that already existed but that I couldn't communicate with? Or did a fragment take a liking to the character and traits? Did I look at those traits and think, "I could really use that right now," and my brain agreed? It would be very easy to misinterpret the entire situation to mean that I created this alter, either by complete accident or purposefully, consciously or unconsciously. Where do we draw the line at "created" alters? Does it need to be active creation? Or creation after the fact based on ideas that you liked and wanted? Did you know you wanted them?

--

Mod Quill here to mention something: I also have "created" parts. Again, incredibly normal in CDDs. I also have friends with DID who have parts that "came from God" or "walked in" -- and out of all of those parts, they are all traumagenic, because that's how they choose to see themselves.

The fact that the alter is created doesn't make him endogenic, because based on your description, he's still forming due to the trauma that you've experienced. Now, if you want to call him endogenic, because of the creation process, I don't think anyone's going to stop you -- but you shouldn't ever feel the need to label your alters in that way. You are a DID system, simply put, and regardless of the individual causes of splits, you formed from trauma. You should only be labeling the individual splits if you find that helpful for your recovery.

This alter's creation doesn't invalidate your diagnosis, your trauma, or your system in any single way. It's incredibly common, and I fear that syscourse has made it seem like it has to be an endo thing, when it isn't in the slightest.

------

Thank you to Quill for bringing this back to the most important point. Don't let anyone dictate how you define your system and alters. So long as you're happy and healthy, who cares. That's literally the only thing that matters.

I want to make it very clear that it's not just alter creation that confuses systems, but alters seemingly not connected to trauma at all appearing suddenly or randomly, alters that wake up and immediately go back into dormancy (walk in/out), etc. These are all things that can appear to be endogenic, or mixed origin, but if the basis of your system, the reason you have a system in the first place, is trauma, then everything ties back to that, in the end, and in one way or another.

How you personally interpret your experiences and members, and the labels you use, are uniquely yours.

#Mod Quill #Mod Dude #syscourse #pro syscourse conversation #sysconversation

[definitelynotshouting]

WAHOO im back part 3 :))) i reread the chapter

-☀️

"“Not like that, that’s for sure,” Grian says, and it bites, singing through the air with cruel finality. He can’t stop the way each syllable sharpens as he speaks. “So when I tell you I’m dying, maybe you should believe me.”"

- he's happy that when they are hurt by what he does/says at least he has control over this time. He's still keeping secrets. It's not until later that grian loses the upper hand he has keeping the way Watchers work a secret. Right now the others don't know what options they have, meaning that Grian can let himself die and there's nothing they can do about it. It's self destructive but he's smug about that, in a 'hahah im going to do this thing and theres nothing you can do about it' kind of way except the 'thing' is dying. He needs sooo much therapy

-☀️

"Despite everything, the day Grian was kicked from Hermitcraft, Scar had still watched him like someone he knew. Now, he stares at Grian as if he’s never seen him before."

- Before, Scar knew they didnt have all the pieces to the puzzle. He knew Grian creating the game wasnt as simple as it seemed, he knew there was something greater at play. Later, he says "that's just not your style...I never believed you would. Not even for a second". Now that all the cards are on the table, Scar can't comprehend how there was so much he missed. He knew that just before mcc and before the games Grian gets tired. He didnt know why. Theres so much Grian kept from everyone, and Scar slowly piecing it together only to realise just how much pressure has been on Grian's shoulders, how much emotional weight he must be carrying. I can only imagine how much of this Scar reads on Grian's face in this moment

-☀️

"Scar’s voice takes on an awed note— as if the simple act of slipping past Grian's defenses for the missing puzzle pieces changes anything between them. Soft as drifting snow, he whispers, “And that's why you won't let us help.”"

- blows you up with mind

- It does change something!! Scar now understands- to some extent at least- WHY grian is acting the way he is. GRIAN doesnt think this changes anything. The fact that people know his motives doesnt mean they know how to stop his code from unraveling, after all. Ohoho. Grian you underestimate the hermits. Do you really not understand how insane they are!! Scar and the others are ready to do whatever they need to to stabilise grian's code and make it so Grian is able to properly live alongside all of them, SAFELY. Without fear. But Grian is so convinced he's unloveable that he cant see this

-☀️

"At any other point, his palms would be a warm, grounding weight, laced with familiar lines and calluses; now, all Grian can focus on is the inexorable tilt of his entire world's axis as it falls apart."

- this line genuinely had me throwing my phone onto my bed and putting my head in my hands.

- There is no more running. No more hiding. Grian has spent his entire time as a Watcher-disguised-as-a-player pretending and hiding the truth of his existence. But now everything is out. Everything that grian has spent years hiding because of self-hatred and disgust, thinking he is a monster beyond help or love; there is not much left for him to hide. His world is falling apart, theres no way to recover his life before, the one he oh so carefully cultivated on Hermitcraft. That life is gone.

-☀️

Aldjnskajan. I hope this makes some sense 😭 i still have another section of quotes that i copied, but ill do those tomorrow (my time) because i am sleepy :)

AAAAA I WASNT ABLE TO GET TO THIS YESTERDAY ANON BUT WAAUGHHHHHH /POS THIS IS SOOOOOO

IM SENDING YOU BEAMS THIS IS SO SWEET AND VALIDATING TYSM YOU ARE AMAZING AND I HOPE YOU ARE HAVING AN EXCELLENT DAY

#shouting speaks #asks #hunger au #compliments #SORRY IM INCOHERENT RN I BARELY WOKE UP AND IVE BEEN EXTRA SLEEBY TODAY #BUT YOU ARE WELCOME IN MY INBOX ANY TIME U ARE TRULY SO FUCKING SWEET THANK U OMGGG #long post #txt

[mrfoox]

I'm sorry for being so Mentally Ill ™ on here, but I really have no where else to fully went all my thoughts

#miranda talking shit #negative #I try to keep my venting in my tags mainly .. Bc then people only read if they want to i guess ? #Either way yeah... I know im not really fun and a happy person to see ): #Things are hard ... Ive felt theyve been hard since i was pre-school age but now its almost unbearable hard... #Im trying to not give up and do my best and.... Be conscious i guess ... But the minimum is so hard for me now #And i wish i could just go to therapy uwu and be good uwu #But... Mental health care is filled to the max here and unless you can afford spending 1000+ euro on private health care .. #Youre going to be in line for years. I havent had anything more advanced than a therapist since i was 19 #And i only got to meet that lady to get my asd/add diagnose.... And though therapists are good... They cant help me to the extent i need #My last one is great and so kind but she said she cant help me with all the deeper emotional issues #And its like .. I know. Its a shitty situation but there are many 1000s only in my city in the same seat #I just worry ill eventually snap and just end myself before im even close in line to see anyone (': #Bc being a burden is the worst i know and in an deppressive episode ... I am more likely to isolate myself than seek help #I mean i have tried it once. .. I really cannot say i wont ever again. I know i wont in the near future unless something major suddenly hit #And its like... 'oh if its anything call the emergency mental health line (:' and its... Uh i mean i have once but all they can really do #Is talk to me until ive calmed down. Mental health care is really just everyone being prescribed medication and many need more than that #Im so upset over this... I know my country isnt alone. Im not angry at the people working at the health care. Im upset with my government #Not putting more funding in the area despite mental health problems have been on the rise for many years. Stats say younger people get #Mental health problems earlier nowadays and i wish i could say thats suprising but god... Not many in my generation i know #Which dont have some mental health problems. Its just the ones that can adjust well enough to ... Live/work and the ones that cant... But m #Many of them... Have Baggage ™. I know everyone have their problems but uh... #Are we an broken generation ? Idk but we sure are bent...

[jerijinder-blog]

Ketogenic Diet! To loose wieght

I have lost 35 pounds in 26 days. It's only by using produnct that my doctor recommend me.

Despite continuous advances in the medical world, obesity continues to remain a major worldwide health hazard with adult mortality as high as 2.8 million per year.

The majority of chronic diseases like diabetes, hypertension, and heart disease are largely related to obesity which is usually a product of an unhealthy lifestyle and poor dietary habits. Appropriately tailored diet regimens for weight reduction can help manage the obesity epidemic to some extent. One diet regimen that has proven to be very effective for rapid weight loss is a very-low-carbohydrate and high-fat ketogenic diet. This activity reviews the evaluation and considerations for the ketogenic diet and discusses the role of the interprofessional team in educating patients on the risks and benefits of this diet.

It is really important to choose a right product. Because when we try cheap products we cant get result as per we want also it may contain side effects too. So i hired many doctors and many therapies but i couldn't get through it

Finally i reached to the right product yes!

Ping me for it....

#loose weight #lowcarb #lose stomach weight #lose belly fat #how to loose weight fast

[phoneybeatlemania-bit-the-dust]

Number 2 on the angst/fluff prompt list

2. “I’m worried about you.”

CW: Disordered eating

Scotland, sometime in the 70’s

“Hiya, love.” Paul said as he entered the kitchen. He’d just come back from the shops, grabbing a few groceries; he enjoyed the simple tasks such as shopping and even, to some extent, cleaning, because it balanced out well with the chaos of navigating celebrity life.

“Hiya.” John returned, scarcely looking up from his book, of which he read sitting at their kitchen table. As Paul walked past him, he stopped in his tracks to plant his hands around his partners shoulders, hugging him, and giving him a tender kiss on his temple. John in return cupped Pauls hands with his own, giving them an affectionate squeeze. They had built a small life for themselves in recent years - it was nice.

After setting his bags of shopping down on their kitchen table, Paul motioned towards the TV that sat in the corner of their kitchen. He switched it on, not so much to watch it, more so just for the ambient sound. Some sort of cricket game was on, neither of them cared.

“Anything happen whilst I was out?” Paul asked casually.

“Not much. Cyn’ rang - she wants to know if we can take Jules for the week next week, cause he’ll be on half term, y’know-like.”

Unloading the bags, Paul replied, “Course we

can; he can stay here anytime!”

“Yeah, well, thats what I told her.”

Opening the cupboards and noticing little, perhaps even none, of the food had been touched, Paul muttered softly, “Have you eaten today?”

Not batting an eye from his book, John responded, “Not yet - no.”

“Oh.” He hoped that this didn’t mean what he thought it meant, and so he insisted, “Well ill make you something.”

“‘M fine Paul…” he grumbled back disdainfully.

“But you didn’t eat much for breakfast either; ye must be starving-“

“‘M fine, alright,” He growled with a little more intent. “just let me be, will ye?”

“I only want you to eat, love; I worry about you when ye don’t.”

“Ill eat later.” John replied coldly.

“But thats still not a lot; ye have to eat more then one meal, y’know.”

“I am Paul - just drop it, alright?” And with that, he closed his book, and abandoned Paul in the kitchen.

After a few minutes of contemplation, Paul followed John over to where he was sat at the sofa, placing himself down beside John. John payed him little attention, still staring intently, at the television, and so Paul took the others hands into his own, and stated bluntly, “John, im worried about you.”

“Paul…” he groaned, but Paul wouldn’t allow him to dismiss him like that, and so he interjected. 
“No, listen, im worried yer stressing about yer weight again; and I dont want you to do this to yourself again.”

“Im fine, Paul.”

But he ignored Johns protests, continuing, “Are ye stressing about that TV interview yer doin’ in a few days time? Cause we can cancel it if you are - id rather cancel it then have you hurtin’ yerself over it.”

“Don’t worry about it Paul - ill be fine.”

“I want you to be happy though, not fine.”

“Paul. ‘M okay, im just not hungry today, alright?”

“Alright…” Paul whined defeatedly, realising he was not going to get through to John at this hour. “But you know ill love you regardless of how you look. You know that right?”

“Yeah, I know that.” John said acceptingly, but he didn’t sound convinced.

He never knew what to do with John when he would get like this: self-conscious, and insecure about his weight. John would never really talk to him about it, other then the occasional comment when he was a little tipsy - but even then, John would change the subject before Paul had the chance to enquire too deeply into what he was saying.

But he could see the ways his other half would look at himself in the mirror, and he see the glances he’d give his food when he felt he’d eaten too much that day. He wished he could help, but he didn’t understand. He made sure to shower John with love and affection, always reminding him of how handsome he still thought he was - even in their old(-ish) age - and some would even say he coddled and cared for John too much! But still, it appeared to make little difference to Johns confidence.

Later that night, as Paul was on the phone to George, and John was in the shower, he complained, “D’you know, I just dunno what to do with him when he gets like this.”

Sternly, George said in response, “Ive told ye before Paul, ye coddle him too much. Ye gotta face the facts - you cant help him, he needs sort of therapy-like.”

“I know, I know. But he’s convinced he’s fine - he thinks he’s mellowed out, y’know, with old age.”

“Old age? Yer only in yer thirties. ‘Sides, he hasn’t ‘mellowed out’, the problems still there, he’s just a little less…” he struggled to find a kind word to describe him, eventually he came across, “y’know, a little less emotional. Little less enraged-like.”

“Yeah, I suppose yer right. I guess ill talk to him about it tonight - but I don’t think he’ll go for it.”

“Give it a go, he’ll come around sometime.”

“Yeah…” Paul sighed. “Listen, ill let ye go now - give you a ring sometime tomorrow. Give my love to Olivia, will ye?”

“Yeah, alright. Bye.”

“Bye.”

***

Sometimes a girls gotta write herself a comfort ED fic instead of actually dealing with her FUCKING problems

#mclennon #fanfic #my work #asks #domestic

[leafy-wings]

glory for the ask meme?

good morning!

for this ask meme

Sexuality Headcanon: lesbiab Gender Headcanon: nonbinery.. demigirl maybe. “girl maybe but fruity” A ship I have with said character: i postulated this before tentatively but; glory x snowfall? ehh? i really want to write a fic of them hanging out, where glory introduces snowfall to the idea of suntime, mirroring the scene in hidden kingdom where its like “the first lesson is to sleep. you need it” yknow! glory understands snowfalls queen trauma so well, glorys young too and while her legacy is success she only became queen to save her tribe in the face of a horrific prophecy. i would love to see a more slowburn for snowfall realizing nightwings are pretty ok and glory could help, sympathizing with the things that they did while under pressure while still forgiving/not forgiving them. like i think glorys the best character for making the point of; what happened to you was wrong, bad, and unnecessary, it was done with malicious intent, but those that did it thought it necessary, were not doing it for fun, and no longer have the need to do it. the intersection between.. justice, revenge, and healing vs sympathizing and understanding the grief those against you might be going through and understanding that since theyre not going away you need to come to terms with them. ofc their situations are different but i think a nice parallel and different enough to make a point. id love to see them argue about how the monarchy is bad or maybe have snowfall consider lax rainwing protocol for icewing society as well as the games to become queen so she doesnt have to kill or be killed. i also kinda maybe ship snowfall x hazel so maybe all 3 of them are there. i like it A BROTP I have with said character: i want glory and peril to be friends.. i wanna write a short character study fic about them and how they viewed their time under scarlet. i think of all people glory would understand needing to be weaponized to keep oneself safe, and i like the idea of peril more apprehensive to approach glory because of her emotions. she feels more feelings than peril does who only ever really feels angry or excited. OH YEAH i really wanted to write a fic where they have a lil therapy session because sunny insists upon it, but its only the two of them to see if they can socialize, where glorys supposed to drop her mask scales because hiding her emotions isnt healthy while peril has to try and pin down her feelings while they talk because she needs to learn social cues and other dragons feelings and what better way than with a dragon who shows their feelings so clearly? i just want them to talk about the fallout of the prophecy in a very frank and understanding way. plus i like tsunami and glory, i feel like perhaps tsunami was not nice enough to glory while under the mountain while still wanting to defend them, tsunamis shtick is trying to protect her friends while glorys shtick is trying to protect herself and a few save dragons around her. id love to see the both of them try and get the other to have more wide reaching empathy for others as well as. argue the ethics of being queens gfhjgfd A NOTP I have with said character: glory and deathbringer i fucking hate deathbringer. aside from the age (and yes actually id be uncomfortable with an 18 year old dating a 30+ year old too yeah thank you) deathbringer is just too immature and giddy and non serious. i know the conceit is supposed to be, just like thorn/smolder, that its a character who is serious and haughty as a defense mechanism getting their walls broken down by someone who pushes them into having fun where theyre actually also fun and mischievious and joking on the inside, but like. this is NOT the time. hes annoying and aggravating and i dont see the charming aspect when i know that glory is young and traumatized and in the midst of basically the worst event of her life and deathbringer is basically the first dragon whos nice to her SPECIFICALLY to flirt with her. and i cant believe that deathbringer knew WELL That the rainwings were being kidnapped and tortured TO DEATH and didnt do basically anything to warn her. he is a NIGHTWING adult during the time in which they are enslaving her tribe so i can safely side with snowfall on this one and say Fuck Nightwings Until They Repent. A random headcanon: glory definitely makes wide reforms to rain/night society in regards to being more progressive and welcoming. making more accessible houses for houseless rainwings, getting rainwings to actually raise children, getting schools and places for therapy, just overseeing all the business of the rain/night kingdom to have it be more “normal”. not that she wants them to act like other tribes because thats “normal”, no, of course not, she loves her tribe(s) including with all their strangeness and proclivity for nature, but.. sometimes legislature is there for a reason so you dont get unfair treatment, and glory only seeks to see her tribe treated fairly General Opinion over said character: i like glory! shes one of my favorites; i sympathize with her a lot in being traumatized and unsure of how to deal with it. the part at the start of the book where she ruminates about kind of missing being with scarlet hit me so hard... i understand how it is when youre traumatized so thoroughly and basically alone though you have friends AROUND you, that you become a bit “selfish” because you just want to see yourself safe, and then the ensuing protectiveness you feel over people like you. i like that she cares about justice, which is not always kind and given through nice words. i do wish her trauma about being almost MURDERED by her guardians as well as abused ALL HER FUCKING LIFE was grappled with more (and yes im one of the anti sunnys who think she was a real bitch for demanding that glory forgive the dragons who TAUGHT HER SHE WAS WORTHLESS. if sunny feels bad for the guardians who didnt abuse her to the extent that they did glory than thats HER issue, and she has no place pushing the decision to forgive them onto glory, when iirc webs never even fucking feels bad). she also gets a hard case of “turns into nothing when its not her POV” and so fucking aggravatingly is that her given personality trait is “i love my boyfriend who is 2x my age”. her aggression, sense of justice, wittiness and haughtiness are scrubbed clean and replaced with little romantic quips with some guy i hate. she has so much left to her character and so much insight to offer in a lot of what happens in the book but, no, shes just set aside.. id also love to see what shes actually doing as queen

[zuzuslastbraincell]

Give me a character and I will answer: Azula

here we go

why I like them

absolute queen and absolute loser at the same time. the intimidating, confident #girlking persona she projects is extremely compelling to watch, the lines she makes e.g. "you were never really a player" are just so cutting, she's clearly having fun trouncing everyone and seeing the gaang struggle against that is a good challenge, she's just good *fun* as a screen presence and just immensely entertaining to watch. she's also just extremely fucking funny. like as much as I felt the writers over-leant into '14 year old girl is the most terrifying creature on the planet' as humour, to the extent that Ursa and Iroh end up saying some very fucked-up lines (which the series compensates for by taking seriously and exploring the consequences for Azula's psyche in S3), I do think the joke *is* genuinely pretty funny. Seeing Azula make grown men, soliders, leading officials, just panic and lose it is *funny* on some level cause she's just a 14 year old kid. Like she's a very good second season villain that ups the stakes.

but like, she's more than who she pretends to be, they give her a lot of depth in s3, you really very much see that at the core of it she's a dsyfunctional 14 year old who has been abused by her father, trapped in a toxic competition with her brother for the crown, and taught that weakness of any kind is utterly unacceptable. The show doesn't ask you to forgive her for who terribly she's treated others but it does present her as worthy of sympathy, as someone complex, made who she was by the conditions of her upbringing.

she's absolutely terrible but she's tremendous fun and you really do feel for her.

why i don't

she was just utterly awful to zuko, ty lee, and mai. she does just manipulate people. she is just unapologetically pro-fire nation and never questions that or has the chance to question it. But arguably these are things, weirdly, that I also like about her because she's just such a compelling example of a deeply flawed character - flaws make characters interesting. (really do wish she'd give zuko a break though.)

favourite episode

I thought about this for a moment but it's the beach. of course it's the beach. the volleyball scene. the petty jealousy. her inability to flirt. 'that's a sharp outfit chan'. the whole campfire scene from 'here we go again' to 'my mother thought i was a monster'. Finally burning chan's house down? Like ugh. Really showed Azula both at her most fun, her funniest, and her most vulnerable at the same time. Really made it clear how she's really lacking social skills from how she's been brought up as a little soldier - like it's made interacting with peers as equals just impossible for her and she really *struggles* outside of the hypercpmpetitive environment that her father brought her up to dominate.

favourite season

don't ask me this. I love s2 hyper-competant azula and s3 disaster azula equally.

favourite line

'Isn't it obvious? I'm about to celebrate becoming an only child!' always fucking cracks me up but it's like HOW dramatic can you be, and the ruthlessness here I think indicates some kind of desperation really. southern raiders azula is a really interesting azula imo (as we have discussed a lot recently)

favourite outfit

oh definitely the earth kingdom outfit in crossroads of destiny. she looks great in green!

OTP

azula/therapy azula/meaningful amends and redemption azula/working through her shit in order to become a better-adjusted adult

but azula/katara is good in an AU where it’s less messy and there’s less intergenerational trauma. 

brotp

azula & any kind of genuine parental affection PLEASE can iroh or ursa step up thanks or just ANYONE please adopt this child

but also i am very fond as sokka & azula as pai sho rivals in their early 20s who snipe at each other but eventually over time become almost-friends, and i like toph & azula having chaotic life-changing adventures together

a headcanon

azula is equally as knowledgeable about the theatre as zuko, she just hides her interest. I think artistically she's also quite skilled - though it's downplayed. I can see her being a great singer (in the same way zuko is apparently a good musician) or potentially very good with inks, as it requires a great degree of precision. post-redemption i imagine though she lets her work become more messy, more abstract, less precise. she sings off tune. she joins an amateur players group and lets herself be a hammy actor. she learns to dance and isnt perfect at it first try. I can see the arts as being really fundamental to her recovery quite honestly.

unpopular opinion

honestly don’t think i have any, unless 'an abused 14 year old child soldier is NOT irredeemable' still counts as unpopular. I think opinion has softened towards azula over time though and i think more people nowadays recognise she needs help & can better herself with the right support network.

I suppose what could be counted as unpopular is that, while azula may love zuko 'deep down', the olive branch she offers him in s2/s3 to return home is also a self-interested move that puts the harsh light of scrutiny on him and ensures he'll be blamed if the avatar is rediscovered (see their convo in s3e1), and zuko is well within his rights to reject and want better than azula's 'love' when it is clearly also a self-interested and manipulative ploy. Love isn’t and shouldn't be manipulative and it's tragic that Azula can't open herself enough to build something based on trust and instead has to manipulate the people she cares for in position.

OH wait - actual unpopular opinion 'do the tides command the ship?' never landed as a line for me, the whole time i was just thinking about how ignorant she appeared to be of like, how boats work... how the sea works..., and her confidence just came off as arrogant stupidity. azula you cant argue with the dudes they’ll just wreck your boat dude.

a wish

wrote a post about this which I'll link but azula joining the ember island players is really my favourite recovery arc for her:

read here

oh I would also just azula, as part of her recovery-redemption process, to just go full anarchist on us, i’d really love to see a dramatic political shift in a moment of “fine! i’ll be everything my dad doesn’t want to be!” spiralling that ends up with her genuinely adopting that position.

an oh-god-please-don't-ever-happen

become the fire lord. azula needs a life outside of politics. she clearly cares for her country on some level and wants to do it right but there are other ways to fulfil that need. imo she needs to give up the crown, because, as with zuko (who travelled as a refugee in the earth kingdom and grew because of it), the elevated sense of superiority she has due to being royal prevents her from extending her sense of compassion, prevents her from seeing the cost that imperialism and monarchy has caused, she needs a new perspective, and that will require stepping away from the crown. like becoming the fire lord would create more distance rather than reduce it and she very much sees becoming the fire lord as a continuity of old practices - in contrast to zuko who breaks from them.

five words to describe her

precise, deadly, hard-working, theatrical, and dearly in need of a hug from her mother

#azula #long post #wrote this on my phone excuse spelling #there's some personal resonance r.e. azula too about being a golden child and sibling rivalry #but id rather not go too deep into that in public tbh

[grxceblqckthxrn]

hi @chocolatecarstairs came up with these post-CHOG questions and i really want to answer them because im sad that im finished reading it :((

MAJOR SPOILERS BELOW

what was your favorite part, 1 or 2?

Honestly I loved both parts, but I’d say I loved part two just a little bit more for the time that James wasn’t under the curse anymore and LOVED Cordelia

which scene in the book was your favorite?

EVERY scene that had Matthew and James being wholesome parabatai in it!!! my favourite chapter in this book was Blue Ruin, the one after Grace takes the bracelet back from James  (aside from the whispering room ofc).

what scene (or scenes) made you cry the most?

ok ngl i didnt spend much of this book crying, but the only scene that actually made me tear up was when james was dying and matthew could feel it and jesse (WHO I FUCKING LOVED MORE THAN I THOUGHT I WOULD) gave him his last breath :(((((

what scenes were unsatisfactory?

there were not enough Christopher scenes (but to be fair, even if the entire book was just Christopher it still wouldnt be enough for me)

but fr, i cant think of any off the top of my head but i’ll edit this if i do later

what made you laugh the most?

matthew!! james!! thomas!! christopher!! also some of the things Jesse said

what bored you?

this wasn’t boring, but the whole charles/alastair plot line didn’t have me very invested. I did love the alastair/ cordelia scenes tho, so it was just charles that was the problem

also no offense to james bc he was my first actual fictional crush after reading TMH/NBS but like whenever he talked about being in grace i would literally zone out lol the bracelet curse makes him so boring but whenever he isnt in the curse/ is with someone who is NOT grace i just!! love him!!

what disappointed you?

cassie honestly had me kinda shipping matthew/cordelia for a solid FIVE SECONDS there when he stepped in to dance with her after james left her standing there, but that was one of the only scenes that made me feel like they had natural chemistry (along with the scene where he drops her off at her house). I felt like the during the rest of their interactions in the book, cordelia was kind of uncomfortable, which made me really sad because even tho she has every right to feel that way, i felt bad for matthew. I kind of want him to fall for someone else completely and for it to be reciprocated. also, i just really want for matthew and cordelia to become good friends because i feel like they could have such great natural chemistry if matthew didnt love her.

what is the top thing you wish had been done differently?

see above.

what things did you predict that came true?

JAMES BURNING DOWN BLACKTHORN MANOR I FUCKING SAID HE WOULD DO IT TWO FUCKING YEARS AGO IF YALL WANT ME TO LINK THE THEORY LMK

what are some things that were really unexpected?

ok there’s quite a few things here so bear w me babes:

- James genuinely loving cordelia from the start. I wasn’t expecting him to naturally feel nothing for grace at all, so i was expecting a slow burn jordelia, but finding out that he actually loves her makes me so happy but the end where cordelia thinks he was just pretending breaks my heart :(((

-matthew liking cordelia lol definitely was not expecting another parabatai love triangle but i hope it doesnt last. i do think it adds to the plot and i love it, it just hurts to see matthew so emo :(((

-I was expecting to like cordelia as a character, but i ended up LOVING her so fucking much???? she’s so three dimensional to me, and it’s interesting to see how her personality adapts around different characters as people adapt around different social circles irl

-liking jesse as much as i did

-ok so james’ entire character was a surprise to me. it’s so fascinating to see how the bracelet actually affected his personality.If you recall him in The Midnight Heir from TBC. he’s like an entirely different person. i still loved him in TMH but i went into CHOG thinking that if he was gonna be like that the entire time i’d probably get over him really quickly. i was pleasantly surprised by how much i ended up loving him even more tho

-i didn’t expect oliver hayward to die and im going to stay emo about it

- Christopher is so much more clear headed than he was made out to be prior?? like there were so many scenes where he was fully there and when he defended anna to alastair i just kfdsnfkld i love him

are there characters that you didn’t like before that you like now?

yikes umm... Alastair, maybe? he’s somewhat okay to me now, I dont dislike him as much as I used to. ooh and Hypatia Vex. the only scene i remember liking her in QOAAD was when she helped out kit, ty and dru (me, going a whole TSC post without somehow mentioning kit? not possible)

are there characters that you liked before that you don’t like now?

I started CHOG ready to give Grace the benefit of the doubt, and I was surprised by how timid and shy she seemed at the start, but it was interesting to see how it was all an act and how she doesn’t have an actual personality yet. one could argue that she actually does love james, but i doubt it at this point. i dont hate her yet, even tho she IS fucking up james’ life, but she’s on thin fucking ice.

who was your favorite new character?

does new character mean completely new or just never been in a novella new? because for the first, it would be Cordelia (i LOVE her sm!!) and other wise it would be james, matthew and co. also!!! jesse!!

what places in the book would you like to visit?

that hell dimension sounds pretty lit ngl

did you like the ending?

ok so. we KNOW that jordelia is gonna be endgame. cassandra clare always takes the hardest path to get there, but when has she not delivered? it’s just a matter of waiting. so, yes, i did like the ending in sense of the plot because it was a great twist, but i also feel really bad for all of them even tho ik they’re eventually gonna be together :(((

what did you think of the epilogue?

i wasnt surprised, since we alr know that Tatiana is shady asf, but i just really wanna know how she partnered up with a GREATER demon like lol wtf. again, im really happy in terms of plot with this

what are your thoughts on the engagement?

i feel so. fucking bad. for cordelia. and james too, even tho he’s under the bracelet’s curse so he doesnt even KNOW he’s being manipulated. but i love how even through the curse, james still loves cordelia in his own way.

what did you want to see that didn’t happen?

matthew getting therapy periodt

umm honestly i just want more “merry thieves” content like i just love. all of them.

what do you wish had been resolved that wasn’t?

i really want matthew to tell james or cordelia what happened because i just need him to be loved and supported lol i want to give him a hug. 

what is your favorite pairing as of now?

jordelia!!! and lucie and jesse are kind cute rn, and i like them if theyre gonna be pining after eachother but i feel like if they actually get together i wont like the relationship as much.

which characters would you like to see more of in the next book?

CHRISTOPHER CHRISTOPHER CHRISTOPHER 

ANNA!!! i lovED reading about her she’s so badass

matthew!! jesse!! also i wanna see more of those bitchy girls lol just so we can see anna or cordelia tell them to stfu

what is one character whose death you would undo if you could?

ok i know that jesse is still very much a conscious character despite being dead but like,,, i want him to be the way he was before and also i want him to come back to life

and barbara!! she seemed so sweet 

which characters got bad/unsatisfactory endings?

ummm barbara? i cant really say much on this yet bc its still only the first book and when has the first book ever ended up with anyone being happy.

oh but also can we sign a petition to make cassie let matthew actually survive the series because my heart aches just at the THOUGHT of eventually having to read a scene where he dies

which characters got what they deserved?

literally. none of them yet. :(

who should have died but didn’t?

Tatiana lol also lowkey charles but i also feel pity him to an extent 

what plotline are you most excited to see in the next book?

okay the entire jesse plot has me hooked because i LOVE his character. also i love the bracelet plot but its making me MAD because i just want james to be happy but

what is one scene that you wish hadn’t happened, but you know was unavoidable?

THE ONE WHERE GRACE PUTS THE BRACELET BACK ON JAMES. i mean obv there was no way he was completely done with grace, but i literally got so sad at that part like why HIM of all people smfh let him be happy

which pairing do you like the least?

alastair x charles, grace x james, lucie x matthew bc neither of them actually like either imo lol

what are some theories you have for chain of iron?

- not necessarily for COI but i think matthew is gonna get exiled and turned into made into a mundane

- the bracelet will break (?)

- jesse will come back to life (like actual life) at the end of the book

-grace is gonna do something to help the main characters, making it hard for us to hate her.

what characters do you think should have gotten more plot time?

lol are yall gonna hate me if i say christopher again (also anna)

anyways this was really fun!!!!! PLEASE ASK ME STUFF ABOUT MY OPINIONS AND STUFF OR JUST SAY ANYTHING ABT THE BOOK BC IM DESPERATE TO TALK TO PPL ABOUT IT

#chain of gold spoilers #chain of gold #james herondale #Cordelia Carstairs #Matthew Fairchild #lucie herondale #anna lightwood #thomas lightwood #alastair carstairs #charles fairchild #christopher lightwood #grace blackthorn #jesse blackthorn #tatiana blackthorn #the last hours #tlh #cassandra clare #the last hours spoilers #chog spoilers

[theteej]

“You need to take serious time for yourself, do self-care, or something,” my best friend Mark said to me, uncomfortably earnestly. 

“I’m serious.  You haven’t been letting anything in, and you just have to sit and stop running.  Go process, or feel, or just let it sink in that you did things and you surprisingly don’t suck.”

Fuck, he’s right.

And so that’s what I’m doing.  Last week I booked an Airbnb in La Jolla, a tony coastal enclave of San Diego near where I went to undergrad.  I pretended I was on vacation, but in a pandemic.  I booked a small studio near the water, and planned to spend these next few days reading, reflecting, walking along the ocean, and staying otherwise indoors and trying to wrestle with this whole semester.  I pulled up to the studio last night, unpacked my bags, and cried.  Like cried a lot.  I felt lonely and scared, but also so numb.  I felt a sea of blankness all around me, and a sense of trepidation.

Honestly, I don’t know what to do about all of my stupid feelings.

 

Where to start?

 

I feel like I’ve been anxious nearly my whole life.  It’s absolutely something that developed as a kid with a violent, drunken father.  You learn to live in between heartbeats like that, always testing what’s about to happen, trying to think of the next thing to plan in order to stay safe.  Sure, your brain says tauntingly.  Things are OK right now, but what if they’re not in a few minutes?  Or even worse: Things ARE terrible—what are you going to do if they stay that way forever?  These are the gifts Tyrone Tallie Sr left me, along with an unoriginal legal name and a stubborn widows peak visible whenever I grow my hair out for a few weeks.

Couple that with a natural tendency to think quickly, and you have the birth of a personality that masked my calculating self-security by turning those constant permutations into clever moments for interaction or comment.  Like many people, my wit is born of trauma; the ability to process things in quick time is born out of needing to feel safe, and frequently gets deployed to put others at ease.  That’s one of the weirder contradictory things about being me.  I am simultaneously witty and clever and in control, and I am also always quietly freaking out, or at the very least, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Which is why this has been….a damn semester.  Teaching two classes fully remotely with panicked, overwhelmed students in the shadow of an ever-worsening pandemic that stretches on and on without end and feeling daily gaslighted by the endless selfishness of your fellow citizens—what a gift for the anxious.  Ironically, anxiety helped to a certain extent because I didn’t have the shock of falling into a new world of uncertainty or fear that so many non-anxious folk did this year.  But that’s hardly a gift, is it?  Congratulations! You’re already living as if a bomb can go off at any moment, so you’re not struggling to adjust to the new horror show of life!

Teaching this semester has been…just without any context.  I’ve taught online, but not in this same planned way and with everyone panicking, and the looming threat of pandemic and election.  And yet we did it.  We pulled ourselves together, and my students were honest about their needs and their breakdowns and I tried to model humility and grace and confusion and rage as well as they did.  We didn’t fuck it up.  Or, we all fucked up, and it was okay.  We learned things. Students surprised me, and it was glorious.  I got to be broken and I didn’t die.

It was an intense semester of overworking as well.  I was on a bunch of committees, formal and informal, and we managed to get a new minor—African Studies—passed.  I’ll be heading a new program on campus next year, and that’s exciting and terrifying.  And on top of all of that, I couldn’t stop volunteering for stuff, or talking about things I cared about.  In addition to teaching, I gave fourteen different presentations or talks this semester, an increase in expectations or agreements on my part thanks to the ubiquity of zoom.  It grinds on you: the whole, get up, trudge to the back room, power up a personality for the zoom camera, and pour yourself digitally into a screen, only to feel yourself broken into little packets of light and data and scattered across the universe.

The talks went well.  The student evaluations went well.  Honestly, both were fucking great.  And I haven’t let myself feel a goddamn thing.  I let it slide off me like rain on a waxed deck, the droplets beading on the slick wood before slipping away into the darkness.  I cant let it sink in, because then something good might be happening, and the very skills that have made me capable—the whip-fast reflexes, the self-deprecating humour, the rapid analysis—are also tied to the very deep-seeded anxiety. Everything has to be calculated and understood and prepared for, because at some moment a dark curtain is going to fall over the face of a man with my same name. He will smack me so hard I will go flying out of a chair and hit the wall with a soft, sickly whump, a particularly unpleasant of me at seven that I carry sewn into every cell of my skin and fiber of my being. 

I can’t stop and let it sink in because I have internalized the worst calculus of overachiever life—push harder, don’t stop for the good, that’s normal.  Stop only for the bad to learn from it, take in its horror, and let it never happen to you again.  And so I found myself at the end of the semester holding a bag of relative joy like a party favour, looking around anxiously for bullies to come snatch it out of my hands.

And then Jeopardy fucking happened.

I got to be on television. I got to talk to Alex Trebek, the same man who held my grandmother’s hand on Classic Concentration and saw that her for the beautiful, formidable queen that she was. I got to turn silly trivia knowledge into cash—and I got to do it while being me. And to my confusion—people liked me.  It went well, they felt I resonated with something inside of them, and they liked it.

I do not, in my own skill set, have the tools to deal with that.  I am supposed to be clever and fast, and witty, and engaging and lovable—but I do not know how to actually think of receiving goodness.  I know how to process being witty and clever and delightful—I did what I was supposed to do, good job, next—but I don’t know how to actually take that positivity in.

I keep waiting for all of this to fall apart, for everyone to hate me in the reassuring ways that I distrust or marginalize or disbelieve myself.  And yet, I know that’s not helpful.  Hence, overachiever’s therapy: forcing oneself to prematurely trade on prize money and spend a three day love/relaxation retreat, less than fifteen miles from my own apartment.

I woke up and cried a little.  I then tried to mediate or at least focus on the positives of late.  Nope. Nothing came.  I decided it was time for coffee.  I drank some that I made in the Airbnb, but realized I needed to get outside for a walk.  I changed into a bright yellow caftan and an extra-dramatic face mask, and went for a walk on the streets of La Jolla, the bougie and strange bubble by the sea.

La Jolla can double in weird ways like other parts of the world I frequent.  It feels sometimes like I’m in Durban (if you’re more partial to Umhlanga Rocks or Durban North) or Wellington (if you love Mount Vic or Oriental Bay), or even Vancouver (if you feel like West Point Grey or the haughtiest parts of Kitsilano are your thing).  It’s a rich place, one that I don’t belong in, but one that I can feign a few hours of enjoyment and sun.

Today I walked down palm tree lined streets in the perfect weather, the breeze pushing through my still-short hair with a strange urgency.  I picked up a cold brew coffee and a freshly caught and grilled halibut sandwich that my therapist recommended (we decided to briefly be pescatarian for a day and chalked it up to the ‘medical advice.’), then I turned toward the coast.  I sat for a long time looking at the waves—unsurprisingly—with a bit of anxiety. 

What if I relaxed WRONG?  What if I couldn’t let myself feel joy?  What if I just wasted the day by…eating this sandwich and not fully appreciating the beautiful ocean waves, golden sun, or nature all around me.  After a while I realized that sounded ridiculous, and just forced myself to sit.

And as the old Zulu language dance song “Unamanga” by the late Patricia Majalisa started to filter to my headphones, as I stared out at the sea and the sun, something shifted.  I felt something like, I don’t know, a failure in the sealnt around myself, and some drops dripped in, slowly.  Maybe, just maybe, I didn’t have to do this in a grand gesture.  I could enjoy myself and the small joys I’d found in life so far. 

I could be grateful and quietly glad for the little things that happened.  It wasn’t about deserving it, or about it being worthy of me.  I could imagine for right now, that this was a thing that I could have.  I could sit and marvel that some great shit happened to me, and it was OK.  Let’s not get it twisted—I didn’t have an epiphany, there were no turnbacks on the road to Emmaus.  But I did find a little quietude in my soul for a second and stopped frantically Teflon-ing my heart from joy for a second.

I survived a hell semester, and did well. I got a wonderful opportunity and it went well.  I could just let hat happen and also not ignore that it happened, to focus on negatives in an outsized way.  I could, in this single afternoon moment, be delighted that things had gone okay.  And not worry or strategize about the next disaster, which would happen on its own anyway.  And…that’s all I can do right now.

Also, I’m going to work on this more, this whole letting people love me and letting it sink in.  I usually avoid it because I feel like it keeps me off my game from the inevitable disaster to follow.  But that’s not how I want to live.  I’m going to try to think about what it means that some of you all tell me you love me, and then to show it.  I need to reconcile the nonstop whirligig of my mind also turns menacingly in on itself so often, and that acknowledging the gift of calculated wit and mirth also means I have to cultivate love and joy.

So tomorrow, I’m going to go for a brief run, I’m going to drink some lovely coffee, and I’m going to walk along the ocean again.  (And then I’m going to keep staying in this Airbnb so I don’t catch or spread this plague.)

 

What a fucking semester, y’all.

[quaranbabes]

i have been listening to this song nonstop after the wayhaught proposal episode... and i know i still have a bit of time but honestly it is making me so excited about one day marrying amanda. i tagged the singer on twitter and asked if she would sing this for our first dance (mostly as a joke/shitpost) but she said yes and that has me absolutely dying!!

it’s weird because i feel so young and naive but at the same time, it’s our three year anniversary in a few weeks (SPEAKING OF, IDK WHAT TO GET HER, ANY SUGGESTIONS WOULD BE GREAT) and living with her has been the best thing that’s ever happened to me. i am channeling my inner teenage schoolgirl daydreaming and imagining what the wedding is going to look like and how you guys will all look as maids of honor / groomsmen (without the groom?). i’ve thought a lot about how i dont want only bridesmaids-- some of the most important people in my life are men and i want them to be involved in the wedding to the “bridesmaid” extent. that whole concept of the bride only having her female friends and the groom only having male friends is so fucking dated and weird???? like, if you are important in my life, i want you to be part of the wedding ceremony- why should gender determine that. (side note, i think you all would look so fucking hot if our wedding colors were like, either dark green, or maroon, or something sort of darker/better for fall)

anyway, that’s a bit off the point. i initially wanted to write this post to talk about the therapy i started. it’s teletherapy so it’s a bit hard to communicate without the nonverbal cues and everything (but also that might be for the best because every time she acknowledges that something i express is difficult or traumatizing i start to cry!). but i really like my therapist. her name is laurel and it makes me think of tina from the l word. she’s been great so far. we’ve talked a lot about how to distance myself from my parents and she’s been very helpful and practical with her suggestions. she’s helped me realize that i tend to catastrophize things and that i procrastinate mostly due to anxiety about not knowing where or how to start. so for example, instead of transferring all my money from my mom and i’s shared account to one of my own (and thus, arousing suspicion from my mom), she recommended opening a new account without telling her, and once i get a part time job in the area, setting up direct deposit for that. she even suggested starting a joint account with amanda if i felt that i could trust her to that extent, or if amanda is uninterested, at least having her come along with me to do it. that way if worst comes to worst and my mom does take all my money, at least i have something decent to fall back on.

also, just being an Adult, she was able to answer some basic questions about the process that i had been irrationally nervous about. this also goes for health insurance-- i’ve been so worried that if my dad found out about my sexuality he would remove me from the insurance plan. laurel actually told me that’s not even possible unless there’s a very specific reason (i.e. getting married and switching over to your spouse’s insurance). and that eliminates SO MUCH WORRY because if i dont have health insurance i cant complete my grad program because you need it to do clinical rotations. 

i just really think i need to get better at thinking in smaller steps in order to avoid anticipatory anxiety and in just two sessions so far she’s helped me realize how i can approach doing that. and she’s definitely made me realize and better appreciate how much support amanda has given me through all this. like, yes, i always knew amanda was helping, but laurel has identified so many ways that she’s impacted my life in ways i didnt even think about. GOD I JUST FEEL SO GOOD RIGHT NOW

#tess

[pratyayasingh]

Chronic pain and family

Talking about our problems is at greatest addiction. Break the habit. Talk about your joys…. famous quote by Rita schiano

I, personally agreed to this to some extent, but in case of chronic illness ( I read this in context to chronic pain patients articles ) I can’t agree to it. I, myself, a chronic pain patient and honestly  I simply just cant buy this idea.

Chronic illness,if explained in layman language, any kind of disease which lasts more than 3 months come under chronic illness. And,  I’m dealing with different health issues both at physical level and mental level since last 9-10 years,so according to definition i can say I’m an ancient chronic pain patient😬😀😀

Anyways, on serious note, neither definition nor any quotes can help to deal with chronic medical conditions, and its worst if one have medical conditions which are not curable,  only manageable and nail in the coffin is ,conditions in which patient “don’t look sick”….

There are various issues one has to deal with his/ her chronic condition. Obviously, we need a team of medical practitioners who are understanding, good listeners, show faith in you, motivaters and work as a team with you to manage things.

Another important part is of family members, without their support, empathy its quite difficult to cope up with chronic pains/ illness. But, except few really lucky ones, most of us struggle with extra burden of non- understanding/supporting family or in some cases family is supporting and try to help but as time passes, it’s become difficult for them to deal with it.

And this is the most difficult part for chronic pain patients, as, after some time/ years, people associated with them start getting irritated or frustrated because of this prolonged illness….. its very natural, I’ve no doubts about it, but in addition to it may be they start doubting patient’s conditions, may be its difficult for them to understand that one can be sick for so long, it’s actually difficult to understand why no therapy, medication,strategy  working on patient. So as time passes, they start getting impatient and their this behaviour intentionally or unintentionally makes the patient’s situation more tough.

Now next issue which I think all of us face at one point or another is the advice what to do, what not to, given by our near and dear one. Its  get more difficult/tricky  if he / she is your partner… obviously they won’t want any bad for you afterall they love you, they’re the ones who will be most affected by your condition so its very obvious for them that patient should do what they suggest them and things get bitter when you are blamed if you dont get relief from their advice,which obviously ,they think will definitely work because they think that way but they forget that most of the things they suggest  are the things they heard from horses mouth .According to them, you’re not listening to them or the famous line: ” ITS ALL IN YOUR HEAD”…..but like really….🤔🤔🤨🤨😏huh….

Now the question is what can be done to improve this situation?? because just keep cripping about this won’t serve any purpose.

I genuinely believe in the fact that it’s not fair to expect understanding everytime from the people around us, afterall they’re human beings too, with their own share of problems, challenges of life.

I feel few things can be done in this case: first is regular counselling of the carers/ immediate family members so they can get rid of the pressure, negativity, exhaustion of living with chronic pain patient.

Another important point is to make them understand that as a patient we need their love, care, acts of showing concern and EMPATHY and not SYMPATHY… personally its very important for me I don’t want sympathy ,like I don’t want that all the time everybody should only revolve around me but yes, I expect most of the times,  not always as its bit difficult, my family show that we know you’re struggling and you’re trying to come out of it, keep trying we’re with you….In one line, little appreciation for my efforts

Another thing ,actually the most important is to educate carer / family member about the illness like what it is, what are the symptoms, how it can affect patient not only at physical level but also at mental level , its very important to understand physchological side of chronic disease/ illness… … take an example,most  of the times just taking a shower needs energy approx. equal to energy a healthy person needs to say run 3 to 4 kms… it’s sad😔😔but its true for most of Chronic pain patients …..

People can avoid using terms in front of chronic pain patients like you’re being lazy or you have become comfortable in your present health condition, Stop talking all the time about your illness… I agree that it’s important to distract your mind, think positive, re-train your mind and so on but at the same time I understand by just distracting your mind or not talking about illness will not cure you.

So , after struggling with various chronic diseases since last 9-10 years, I come to point that with understanding of your disease, by properly educating family members and with the help of family support and under an environment of loving, caring, understanding and empathetic attitudes of carers, a chronic pain patient if not cured but atleast will be able to manage his medical conditions. Enough for now…..pratyaya

#chronic #pain #help #awareness #family #support #love #empathy

#chronic pain #help #awareness #family #support #love live #empathy

[animal246]

I'm soooooo pissed and frustrated! I had a phone appointment with my   physician assistant because I had called complaining about my pain not   being in control by the butran's patches. Well basically she said go   back on baclofen and we have exhausted all the options. I have tried 2   different types of medical marijuana course i could try the 3rd kind but  i dont like the way it makes me feel. Also its way expensive and doesnt  come in a form i can take at all. then she said go to a different  pain clinic but i have already been to 6 in multiple cities! all they  do is say muscle relaxers even tho i have tried almost every type of  muscle relaxer none of them work for long if at all and the pain isnt  caused by a muscle issue its nerve and bone! then they say shots but  that ALWAYS makes the pain worse seriously i have landed in the ER  multiple times after having at least dozen shots in my neck and shoulder  and back. Then they say physical therapy which again makes pain worse! then  they say i need to get off painkillers im too young for them or we have  a program that will get you off the painkillers and then we will treat  you pain but they only offer treatments i have already tried multiple  times with multiple doctors in multiple clinics it doesnt work for me! I  am a very complicated case I was born complicated i frustrate every doctor i have met one even yelled at me and mom just because i wanted help. then she said maybe a pain therapist but  what can they do? last 2 pain therapists I went to pissed me off were no help and  very invalidating one even tried to get me to sign a contract saying i  wouldnt see any other therapist and that made me uncomfortable so she  said if I dont sign it she cant treat me and ended the appointment even  tho I just got there. the other guy just gave me a seriously bad  vibe/feeling. He proceeded to indirectly say im lazy I admit I am but not to the extent he said it to be  and I use my pain  as an excuse to not do things. I WOULD DO THINGS IF I COULD! So yea my  PA has no idea what to do the MTM pharmacist has no idea what to do and   all the pain doctors have no idea what to except the shots, PT, muscle   relaxers and some say pain therapist. NONE OF THESE WORK FOR ME!!!!!!!!!  I am seriously about to lose my mind..... I just feel hopeless as if I  wasnt  depressed enough....... I just feel like curling up in a ball and  crying..... I don't even have the ability to cry anymore! well I do but  it hasn't happen in like 6+ months and before that it had been over a  year. I used to cry over the littlest thing now i go numb instead.

#real chronic pain patient #chronic pain #shoot me #depressed #pain #painkillers #no options left #no hope #wanna die now #slightly suicidal

[boy-porridge-vent]

september 10 2019

god i cant take it anymore Im so tired of everything

having traumatic memories flow back through my head every fucking night??? Im fucking tired of it. I cant sleep anymore because either I go to bed crying & miserable, or I get no sleep/a couple hours each night so I dont have enough time to dream. Recently, every time Ive had a dream, it’s involved my ex & how she treated me. Every fucking night. I literally can’t sleep without crying & freaking out/self harming because I get scared of what repressed memory is going to reemerge in my dreams this time

Ive tried to block so many things, it’s been years, but every night for nearly 2 weeks anytime I sleep I dream of her, her calling me names, the things she would say to me, when she would get physical, her sexual assault against me. I can’t fucking do it anymore

Im so exhausted, Ive only gotten about a total of 8 hours total over the past 3 nights because either I cant sleep from being scared, or because I force myself to stay up.

she’s fucking ruined me, she abused me, I was used, yet all these years later, Im the one that continues to suffer from the thoughts and words she forced forever into my mind, while she got away completely scot free with no consequences, so she still continues to harm and manipulate people to this day because she got away with it when it came to me.

I feel like it’s all my fault and I should be the one trying to stop her, but I have no control, Im legally not allowed to have any contact with her. Im seen as the bad guy. Why? Because I reached out for help one too many times and the school thought it was annoying & clingy. They thought I was obsessive over her.

It’s not obsession. It’s called fucking trauma. It’s called being emotionally unstable because of abuse that I was never able to properly heal from. I was forced to move on quick and pretend it never happened so I could move on with my life, and in that period of my life I had no time to properly think over everything and heal, I had nobody to professionally talk to. Ive been denied therapy by the school and by my parents because they think therapists are ridiculous, that I don’t need one.

Im sorry, but I genuinely do think Im going to end up killing myself in the next 2 years, maybe even within a year if shit keeps spiraling downward like it has been. I need help. Im not trying to self diagnose here, but it almost feels like I have ptsd or something because I cant stop thinking about what she did.

Im not obsessed, I would know if I was. I dont think about her as in I miss her/want her back; no, not at all, I wish she wasn’t around anymore. I think of her everyday, multiple times a day, cry over her every night & stay up wide awake in fear because of her almost every night because of what she did to me. This is every fucking day. Every fucking night. I can’t get her out of my head. The same horrible experiences & verbal blows come back to me every day, and I can’t make it stop. Once it pops into my head, it’s there for hours, and it weighs me down severely.

I want to get better. Im tired of relapsing into my eating disorder over and over. I relapsed into it while I was dating her because of how miserable and emotionally strained I was, I relapsed after we broke up, and I relapsed again a few weeks ago ever since the memories & nightmares started flooding into my mind much at a greater extent than ever before. 

Im tired of relapsing into cutting. I started cutting only 8 months into our relationship because I had nobody to talk to, nothing was getting better, I felt helpless. I relapsed over and over the next couple years, it became an addiction, and now it’s becoming almost deadly. I relapsed in August when these memories started to pop up again and now everytime I get an urge when she comes into my mind, I go deeper and deeper. Im so tired of all this. 

I want to remember what she did to me so I can grow from the experience & help others who may go through similar situations since I have a large understanding of these types of abusive people;

but I also want to erase all memories I have of her. Everything. Even hearing her name or hearing certain words makes me think of specific situations in time & makes me have to leave class or put in earbuds to drown out any noise to try and distract myself. She’s ruined me, and it hurts even more knowing that she’s still doing this shit to other people, and getting away with it. She gets away with it because I’ve been told by my school that I need to keep my mouth shut & never talk about her. If someone is her friend or she talks to people, I have to stay away and just let it go. Meaning she could have another victim right now, someone exactly like me, who’s vulnerable & overly trusting, thinking she’ll be a good friend, and they’ll end up being hurt, insulted, used, treated like absolute fucking shit and they may start to self harm or contemplate suicide because of how negatively it effected them, just like it’s effected me. And that. Fucking. Horrifies me.

Knowing someone else could be in my exact position because of her is one of my worst fears. I dont steal her friends, but rather they usually come to me after a few months. Why do they come to me? Because they see her true side & are smart enough to get away while they still can, because she’s told everyone she could about how she thinks Im the bad guy because I came out about my abuse, so logically when they see her true abusive nature, they come to me to see if I really am what she’s described me as, or if it was all just lies, just like her supposed goodie-two shoes mask was all a lie to cover up her true deceiving manipulative personality.

I can only look forward to the day when she leaves this town and has nothing left, or the day when finally the consequences finally come around and ruin everything she has, so she feels the torture and suffering Ive silently been going through for 5 fucking years. Im not religious, but I pray God have the tiniest bit of mercy left on her fucking soul when her time comes around, because she’s going to need a miracle to get into any kind of heaven with the things she’s done to the dozens of people she hurt.

[spacephant0m]

cw for personal talk about religion/spirituality and trying to find myself. Srry for typos

I’m in my room on the verge of tears and switching between crying and having a blank stare, watching brendon’s livestream on my ipad while i type this. I’m trying to study witchcraft to some extent as I’ve never really read much of anything about it before. Specifically I was reading about christian witches. Now the thing is like, i grew up as a christian. And nowadays i still believe in God definitely, but i hate christian practices. I remember reading and studying world religions in college last year and absolutely loving it and being so sad because i never experienced such practices in my own faith that actually seemed..... like, fun, and super connective. Me bawling my eyes out at church camp and being “lost” was not exactly what i originally thought it was. I was just mentally ill and didnt know it. Deep down i always knew i had a connection with God that wasnt faltering over silly shit a kid does wrong. Kid sins. Whatever the fuck. As much as i fucken prayed and asked for forgiveness, i was fine. Christianity is always a race to be closer to God and its like.... how close can i get when im doing the same fucking exact practices over and over.... they never really taught us about meditation and becoming one with your surroundings and idk, letting your spirit free. They kind of talked about it sometimes.

But i just hate the entire setup of church. I miss the family aspect so much. Thats all i miss. I miss bible study but really i just miss the points where we talked about life. Thats usually what we did, we would have an entire lesson setup and it would become totally derailed by our conversations. And it was real and i had a sense of community that i cant get anywhere else. I havent been able to find it anywhere else. But i also miss my personal sense of spirituality. I love that word and i love that it has so many encapsulating meanings. I dont wanna be like a white man self acclaimed guru who’s like read this book it’ll help you change your life....... i feel like those guys really appropriate culture and commercialize it. Its kinda gross. I try not to associate myself with that idea but every time i think about meditating more and shit im like “ew im gonna be a gross white guy whos all at peace w himself and lives in the mountains and shit” AND IT MAKES ME MAD. I’m having a beer right now instead of a cup of tea. Probably a mistake. Tea helps me feel better but im filling my body w shit at the moment bc thats what happens when i get this sad.

Anyways i really hate the idea of practicing a religion. I made a post before asking for sort of an advice on this, like was it okay for me to like witchy things and not actually be one. I was told yes its totally okay. And im not disrespectful of anyone and i dont make fun of any religion. I just persoaally cannot see myself involved with having an actual religion. I dont even consider myself christian so how could i ever proclaim myself as a christian witch, idk.

I dont want to label myself at all. Maybe i dont need any of this. Maybe i just need to play dnd and live vicariously thru my character. Use that shit as therapy. I hear it helps a lot with mental health and social skills. That of which i am verily lacking. I’m just hurting and im pissed off. I dont know why exactly. I just want to do meditation and i wanna buy my crystals and start doing yoga again. This year i have been stretching more. Actually i started on the first of feb. i stretch every day and do vocal exercises to help my voice get more control and deepen it a bit (transmasc).

I am also just a bit overwhelmed at everything. I dont know where to start. All i know is i want to burn incense like i used to growing up bc it always made me happy. And that i only believe in like..... cleansing through these elements and a prayer to God. But i’ve always had faith issues because im so insecure, i never think God will actually help me because maybe i dont deserve it or maybe he just doesnt want to.

I’m also scared im gonna do something wrong or fuck something up. That something bad will happen or something because im dumb. I dont know if i could mix my own herbs that feel right to me, or if i should use a recipe. I feel stupid that i dont have as much faith in prayer as i wish i did, but i have faith that little rocks will help to cleanse negative energy and things like that.

I dont know why im crying, i guess because im so insecure? Or maybe life is just rly hard and i’m overthinking everything. I just feel kinda bad. Yet when my friends tell me theyre praying for me, i do have faith in that and it means the world to me.

I know none of this is a big deal to anyone, and maybe none of it should matter. But im like. Idk. Im very interested in plants and medicines of the earth and shit like i always have been ever since i was young i thought of myself as like. Awakened and shit LOL whatever that means @ 10 year old me. I dont want to feel like anything controls me or owns me, i want to feel like i am in control of my own life and that i could harness the energy around me to not only like bring me peace of mind but to help me through my journey of life.

But i guess my biggest issue is i have no fuckin clue where to start. I hate reading and all this research im trying to do to help myself figure out what i enjoy is just. Making me so fucken overwhelmed. I only read like. 1 blog post and 2 articles and im already losing it. I always grew up w the mindset that God will take care of everything but like. He already has. In my mind. Because he’s already given us all the tools we need. But folks just like. Wanna be lazy and wait for things to happen. Sometimes all u can do is wait but when it comes to like, being THE ONES IN CONTROL, “prayers for america” is dumb as fck.

Idk i dont know anything and its okay to not know right now but i want something more in my life but i want it to be like.... totally personal and i dont want it to be absolutely everything my life revolves around. I want it to just be something i do and that i love. I dont need a label for it. But idk. I just dont know what to do.

If anyone has any sort of advice or is dealing with anything like this i’d love to hear about it. My ask and msgs are open as well. I feel pretty alone right now. Im just patiently waiting for my paycheck tomorrow so i can buy these crystals i rly want. But who knows what it will take to satisfy my hungry soul.

Another problem i rly have honestly is just like. Spending a lot of money on a lot of hobbies. I feel shitty for having so many things i enjoy doing. I try to narrow it down. I havent started embroidery bc i dont wanna spend more money and i feel like i’ll never have enough time to practice. Im just. Mediocre at a lot of things instead of rly super good at one thing. I mean i think im pretty great at drawing but thats about it. But ive been doing that for 10 years so ofc im good at it NOW. But ffs. I wanna do so many things and its overwhelming. I work a minimum wage job and its. I dont have enough money for anything lol so most of my stuff is low-budge† which is fine i guess but. Idk. Im tired. Im sad.

I dont know how to be more spiritual i dont know where to start. And my mind is telling me to slap a label on it or its not anything of value. Which is bullshit. But y’know. Anxiety n shit.

#witchcraft #witch #spirituality #religion #christian witch #meditation #blurb #finding myself #spiritual advice #religious advice #tryin not to cry again #removing labels #self help #i guess #personal #dandan speaks #idk what tags to use

[dementor1112]

my mother isn’t cancelled at least, i don’t think so

I can’t stop thinking about the first person to ever put radium into paint, imagining the years they might have spent in the lab, fiddling with chemicals, years in university and apprenticeship leading up to the culmination of a career, an invention that would become a household name, that would light up the dials on the planes that won the great war. I imagine their horror as the first stories came out, as cases went to trial and the newspapers wrote about young girls rotting from the inside out, the jaws falling out of their skulls, the realization that this was their life’s work: that all they’d built was poison. I’ve been thinking a lot about the young soldiers sent into war, kids that boarded their planes to the desert genuinely believing that they were liberating a people and precipitating a future of peace and democracy; I think about them realizing, having broken their minds and bodies for the cause, that the fruits of their labor would be chaos and terror and the disintegration of state after state, that they were means to the deaths of millions. Most of all, I’ve been thinking about my mother, about what haunts and consumes her, and the absolution that I wish I could provide but I cant.

I don’t want to talk about my childhood. I don’t want to talk about the things that made up the first decade and a half of my life, and I don’t think I need to. The details don’t matter. The story is universal, of the trauma that your family can cause you, or maybe it isn’t universal and it just feels that way. The story is about your immigrant parents, your families of color, and if not quite universal it’s something familiar enough to be immediately recognizable, for the shared dark jokes, the shared therapy-speak, the shared impossibility of reconciling all that our parents did for us with all that they did to us. But that’s not the story: the story is about being twenty four and learning how to love your family in a way that’s true to yourself.

I think there’s a journey a lot of us take: you love your family and you’re afraid of them, you love your family but you’re angry, you love your family but you slowly realize that what you had wasn’t just how things were and wasn’t normal. You love your family, but you start to slowly realize the extent to which it all affected you, the ways in which it warped you, you love your family but you discover again and again how much of the things inside your head that cause you pain, the things you do that you hate yourself for, the impulses and fears you can’t explain can all be traced back to them. You resent your family. To be able to heal, you allow yourself to be angry, to be told with clarity that it wasn’t your fault, that what you experienced was real; that your pain and trauma are is valid. You love your family, but you need distance to set and splint everything. And then you’re older and then you’re the age your parents were when they had you, and then your parents reveal themselves as broken battered adults with whom you feel a sense of kinship. You learn to love your family again, in a whole new way, or maybe you don’t. A lot of the time you don’t. I was lucky, I suppose. A lot of us never get to hear our parents own up to their mistakes or see them try to atone for their actions. I don’t want to pass up the chance at healing that offered us, for her sake and for mine.

My mother didn’t believe in psychiatry until I got diagnosed with bipolar disorder, and not for a while after. Mental illness is hereditary: she’s never seen a doctor and she’s never been diagnosed, but while I was trying to explain my illness to her I told her about what it was like to feel great crashing waves of despair that sucked the air out of my lungs, and as I detailed my thoughts she told me that hey, everyone gets those thoughts, don’t they? She was a high school dropout who married young, and remarried, and had us, and poured all of herself into us and perhaps didn’t know how. I don’t know if she had to fight the same mental horrors that I did, or if she had any help. I don’t want to justify the things she did wrong. I can’t justify them. I can’t reconcile the unambiguous way I’d feel about anyone else I’d heard did the same things to their children, and the way my own feelings toward her are all a set of storm-cloud grays. I don’t know whether it’s because we share the same blood, or whether I’d feel the same empathy for anyone else once I’d known and seen as much of their stories.

On the phone one night with swirling snow outside and the cold sinking into my bones I called my mother because I missed her and I told her things were hard. I don’t usually say this: when you’ve been living with your depression for all your life, saying “I’m alright” when someone asks you how you’re doing is a reflex. Either you really are fine, and in those moments you want to laugh at the question- obviously I’m fine, everything is great!- or you don’t want people to worry. But that night the darkness felt perched at the top of my bed, a senselessly cruel figure that felt as eternal as a god, waiting to take my hand and lead me to death. You know things are bad when you can feel him- whenever it manifests, I’ve always thought of it as a “him”, faceless but solid enough to feel the air move against my skin. The mainstream Islam my mother practices considers suicide forbidden, a route to eternal damnation. I can only see it as a very real possibility as to how my life will end. I hope it doesn’t end that way, but hoping is the best I can do. I didn’t tell her all this. All I could say was that things were hard. But our family had never talked much about our internal lives, and that’s made us good at guesswork.

There were a few seconds of silence and then she burst into sobs. She wished she could just hug me, she said, and that my illness had been such a worry since I’d first told them. She told me that she prayed every day that God would take away my pain and that I’d get better. She’d walked outside to talk to me. She was living with my grandmother- her mother, a once-indomitable woman who survived Churchill’s famine and was known to friends and neighbors as the iron lady, now trembling and frail- who had cancer that had spread through her body and settled in her lungs, a hospice worker that told herself she was a nurse. She couldn’t cry indoors because her mom would worry and she’d been putting up a cheerful front for weeks, and it left her drained. Please don’t die, she begged, please please please, whatever happens, dying like that is a mortal sin and I can’t lose you forever, I can’t lose you in this life and the next and never see you again. You can’t break my heart like that, whatever you do, whatever happens, I can’t lose my son forever.

She regrets how she treated us when we were kids. She tells me this every time we talk and she asks for forgiveness, from me and from God. She told me that she constantly fantasized about finding some kind of time machine, about going back in time and changing things, doing anything anything to spare us, that she wondered everyday if she would have been better to have given us up and entrusted us to someone else altogether. I tell her that I know what it’s like to have hurt people, and to have lived with the knowledge of having hurt people. I don’t wish that on her, and I tell her as much. I don’t want any more pain in our lives. I don’t want the destruction in our pasts continue to perpetuate itself. I don’t want her to suffer, I want her to be happy, I want her to have the life she’s dreamed of having.

When I first told my parents about my mental illness it was shortly after my first time being hospitalized. The pain that led me there was still fresh and for the first time in my life it didn’t feel like pain I deserved. It was pain I could rightfully be angry about. And I was. You know hell, from scripture?, I told them. I lived that, I couldn’t imagine anything worse, I spent days curled up in bed telling myself that hell couldn’t be worse than this, and you’re partially responsible. I wanted them to own up to it and I wanted them to take some kind of responsibility. She shut down completely. She knew she lost her temper at us but every example I brought up made her go white. I couldn’t have hurt you like that, she’d sat on the bed and repeated, I couldn’t have done that, I couldn’t have done that, I couldn’t have done that. At the time it made me angrier at her. Just take responsibility! I’d snapped at her. I just want that! Just take responsibility!

It feels clear now that she was in shock and denial, that she was processing the narrative of her life shifting suddenly under her feet. When I think about trauma that passes itself down generations, all that I feel a sense of loss and waste and destruction. My mother sacrificed so much, gave up so much of herself, all for something that ultimately turned out to have caused immeasurable damage. It’s a painful and existential loss, the feeling that your life’s work went to waste, that all you built were ruins. Every generation we dream about giving our children a life better than our own and too often we realize that all we’ve done is continue that cycle, that the result of decades of their lives was all suffering. It’s how I imagine the lives of the chemists that created radium paint after reading about the radium girls, the first scientists to synthesize thalidomide as reports of deformed babies made the newspapers. It’s why I can’t stop thinking about them. Every time I see parents in the news that had their children die as a result of their mistakes, it’s how I imagine them: haunted, fantasizing about finding some kind of time machine.

Regret doesn’t work retroactively. Nothing will ever make me whole the way I could have been. I don’t want to excuse my mother, just to understand her, and forgive her, and make my peace with her presence. I want to be kind to her and to myself. I want the cycle of pain to stop.

My mother already had three children by the time she was my age. I know that I, the person I am right now, wouldn’t be able to look after one child, let alone three. I know that for a fact. So how could I expect her to know what she was doing? If I woke up tomorrow with kids, I don’t believe that I would have caused them the same kind of harm or subjected them to the same violence, but I also know I wouldn’t have devoted myself to them, or spent as much time on them, or given up my life and my career and the things I wanted for them.

I know that, and I could choose that. Did she have the same choice? Growing up in a small conservative town in the 1990s where people were expected to start their families in their early twenties, with limited options available to her, how much of a choice did she really have? I knew so little about the world at twenty-one, the age she had me, let alone at nineteen, when my oldest sibling was born. I know so little about the world even right now. Could she really have had any idea what she was getting into? Did she find herself, one day, trapped in a reality that she didn’t really know how to cope with?

I can’t cancel my parents.

I can never figure this one out. I believe my parents deserve forgiveness for damage on a scale that I don’t think I would give similar grace to for anyone else, including myself.

Calling accountability to our changing norms “call-out culture” has always felt disingenuous to me, a way to negatively frame collective social repudiation of actions that cause harm to others. It made sense to me that it ultimately makes the world a better place. It felt clean and logical. But love is the quantum unit where the clean convictions of morality break down. When I’m this close none of it makes any sense anymore. Grace for my family isn’t consistent anymore — my family is no more human than anyone else, so how could I possibly argue that my parents are uniquely deserving of absolution?

I can never figure this one out. How can I possibly develop a consistent sense of who or what deserves redemption? Would I be able to tell myself that they deserved redemption if they’d been anyone else, if I’d only known of the things they did to someone else instead of living through it myself? Would I have described that as giving them a pass for their actions? I probably would have. Why does giving someone a pass feel right, then, when it coexists with the empathy you have for those you know and love?

Does love and loyalty blind people from dealing fairly with loved ones who deserve more censure? Or does knowing someone deeply and personally create the empathy that makes you see their remorse as suffering, that makes you weigh their remorse as pain, that makes you weigh their pain against the pain they caused others, and makes you believe they deserve to be redeemed, that they’ve earned some kind of redemption? My parents aren’t more human than anyone else. My parents aren’t unique in having rich inner lives, being full of contradictions, having consciences. My parents aren’t unique in feeling guilt or remorse for irreversible harm.

Is there a point at which empathy tells us that the pain of their remorse and their attempts at change can be considered sufficiently redeeming, that they deserve good things again? Or is it all apologism, some kind of Stockholm Syndrome where knowing and caring about someone makes you willing to give them grace that they don’t deserve? Do people earn grace? Is remorse a form of pain we should empathize with, or should we consider it just desserts, worthy of no particular sympathy? Should the empathy I feel for the real pain I can see my parents feeling as remorse translate to other humans, who have done wrong and are making an effort to change and are remorseful? Everyone I love is no more or no less human than anyone else. The same morality should apply.

I can never figure this out: is it individual? Do only I get to forgive or not forgive someone who caused me serious harm? Should the outside world forgive them because I have, or would that be giving them a pass that they don’t deserve as long as the ruins that they made of me continue to walk the earth? Do even I have any right to give them absolution when I’m not the only one they’ve hurt — they hurt my siblings too, and if I could ever forgive them for myself, can I possibly justify being an outsider and giving them that absolution? Is there even any kind of standard? I don’t know. But it feels like a very important question that may have no real answers, and being close to it, both loving the people who hurt someone and being the subject of their harm, makes it much harder and messier than the abstraction of acquaintances or public figures. I stay up nights trying to find an answer. I’ve never been able to figure it out.

In my first semester of grad school, I told her I was struggling more than I had in a while and that I was worried I wouldn’t be able to manage this, that it was hard being alone, in a new country, with nobody I knew around me, how I felt like I just wasn’t cut out for this, that I never would be. We didn’t usually talk much about our feelings but I was struggling, and I think she could hear it in the dull, stumbling monotone of my voice. And she told me about how, when my family had first moved into a new country, back when I was still a teenager, that she was convinced she’d never be able to drive, that she felt like she just wasn’t cut out for it, that people who were able to drive just had something she didn’t. Years later, my sister had a terrifying encounter on a night out, and that very day she just sat down with the book, learnt everything, and she ended up passing her driving test. She became such a confident driver that even your father was impressed, she said.

She told me that she believed that if you wanted something enough, God would put in a favor for you, that a lot of the time she felt that she had some kind of godmother looking out for her. We don’t have godmothers where we grew up so when she said this she meant a fairy godmother, like in the Disney movies she’d watched with us on repeat when we were children. She’d learnt every single word to Hercules because as a toddler I loved it so much we watched it every day. She told me later that she’d gotten sick of Hercules. She did it anyway.

Ever since she was a child, she told me, she’d always dreamed of having a house of her own, where she wouldn’t have to share a roof with her extended family. Something out of the magazines. She got to have that house when we moved to Singapore and she threw herself into it with abandon- that house was my baby, she said. She met a contractor that she became friends with in a cab, where he moonlighted as a driver, and he helped her to renovate on a budget. That was her godmother, she said. She told me that, in the years after I’d left the country for college, she’d had to move out suddenly, and that somehow, miraculously, she found a place in the same building complex that was available to move into immediately. She told me she’d been talking to my dad about selling the house- her baby!- to pay for me to go to college, before she could even move in. I got the e-mail confirming a full-ride scholarship the next week. She got to have things that felt impossible when so many times things felt like they might fall through. She believed that grad school would be the same for me: no matter how impossible it felt, God would help and I’d get there.

But even with all that she feels that her parenting ledger is indelibly in the red, and I think she needs to know she’s not irredeemable. She tells me that she prayed constantly for her quick temper to ease, to not fly off the handle, and she hopes I’m proud of how now, no matter what happens, she never gets angry. She tells me a friend cheated her out of half her savings, and she didn’t feel any anger. She hoped he’d do something good for himself with the money and she’s thankful for the life she has. She’s religious, so she believes in some form of karma: whatever happens to her is God’s will, and life is a test. Misfortune is atonement. Anger would be failing the tests of her commitment to atonement.

I hate seeing her hurting. I hate hearing the haunted feeling in her voice. At moments it feels like inflicting hurt upon others is some original sin. Like some Gabriel Garcia Marquez novel, the story of our family is predestined, and we are doomed to repeat ourselves over and over, and something tied into the fabric of our souls ensures that good intentions eventually devolve into inflicting pain. I was angry and said things that still haunt her. I don’t know if any real good that came out of my anger is worth having crystallized an existential crisis that consumes her every day. I don’t know how to live with having caused that kind of pain, and so I understand. I don’t wish that on her. I don’t wish that on either of us.

I try to comfort her. I remind her that at the end of the day, she did raise two pretty decent kids, both with college degrees. She tells me that if a measure of how well you raised your kids was how they treated the people around them, she must have done something right. I see her looking after her own mother, giving up any dreams she had to move back in to look after her, and I wanted her to know how much I admired that kind of self-sacrifice. I don’t tell her that I admire her strength in choosing to watch her mother die just to make her final months better, that I didn’t think I would have the strength to do the same. My grandmother is in her late eighties and my mother is only forty-five. I don’t want to think about it. I hope I don’t have to.

She tells me, and herself, that she thinks she did spend time playing with her kids, doing fun things with us, taking us on vacations and trying to spend time with us, and that was something. As she spoke, she kept hedging herself, telling me every other sentence that she wasn’t trying to avoid responsibility by saying this. It breaks my heart to see my words having become part of her own self-talk. In the final reckoning, she says, she doesn’t know if any of it mattered when she’d caused so much pain. I wanted to tell her that I felt her remorse and that I didn’t want punishment, that I loved her, but our family had always been so bad with emotions that I couldn’t verbally say “i love you, mom” on the phone, much as we both needed it. But healing is trying. Sometime after we hung up I texted her an I heart u emoji.

My parents moved to a bigger, wealthier country when we were children. Their parents moved from the country to the city before they were born. I’m here now, one step further, the first of our family to make the move to the west, inheriting the hope that any children I have will get to grow up in a place where they’ll have better lives than me, three generations living out our own versions of the immigrant dream, of struggles and sacrifices that our children would first take for granted then grow to understand.

When I was younger I thought that I would never have children, that I’d never risk my unresolved demons fucking up an innocent child. Now that I’m older, I’m more hopeful that the trauma we’ve had inflicted on us and in turn inflicted on others, generation after generation, would become something soft and gentle and beautiful. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to put in the amount of effort and sacrifice and myself into my children that my mother did, but I’m hopeful that my children will never feel fear, that they’ll get to make mistakes, that they’ll be at ease with me. I’m hopeful that, as I try to build a childhood for them in a family that expresses their emotions, that talks about their lives, that tell each other they love them without hesitation, hearts more open than I ever have, that I’ll learn to be those things too.

#trauma #family issues #islam #mental health

[tswatch]

I can’t put the way I feel into words anymore. It’s gotten worse. I can’t stop thinking. I cant look in the mirror without wanting to cry. I can’t talk to people without beating myself up over it or getting the urge to s/h. I can’t eat without feeling horrible about my body. I can’t think about the future without wanting to die. I can’t think about the past without crying. I feel so trapped in my own mind. I want to kill myself so I don’t have to think anymore. -abm

Hi abm!

First I would like to thank you for writing into tswatch, it can be very scary to open up to others about how you feel and what you are going through and I’d like you to know how proud I am of you for reaching out for help.

It sounds like you are feeling very trapped and isolated right now. I am very sorry that you are going through all of this. I do hope that I can offer some support. How have things been going since you wrote in? I am very sorry for the late reply.

It can be very difficult to start the path to recovery, if that is what you choose to do. I can relate to an extent (because no one can fully relate to others) the fear of looking into the mirror as well as the constant anxiety of talking to others. I personally will ruminate over even the basic conversations with someone for weeks wondering what I could have done or said to make the situation as perfect as possible.

I have found personally that when talking to others and having that anxiety of “I said something wrong”/”I did something wrong” is to be open and honest with the people you are talking to. If it’s someone you trust, or even strangers you just met - if you are comfortable with that, let them know that you have anxiety with talking. Because people are wonderful, for the most part, with validating that what you are saying and doing is great. You are okay to mess up a conversation. If you stutter, if you give the wrong information, if you mess up in any form... you are completely and totally okay to not be perfect in the way that you talk with others.

As far as self image (please excuse me if I am incorrect about it being self image that causes the feeling of crying when looking in a mirror) you have two options... the first one option I would strongly suggest you only do parallel to the second option... but that’s try to avoid mirrors... nothing and no one says you have to do things that require you to look in a mirror. Personally when I get into a bad setting I avoid mirrors until I can get myself out of the funk. I have hand sanitizer by the sink in the bathroom and during those times I just use that instead of washing hands and standing in front of a mirror... if you put on makeup, do your hair, etc... just stop doing it. You are amazing and wonderful and you don’t have to do any of that stuff to let your beauty shine. The second option, which is probably the prefered method, would be to find the root of what is causing this anxiety and to nip it.

Have you ever heard of DBT? DBT stands for Dialectical Behavioral Therapy. There’s a skillset in DBT which would be wonderful, in my opinion, for this. It’s called “Wise Mind" or “Mindfulness.” It’s where you take your Emotional Mind (the emotions you feel when you see yourself in the mirror) and you take the “Reasonable Mind’ (the rational side of what you are seeing when you see yourself in the mirror) and combining them. When you see yourself in the mirror and you feel sick/sad/upset I want you to pause. Put a halt on those thoughts and feelings. And ask yourself “is this wise mind? Is this actually what my image is to myself and others?” Observe what you are looking at. Observe the feelings you have when you see yourself.

I would like to point out that I am not a DBT therapist nor a therapist at all, and my suggestions on using DBT is based purely on me going through DBT and utilizing the skills years later. If you would like more info on DBT I’d suggest to look to see if there is a DBT group near you. It truly is a wonderful set of skills that will last a lifetime!

Hope you are doing well.

~Mads

#Mads #abm #support #tswatch #Anon