#but i lost 2020 to trauma and weed

[goblinpaladin]

So Why Did I Ghost Everyone And Abandon This Blog? And Why Did the DSMP fall apart? And how are these two things related?

This is going to get long, but it's been eating away at me for years, so I think it's time to rip the bandage off.

So, in mid 2020, I [Dave] was introduced to a guy named Clay (who stated he was at least 21) by an at-the-time mutual friend. I didn't think much of him, but he managed to worm his way into my personal life and friend group.

Cut to late 2020, Clay manipulated my partner [K] into falling for him and coerced me into agreeing to polyamorously date him (also allowing the two of them to date). During this time, Clay was telling us that he was the minecraft youtuber, Dream, and provided us with screenshots (which were quickly deleted after we confirmed we saw them), and even seeing him log into the minecraft server we shared As Dream.

At the end of 2020, following the Dream Cheating Scandal, Mr. Beast bought out the Dream Name and actually replaced Clay (so this guy and the guy who face revealed are two different people) - after which he showed up to our home basically unannounced and moved in with us, without giving us any choice.

Notice that this is also around the time that the DSMP wound down and eventually fell apart, and all of Dream's friends mysteriously quit the SMP and started their own thing. Also notice that he did post a picture of himself sampling merchandise (I think it was a hoodie?) and think: This is NOT the same person who did a face reveal. It's clear that the bodies and hands are totally different.

Also note: The voices in his old videos versus his new videos are totally different. He was using an audio filter to pitch down his voice and "disguise" it.

Within a week of him forcefully moving in with us, Clay began raping me. Despite my having told him that I was asexual and not interested in sex (which he said was fine), he barged into my room naked after I had gotten out of the shower and DEMANDED we had sex, and proceeded to threaten me until I complied. The bedroom was on a second story and he blocked the door. I had no exit and no way to defend myself.

This is how I spend the next ~ 6 months of my life. Hostage in my own home, not allowed to leave without his permission.

He was with us for about 6 months, all of which was spent threatening us with legal action, doxxing, financial crippling, emotional and physical abuse, and assault. We lost thousands of dollars trying to house him while he freeloaded off of myself and my partner - we're both disabled and my partner is actually dying from kidney failure.

He held the promise of money, housing, and even a working kidney over both our heads. It also turns out that he had freshly turned 19, and he admitted that his brother had lied on all of his paperwork to get him his license early. So I have no idea how old he really was.

He isolated both K and myself from nearly all of our friends, tried to isolate us from family, and even went as far as to bring cocaine into our house, despite asking him many times not to bring any illegal drugs in. (We literally live in a city where weed is totally legal and he had no problem stealing our weed and alcohol, so what the fuck)

After several severe psychotic breaks, we finally managed to kick Clay out - but not after months of being severely traumatized, abused and gaslit daily.

Three years later, this shit still haunts me. I will never be the same. In truth, the person who originally inhabited this body [Dave] underwent such severe psychological trauma that he/we/I developed acute DID, underwent several splits, and the original person completely vanished. I'm actually writing this as a totally different person now [Derek]. He still sends my partner and I threatening texts, his parking tickets and violations in the mail, etc.

As recently as a few weeks ago (today is 4.5.23) he was sending K harassing texts.

TLDR: I got raped and abused by Dream Minecraft after he was bought out and replaced.

Please don't harass the current Dream over this, as he has nothing to do with what Clay did.

Shit he did:

Raped me and K

Financially abused us

Stole possesssions from us

Attempted to hoard animals in our home

Brought cocaine into the house

Threatened us with physical violence and assault

Threatened us with emotional abuse

Threatened us with legal action

Threatened us with Mr. Beast and his Youtube Connections

Tried to Bribe us with youtube connections

Gaslit us

Outed a closeted trans friend to his entire friend group

Beat K with a door

Chased teenagers and threatened them

Pretended to pull a gun on people multiple times

Reckless driving and endangerment

Stole food, items, money and alcohol

Promised to help financially support us, only to financially cripple us

Held the promise of money, medical support and housing over two severely disabled people

Refused to let people sleep if he was Upset

Purposefully triggered us in order to get a reaction out of us so he could turn around and yell "abuse"

PHYSICALLY Held K hostage several times

Tried to get us to both elope with him separately

I've also since connected with quite a few of his ex-romantic partners and friends. They confirm and corroborate the fact that he exhibited the exact same behaviors with them.

Maybe one day I'll compile all the discord chats and texts and shit into a google drive and post it for the world to see, but considering now I'm basically completely physically and mentally incapacitated - today is not that day.

Reblog this, don't reblog this. Blow this up, don't blow this up.

I don't fucking care anymore - I've paid my dues for this. I just want it off of my chest and off of my mind.

If you still have me on discord, feel free to ask about it.

Otherwise, people I haven't spoken to in over a year, I'll be removing you within the week.

Best Wishes to everyone except Clay,

Derek.

#dsmp #dream smp #dream #dream minecraft #mr. beast #mcyt #dreamwastaken #dreamminecraft #dreamsmp #minecraft youtuber #minecraft #youtube #youtuber

[catchingbigfish]

🤔

🤔 - What's the inspiration behind my WIP

ohhhh thank you for asking! i kept promising to eventually make this post for So It Goes but never got around to it because i felt like it was verging on trauma dumping to do an unsolicited breakdown of this. i'm going to go into the sad stuff at the end, but it's under a cut! @indecentpause, @thelittlestspider, and @brazenlip also sent this emoji so tagging for ref!

so, first off, i read Slaughterhouse-five by Kurt Vonnegut in middle school. one of the perks of growing up in Indiana is that you're really hammered away at about how important Vonnegut is (he was an Indianapolis native) and there's even a super cool museum about him. i was blown away and absolutely loved it. it was required reading later in high school and i loved it then too but yeah, it was a huge impact on me. the reason this is relevant is because throughout the novel, whenever someone or something dies, he writes, "So it goes." just like that. and the first time i read it and came to the scene where (iirc) someone throws a paper ball and it misses the trash can, and he says, "So it goes", i burst out laughing.

this also factors into the Sad Girl Shit you'll read in a second if you're curious, but i might be the world's biggest mac miller fan. not really, but i actually was in his like top .5% of listeners in 2020 on spotify, so close. his song So It Goes factors into the sad shit, but i just love the song.

okay so i'm going to write the rest of this under the cut and specify a content warning for potentially upsetting topics related to deaths of relatives and friends!! just a heads up for anyone who's sensitive to that. i'm totally comfortable talking about this and i don't need anyone to tell me how sorry they are for me -- it's just a matter of fact now and i'm totally used to talking about it, but i feel bad when i share it with people and they get sad because of me. you don't need to!! i'm fine!! don't be sad on my account!!

alright so historically speaking i've dealt with like… a lot of death. most of it was clustered in my teens and early 20s, but without getting too far into the weeds i'll say i probably lost around 20 relatives and friends before i turned 22, and i lost my dad when i was 21. only a handful were due to illness/expected, the vast majority were accidents, overdoses, and violence related.

what really sparked SIG, though, is when a few years ago i was walking home from the bus stop after work and heard the mac miller song, then learned about a death.

before i move on, let me tell you about a friend of my sister's. i'm going to call him Isaiah, because that's why Isaiah-the-character exists -- this friend.

Isaiah was an absolute joy. sometime earlier in the year, i ran into him at his job, and it just filled me up with the warmest happiness to see him. you know those people whose existence just makes you feel a little better about the world? yeah. anyway, he was working at a starbucks and took my order and when i reached the window he gave me the goofiest smile and asked if i was who he thought, and i said yes, and he told me i should let him know it's me next time and he'll give me the family discount. it was sweet. i went home and texted my sister about it and made a joke about how i never want to find out if he did something wrong (we'd learned some dark shit about people in our lives recently) because i didn't want my memory of him tarnished.

so that day in 2019, probably close to a year after he served me coffee, i was walking home and heard the song coming from a car and felt a little uneasy (it's a sad song, considering mac miller's untimely death) and i got home and my sister called me, and yeah. Isaiah had died. he was shot, they still don't know why or by who, but despite how much death i've dealt with in my life that hit me fucking hard. it was right around the 5th anniversary of my dad's death and somehow, Isaiah's passing hit me harder than my dad's that year -- a testament to how much time had passed since my dad's death, but also a testament to how cruel i felt it was that Isaiah was gone. i told my therapist i felt like the world was a little sharper after that, like things were just slightly meaner. let me be super clear and say i wasn't Isaiah's best friend by any means; he was a close friend of my older sister, and i was often assigned to keep her out of trouble, so i was around him but not that close to him. but something about him just made the world feel a little lighter.

so, yeah! that's what happened. i came up with the idea for SIG in 2020, and it percolated over the years, and finally in nov 2022 i started writing SIG to purge all of the deaths i'd experienced and i knew from the start Isaiah's would be front and center. in the first draft, the final scene of SIG is an almost beat-by-beat remake of what happened in real life, up until marisa sees death sitting on her couch but embraces sophia instead. i needed to believe in that -- that even despite Isaiah's death, the world was still kind, and love still existed. it definitely does, by the way! like i said, i'm fine these days -- his was actually the last death i've experienced -- and i really don't need anyone to feel sad for me!

#ask game #ty for the ask and i'm sorry for the dump of super sad shit lmaoooo #wip: so it goes

[flareforthedramatics]

I normally don’t make posts like this: I prefer sticking to fandom stuff, cute anime girls, shitposts, and whatever else fancies my interest. However I wanted to call something more personal out. If this isn’t your speed either, feel free to ignore, this post is more rambly and for myself more than anything.

The pandemic definitely wasn’t kind to me, but 2021 was the year everything fell apart for me: I lost my job, I couldn’t work due to severe anxiety and depression, I couldn’t afford my apartment at the time and ended up moving back home, and I was smoking a lot of weed daily to try and cope with past traumas and said mental illnesses.

What 2021 also brought however, was the opportunity for me to rebuild my life. I took therapy for 2-3 years beginning in 2020, I worked through my trauma, how to live life according to what I value the most in life, and how I can be confident in myself moving forward while also valuing myself.

It took a couple of tries to quit weed. By this point I had become dependant on it and found it impossible to give up without withdrawal symptoms (if anyone says you can’t get hooked on weed I will fight you). After a couple of tries however, on Dec 10th 2021, i quit for good and as of this post have remained sober for 2 years and counting.

This is rather uncomfortable for me as I don’t want to come across as if I’m stroking my own ego, but I’m fucking proud of what I’ve had to do to get back on track. I’m proud I’ve stayed clean for 2 years, navigate life through its ups and downs, and that I’m finally in a career that I’m passionate about instead of wasting my energy in something I couldn’t give two flying fucks about.

It’s interesting to look back at when I first created my tumblr compared to now: things are completely different than when I created it, and I couldn’t be happier with the outcome.

If you’re reading this, and you feel hopeless that things won’t get better: they do. Trust me, they eventually will. If you keep crawling and fighting to find some glimmer of hope, you will find it. You’re wonderful and beautiful, don’t give up. I know it’s tough, but you will find hope <3

#personal #clean and sober #positivity #definitely not my normal post #I felt like sharing it however

[transmascdogboy]

fuck it *realizes i don’t remember a lot of this year*

#h #i rly gotta get sober #i’m fucked up #one good thing is that i’ve started to like my sober self #im just really frustrated #and mad at myself #why did i do this to myself #i know these were coping mechanisms #but i lost 2020 to trauma and weed #fuck #why!!!!! #i couldve done so much better #WHY DID THIS YEAR FUCKING SUCK #GOD #CAN I HAVE ONE GOOD YEAR #vent post #can rb #drugs tw #swearing in tags

[wistfulrat]

a 4-part rec list of my fave drarry fics - the thrillers, dramas, soft bois, and wankbanks getting me through 2020′s shitstorm

[the soft boi list is here and truly i’m not surprised this rec is going to be the longest bc if there’s one thing a bitch is going to do, it’s yearn.

as always! if you love a fic, follow the authors, leave kudos & comments, send them nice msgs bc free art is still labor xoxo]

part 3: soft bois

mood: for when I need respite, a balm to the all-consuming shittiness of life

includes: fluff, comfort, low-stakes, slow-burn fics. a wistful look, a rainy morning, an unexpected grace, a stupidly disarming joke. i could live inside these fics. the smallness of human lives removed from the site of that which hurts & irreparably changes. the story-equivalent of a deep breath after a long day. pregnant silences & pensive mundanity & shy smiles. banter with bite but without the cruelty. the color lavender. weirdly whimsical. soft fics are not necessarily conflict-averse (no drarry fic rly can be, considering the context) but, they offer the reader a generous distance from the initial harm. they’re the quiet cleaning up after a storm. sometimes healing is an exacting surgical knife and other times it’s a slow scabbing. you read these fics to be reassured that the way forward is not always ruthless. and honestly?? they deserve a semblance of peace godDAMmit.

The Way Down by @letteredlettered - 65k - T “and I thought that if someone talked to you as though you were a human being you might—maybe you could act like one” --the way i think about this line daily. the characterization of draco in this fic is one my favorites bc he’s earnest and neurotic and tired of harry’s shit. which is to say, he cares so so much. and harry doesn’t know what to do with that bc he’s got a monster in his chest and lives as a recluse. but they both humanize each other in ways no one else can. “you’re just a person” has to be some kind of drarry ethics of belonging and it makes me CRY. -

Little Deaths and How to Avoid Them by @greaseonmymouth and dustmouth - 96k - T “Maybe it’s not about deserving it? Maybe you just get to have it anyway. . .I’m allowing myself to want something and to let myself have it and to fight for it.” --harry runs a daycare and also works at a library. draco spends a lot of time in said library. they bond over sci-fi books and therapy anecdotes and quiet philosophical conversations held over cafeteria soup. and harry’s struggling to understand his asexuality. draco’s learning how to live with anxiety and depression. they both want to be deserving of love. incredible fic with beautiful art by dustmouth. - 

Open for Repairs by @drarrytrash - 35k - T “A few leaves rustle in the gutter and the muggle world pays no mind to them, to two lost boys holding on for dear life.” --all of their fics feel exactly like this. like you’ve been allowed to look at something private, tender, unexpected. draco, known abba fan, is a repairman in the muggle world & harry can’t stop breaking thrifted things in order to see him? say less, i'm thERE. also “I think I have a crush on you” goddddd  - other faves by them: Counting Down By Ten - 2k - T: draco’s stepped outside of the party for a smoke. harry follows him bc of course he does. i could read this 100 times and not get tired of it. - Clouds That Veil the Midnight Moon - 36k - E: FUCKING HILARIOUS I CACKLED THROUGH THE WHOLE THING. draco’s wolfy problem and harry helping him and harry being flustered by how much he likes draco and draco’s hot heroic moment. shutup it’s perfect. “He almost asks if Draco ever gets tired of being a miserable complaining shit all the time, but he knows that he, personally, never ever gets tired of being a miserable complaining shit.” and “It’s the traumas,” Harry says gravely” --lines that live rent free in my head -

Harry Potter and the Future He Doesn't Really Want, Thanks by seefin - 70k - E “That was the only logical thing to do here, wasn’t it? It was the next step, it was the end of hurting each other and the beginning of the exact opposite.” --harry lives with luna and neville and also he dreams about the future sometimes? and he keeps running into draco. draco thinks this is sus as hell, until he doesn’t. feat. taxi rides, museums, cinemas, rooftop conversations beneath a lunar eclipse, mid-sex innocuous banter, draco and harry discussing nicki minaj. this fic charmed my ass off. seefin writes the most effortlessly hilarious dialogues. i smiled at my phone like an idiot at least 7 times. -  other faves by them: Wild - 93k - E: “he liked feeling needed, for the things that he was needed for back at the house in Ireland. For cooking and gardening and driving. Easy things.” --this shit makes me cry it’s so good. harry lives in Ireland with these three brilliant, hilarious, wandless witches and draco’s a potions student who's come to study under one of the housemates and the boys have so much shit to work through but their love becomes so tender and honest. draco yells at harry a lot and harry lets him and they both keep each other grounded in something real and fuCK.  - Divination for Dickheads - 7k - G: “I’m terrible at having crushes. I’ve never played anything cool a day in my life.” -- oh harry, we knOW. a bus ride, a fortune teller, an aquarium birthday party. god i love this fic. -

Modern Love by @tackytigerfic​ - 61k - E “But we’ve worked so hard at this, haven’t we? Yeah, I know it’s a horror to have to talk about it, but fuck it. We’re friends now, but it took so long to get here. Have you ever had to work so hard at something before?" --the steady blossoming of their friendship in this fic is so goddamn beautiful i want to yell. it’s draco and harry learning to trust each other and the whole thing unfolds so slowly, in this whimsical mix of london streets, wizarding politics, church halls feat. a Hot vicar, and a magical antique shop owner who’s married to literal poseidon?? goD the environment of this fic. immaculate. [also there’s a tender shower scene that makes me cry every single fucking time so if you read this fic pls dm me so we can be embarrassing about it together tbh] -

Nice Things by aideomai - 22k - M “He kept waiting for the weird shock of touch to not knock him clean out of his head, leave him quiet and warm and happy.” --8th year. harry forms an unlikely friendship with draco that begins with smoking weed on a windowsill. harry is touch-starved and draco touches him like he touches all his close friends - like it’s easy. the quiet affection in this fic, the way harry burrows himself into touch bc he’s been without it for his entire life. reading this is like being held. -

Running On Air by @tinyhistory​ - 74k - T “do you remember when we were eleven?” --alexa play coldplay’s the scientist it’s sad girl hours and we’re about to fucking yearn. you’ve seen this fic rec on every drarry list under the sun and i'm here to be redundant. the hype is so goddamn real. this story is a lyrical masterpiece held together by lines that act as refrains that will rattle around your brain until you die, probably. draco’s been missing for 3yrs. harry goes to find him. it’s their odyssey of homecoming. -

Title of Their Sex Tape by @cibeewastaken - 12k - T “But Draco, Draco was everything but boring. Draco made sitting in the rain watching an empty house fun.” --auror partners pining and draco being eccentric and harry being very earnestly gay about draco’s eccentricities!! god this fic is so genuinely fun skskd feat. undercover missions, murderous faeries, a book heist, a stunning navy dress, harry’s eyelashes. -

How We Throw Our Shadows Down by @thistle-verse - 14k - T “Draco is about to say something else— to thank Potter for what he’d done, however poorly— but Harry is smiling at him again, and it’s so soft and perfect that Draco holds in any inadequate words, lest he spoil it.” --draco collects tea cozies and of course harry has the one he wants. the sad and tender gays are at it again feat. conversations in the rain at a train station, melancholy Blaise, muggle photos, wizarding e-bay, the Dursleys.  -

Helix by Saras_Girl - 92k - E “Draco sighs in his sleep and Harry clings on to consciousness, needing to hold on, to give this tiny, insignificant moment the attention it deserves” --I think maybe you can describe every soft Saras_Girl story as giving tiny, insignificant moments the attention they deserve. like, this is an 8th year fic about snails and it’s full of whimsy, grief, compassion, and easy humor. an absolute must-read author in this genre if you want languorous, episodic fics full of distinct OCs and affectionate creatures. - other faves by them: Light up the Night Sky - 98k - M “Draco, sometimes you make my head feel like soup” --the one where harry is a fireworks artist and has a pet chameleon named ken. draco is on the wizarding arts council. they both pine like hell. - Headlights in the Snow - 71k - M “they stare at each other in silence, Harry’s heart beating so loud in his chest that he thinks the biddies must be able to hear it over the sound of their card game.” --the one where draco drives the knight bus and carts around the biddy club, a group of rambunctious old ladies who knit and drink tea and gossip. harry can’t help but fall in love with the everything about this. -

Follow the Water by @xanthippe74 - 38k - T “Harry’s heavy thoughts lift at the sight, like dark clouds blown away from the sun by the wind. The tent doesn’t feel so cramped and stifling now. It feels cozy. And safe. It’s the same feeling that Harry gets when he’s at the Burrow for Sunday roasts, when a group of people who care for each other deeply are crammed into too-small a space.” --harry wanders to the lovegood house on a sunday afternoon. he’s baffled to see that luna’s taken pansy, greg, and draco under her wing. what follows is a summer of forest walks, scavenger hunts, gardening, water fights, odd cakes, faerie rings, and picnics. so many picnics. i love the pace of this fic, the innocent return to childhood things, the way luna brings out the best in all her friends. reluctantly soft slytherins are just *chefs kiss*!! -

Going Postal (A 125pg comic) by dustmouth - T what. a. beautiful. ass. comic. the wizarding fashion, the textures, the character design!! harry travels a lot for his job as a resourcer. draco works in the regulations dept. they pine like a bunch of lovesick idiots via field report notes. god i love dustmouth’s art. -

All the Earnest Young Men by @tepre​ - 29k - E “Draco is twenty-seven layers of personality wrapped up in drama and humour, and a wit so sharp it still stings when he doesn’t see it coming. But there is something below that, too. Something that makes Harry ache just looking at him.” --the way i would lay down my little life for tepre’s characterization of draco, whom invented the word earnest. he’s a magical art theory expert and portraits are disappearing all over London and harry’s the auror assigned to this case. and well. they’re both so very avoidant about how gay they are for each other and it’s like!! shutup and kiss!! which they do in fact, shutup and kiss.  -

Trenches by sara_holmes - 3k - M “Somewhere in the distant part of his mind that hasn't frozen solid, he thinks that maybe he and Draco are about to become more than auror partners, smoking buddies, wine-mates and co-inhabitants of a snow filled trench somewhere in western Scotland.” --the plot line here is literally “it’s cold and i need a fucking cigarette” but let me tell you how I never tire of the shared loaded-silences of two emotionally repressed gays. -

The Years Before Love by lomonaaeren - 13k - M “That’s one of the meanings of peace, he thinks, as Hermione hugs him...That he can do things slowly, softly, without worrying that they won’t be there tomorrow.” --andromeda taking harry under her wing and harry finding solace in teddy. narcissa and draco showing up and the tentative relationships that slowly develop in the quiet calm of andromeda’s house. found families and kisses in the snow and special xmas gifts ugh what’s not to love -

The Moon Looks Lovely Tonight by Omi_Ohmy - 35k - M “I want this to be a house where people are welcome, where they don’t have to be any one way or another” --in which harry collects lost things--owls, best friends, inept bakers, potions experimenters--and turns the mausoleum that is grimmauld place into a home. feat. your fave drarry tropes like shared-beds and reluctant waltzing partners. -

[part 1: thrillers | part 2: dramas | part 3: soft bois | part 4: wankbanks]

#drarry fic rec #drarry fic #soft drarry #OK FINE I RAMBLED BUT WHAT DID WE EXPECT #alexa play futile devices

[ashe-hallow]

I’m back from my hiatus. More details under the cut; but in short, I was putting too much pressure on myself and burned out really bad.

I usually try not to get too personal on this blog, but since I’m talking about burnout and target demographics, I want to be candid. In 2020, I left my job because management was suddenly obsessed with the lean process. They thought it would be really cool to stop hiring new employees to replace the old ones, and instead force the employees they did have to do the work of 3 people (previously, we were already doing the work of 2 people...at minimum wage). My original plan was to find a job in the weed industry. My bf already worked on a farm, was basically a manager, and could easily get me a job. While I was waiting on my license from the state, I started a goal of putting 1,000+ words/day into BotP. And things were going really good; I started a page on Royal Road and I started this acc on tumblr. So when my license came, my bf and I decided that money wasn’t too big of a problem, and I decided to stick with my writing goals. I’ve wanted to be an author since I was 10, so I saw this as a potential career opportunity. The only problem is this:

This problem was exacerbated by posting BotP to Royal Road, where the site’s demographic is the opposite of my target demographic. BotP is a slow, introspective work that deconstructs many YA tropes. It aims to show the reality of being the “chosen one” or the “rebel leader,” and how teenagers (especially those with trauma - like the popular orphan trope) just aren’t equipped to waltz in and overtake a complex system. Maddie was written to be the YA antihero: she’s cold, cynical, callous, selfish, and cowardly. Her relationships are brittle because she struggles to put others’ feelings before her own. Before she can take down the system, she first has to address what all teenagers have to address: shedding the cynicism, gaining emotional control, learning from others, and tamping her impulses. But that’s not what RR readers expect when they open up a story. At first, I thought the Royal Road demographic wouldn’t be too much of a problem. Those who wanted to read a gothic slowburn would be able to find it, and those who didn’t would be able to pass it up. But I noticed a lot of my comments were from people who were confused, and thought they were venturing into any other YA story. They didn’t know who this story was for - obviously, a teenage protag means the target demographic is teenagers, right? Some people were waiting for the big bad and the ass-kicking. Some found the world irredeemable because they couldn’t tell that Maddie was an unreliable narrator. A lot of readers dropped off at the point where Maddie and Zia broke up, before they got back together in a later chapter (again, going back to Maddie’s brittle relationships due to emotional immaturity). Those who were confused or didn’t enjoy BotP were respectful and nice. They didn’t leave any mean comments or 1-star ratings. In fact, I got some high ratings from people who didn’t enjoy the story; while it wasn’t their cup of tea, they still praised the quality of writing. Still, I was feeling discouraged because it was clear that my demographic just wasn’t on the site at all. Maintaining weekly uploads became a burden; I was constantly questioning why I was maintaining it when it was clear that nobody was reading it. I lost all my enthusiasm for working on it, and it got to a point where it felt like I was only writing because of the sunk cost fallacy. I was desperate to find anything else to work on because I was unemployed, and if I couldn’t use BotP to jumpstart a writing career, then what had been the point of taking time off work to write? So I was often writing BotP and a secondary project - ones that I didn’t have a passion for, but I still felt were necessary to bring in new readers. While I was struggling with my own problems, there were problems with the farm my bf was working on. To keep things short: the owner of the farm decided to sell to a corporation, and there were disputes over who owned what. Neither side would play ball; meanwhile, all the employees were being told they were going to come back to work “any day now.” Eventually, the company and the original owner called off the deal, and my bf (and his coworkers) were all left without jobs. This meant that we were broke. And because of inflation, we were really broke. So for the past few months, my bf and I have been putting in applications at various companies. He’s still searching, though he has a few leads. I was just hired for a shipping job, where I was offered a competitive wage for the first time in my life. The only problem with this job is that the hours are very long. And though I’m optimistic, I can’t promise that I’ll have the energy to come home and participate in writing/writeblr the way that I have in the past. Having a job lined up has taken a lot of the stress off my shoulders. I’m now free to write whatever kind of story I want, even if it isn’t some profitable jumpstart to my writing career. I’m going to start on my entire series from the beginning, and tackle it like a passion project instead of a business venture. If anyone is interested on taking that journey with me, then awesome. And if I take this journey alone, that’s awesome too. But as long as I’m writing for myself, I think I’ll be happy - and hopefully avoid burnout. I’m still undecided on where/how I want to host BotP. I’ve taken it off RR because the emotional cost of maintaining it isn’t worth the feelings of burnout. Right now, I’m leaning towards repurposing my website. But I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.

[atruththatyoudeny]

Monthly Reads | August 2020

Happy 28th, lovelies! I say it every month but I can’t say it enough: the authors of this fandom are true stars. So much love for you all, no matter if you write drabbles or 100+k. You are dearly appreciated! ♥

✿  Let Me Be Your Everlasting Light | Layne Faire (HisDarlin) | fluff - humor - 12k Harry Styles and his partner Louis Tomlinson have been dating for four years. Over those years, he has always known that Louis' biggest dream has been to see the Northern Lights in person. Harry arranges a trip to Norway as a gift for Louis, but little does Louis know Harry is also hoping to make his own dream come true, too.

✿  contingencies | honey_beeing | accidental marriage - older Larry - 10k Where Louis and Harry are actors who long ago were married on set and find out too late. Like twenty five years too late.

✿  Nice To Meet You | 28sunflowers | co-workers - no smut - 2k Louis has the biggest, most embarrassing, seventh grade like, crush on his journalist partner from the morning news. It’s a fact that he will make an idiot of himself and his infatuation will show immediately when they meet in person. Which is why Louis can’t be blamed for his terrible social skills when he walks into Harry in the conference room to discuss this morning’s show.

✿  Lit a Fire Inside | QuickedWeen | Girl Direction - strippers & strip clubs - TikTok - 3k Bored at home, Harry turns to TikTok and quickly gets addicted to all of the amazing lesbian content. She especially likes the videos of a beautiful pole dancer named @loubabyxo.

✿  Hate to Smoke (Without Me) | louhazpride | enemies to lovers - college/university - neighbours - 12k “For fuck’s sake,” he huffs, grabbing the pillow and pulling it on top of his head in an attempt to block out the banging coming from the other side of the wall. It’s the third time this week that his neighbour has woken him up in the middle of the night with his little ‘rendezvous.’ Honestly, he's quite sick of it. There’s only so much sex he can bear to hear in one week and he has already hit his limit. If he wanted to listen to someone having sex, he’d turn to porn. As if the noises weren’t enough, Harry immediately becomes aware of the faint aroma of weed filling his flat. “I’m going to murder him.” Sleep. Harry just wants one good night of sleep. However, his neighbour has a thing for headboard-banging-against-the-wall-sex every night. After a secret set-up and a bet, Harry may finally get the sleep he so much desires.

✿  Someone to Fly Home To | kingsofeverything | post-divorce - older Larry - implied/referenced cheating - exes to lovers - 34k Louis. 55 year old pilot who wants someone to fly home to. Harry swipes right.

✿  Members Only | kikikryslee | gyms - fluff - awkward flirting - mutual pining - 15k “Well, I’m gonna go work out now, so…” Harry said, his voice trailing off. Louis nodded. “Yeah, yeah, go ahead. Go get, uh, you know, strong and buff.” What? Louis wanted to die. “Um, thanks?” Harry said. “Um…” Without another word, Harry walked away from the desk. Louis pinched his thigh – hard – hoping that was some terrible, awkward nightmare that he might soon wake up from. --- Or, the one where Louis works at Harry's new gym and neither one of them knows how to hold a coherent conversation with the other.

✿  tell it like an old song | outropeace | a/b/o - non-traditional a/b/o - amnesia - memory loss - mpreg - 27k “The thrumming of my blood is always calling your name.” or where Harry is a bit lost (just like his memories), his best friend is hiding something, the love of his life is gone and love... love is like flowers.

✿  Waiting | allwaswell16 | a/b/o - hurt/comfort - injury - friends to lovers - childhood friends - roommates/housemates - soulmates - humor - 8k Louis Tomlinson was Harry’s omega, of this Harry had always been sure. Unfortunately for Harry, Louis seemed to think they were just best friends. The six weeks that Harry has to live with Louis were going to be rough.

✿  I can’t do this alone (sometimes I just need a light) | Only_angel_28 | strangers to lovers - emotional hurt/comfort - meet-cute - grief/mourning - 8k “Harry,” he says after another contemplative moment, “can I hug you?” It’s been...well, Harry doesn’t actually know how long it’s been. Less than an hour, probably, but already Louis says his name like it’s safe in his mouth, and now he’s opening his arms like Harry could be safe there too. “Please,” Harry nearly sobs, and sinks into him the way butter melts on toast. It’s an apt metaphor, really, because what Louis is giving him is as essential and sustaining as a loaf of bread to a starving man. His basic need for physical affection is as vital as his need for sustenance, for sleep, and he can’t believe he’s allowed himself to ignore it for so long. Or: Harry is having a rough time. Louis is the kind stranger who makes him smile again.

✿  at your fingertips | falsegoodnight | PWP - dubious consent - ex relationship trauma/drama - 27k He finds himself wrapped up in sheets in bed on Thursday night, staring at the familiar name on a new story that was posted the night before. His fingers twitch, ready to hit play and surrender to his impulses, saving the regret and turmoil for later. And still he hesitates, internally praying that he’ll somehow gain the strength to exit out within the next few moments before he inevitably loses his patience and hits the button. Three… Two… One. Play. - Or, Louis really should have seen it coming.

✿  A Sweeter Place | Halos_Boat | older Larry - hurt/comfort - emotional hurt/comfort - grief/mourning - friends to lovers - fluff - 50k Harry doesn't think he has it in him to find love again, at least, not until he meets a man at his support group that just might change his mind.

✿  Everything Has Changed | Jesapeak | The Backup Plan AU - mpreg - 8k Harry Styles meets the love of his life, just after being artificially inseminated.

✿  we can take the long road home | pinkcords | roadtrip - strangers to lovers - pining - angst - 46k Late afternoon seeps into the cab, just shy of too warm, and the breeze that crosses window to window tosses their hair in their eyes, around their faces. They ride in pleasant silence, the radio humming softly in the background as they speed down the coast, and when Louis looks over, Harry’s smiling to himself, a private happiness born from whatever’s going on in his head. Louis likes to think it has something to do with him, or at the very least, this adventure they’ve embarked on together, chosen to see through to San Diego. Or, Harry and Louis fall in love down the coast of California.

#fic rec #28th appreciation #my fic rec #my reads #monthly reads #monthly fic rec #larry fics #completed fics

[dearevanhansenofficial]

“YOU WILL BE FOUND” NATIONAL COLLEGE ESSAY WRITING CHALLENGE 2021 | DEAR EVAN HANSEN

In partnership with Gotham Writers Workshop and the Broadway Education Alliance, DEAR EVAN HANSEN invited 11th-grade and 12th-grade students across the country to write a college-application style essay that describes how they channeled “You Will Be Found” to ensure those around them were a little less alone over the last year, or, alternatively, a moment where they found comfort in connection.

READ FINALIST ORLA GRACE’S FULL ESSAY:

People are a lot like trees. Independent, yet part of a greater whole; strong but not invincible. Some might seem like they will stay upright forever, but one day a storm may be too strong-- and it crashes. The roots upend and the ground breaks. The beetles come and take refuge in its cracks. The weeds begin to grow over the fallen trunk. The tree has perished.

When I first heard the song “You Will Be Found” I was taken by it. Then I listened to it again. And again. And a couple more times. Even writing this right now I have it on repeat. I keep trying to find a specific lyric that speaks to me the most, but I can’t. I can’t because each lyric reminds me of a different part of quarantine, high school, or the last couple of months. Each lyric gives my tree the radiant sunlight it needs to grow again.

I am an empath: I feel everyone's emotions around me in a heightened way. Everyone’s pain, laughs, and tears make me feel as if they are my own. Covid brought isolation and loneliness with it; the way trees are close but unable to touch. And I felt the loneliness of others. I felt it and suddenly I realized I was also feeling my own lack of connection. This song helped me find it again.

A tree can appear strong on the outside, but be barely able to withstand the cold and wind on the interior. In November of 2020, I was sexually assaulted by my supposed best friend and when the dark was crashing in, I felt alone and so far away from being okay. While my exterior seemed grounded, inside I was lost. I couldn’t possibly think of a reason to feel okay. My tree had fallen. But when I heard: “maybe there’s a reason to believe you’ll be okay”, I realized not all hope was lost. I didn’t think it was possible to just reach out a hand and let people in. I didn’t think that in reaching out, I would be found. That I would be able to start healing or finding myself again.

I reached out to my brother, who introduced me to a friend that had been assaulted by the same person. When I met the friend, it was like I had been found. Found in my vulnerability and found as myself. Like someone finally understood what I had gone through; that their tree had fallen right next to mine.

Every time I let someone in and tell my story, I am a little less alone. People turn out to be less judgy than I made them out to be. “And every time you call out, you’re a little less alone.” People will listen if I let them. And that is the reason I am telling you this. I simultaneously found comfort for myself and provided comfort for someone with similar trauma. My assaulter knocked down my tree but the experience taught me the strength and courage in being alone. It taught me how to find myself, by myself, and for myself when I was lost; how to stand my tree back up on my own. And most importantly, it taught me the significance of family, the people that are by my side forever.

   At the conclusion of this essay, and coincidentally the conclusion of the song, I want to end by saying you will be found. Your story has just started. You are not defined by your trauma. Your tree will stand again. And if not, every tree is replaced by an even stronger one.

Orla Grace McCoy Enloe High School Raleigh, NC

#dearevanhansen #youwillbefoundessaycontest2021

[truths89]

Mary Jane

Reflecting upon the irony and the insane The flower, no matter the strain

Fight or flight, I had to get on that plane At age 8, to my Catholic School Principal, I delivered ma’s weed like bread wholegrain It was love I sought to attain Mother, my  heart she gripped like a chain Had to make a break, prison of my soul My being, everyone sought to control

                               ******

24th birthday, Grandma rang my phone To her ear, my voice was unknown

While in the shelter, in the midst of celebration She could identify my ganja intoxication  

The call was brief, grandma never did like the flower In the projects, she could smell it every hour. 2013, that was the last time I heard her voice Addiction, I once rejoiced; now I contemplate choice                                   ******* I aint’t cried that hard since ‘97 I pray I meet her in the 5th dimension, or heaven For my body, I’ve settled to treat trauma with self-medication But my spirit is now in litigation; I plead for an invocation I love the herb, but its hold on me is type perturb Love is a verb, get me off addiction’s curb!

Numbing the wound prolongs its destruction 2020, the appeal has lost its seduction

#truths89 #zisaaziza #poetry #selfcare #self compassion #radical acceptance #harm reduction #sobriety #addiction #weed is a drug #relationship #relationship to substance #accept #change #recovery #healing #healingtoheal

[jackalopefreckles]

I feel like Ive aged at least 6 years since covid started. Im angrier. Less adapted to being outside then I used to be- which is saying a lot. This time last year I was?? Actually healthier mentally then I had ever been and looking forward to having the house alone for a month which?? Was the most freedom I wouldve ever had.

A lots fucking changed. I drove halfway across the country- all 30 hours at once with my big brother AND two elderly dogs, plus my cat. All animals on too many drugs (the vet said they couldnt overdose, and then failed to give any further instruction) cami peed on herself twice, unable to move. I had to waterboard her in Phoenix, a truly terrifying hell city where all the roads are raised and overlapping and its a hot as shit cause its?? What june?? Time was so fake this year I mustve just been stoned the whole time till I ran out of weed, and since moving its been a relief to be able to turn off the spinning anxious thoughts for a few hours

my big brother joined us. He brought a new dog with him which?? Is always a lot, plus I have this pack of dogs now cause the puppy wouldnt leave the super cancer ridden dog alone, and Im able to get her cbd regularly here, so shes always comfortable now instead of just?? Sometimes which is a lot nicer. We didnt think shed make it to chrisrmas. I thought shed die with me home alone to take care of everything, like always. It was almost a relief, I wouldn't have to coach my brother through the grieving process at least, and I had already finished. Its hard now even, for me to realize she might even have another christmas (but I wont hold my breath)

I feel safer going outside here then I did in Austin. I only went out a handful of times in texas, for the last few months I was ordering almost all groceries, and only going to the store once mask mandates were mandatory (theyre not anymore. Im so worried for texas. I missed a huge freeze by mere months. I dont think my elderly dogs wouldnt survived it. If I was alone with them, Im not sure I woudlve.

My parents took my brother to mexico with them. I begged them not to go, told them how irresponsible it was to travel across boarders. To visit an island and take all the plane germs with. I told them that even if my mom and brother were staying at home all day with me, my dad was still going to work and he didnt know what his coworkers were doing. That they wouldn't know what the people on the plane were doing. That at any point they could become the stupid americans that killed half an islands population.

They left a week after today last year. The boarders were closed the next day. Their friend has been traveling back and forth ever since. I have no idea how, except for the fact shes white and rich and wont hesitate to destroy a child, so I can only imagine how shed treat costomer service.

I will no longer allow this angry aggressive woman to ever make me feel bad, and I will allow myself to finally fight back. Im an adult, maybe not all the time (cause lets be real I'll always be a bit too eccentric for most) but when I get angry and allow myself that anger, it's not a bad thing. Anger doesn't have to make me feel like Ive done something wrong. Im usually very just in my actions, and I wont allow my parents influence to tell me all anger is misdirected and hurtful for reasons I couldnt understand. Its okay for me to be angry.

I think being alone with animals for months is at least reassuring that my childhood was unreasonable if nothing else. Which of course is a silly polite society term for pretty fucked, if nothing else.

My aunt had to gall to say weve had a good 2020 cause our family wasnt hurt, and I had to walk away from the zoom call. I haven't attempted communication with any of them since, not that I normally do. Of course none of us died, all rich old white people, most of them retired and able to stay home all day (not that all of them did, I learned about my grandfathers routine and just.. Im honestly surprised no one got it yet. Of course I knew from the beginning if anyone was gonna get it and die, it probably wouldve been me. Hence the 8 months of solitude before the move.

Was the move in August?? Im so unsure about time. Even with 2020 vision.

I tried to date when I moved here. Strictly on tinder. What was the point? On and off testosterone due to the wonders of texas, hadnt changed my body nearly as much as they should've a year after being on them. I look much more handsome now. Im also allowing myself to toss gender aside completely. He/him doesn't mean man, and they/them dont mean nonbinary, so why not mix them since Im?? Not really either.

It wasnt even a thought process like that to start. Much more "this is nice" which I think more gender should be allowed to be. Dont gotta be deep just comfortable.

I wont ever allow my parents to forget what they did. I ended up with three dogs I didnt want (I was so looking forward to not having any dogs) and I ended up taking care of my brother. Again. Its easier without my parents at least. Everything always is. My dogs are even happier. Cami finally isnt anxious 24/7. Again, a sad reminder my childhood wasn't great. Daisy is healthier. Trauma can be stored emotionally or with health issues, often both. I think the cancer dog getting better and?? Surviving and thriving so much longer then the vet said (how good was my old vet?) Is another unfortunate nail in thay proverbial coffin.

Im not as soft and openly loving. Im even more touch starved somehow. Harsher. I still want to choose love and compassion, but Im not letting myself fall into the trap of being so nice people wont be nice to you. Fighting back is something I wont feel shameful about, because it never stopped me from doing it completely anyway.

I was already reaching this on my own though. This was just more coffins, more nails. This didnt need to happen. We know our government let this happen. Its still letting it happen. Im not sure when Im getting my vaccine. My big brothers sick of quarentine and keeps trying to get us to go out. Sometimes I yield, and we go to a park, or the top floor of the parking garage. I get a vegan hotdog from nearby. We talk and laugh and were genuinely just. Boys being boys.

I shouldn't have to deal with parent shit anymore. I do though, especially since two out of three are unemployed and we can really only afford to live here cause of them (they owe me if anything though. Especially with my brother and these animals) I hope I can get a job soon. Or maybe even go back to school. Im lucky I had so much saved up (for top surgery, which I guess wont happen before Im 25 like I really tried for. I wouldve done it before now, but texas waitlists and rules kept holding me up. I literally went to an appointment in dallas, a 4 hour drive, just to found out the surgeon canceled on me for the second time)

Its incredibly depressing, and I know Im lucky to have had that stash. So many people didnt have anything and lost so much. People lost people. Half a million at this point. I remember when it got to 300,000 and I just?? Felt so awful it was so close to how many people we lost to AIDS. Its over that by so many now. It doesn't really stop, does it??

Is that catholic guilt?? Or maybe just irish guilt in general. Is it something I inherited or earned through all the end of the worlds and once in a lifetime recessions Ive been through. Im not sure how many off the top of my head, theyve been coming since I was so small and its always more and more. Im not even catholic anymore. I cant stop being irish though, even though the brits tried (and succeeded. Weve lost a lot. The current royal cotastrophy is bullshit as well, the only person who deserves a royal title is from Meniappolos

My home is decorate all inside for st patrick's day. My big brother loves it so Im going all out, and its def making me feel much more irish then usual (which is a lot Im over half)

I think I just wanted to say Im not the same. I hope I can still be happy an obnoxious is public. I wonder if I remember how

#TIRED #happy covid anniversary #time to post this without reading it lmao #long post #rambles

[hydraulic-conductivity]

i’ve been kinda using this blog as a secondary shitposting/aesthetic blog casually. but the true reason it was created was to discuss my mental illnesses and lowkey it was a pro ana blog so i’d like to quickly check in with that since i shifted to tiktok and this is the original secondary blog i had in march 2012 when i was literally crumbling. it is august 2020.

anyways, eating disorder wise i’m pretty ok. i don’t binge eat anymore and if i do it’s not nearly as bad as it has been. i don’t starve but i definitely don’t eat every time i’m hungry immediately until my headache gets so bad i need to or i can’t sleep because i’m in pain. so maybe that’s not healthy but i don’t feel anorexic. because i do eat. but i’m finally at the point where my clothes are all big on me or finally fit and everyone in my life is noticing that i “look skinnier” and that i “lost weight” but i genuinely think i look the same. i made a tiktok of trying on the dress i wore at my ex best friends wedding and it was the only thing that really opened my eyes to how different i look. but in day to day life i do not feel or notice a change. i enjoy working out a lot more i just wish i has was a bit more...able. i have come to terms with feeling it but i do not like using the word “disabled” i suppose but something’s wrong with me for sure and because my sister is literally dying from a (genetic) disease... i’m thinking i should start focusing on treating myself well to have a healthy future because i deserve it.

so because i’ve been tryna start focusing on my health more, i’ve been cigarette and juul free(minus emergency hits here and there but no buying new pods) for a month + and that’s the longest i’ve gone without nicotine since i was 15. i’m 23. it’s a lot. i like being vegan bc morals but i cheat sometimes bc food. i have come to terms with a lot of traumas and mental illness diagnoses that were uncomfortable and that i rejected. i understand myself better. i almost have a 4.0 and i’m finally in a university which is a huge step considering i am technically only (almost) 9 months clean, hella mental illnesses and disabled. im still smoking weed obviously. medically necessary. emotionally and recreationally as well. but i even went on a tolerance break bc i had some court things to settle. jail time/probation/license suspended. misdemeanor. what a scary word. anyways that just happened and i’m a better person now because of it. i was lucky.

i’m just gonna tag everything i’ve been diagnosed w that i can recall rn (lol ptsd too but like idk :) i feel guilty claiming that one even though i think about my rapist every single day) omg fun fact he was coming into my old work before i quit my job because i was hitting emotional rock bottom coming to terms with it :)) the first time i saw him again i was hyperventilating in the bathroom and crying :)) and i watched him leave on camera :) and i was too scared to smoke a cigarette outside after 7 pm for like 2 weeks. anyways.

i’m doing some spiritual work.

also my bff and i just broke up bc of a lot of things but she found out serious stuff about my rapist that changed everything and told me very casually when it was damaging information. then she tried to act like she was assaulted even though what she did was prediscussed, consensual rapeplay. anyways i hate him and i can’t be tied up anymore and anal sex is even scarier. what a fucking piece of shit that was literally the only virginity i had left 😂😩 i listen to bloodmoney by poppy and scream at the sky and i listen to my queen taylor of course folklore rn is saving my whole life i needed it so baddddddddddd. i just try my best. i feel stuck like always but how do i move on from so much shit ?

i have started to control my skin and picking and it rly started to look beautiful but then i relapsed 😂 um also i am not pursuing any romantic relationship anymore since i became his side bitch but also he’s still my dom and it’s casual so yikes one day i’ll need more but for rn we’re doing okay. he moves away the end of this month. the last few people i dated abused me, cheated on me, or didn’t give a fuck about me so i’m lowkey not on a good path picking.

i let myself become infatuated with my ex who had a girlfriend and we talked almost 24/7 until he ghosted next because they moved back in together. it was stupid but i romanticized him s lot and i wanna blame teen love but it’s prob the bpd too. lol.

#manic ramblings at 2:36 am #m #me #personal #mental illness #bpd #bipolar #ocd #add #autism #depression #anxiety #panic disorder #schizophrenia #schizoaffective #eating disorder #body dysmorphia #witchblr

[celestenoel]

Mother’s Day

Mother’s day is a difficult day for me. It makes me think of the last time that I saw my mother, in 1999. I was attending The Art Institute of Seattle, living in an older brick apartment building in Belltown. I hadn’t seen my mother Noel in four years. The last time that I’d seen her had revealed how truly degenerated her mental faculties had become. Her schizophrenia was undeniable in later years. I’m still surprised that she recognized me on the street, when I was walking to class with my roommate. She recognized me and called out my name. I saw her sitting on a blanket on the sidewalk with a friend, looking much older than she had the last time I’d seen her. It took me a couple of minutes to really understand what she had become. She’d become homeless. It was a different kind of homeless than what we’d experienced growing up with her as children. Where at one point, we’d at least had the shelter of a  car, she had nothing. Only fabric separating her from the roughness of concrete

She recognized me, even though I was significantly pudgier than I had been 4 years before. I remember being surprised that she knew who I was, and simultaneously ashamed of my weight gain. She had been a woman that was raised with money and privilege, and had always commented on other women’s weight as an important indicator of social standing. And even though she was homeless, I still remember being embarrassed. But She didn’t comment on that. Instead, she asked me what I was doing in that part of Seattle and I told her that I was going to art school. She offered to pay for art supplies if I needed. I did need all the help that I could get, but I also recognized that she was most likely offering for the sake of her friend, who was sharing the blanket with her. I knew my mother well enough to know that she was most likely more concerned with what her male friend thought of her than she was with my art supply needs. She was always more concerned with men’s opinions than anything else, because they were her means of support and survival.

I have since thought of that blanket on the concrete sidewalk many times. I remember creating spaces for myself when I was growing up. Spaces in the back of the ugly green car that we lived in from time to time, when our mom’s confused mind wouldn’t allow her to hold down a job or a home. A few books in the corner here, and a pillow there, made something resembling normalcy and a home. Tiny piles of belongings taking the place of a bed or furniture. And I knew what that blanket was. That blanket was the closest thing to a bedroom that she could find, while making money by asking for it from strangers.

I wanted to save her. But I also hated her. I wanted to save her from that life and take her into my dorm room, and give her a place to sleep for the night. The guilt devoured me every day. Of course my roommate wouldn’t allow that. She was from a “normal” family, and would never be able to comprehend a request like this. I didn’t bother asking for permission. She was also a 19 year old young woman, but a much different kind of 19. So much younger. When my mother called out my name on the street that first day, I asked her to walk ahead to class. I was shocked, embarrassed, and reeling. I hated her for all of the things that she had allowed herself to do and say to me when I was not full grown. She had allowed words to escape her lips that I would never dream of saying to even my worst enemy. The first time that I tasted beer was when she poured when over my head, for example. Saying, “It’s good for your hair”. And countless other memories that I couldn’t forget, even if I tried.

But still, I had love for her. Even through the worst of her episodes, I remember tucking her salt and pepper hair behind ear gently with my child’s hand. I’m astonished to think back on those moments. That I could’ve shown such strength and love at such a young age for this woman. This is a riddle that I still cannot solve. Why did I love her so much? But so many children enter this world with hearts full of love and compassion. They are Gods like that. I hadn’t been taught how to hate quite yet.

After that first day of seeing my mother on the streets (notice that I have a very difficult time using the word “mom” as it seems such a warm and fluffy term for this particular woman), I made sure to walk down the street that she had first caught my attention on. She eventually introduced me to her friend, whose chosen name was “River Bob”. I don’t know why he had chosen that name for himself. He was most likely her latest “boyfriend”. Noel could never seem to go without a man by her side. Even one like River Bob, who openly drank can of beer on the street, and could provide no real comfort for her.

I walked by her spot for perhaps two weeks, saying hello. Knowing that she would most likely disappear on me again. I was familiar with Noel’s disappearing acts. She would leave my older sister and I alone for days when we were kids, often reappearing with another strange man at her side. A couple of those strange men also abused me, because that’s what happens when you are an unprotected child.

So I braced myself. And one day she did leave, and only River Bob was left. He stopped me on my way to class one day, asking me if I knew where my mother had run off to, and I said no. He told me that she had stolen his weed, and I was not surprised. I laughed a little at that. I haven’t seen her since that last day in 1999. But the sight of her in that position inspired me to work hard and get through school.

I worked two part time jobs, and made monthly tuition payments. Thinking of my mother the whole time. When I couldn’t afford fabric for my sewing classes, I tore my own clothing apart at the seams and used that, knowing that I’d have one less shirt in my already sparse collection of clothing. I was going to school against my father’s wishes, and he didn’t have a dime to give me even if he had approved of my choice. Every action that I took during those years was fueled by the memory of my homeless mother.

The inexplicable thing is that there is still a part of my heart that belongs to her, perhaps because my father was even worse. Perhaps because my dark side relates to her dark side. Perhaps because I have understanding of generational trauma, and know that she was caught up in the perfect storm of mental illness and tragedy (her parents having died when she was still in high school).

After all of these years, I have to assume that she is dead. But I have never felt allowed to mourn that loss, not knowing for sure what happened to her. But I know, in my heart, that she has passed. I cannot feel her presence in this world anymore. Even in the most traumatic relationships, that bond can be felt. And it simply isn’t there now.

Today is Mother’s Day, 2020. The world is a painful place for a lot of people right now. We’re in the middle of a catastrophic pandemic. And I have to say this. I don’t feel that much more scared or alone than I usually do. This is the gift that trauma brings. It’s the gift that keeps on giving. The hardest part of all of this is the lonely feeling.

Every friend is posting lovely things about Mother’s day today on social media. One of my friends showed a photo of her mother accompanied by kind words. I once shared dinner with that same friend at a NY restaurant, after I’d graduated, lost weight, and procured a design job. She went to the bathroom, and came back with a story about how she’d met a homeless woman in the bathroom, and was repulsed by her smell. I thought of my proud mother, who had grown up with money and had most likely ended her life on the streets. I knew that this friend of mine, with her teeth that had been in braces as a child, and an education that her parents paid for, would never be able to know me. I was only one generation from the woman that she had encountered in the bathroom, whose smell had so offended her.

There are parts of my mother that still exist in me. And honestly, I don’t like them when I see them. They make me want to paint over all of the mirrors. But they are undeniably there. Sometimes, I feel like I can’t separate myself from her. Mother’s day is not a happy day for me.

This is one of the many reasons that I chose not to be a mother. I didn’t want to be one until I knew that I had wiped clean any trace of my mother from myself. But now I know how difficult that may be for me. At the same time, I remember her capacity to turn a blanket into a home. And I realize that I have that same thing inside of me. The thing that makes it possible to make good things out of very little. And for that, I’m grateful.

#mothersday generationaltrauma homelessness trauma childneglect child abuse

[ultrafuckinghatemylife-blog]

you made a blog.... in 2020...?

So what is this... What did you just stumble upon.. Another weird girl venting about her problems online? Super original Susan! Well actually, these are tales of my problems. My name is Anna and you will surely get to know me, trust me. I will get into the why and what the purpose of the blog, but right now you’re about to read the regrettable, real moments of my old life. You’re gonna cringe at most, laugh at  some, but really, we are going to grow together a lot. I hated my life, but I changed it. I created this blog because, at the lowest points of my life, I would’ve killed to have a blog like this to help me.

As you can see from my username and overall theme- I hated my life and was literally miserable in my own existence for several years. I hated every inch of my being. My appearance disgusted me, my own voice sent chills down my spin, there was nothing in my life that I “loved”.  Everything was just there. I’ve heard this feeling as being in the passenger seat of your own life. I agreed but. this was like that and you weren’t given aux and the windows were up. I was in the midst of the era of my life I had deemed for myself “to be the beginning of what I’ve always wanted.” Yes, a four-year college. I had graduated from high school and had been admitted to my top college. I was in a good sorority (middle tier baby), made a friend group, lost some weight, and yet I was standing in the frat basement every weekend miserable. I know what you’re thinking - Honey, you just need another shot. That’s the issue, I could never shake the feeling of unfulfillment no matter how wasted, or high (just weed mom), or crossed I was.  I promise you girlies I tried, trust me, shout out out to the fifth stall on my dorm floor. Now before I explain a little bit of my past that led me to the oddly wet floors frat basement floors of a university across the country, I would like to preface that I am in a very privileged place for having an identity crisis as my biggest issue. I am blessed to have lived a middle class lifestyle and do not take it for granted. Most issues will sound like first world problems- because they are. Others have it a lot lot worse, and I am aware some may read my so called issues and roll their eyes. Granted, these are still issues in my book and you’re on my blog so yeah.

My childhood was spent lusting after the High School Musical movies and romanticizing how high school would be for me. I very very quickly found out it was nothing of the sort. Now I wasn’t a weirdo, I wasn’t expecting the seniors to break into song during lunch but I wasn’t expecting to be bullied in my english class. This isn’t a sob story of bullying, but it is a layer in your life that does affect you in life, so it was worth mentioning. I hated the lack of control of my own life in high school, especially not being able to sleep in. I also wasn’t popular, or attractive... I was overweight and tall. A recipe for disaster dating wise in high school. By junior year, I hated every moment of high school. I didn’t go to football games, dances or anything. I skipped my senior prom. I was so unhappy with my life but thought the reason was my circumstance of high school. Things got worse- for respect of my family, and to have some personal things not shared, I won’t be going into details. I will describe the situation that happened from this point on as my trauma event. My trauma event occured my finals week of junior year. It flipped my life upside down, and we moved into my family friends house until the event could be controlled. 

I spent my senior year at this house. In regards to the family friend, he won’t be named but I have great respect and gratitude for him for taking us in. In regards to the house, it was small as fuck and depressing. As senior year went on, I. just fell deeper and deeper down a depression hole. I was super gross honestly- inside and out. I hardly showered, brushed my teeth, ate shittily, never got out of bed and treated myself and others like shit. I also added into this depression concoction of lots of weed, which spiraled me even deeper. I switched between being depressed and manic episodes. I would act so compulsively and was just running numb 24/7. I couldn’t feel anything so I would stay up all night and sleep all day just for the brief head rush from waking up and drinking an energy drink. My depression altered my mindstate so severely it took control of my personality. I destroyed friendships and I even had a boyfriend (for two weeks :P) that I broke up with but then changed my mind all in one day. Needless to say, he broke up with my crazy ass a week after. I continued to do weird, compulsive actions because I only cared about myself. For example,  I would call into work 20 minutes before to say I was sick and I wasn’t coming. I once quit and took it back an hour after. By the end of summer, gained weight, I had one friend, I was jobless, and left my house once a week. Can you say thriving… :)  I wish this was the part of the story where I tell you guys leaving for college was when my life magically turned good.

At the time, I thought that the second I stepped foot onto college, I would immediately be confident, make friends, have straight A’s, and thrive. Well, that can’t really happen when you’ve been severely depressed and spent your summer in your dark, trashed bedroom. The depression was sucked out and replaced with anxiety. You know that feeling of the notification of a test grade being posted and you’re clicking it waiting for it load. I felt that way 24/7. I had the normal beginning college feeling of “I can’t make friends” and felt the pressure too but I did succeed in adopting a nicotine addiction. Something about being able to feel nothing will have you doing anything for that twenty-second head rush from a Juul rip. I experienced male attention for the first time and lost my virginity. I didn’t understand hook up culture, so I thought the situation was much deeper than it was so when he wasn’t interested else wise, I was crushed. The next thing I did was make out with his old roommate, and made him snapchat me to the guy. Trust me, I know how weird I was to do this. I did so many weird things with guys that any female with common sense would be like ???? but clearly I didn’t have common sense. I mooched off people for Juul rips, and to smoke weed, anything to not have to live in my own reality.

I’m writing this in the past tense, so keep in mind I never realized during any of this what role I was playing, I just deemed life bad. I finally realized how awful life seemed to me over winter break, I thought my only issue was my nicotine addiction. Quitting made life appeared brighter, but it led me  to see my real life that I had hidden behind weed and nicotine. I realized nothing had changed from that dark bedroom Anna and Anna in college. I began to reflect over my life and all the moments I shared with you and more, I was literally shook. I was embarrassed and disgusted and I couldn’t believe I did that all and normalized it. “That wasn’t me,” I kept thinking. But who was I? And When was the last time I was that “normal self?” This sparked my self-help journey, that while I am only three months deep in, I am living happier than ever.

I wish I could tell you I fixed my life overnight, but its a long journey. My life was never the issue, I was. I was the villain in my own story. I started educating myself on how I could “fix” myself,  and wanted to go to the root of the problem. This blog is your hotspot for how to fix yourself. If you are on here I’m guessing you hate your life too. To rip off the bandaid, You are your problem.  But you can fix it! That’s what this blog is for.