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starryeyedrogue · 3 years

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mental health & vent

again, a long one. please stick with me here.

tw: depression, anxiety, ptsd, epilepsy diagnosis, suicidal thoughts mention

hey everyone, like I said in my last post, I won’t be as active on here. this doesn’t mean I’m quitting by any means, I’m here for the long haul! I just need a break for a little bit.

side note: I am not in any way suicidal or practicing self harm. this is just to vent and act as a PSA for my mutuals/followers.

now onto my main message.

I’ve seen lots of posts about mental health lately, and I’m so incredibly proud of those who have spoken up. They’ve inspired me to make my own post, actually. normally I’d keep it to myself, but this time has been rough and I want to get it off my chest. I’ll probably delete this later, but still.

I’ve been depressed.

long story short, I had a very traumatic experience a couple years ago with an ex boyfriend (not going into it on this post, for details just dm me. not something I’d want to post publicly, this is just an explanation) and I was deeply depressed. I was never diagnosed “officially” because I was afraid to speak up, as this would expose what I was going through. I had really bad anxiety at that time too, and I still do. I also have PTSD flashbacks from it now and again. none of this was diagnosed, and I still don’t want to bring it up to my doctors/family. my irl friends don’t even know, at least not most of it.

I have monoclonic epilepsy, which means my seizures are fairly small. my arms, legs, feet, hands, and fingers twitch, and I lose control for a few seconds. it doesn’t hurt, and sometimes I don’t even notice or remember it happening, but my family does. epilepsy in general runs in my family, and it can be triggered by a great deal of stress, lack of sleep, and of course flashing lights. in my case, I never “had” epilepsy or seizures until the “experience” I mentioned before, as it caused massive amounts of stress for about 2 years straight. it’s gotten better, as I now have medicine and am out of that situation, and I haven’t had a seizure since September, which is amazing and a huge blessing.

writing has helped with my depression and anxiety a lot, as I can write out what effects me the most. honestly, some of the characters are based off of myself (before vs after) and the person from the “experience.” this is just for therapeutic reasons, as I don’t really want to go to real therapy (I’d be too embarrassed to ask for it or talk to someone anyway, though I probably need to go eventually and plan to when I’m on my own).

however, when I stopped posting it, I started feeling bad again. I didn’t think I needed to post my stories to feel better or to make a childhood dream into reality, but not posting it made me feel somehow worse. I’ve stopped writing as much, and I’ve lost motivation to do just about anything. I’m working on a couple things to help myself get out of this “funk,” but any tips would be greatly appreciated!

this may seems stupid, but I’ve been depressed and very anxious about my schooling. I started in cyber security and got about halfway through, but I became depressed and had other issues so I didn’t finish the degree. now I’m starting in psychology, after praying for months and months for help with figuring out what to do for school. I finally got an answer, and that answer was to be a Christian counselor! I want to help as many people as I can, especially since I know how it feels to be anxious, depressed, and have PTSD.

I’m dealing with a lot of changes right now, as I’m selling my first car, might have to move out of my first house/childhood home, and just a bunch of other stuff. this sounds trivial, but I hate change. it seriously stresses me out. my neurologist told me that if I have any more seizures, I won’t be able to drive for 6 months to a year to be safe (as I could have an “episode” as I call it while driving and hurt myself/others in a potential car accident). trust me, trying not to be stressed while being stressed, anxious, and depressed is not easy.

on top of all that, my irl friends have all but abandoned me. I never hear from them (all but one, she’s the best!), and when I do they ignore me or pretend to listen when they obviously aren’t. I try to make plans with them, but they ignore me or just say “definitely!” but never try to set up times to hang out. It’s been almost two years since I’ve seen them all together. I was able to hang out with the friend I mentioned earlier to go to another friend’s recital, but that was it, and that was months ago. I totally get being busy, but I miss them and I don’t think they miss me, which really hurts. one friend ditched us on graduation day and we haven’t talked to her outside of “happy birthday,” or “@___ look at this thing I know you like,” which she never responded to. graduation was 4 years ago. I miss them all, even if they aren’t really my friends. I miss familiarity and their chaotic personalities. I’ve known them my entire life. honestly, I haven’t made any other friends irl, even though I’ve tried (I’m very introverted and a lot of people don’t get my humor/personality. I’m very much a mischievous old lady that uses weird wording (li.e. using uncommon words for my generation mixed with modern stuff, basically I sound like a vampire that’s been around since the 50s and mixes the eras together in some unholy mixture) at heart and I have very niche interests that I cling to like they’re my last hope). basically, making friends and meeting new people is hard for me for various reasons.

tumblr is different though, which I’m seriously grateful for! the people I’ve talked to are all so nice and really fun to talk to, and they’re part of why I’m posting this. @elvish-sky gave me the courage to post this and @hey-its-nonny and @padawansofthejediorder have been amazing and super nice to me, and I couldn’t be more grateful. the reason I’m posting this is to let them know what’s going on if I don’t respond to messages for a while, and to let them know what wonderful people they are and how much it means to me that they care about me, even if we’re just tumblr mutuals. I love you guys, thanks for being here! it means more than you know.

my mom and dad both had health scares recently, which made me spiral even more. I honestly don’t know what I would do if one of them died. they’re literally my world and my best friends, as ridiculous as that sounds. my mental health was so low I honestly thought I’d die too. they’re both fine now, which is truly a blessing and a massive relief. when I say I thought I’d die too, I don’t mean I wanted to commit suicide, but I honestly can’t imagine a world without my parents, especially my mom (hers was the main health scare, it was a case of reaction to a new medication for her migraines). we’re insanely close and she’s my best friend, as cheesy as that sounds. I don’t know what I would do without her. it’s making me teary just thinking about it.

long story short, please be patient with me. I’m dealing with a lot right now, and I need some time to take a deep breath and focus on my mental health. if you have any suggestions/tips for dealing with depression, anxiety, and PTSD flashbacks, please let me know!

for those I’ve tagged, you don’t have to reply or even read this whole thing if you want, I tagged you because I thought you’d like to know about this and/or I wanted to show my appreciation for your kindness!

I love you all, thanks for sticking around and listening to my rants. <3

#roguespeaks #sorry that was super long #vent #mental health #roguesrambles

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turnabout4what · 3 years

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You used to be diagnosed with ADHD, but then got diagnosed with autism, right? Aside from needing a lot of time to recharge after social stuff, can I ask what kinds of things tipped you off as to the difference? My psychiatrist is looking at an ASD diagnosis for me after years of being labeled ADHD... and I don’t really know what to think. If this is too personal feel free to ignore it!

I’m still diagnosed with ADD, but I’m strongly suspected of having autism. I haven’t been able to pursue a diagnosis because of COVID, but I’ve been in therapy for both. Before I answer your question, I’m going to go over the overlap between ASD and ADD, because you can work on these things regardless of the diagnosis. It’s very stressful to not have a clear idea of what you’re “supposed” to be experiencing!

1. RSD, or Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria. Do you feel physical pain whenever a stranger on the internet implies you’re a bad person? You may have this common symptom of ASD and ADD.

2. Difficulties with executive functioning. Lots of people have trouble motivating themselves to do things, but ADD and ASD make it even harder!

3. Emotional regulation. You may become angry or anxious very easily, and you may be oversensitive. This often comes with impulsivity, especially in ADD.

4. Hyperfocusing. Do you ever start cleaning your room and then find yourself unable to stop? This frequently is accompanied by forgetting to eat. Generally, this happens with things that you enjoy doing, but when I’m stressed, it often involves cleaning.

5. Being prone to addiction. This can be drugs, or it can be video games or any number of things that give you a boost of dopamine. Additionally, you may get short-term obsessions. Watching a TV show may be incredibly stressful unless you can binge the entire thing in one weekend.

6. Not being able to make and keep friends in elementary school. I was great at making friends, but I could never keep them. Combined with RSD, this was devastating.

7. A lack of focus on work and school. Notably, if you also have anxiety, you may still be able to pull off good grades by using your anxiety to rein in your focus. I was once told by a psychiatrist who sat down with me for only ten minutes that kids with executive dysfunction couldn’t have a 4.0 GPA and that he didn’t believe I had trouble focusing. Two appointments later, he apologized and officially diagosed me with ADD. There’s a reason I don’t totally trust his diagnosis. I do find it interesting and relieving that your psychiatrist is looking at an ASD diagnosis; a lot of psychiatrists don’t consider that a possibility if you weren’t diagnosed in early childhood.

8. Forgetting deadlines, leaving things you needed at home, and generally being an organizational disaster by neurotypical standards. My third grade teacher gave me the “tornado award” in front of the entire class to publicly shame me for how messy my desk was.

Now, to answer your question, here are the things that stood out as being indicators of me having ASD:

1. ASD runs in my family. My dad didn’t speak until the age of 6, and my younger brother was diagnosed as autistic when he was about two years old.

2. I have a sensory disorder that frequently interferes with my everyday life. I’m the type who can’t be inside of a candle store for more than 10 minutes because the smells are too overwhelming. At homecoming and prom, I could be found as far away from the speakers as possible, wishing the evening would end and we could all go home. Interestingly, my issue isn’t with volume, but with how unfamiliar a sound is—I went to a TOP concert with intense earplugs in. For the opening band, I got so sick that I went to the bathroom and curled up in a ball with my hands over my ears. But when TOP started playing, I was able to take my earplugs out and I felt perfectly fine. Notably, I know every lyric to every TOP song on Spotify, and I’d never heard the opening band before.

3. People who are AFAB and high intelligence frequently don’t show the standard signs of ASD due to how we’re socialized as infants. If you’ve ever stood in a mirror and practiced making facial expressions and hand gestures, it’s a sign you intellectually learned how to act neurotypical. Most people pick up on that intuitively.

4. I only recently discovered that when someone asks, “How are you?” you’re supposed to ask them that question back. I always hated when people asked me that, since I was expected to say that I was doing well, so I never returned it. I didn’t realize that was rude. I still occasionally find things that are considered basic communication that I never realized.

5. My dad was physically abused as a child whenever he showed symptoms of ASD, and unfortunately that meant my younger brother and I were verbally abused any time we stimmed, talked about our special interests, or reacted strongly to sensory stimuli. Because of this, I didn’t indulge my childhood special interest until I was well into college: insects. As soon as I started taking classes about insects, I occasionally scared classmates and even professors! I’m normally a soft and smiley person, but when I’m hyperfocused on something that really interests me, I fall into a certain state that my friends have described as “intense.”

6. Stimulant ADD medications like Adderall and Vyvanse did not work for me. They made me more anxious and didn’t improve my focus well. You know what did work? Wellbutrin. My doctor actually just upped my Wellbutrin dose and I feel incredible

This was extremely long, but hopefully helpful! Note that all of the problems I’ve had with my ASD or ADD came from surrounding myself with people who never tried to understand me. Now I have friends who plan events with my sensory sensitivities in mind, who point out my mistakes without making me feel rejected, and who are excited to see me even when I’m 15 minutes late… again. Neither diagnosis means there’s something wrong with you. It just means people have to put in a little extra work to understand you, and I promise you’ll find people who know you’re worth that extra work.

Best wishes, anon!

#long post #add #asd

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donkey-hyuck · 4 years

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Leader Taeyong request!!🥺💞

25+32+75: “What the hell were you thinking?!” , “Why are you doing this?” , “What did you expect?” Member: Taeyong, ceo! Au

Here’s the link to the prompt list!

⚠️this includes suicidal thoughts/attempts and depression!! PLEASE DON’T READ THIS if you get triggered, thank you⚠️

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

Taeyong was the I.T. fashion ceo. He owned multiple brands, but his biggest brand was ‘The Lee’s Express’ stores found all over Southeast Asia. And he was undeniably gorgeous, no wonder he was such a powerful fashion ceo. With a sharp nose and chin, and a jaw chiseled by the gods, he was worshipped by people across the globe. He was young, only twenty five, but he was to get engaged.

You and Taeyong had met when he was still in college. Through mutual friends, you two immediately clicked and became close since then. He was engaged to you and he wouldn’t have it any other way. He loved you more than life itself, only you wished your life was never brought upon this world.

Taeyong knew, of course. Over the years he’d known you, he’s seen the severe pain, and only wished you the best, but it had yet to come. You were diagnosed with depression in middle school, dealing with your parents divorce, and handling your alcoholic and drug addict mother, you’d learned about the responsibilities very early in life, taking care of your mother more than yourself. You didn’t hate your mother, though she always brought you down, but she was there, and you didn’t have the heart to leave her. Your life was immensely difficult.

You were struggling your jobs, academics, and your mother. When you met Taeyong, he was there to help you, and you couldn’t be more grateful. Along the way, you stumbled upon some unknown feelings toward the male and you were unsure if he felt the same way. Lucky for you, he shared the same feelings and your relationship became quite public. He was a new ceo at the time, and he was the top buzz of Asia for quite some time. Coming with the fame and recognition, came hatred and jealousy. Mostly directed toward you, Taeyong’s most prized person.

You and his sister had been out, shopping and bonding even closer. You were thankful of the family. In fact, they were one of the only people that made you feel like you actually had one. His sister was in the fitting room, trying on some clothes for her brothers three year company anniversary party. You already had something picked out, while she practically begged you to come with her to multiple boutiques. While sitting on the couch, and scrolling through your phone, two pair of legs stood before you. Some workers, which you immediately recognized, from Taeyong’s company. “I don’t know what he sees in her. She’s just a lazy bitch, look at her.” And all at once the overwhelming feeling cascaded over you. They grabbed you by your hair, “Don’t act all high and mighty, you’re not capable of being with Mr. Lee.” You knew you weren’t, but Taeyong always made sure you were treated like a porcelain doll. And all of a sudden, your breath had gotten shorter and tears faded down your cheek. You stormed out of the store. Just in time for his sister to see, they went through your bag. And Taeyong’s sister slapped each of them on their cheeks, her wedding ring cutting them in the process. “Taeyong is my brother, they are to be wedded soon. There is no way you’re treating her like that. Get out of my face before your Mr. Lee gets disappointed, again.” Shocked, the pair of girls look at the beautiful young woman. “Go! Go! It really is Mr. Lee’s sister!” , “Pathetic.”

You ran outside and walked down the street, trying to calm yourself down. And you found yourself sitting at come cafe not far from where the boutique was. “Y/N?” You recognized that voice in an instant and looked up. It was Seulgi RV DHSJDJ sorry lol, an old friend of yours. “Hey, hey. What happened to you?” , “Y/N!” It was Taeyong’s sister, running into the cafe with her hands full of your things that you left at the boutique. “I’ll see you around Y/N,” said Seulgi as she patted your back and his sister gave her a glare.

“Sorry for leaving. I hadn’t had a panic attack in years. And what they said really bothered me, I guess.” , “Oh gosh! Don’t apologize, beautiful! I totally get why you left. But don’t worry, I’m here to protect you. What did you expect? Me to just leave you? I could never oh my gosh!”

It was later that evening, and she brought you to her house to comfort you, informing Taeyong what had happened. “Where is she?!” Said he, pushing past the doors and running directly toward you. “I’m okay Yong. Your sister helped me.” , “I’m sorry angel. I should have been more careful with our relationship. You have been suffering all these years and yet you continue to stay with me.”

But everything only went downhill after this.

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

It was the night of the anniversary party. Taeyong had asked you to get your hair, makeup, and outfit done in his office. Claiming that he felt less nervous when you were there. The stylists came and sat you in a chair across the mirror in the bathroom. The hair and makeup was quite simple.

Your hair curled in a half bun updo with two braids located on each side of your head, meeting in the bun. Makeup was very glowy and natural, little brown shades in the crease of your eyes as a light pink shimmer covered your lids. Your dress was a beige princess gown style silk dress. It was a bit tighter around your chest and torso but flared out and had a small train as the dress reached the floor. There was also a small slit on the right side of the dress, exposing your right leg a bit more.

Taeyong had planned the party to start at around 7 P.M. and he and his fiancé— you— were to meet the guests at around 7:30. And when the two of you entered the room, cheering and whistles filled the entirety of it.

“Firstly, I would like to thank everyone who was able to make it here tonight! I’m so glad my business is lifting off and that my team and I could make it this far. Secondly, I would like to thank my soon-to-be wife for standing with me through it all. We’ve gone through so much together and she practically helped me with ideas when I first started out. Thank you and please enjoy the rest of the night!” Cheers again.

It had been about an hour into the party and you’ve lost sight of Taeyong at this point. It was fine with you, considering this was his party. You’d been talking with Jaehyun, a good friend of yours, and he actually helped set you and Taeyong up. “Hey Y/N! Have you seen Seulgi? I’ve been looking for her for a while now and I can’t find her.” You shake your head no and look for Taeyong, just to ask around. And soon, you realized you’d been trying to locate him for ten minutes before giving up and talking to some of the guests and employees.

9 P.M. sharp. You distinctly remember this. Walking up to the office to rest your head from the communicating and loudness in the room. Until you heard Taeyong and Seulgi’s voice. “What will make you believe me? You’ve been with her for so long. Can’t you see that she’s using you? Or are you too in love with her?” Lies. It was all lies, what she told Taeyong. You were friends, yes, but you were aware of her little crush on Taeyong years ago. She was jealous at the time, and obviously she was still jealous, even now.

Disturbed was the word. After a few moments of contemplation, you entered the quiet room to be met with their bodies close together. The whole scene before you, there were no words to utter.

You ran and ran. Past the guests, and past the double doors of the company. Unfortunately, it was terribly cold that night. But you didn’t have any thoughts beside the horrific moment that you had just witnessed.

It felt like hours before you stopped running. It was somewhere around the park. The park you escaped to before your parents divorce. The place where you felt a place of security. And now, it’s a place where you were to be gone. Slowly stripping out of the dress, you shiver and your lips and neck turn purple, while the goosebumps on your body try to keep you warm. Stepping into the freezing lake, your head is dipped in the water and you fight off the need to breathe. Then everything turned black.

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

The blaring beeping of the machine wakes you up. You were still shivering when you were conscious enough to wake up. “It’s cold,” you chattered your teeth and Taeyong immediately ran when he heard your voice. “What the hell were you thinking?! Angel, please listen to me, I know what you saw earlier but it was all misunderstanding.” , “Where’s your sister?”

His sister had ushered him out of the room. Completely take aback and disappointed about what you had told her. “Let’s get you some rest and warmth. When the doctors told us you had hypothermia, I went to by a heater and hot packs. Use them, please. I know you don’t want to be here anymore. But believe me, I want you here. And no matter what you saw, I know Taeyong still loves you, and I know he wants you here.” She hugged you before leaving the hospital.

“I’m sorry. Visiting hours will be open in seven hours. You can see her then,” said the nurse to Taeyong. “But I’m her husband. I should be in there!” , “I’m sorry Mr. Lee, but we had already disobeyed the hospital rules for you and your sister. You have to go home, you can see her in the morning.” Giving up, Taeyong walked out to meet his sister in the car.

“What did you do? You must’ve done something considering what she just went through. How could you let her suffer like that? Do you realize that she had been suffering so much these past weeks.” His sister talked in such a disappointing tone as they drove to his house. “It was truly a misunderstanding. From her angle it looked like I was kissing Seulgi. But I swear I wasn’t. I love Y/N with all my heart. I could and would never do that to her. She’s the love of my life.”

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

You’d been discharged from the hospital three days after. Barely speaking a word to Taeyong, but laughing whenever his sister joked around. This made his heart hurt and wanted to prove so much to you that he and Seulgi weren’t doing anything— because he truly loved you.

At this point, you’d been ignoring Taeyong in the house, well, whenever he was home. He was beyond shocked when you moved your things to a guest room far from your shared master bedroom. It took him two days to find out you had moved rooms. Clearly, you didn’t want to interact with him. At all. But he didn’t want to give up so easily. You didn’t even want to sign divorce papers, which made him think he still had hope.

The day before, Taeyong’s sister had called you that it was all a false alarm. And that Taeyong and Ssulgi did nothing. However, you were stubborn and refused to believe it.

One night, Taeyong had come home early and cooked you food. When delivering it to you, the door was slightly opened and he could see you dancing to some Bruno Mars song. Quietly laughing, he placed the plate of food on the floor before placing the note next to it, knocking on your door, and hiding behind the nearest wall. “Please eat. I don’t know if you already ate but I want you to fill your stomach. At least a little bit. I love you- Taeyong.” Scoffing, you shut the door. He gulped when he heard the lock to the door. Looking back, everything was back to where he left it.

Sighing, he took the plate and gloomily walked toward the kitchen. There was a knock coming from the inside of your room and a note was slid under your door. “I already ate.” The response was meaningless and short, making Taeyong sigh again.

“Angel.... you don’t have to open the door. I just want you to know what happened that day. My sister probably told you already. But it’s all true. You know I wouldn’t do anything to intentionally hurt you, especially cheat on you. That’s such an inhumane thing to do, especially to you. But may I ask you.... why are you doing this? It hurts me that you’re not talking to me. It hurts me that you’re avoiding me.... please, just talk to me.”

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another-mentalhealthblog · 3 years

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Christmas shopping with PTSD

Yup, you heard me.

Let’s just get things straight, crisp and clear before I even begin.

Straight from NAMI, the National Alliance on Mental Illness.

“Traumatic events—such as AN ACCIDENT, assault, military combat or natural disaster—can have lasting effects on a person’s mental health. While many people will have short term responses to life-threatening events, some will develop longer term symptoms that can lead to a diagnosis of Posttraumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). PTSD symptoms often co-exist with other conditions such as substance use disorders, depression and anxiety.”

[Let me be clear. I’m not trying to self diagnose here. Because I haven’t been diagnosed with PTSD by my psychiatrist, primary care doctor or therapist (yet). And I feel like that may be because I haven’t met with my psychiatrist since... October?

“I think you’re doing well!” she said, because I was finally on a combination of medications with no day-to-day side affects that were interrupting my daily living. “Let’s meet again in... two months!”

At the time this sounded fine to me. But two months have gone by, and I have gone completely off my rocker.

We were supposed to meet on Wednesday morning at 10:00am, but after the trauma I experienced Tuesday night, and the mere three to four hours of sleep I got... that totally wasn’t happening. So now we’re meeting on Friday afternoon, and I’ll have to give her the low down on my life right now and see what she says.]

ANYWHO!

Yesterday my mom came in my room and “asked” if I wanted to go to Marshal’s to do some Christmas shopping with her. I put “asked” in quotes, or air quotes, because I didn’t really have a choice. She knows I’m down in the dumps right now, and she thought she was doing me a service by getting me up and out of my bed, my room, and maybe my depressing thoughts.

But the thing about depression, at least for me, is that the thoughts don’t just go away because I’m out Christmas shopping. Or in this situation, the thoughts and blurry flashbacks of the traumatic event I had experienced just FOUR days before, are still stuck to my brain like a wad of gum on the bottom of a shoe. Which I think is “normal” considering what I have gone through. But I don’t think my mom fully understands that.

Especially since, on the way to Marshal’s, we literally passed the exact location where my traumatic event occurred.

The thoughts of the night weigh on me like a bowling ball on my chest, or a backpack with two bowling balls in it, that I am carrying around and can only put down when I’m asleep at night.

Meaning... when we’re in line, outside Marshal’s, waiting to get inside (nothing says 2020/COVID more than that), all I can think about is the traumatic event that I experienced. And how I’m jealous of my mom and all of the people that can just live right there, in the present moment. Right now... it feels like I’ll never be able to do that again.

Walking around inside of Marshal’s, I felt like a shy, pre-pubescent child, following her mom around, deathly afraid of what would happen or how her mom would feel if she lost her in the store. I was afraid to look people in the eyes, fearful of... “What if the police officer or someone from four nights ago is here and sees me?”

This also had an impact on what I was going to wear to the store, too. I was afraid to wear my FILA sneakers because I had worn them four nights before when I was arrested and put in the hospital. “What if someone sees my sneakers and my height and my blonde hair and remembers that it was me and says something in front of my mom?”

A “normal” 23 year old should be able to go Christmas shopping with her mom, live in the present moment, and feel uplifting feelings of joy and happiness for the Christmas season and spending quality time with her mom... but that’s not where I am right now at all.

*Clenches jaw*

I feel like I am trapped in my own head and I am the only one who understands how I feel and that I am feeling these heavy things.

I am carrying weight around with me, every minute of every day. And it makes it harder to live.

My mom says my parents have been “nothing but kind to me,” but I also feel like if I misstep and do one thing to even slightly upset them or displease them, I’ll be in even more trouble and set back even further than I already am. So I feel like I’m living every day in pursuit of doing everything I can possibly do to please them... and repressing my own thoughts, feelings and emotions along the way.

I feel like this blog, and kind of my talks with my best friend, boyfriend and therapist are my only safe spaces. And I feel stuck because I feel like I visit the place of pursuit in pleasing my mom and family way more than I visit my safe spaces, where I can release my own inner thoughts and emotions.

I’m pushed and pushing myself to get out of my bed and out of my room so that I’m not alone and stuck in these dark, heavy thoughts. But when I leave my room, my ultimate safe space, I’m forced to play a character who has to put on a happy face, be helpful, not misstep.

Someone who has to act like she’s not suffering internally when doing the tiniest of seasonal tasks like Christmas shopping or watching Rudolph.

My palms are sweaty. My throat is tight.

And I’m already nervous about leaving my room and seeing my mom, because she snapped on me last night when I told her (instead of asking her) that my boyfriend was going to come over for a few hours at 8:30/9:00pm. Because we’re not allowed to hang out in my room anymore. We have to hang out in the family room. And that means “kicking my mom out” of the family room where she was watching her 1000th awful Lifetime Christmas movie (and it’s only December 6th).

She snapped. I got upset. Went silent and emotionless. And that got me in ever more trouble. Told, “You better watch yourself.”

Thinking about that makes my throat even tighter, and my body even colder.

Even though I did a meditation on “happiness,” and my gratitude journal, and personal development reading about the ego or the “big snooze,” it doesn’t make these thoughts and feelings magically go away.

But there were some quotes in my reading that I wanted to take note of, and I guess I’ll end with today.

One, “When taking great leaps forward, life often turns to shit before it turns to Shinola.”

And two, “Growth ain’t for weenies, but it’s nowhere near as painful as living the life you’re living right now if you’re not really going for it. If you want to take control of your life and turn it into something spectacularly you, stop and nothing. Have faith. Trust that your new life is already here and is far better than the old. Hang tight if the Big Snooze pitches a fit. Whatever happens, stay the course, because there’s nothing cooler than watching your entire reality shift into one that is the perfect expression of you.”

I just don’t know what the “perfect expression” of me is. It’s confusing when you’re multi-passionate and multi-talented. And I’m not tooting my own horn. I get lost because I could make a Youtube channel and sing and play piano. Or I could be a photographer. Or a writer. Or something in marketing or communications, which is what my mom wants. Or something in health and fitness, like a personal trainer or a yoga instructor.

I told Matt that if we have a future together and if he opens up his own gym, I would get my yoga certification and teach yoga classes there. And maybe do photography or blogging or something else on the side.

All I know is when I read the words “the perfect expression of you,” asking Matt for his NASM book back and starting to study personal training again is the first thing I thought of. I’m not sure if that’s my answer.

I’m not sure who I am. But here’s to another day of improving myself and figuring it out.

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jerepars · 3 years

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Throwing Copper Extended Chapter Notes

1 / 5 Reinventing Your Exit

Hyperlinks appear in blue (underlined on mobile). The story is posted here.

Teresa could see the stress James carried in his jaw and the dark circles under his eyes. She recognized it because she’d seen it in herself before, the restlessness and slight delirium, when she wasn’t sleeping.

The first sentence is an ode to the opening lyrics of Remo Drive’s “I’m My Own Doctor”: I’ve been self-diagnosing all of my problems, carrying all my stress in my jaw.

David Lee Autry was one of many aliases James had over the last few years but one he maintained with close attention because the so-called Autry had a credit card in his name. James hadn’t exactly had time to pack a bag when he broke out of a CIA facility to warn Teresa about impending doom. He showed up in New Orleans in a stolen car, the clothes on his back, contents of his pockets, and a bullet lodged in his chest.

David Lee Autry is the name written on James’ fake passport in 2x03 (around 20:54 in the episode); Pete from the militia group reads it.

James felt a lump in this throat. Whether it was because there was something very domestic about letting someone else do his laundry or because he worried the warning he’d come with wasn’t enough to protect Teresa every time she walked out the door, he wasn’t sure. But he swallowed his feelings down and didn’t put up an argument to her laundry suggestion. He appreciated the clothing George had lent him, but oversized tracksuits and brightly patterned button-down shirts were far from James’ aesthetic. And he absolutely refused to put on King George-branded attire, aerodynamic or not, so he’d been going commando while waiting for David Lee Autry’s online order to show up at Teresa’s PO Box.

When Teresa and James meet King George for the first time in 2x01, we get the lovely scene where he yells for someone to get Teresa a King George bikini (1:12) and later points to the speedo he’s wearing, saying “aerodynamic as shit, will make you feel alive, I trust” (1:18). And, like, who am I to not bring up aerodynamic speedos and going commando?

The doctor had come back and after patching him up, again, prescribed bed rest for the patient who seemed to be doing everything to keep aggravating his body rather than help it get better. Teresa had been furious, asking if he had a death wish after all, so he’d spent the last two days bored out of his mind in bed from inactivity, barely sleeping and reading Faulkner. Or maybe he’d barely slept because he was reading Faulkner. Either way, James knew it best to tread lightly where Teresa was concerned.

That didn’t mean he couldn’t sit in a chair at a desk though. Anything would be an improvement over laying on his back and waiting for his thoughts to float up to the ceiling.

So, listen, since they’re in Louisiana, and given their close proximity to matters of death and dying, if James is going to be reading anything at all, it just feels fitting that he’d be reading Southern literature, specifically William Faulkner. As I Lay Dying is an obvious choice, but personally I think he’d be reading The Sound and the Fury. Not that it matters.

The last sentence in the second paragraph is a reference to “Dreamspace” by Glacier Veins, and the line that goes I’m on my back so I float up to the ceiling to feel different.

Teresa had cried herself to sleep that night thinking about everything that could have gone wrong, if he hadn’t made it in time, or if he had but if it had been too late for him. It wasn’t just anyone—it was James, and he would’ve spent his last dying breath to tell her to chase safety if that was what it took.

Never did I think I’d manage to make a nod to and with my one last gasping breath I’d apologize for bleeding on your shirt from “You’re So Last Summer” by Taking Back Sunday. To be here, in 2020, as an adult, and finding a way to make that reference is...strange yet somehow satisfying at the same time. Also, the chapter title is in reference to a song off the Underoath album They’re Only Chasing Safety, and it looks like I found a way to work that in as well. I don’t know why my musical inspiration for this version of Jeresa seems to come from music that peaked in the early 2000s?

There was a time when James had been her mentor to the underworld, always keeping her from sinking to the bottom, even when he’d been the one who had to make the tough calls and take the brutal actions. She didn’t think he’d ever be able to rid himself of that balancing act, of showing her the ropes but strongly advising her to untether herself from the line completely, to walk away. Teresa could still hear his voice in the back of her mind, from the night after the party at the Birdman’s when he told her in a matter-of-fact fashion why he’d sent her in: your job was to learn. Since then, and especially in his absence, it seemed there’d been only tough lessons to learn and bitter pills to swallow.

I have so much appreciation for the early dynamic between James and Teresa. The car scene in 1x05 outside the warehouse is a highlight because when Teresa gets out, all indignant, she thinks she has the last word (0:15), and James comes right back at her (0:21) to tell her how it is. He’s kind of smug about it. I love it.

And I know that there’s trouble all the time. But it’s interesting that when they get away from this dynamic (especially in S4 where it doesn’t exist, because James isn’t there), it seems that’s where the real trouble comes in.

The balance that they create is delicate.

They were so far removed from the time he’d said I’ve got a plan for a future and it doesn’t include getting killed by crossfire meant for you. But he’d chosen crossfire—sought it out, really—that was what his future devolved into. And like he’d said back then, she was trouble. More and more, Teresa had begun to wonder if there was anything the James she’d first met in Dallas wasn’t right about.

I know this scene in 1x04 is often reblogged and quoted. After watching it several times, my only question is if it’s just the lighting of the scene or did they forget to apply James’ tattoos on set that day? I can’t watch it or see gifs of it now without that bothering me.

It only took Teresa a day to get the cat to venture inside and it only took George a few minutes to declare its name: Peach. God damn, we got ourselves a grumpy cat on our hands, George had exclaimed as she sunk her claws into his flesh before escaping from his embrace like a magic trick, she’s got the same personality as Giant Peach over here. She’s little Peach.

So I guess I rolled with that bts picture of Peter from Alice’s story and wrote the cat into the story. I bet this cat makes zero appearance in S5 and at no point do any of them ever have a pet but I did it anyway. The first thought when I saw it was “Peach and Giant Peach”. Would James be a cat guy? I think he would.

George suspected there was much more to the exchange than the parting words voiced out loud, noticing there was a sense of thanks in her eyes, too. The looks Teresa and James gave each other exuded the tension between them and always made it feel at least ten degrees hotter than it actually was in any room. They had their own way of communicating that only made sense to them, that no one else was privy to. There were better odds throwing copper down a wishing well than trying to decode their language of silence.

The story title comes from “Throwing Copper” by Touché Amoré. Like throwing copper in a well. You’ll never know if wishes work only time can tell.

This is not really the part that made me decide to name the story after the song, but I was still happy to find a place for it in the narration.

“Think you might need to reinvent your exit strategy, Giant Peach,” George said with a frown, nearly in disbelief with himself over what he was about to reveal to James.

“Reinvent?”

“Reinvent. Rethink. As in don’t make one. Methinks the last thing Little Principessa needs right now is more people leaving.” George spoke without his usual puns, so James didn’t have to question if he was being serious.

As mentioned earlier, the chapter title is from a song off of They’re Only Chasing Safety, “Reinventing Your Exit”. I think this might be the biggest Underoath song there ever was? Just listening to this makes me feel 14 again. This was such a gateway to other music that I ended up loving.

Teresa’s evolving thirst for vengeance, to even the score, was foreign to James. It was part of Teresa that scared James a bit. Before he left Phoenix, he’d seen tiny red flashes of her anger, questionable decisions so far removed from when she’d stood within shooting distance on a train car and said we can do a different way, where none of us has to die. Her vision had seemed clear then; she wanted to move product without the same bloodshed as Camila. When James worked for Teresa, he’d never wanted her to lose herself in the business, and never thought she should stay in the business—those were things she’d said she never wanted, too. But being at the top in the business, like she was, it changed people. It was inevitable. It pulled them down into the fire until there was nothing left but scorched earth.

I get the sense that we are never ever getting this kind of James in canon, who is not totally cool with the part of Teresa that she shuts off in order to be queen. I think we probably get another yes man. And for canon, for the sake of Teresa being the queen, I get it. That’s fine. But, in any fic, I always find myself trying to humanize characters and not just leave them as archetypes. The reason this story got so long, the reason there was no way I was going to get through it in 2500 words or less (lol, who am I kidding, I can’t write anything of that length), is because I realized this is the James I want to explore. I want to see him push back at Teresa and not just let go, not just get shut down. Because Teresa is far from perfect and she doesn’t always make the right decisions (tbh, I think she makes a lot of dumb decisions). It’s a delicate balance between the two of them that gives the best outcome.

James’ thoughts in this first chapter are the setup for the exploration of the Jeresa dynamic in the next two chapters.

James used to see a blinding light when he looked right into Teresa’s eyes, a moral compass of sorts, always willing him to choose the humanity he’d buried so deep. But now it was light mixed with dark, integrated too well to be separated. Now looking into her eyes was like staring at a flickering light, not sure if it was going to illuminate the cave or burn out.

Here is the part of “Throwing Copper” that resonated with me for this whole thing: Like staring at a flickering light, you don't know when It'll burn out, or how much time you have left to let it light up your life.

So relevant.

I don’t want to lose you. Maybe that had been a proclamation of love in her own way, and maybe that was the last honest thing Teresa had ever said to James, after she’d realized she’d been wrong to doubt him. Those words had gripped him and followed him. He’d found solace and comfort in them even after he left, because he’d wanted nothing more than to stay, but he left to protect her because of what Devon had hanging over his head.

One of the lines in Tegan and Sara’s “This is Everything” is baby, this is the last honest look I’ll ever give. But by the end of the song it turns into baby, this is the last honest love I’ll ever give.

Teresa and James so obviously love each other but they never say that out loud, right? I feel like that moment in 3x12 when she says “I don’t want to lose you” (around 23:05 of the episode) is the closest we’ve gotten thus far. There’s a silent moment before she says it, and a silent moment after, before James answers and I swear all of it is so telling. The silence. The way they look at each other. The body language. Everything. They know.

#je repars notes

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imbruedinfear-a · 3 years

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@undeadrphub asked: ALL OF THEM FOR JAY

🍍 : how comfortable is my muse in their body? how do they feel about their height, weight, strength, and body type? how important is being attractive to them?

this man would kill to be taller in .0002 seconds if he could. he was bullied for his height, bullied for being severely underweight, bullied for feminine hips, for.. literally anything. he hates it all. as an adult, he’s managed to pull himself out of the underweight category, but it’s solely from muscle. he’s still incredibly thin and small, just as he’s always been. you can’t get him to be comfortable without an oversized hoodie to hide in. he vaguely cares about being attractive, but it’s more ‘i don’t want them to be embarrassed to be hanging out with someone as fucking ugly as i am’ than anything else. if he’s not working or going out with people, he won’t even think of trying to improve appearance.

🍅 : how does my muse feel about plastic / cosmetic surgeries & procedures? is it something they have done or would do? do they mind if others do it?

dislike. who the fuck cares about their appearance that much? granted, he’s had a nose job, but it was so he could still fucking breathe rather than cosmetics. he won’t dislike you as a person for it, but he’s going to instantly find you unappealing. it just bothers him for some reason.

🍏 : how stable is my muse’s physical health? do they go for regular or semi-regular checkups by a physician? do they have any diagnosed illnesses and / or take any medication? how often do they get sick?

stability whomst? he has two modes of health: sick once a year or sick every other week. it depends on how much food he’s been eating and whether or not he’s blown food money on beer. fuck doctors. his overall health is fucked. doctors cannot explain why he doesn’t have x problems and how he’s even still alive after all of the beatings he’s had, especially when it comes to the brain damage. he has seizures, sometimes an arm will stop working for a bit, sometimes he can’t hold anything, sometimes he’ll have a burst of amnesia. he’s a medical mystery to the point there are literal scientific articles on his case, and 98% of the time if he lands in the hospital for something they’ll just shrug it off. it’s gotten to the point he’ll break bones and still not go, because he learned how to fix that fucking problem himself when he was like 12.

🍎 : how stable is my muse’s mental health? have they been diagnosed with any mental illnesses and / or conditions? do they have any undiagnosed mental illnesses and / or conditions? do they or should they attend therapy?

:^) he’s gotten away with murder ( though it was self-defense ) through the insanity claim, which is actually really fucking hard to use. that should give you an idea of his scores on mental exams. but again, he has brain damage, and every single psych he’s ever interacted with has mentioned that they can no longer determine what’s an actual mental illness or what’s just his brain being physically unable to function correctly. he’s never been to therapy, but he’s been tested several times. his scores changed every time, for every section. the only thing anyone’s certain on is PTSD. Depression, Borderline Personality Disorder, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Antisocial Personality Disorder, General Anxiety Disorder, Obsessive-Compulsive Personality Disorder, and Schizophrenia have been heavily considered, but even professionals argue with each other. he’s a medical mystery even in mental health. he needs therapy, but his disorders make him extremely avoidant of it. that is not to say everything i listed is true, nor is it to say there isn’t anything unlisted here.

🍑 : how meticulously does my muse look after their physical appearance? do they spend a lot of time on their hair, makeup, grooming, and clothing? is there a particular reason why they do or don’t?

oof. how anxious is he? if he’s anxious, he’ll fix himself 1000x times. if he’s not doing anything special, he’ll walk out the door without a second thought. he doesn’t spend a lot of time on anything, but he does make sure he’s well groomed and put together. it should be noted, though, he doesn’t look in the mirror. his own apartment doesn’t have one, and he avoids public restrooms like the plague. his own reflection is a fucking trigger. this is probably why his eyeliner is always smudged.

🍒 : how much does my muse value companionship? do they constantly keep people around them, or do they prefer to be alone often? do they have or desire to have many friends? do they see every meeting as an opportunity to make a new friend?

confusing as fuck. he’s lonely as hell and constantly wants to hangout with people, but he also will have periods of avoiding them like the fucking plague. he loves hanging out! he fucking hates being out! who knows! for the most part, he has a lot of friends in a lot of places and will gladly drink with any group of strangers, but he’ll yeet the fuck out if you try actually getting close to him. he’s alone, always, at home and only around people when working or getting fucked up. having other people around too often, like a roommate perhaps, will make his mental health act the fuck up.

🍇 : how would my muse describe their childhood? how much has it impacted the person they are now, or will become as an adult? around what age did they or will they start to mature, and why? do they wish to go back to their days as a child, or have they embraced adulthood?

in his words, it was a great big pile of horseshit on fire. he literally has brain damage from it. he can’t leave his own room without convincing himself it’s going to be his living room, not his childhood home, and sometimes he’ll open the bedroom door and see his father standing there, and then he’ll fucking yeet back into bed. obviously it’s impacted him just a smidge. definitely not full of self-hatred and constantly fighting himself to do shit he likes, absolutely most definitely not traumatized in a million forms and continues to trigger himself because how the fuck do you go about your day not panicking half of the time. IN OTHER WORDS, he was a fucking parent to his brother when he was only 4, he would rather die in the most slow, most painful death than return to childhood. is he even still alive bc he doesn’t know

🍐 : how intelligent is my muse overall? are they smarter than the average person, or less than? are they primarily self-taught, or did they acquire most of their knowledge in school? are they more street smart or book smart?

if you knew him before his skull was caved in, you would call him a freak for how fast he could think and solve problems. he was the type of genius you’d only heard about in stories, and he pissed off his teachers because he never even needed to be taught. show him the super simple problem once and he knew how to do everything for the next three weeks. he grew up on the streets and read shakespeare for fun. he lost it all. it now only shows rarely, on really good days, when the stars want to align.

🍉 : which of the four seasons suits my muse best, and why?

summer. he literally lived outside most of the time since he was a kid, and summer nights were easiest. outdoor concerts, parties late at night, cookouts and campfires. he also loves storms.

🍌 : is my muse inclined to help others, or will they only do it when it benefits them, if at all? what makes them this way? has it ever gotten them into trouble, or inconvenienced them?

which personality is showing most at the time? he’s gotten accused of rape for helping a woman once. let that sink in. but also, he’s helped so many people he’s protected by half the city’s underworld. who knows.

🍊 : does my muse desire romance? is it something they would actively seek out, or prefer to happen more ‘ naturally? ’ what is their love life like? do they have any exes or past flings, or crushes?

o k a y listen. these r getting too hard i literally don’t know ok can i asked which disorder or which personality is showing most at the time for this bc IT CHANGES like everything always does. mostly, he’s,, weird. he actively seeks it out in the sense he’ll go on dates regularly, but he’s not actually trying to find a girlfriend. he’s carefree. also traumatized. really wanted romance until his heart was ripped to shreds and now he’s convinced himself he’s not lovable, too complicated, extremely undesirable, and especially undeserving of it. he won’t let it happen. no one should have to suffer by having to deal with him. if you’re including things that were just for fun and both parties knew it wasn’t serious, he’s had a few girlfriends. if we’re only including serious things, then he’s only had (1) serious boyfriend. They were together for nearly two years, and they split solely because Jeremiah a) didn’t want sex as much and b) didn’t want to try any kinks. def no trauma from that, absolutely doesn’t panic abt not being good enough or wanting it enough or being pleasing or being fun or attractive or too scarred. nope. also totally doesn’t do shit he doesn’t even like / triggers him just bc they want it gotta give it to them. perfectly fuckin’ fine after one relationship.

🍓 : how is my muse typically seen by others? does it ring true to who they really are? does their reputation matter to them?

our options: 1) aggressive 2) smooth n flirty 3) soft n adorable. he is all of the above. if you’re from the city and connected to the drug world at all, there’s a big ass chance you’re aware he was a major dealer at one point, the son of a psycho serial killer, and connected to damn near every gang in some way. there are few people who would be stupid enough to hurt him, just because there’s probably some member somewhere who’s going to get revenge for it. his rep is pretty positive if ur aware he basically turned the outskirts of the city from a shithole to a really good community. otherwise, u probably just think ‘criminally insane deliquent’. he doesnt rly care about it unless u start asking about his fucking dad.

🥝 : does my muse have any ‘ unusual ’ habits, interests, and / or talents? do they hide it, or are they proud of it?

b r u h i dont fuckin know im skipping this one, he’s just obsessive compulsive about the oddest things

🍋 : what kind of diet does my muse have? do they eat regularly, or the standard 2-3 meals a day? do they have to be reminded to eat, or are they likely to remind others? do they cook, or have others cook for them? do they eat healthily, or not so much?

no diet. no food. eat if money, starve if none. remember to eat who?? o u mean eat everything. who fucking knows. he can cook really well, sometimes, maybe. pizza and taco bell 4 life. fuck vegetables. fruits are delicious and to be treasured. he mostly eats like shit, if he eats at all.

🥭 : how important to my muse is their hometown, or where they’re from? are they proud of it, or considered a hometown hero? did they move away, or do they wish to?

none. no fucks given. still here bc no money to move. would happily fuck off to Paris or something.

#undeadrphub #( Some days I live in fear that I am every fucking thing I hate. || Jeremiah Headcanon )

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tcthestarswhclisten · 4 years

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( benedetta gargari, 25, cis female ) Welcome to Bainbridge University, THEODORA VAUGHAN WILLIAMS ! SHE is in HER SECOND year studying MASTERS IN ORGANIC CHEMISTRY and is from LONDON. They are known for being INTELLIGENT, AMIABLE, OVERLY SELF-CRITICAL, and SENSITIVE.

hi friends! I’m Christiana, I’m 20 yrs old, I use she/her pronouns, and I’m in the EST time zone. I’m studying literature and music and I’m just trying to survive out here with online uni. I'm SUPER EXCITED for this rp! we’re just wanting a super chill environment where we can kinda do what we want and have fun.

she here is theo !!

You know its white when they’ve got like 4 names lol

full name: Theodora Florence Vaughan Williams

Nicknames: Theo, some people say Thea, Teddy,

pronouns: she/her

sexuality: bisexual

height: 5′6″

favorite color: blue

favorite song: The Greatest Gift by Sufjan Stevens

Tw:mentions of emotional neglect, pharmaceutical drugs, anxiety, depression, chronic illness, and hospital.

I will have a full bio on her blog very soon but here’s the gist of it!

Personality:

There are mom friends right and I think she’s one of them?? she takes care of people, like James, who is a dumbass and she has to keep him from doing something too stupid. But also a bit of ur mad scientist friend who you never really know what they’re doing or what their motive is but nothing bad has happened so it’s fine

no stranger to a good party, but she’s definitely introverted and it’s not her most preferred scene

theo is quite sensitive and gentle, and tries to be a good and compassionate friend. But she’s also incredibly competitive and a lil bit sassy and snarky bc she’s quite dramatic and we love that for her

doesn’t really know what being loved and nurtured looks like outside of like her brother b/c their parents are awful awful awful so she tries her best but doesn’t always hit the mark :/

Needs some softness

Little bit o' backstory

Theo comes from a filthy rich family and she has one older brother s/o to archie!

Her parents were total show parent types, pushing them to be the best in everything they did. Theo definitely internalized that message and it's like all she knows! She has always been super competitive academically. Like not personally, she's not too concerned with being against others all the time, in fact she enjoys learning from others, but she's been pushed so much into being the best bc shitty parents that she doesn't know how to not compete. It's just what she knows

Definitely was involved with the party scenes during her undergrad, although she's not the biggest drinker or user of recreational substances

As far as drugs though, she cares more about making them. Chaotic chem student vibes, wanting to go into medical chem, knows too much

Last academic year, Theo started developing really terrible anxiety both academically and socially, as well as being constantly exhausted, achy, and physically ill. It all kind of threw her into a rly dark place and at the end of the year she had a really bad episode that landed her in the hospital and she ended up spending the whole following year in and out of medical facilities and she EVENTUALLY was diagnosed with POTS on top of anxiety and depression :/ this was thanks to archie’s persistence in getting a correct diagnosis after so long of dismissal from doctors and from their parents because he’s the realest and he understands what its like :( so bby is sick and tired but trying her best. Also her parents just think she has to get over it but that’s not how this works luvs

This year she’s just trying to find some semblance of normalcy but it’s hard to keep up and act normally! Also she’s just..,., hella doubting the competitive culture and how conducive it is to student health bc her therapist tells her it’s not good and now she’s doubting her whole life and doesn’t know what she wants :/ just trying her best. Probably spending a lot of time studying what a nerd

Side note she really finds linguistics fascinating ok I’m done

I’m so excited to plot with everyone! Please let me know if you’re interested and we can do some super cool things ok thanks for reading, friends !!

#bainbridgeintro #intro intro intro !!

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arecomicsevengood · 4 years

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HOW MANY EYES DO YOU NEED TO SEE?

A few months ago, I was officially diagnosed with glaucoma. This was a good thing, inasmuch as I waiting for a diagnosis. A few months before I had seen the neuro-opthalmologist who gave this diagnosis, and prescribed eyedrops to begin a course of treatment, I had seen an opthalmologist who noted the high amounts of pressure in my eye, but gave me a referral to see another doctor instead, because my youth made glaucoma seem unlikely, and he wanted to check this pressure was not caused perhaps by a brain tumor inside my skull pressing against the back of my eyes.

You probably are a little unclear on what glaucoma is. It is most known, I believe, for being a condition that smoking weed helps. Before medical marijuana became legal and able to be prescribed for anxiety and depression and all the psychological conditions people had been using it to self-medicate for for years, glaucoma was a cited example of a condition whose effects were mitigated by smoking. When I explain that I have it to friends now, there usually comes a point at the end of the conversation where they bring it up. For what it’s worth, I hate smoking weed. I feel debilitated by it to do anything I enjoy, like write, or follow a conversation, or accomplish tasks without being distracted. Most people who smoke a lot of weed will either tell me that the effects I have a problem with go away after steady smoking, and that I probably haven’t found the right strain yet. The act of getting to this point seems an unpleasant one, filled with physiological incapability. Of course, CBD is now basically sold as a cure-all that takes care of any bad feeling one might have, but it is apparently the effects of THC that take care of glaucoma.

Glaucoma is an increase of eye pressure. As you are aware, the eye is a soft orb of mucus membranes, and some duct or another regulates the release of a fluid into them, to keep that balloon-like sac inflated, essentially. I’m unclear on the exact details. In glacoma, the eye gets too filled up. Maybe this makes the eye bulge out a little, it does seem like what I’m describing would lead to a situation where the eye eventually explodes. But before that, the pressure of the eye presses on the optic nerve. When I had this explained to me, by an optometrist, who told me I was pre-glaucoma and I should go to an opthalmologist to get my eyes looked at. I thought I would experience this as physical pain. After I forgot about the appointment I had made, I anticipated I would experience pain and that was when I would need to go to a doctor. It turns out this is wrong, because the optic nerve isn’t really set up to register feeling, it’s set up to see things. So as the pressure wore on my optic nerve, moreso in my left eye than my right, my vision deteriorated. However, I didn’t notice, because I have two eyes, and together they form a composite image, and my right eye compensated. I would experience weird effects of light, sort of like there was a smudge on my glasses lens, and occasionally it would seem like what I was looking what had a crack in it and was bleeding light, but I didn’t really know how bad it was.

It was when I finally saw an opthalmologist, and in the checking to ensure my glasses’ prescription was correct, and he kept on switching out lenses and asking me if my vision was better or worse with each new one, I found I could not register any letters on the vision chart at all, that the whole field existed within a blank spot of blurred white light, that I realized how bad things had gotten. It was a scary day, certainly made worse by the physician’s suggestion I might have a brain tumor, and his general displeasure and frustration at the fact that I have an instinctual aversion to people approaching my eye to touch it, poke it, and administer eye drops. I am convinced this is a normal thing, but doctors often have God complexes, and apparently I was such a difficult patient that he refused to see me again afterwards. That’s neither here nor there in the story I want to tell, but I do hope he gets hit by a bus and killed.

Anyway, I have now seen a doctor that prescribed eye drops, and then I saw another doctor who prescribed still more eye drops, and I am broke enough to qualify for Medicaid so I haven’t paid for any of these things, so all of that is good, and while I’m concerned about how coronavirus will effect the ability of these prescriptions to get into the country it’s fine thus far. The doctor has made clear that all of these things, however, are really just to make sure my vision doesn’t become worse, that I don’t become totally blind, as far as they’re concerned, the damage done to the optic nerve is irreversible, and won’t be returning to where it was before, which was pretty bad, but at least able to be corrected by strong prescription corrective lenses.

Not covered by Medicaid are the lion’s mane mushrooms I have elected to take. Lion’s Mane, supposedly, stimulates nerve tissue growth. People take them for depression and “brain fog,” and so I had been toying with the idea of investigating them anyway, before I started to think that maybe they would help repair my optic nerve as well. I am well-aware that a lot of people consider any herbal remedies to be snake oil peddled by the likes of Alex Jones and Gwyneth Paltrow, but a bunch of my friends are hippies and herbalists, and the people so assuredly righteous in their politics often have deeply reactionary cultural opinions they are not interested in examining, lacking even the self-awareness to get offline and take deep breaths to make themselves feel better. I don’t consider Lion’s Mane a placebo in any way, but I also register the necessity of feeling hope and the grounding nature of a ritual such that I will probably continue to take it for a while even if there are not immediately noticeable effects.

I am interested in perception, cognition, and how brain chemistry dictates who we are. We are taught as children about the lobes of the brain, how the left brain is more analytical, and the right brain more emotional and intuitive. Ideally, we have easy connection between these two lobes, and when we see something, we are both able to tell what it is and feel a certain way about it. Writing about comics, I try to be as intuitive as I can, to pick up on things that are perhaps unconsciously present, to write about something other than the exact nature of the plot or how well-rendered a background is. It occurs to me that, since the left eye is processed by the right brain, I might be feeling the things I see less than I should. This is all theoretical. It does feel like it’s been ages since I’ve seen a movie that I felt particularly moved by, though it is easy to chalk this up to the cynicism of age. I am still capable of seeing the movie, the full page, still able to read and put the thing together in my brain; and at the same time, I’m placing everything into the larger context of my life, the same way everyone does. Even my favorite film of 2019, Uncut Gems, I didn’t find as nerve-racking as other people apparently did. Maybe that’s because I went in aware of a good deal of hype and other people were more surprised by it? There is really no way to know. The brain makes a composite image consisting not just of the two eyes, but everything else it’s taking in. I can perhaps attribute a certain hesitancy in my own writing to the lack of synchronized lobes taking in what they see, that rereading my own brain no longer gives me the weird floating feeling I used to get from it. I check that it makes sense and still feel like I am fighting uphill, and remain doubtful of everyone else’s writing. “”Why are you talking like this?” I ask of most sentences. Again, I would maybe be asking this anyway, most people are bad at writing, and it doesn’t take some sort of newfound autistic attentiveness to notice that.

All this connects to comics, and to the fact that I write about them. This sense that I am somehow impaired in my ability to read them, I don’t think anyone else would think if I didn’t bring it up, but I feel like I would be lying by omission not to mention. I disclose it in the name of honesty, even as I am on a certain level only articulating this anxiety to avoid the morbidity of talking about how my thoughts about perception, cognition, and the construction of the self apply to death, in this time of pandemic, when all of my or your or someone one or both of us love could have their entire brain go blank and no amount of adaptogens could reanimate it. (The past few days, I’ve also been drinking chaga and echinacea teas for the sake of my immune system.) And while I don’t think this issue with my eyes applies to written text as much as it does all the other forms the visual world can be arranged to convey information, if I am taking in the news in a less emotional way than other people, that is probably for the best.

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riv-kai · 4 years

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Hope everything is going well for you these days. What with the mass panic and virus mess.

Thank you so much my Anon friend, I feel like this is meant to be because I haven’t known where or how to share the thoughts I’ve been having, so thank you for checking up on me and giving me a reason to speak up.

Before you read on, I want you to know I’m fine and I’ve been through much worse before this, I know this is just temporary so I haven’t given up hope. And I don’t expect anyone to reply or read this, I’m just giving my thoughts a voice so I don’t make myself feel worse by keeping it inside.

———

I’m having trouble communicating how this time period feels. Not everyone knows this, but I have multiple chronic illnesses, and have had them for all of my life after a medical-related injury that weakened my immune system at 18 months old. This allowed Lyme disease and co-infections (passed down from a parent who was unaware they had it) to come out of dormancy and take over my body in a time of immune weakness. From then on, it got worse and worse until it fully hit me when I got food poisoning and H1N1 in the same couple of months in middle school. At 16, after what felt like a full life of struggling to survive, I was finally diagnosed with Lyme disease. This means it was chronic, because hello, I have been on more antibiotics than my whole family combined and that didn’t even TOUCH it despite the CDC’s claims that a 30 day round should do it. I still had lyme spirochetes in my blood at 18 and a relapse I had to treat at 23 after aggressively treating Lyme and it’s co-infections for 9 years. Nine. In a youthful, fast-recovering body. The US government is the only country that no longer recognizes this disease to be “chronic,” claiming it’s a residual “post-lyme disease syndrome” as an excuse to say we don’t want to study your complex chronic disease and would prefer it didn’t exist because it’s a business obstacle for us. And despite having proof of the pathogen in my blood chronically, they won’t acknowledge its existence all because of some petty controversies and that we are now a liability to them. They won’t make insurance pay for your perplexing and unpredictable disease... if doesn’t exist to them. When their treatments don’t work and we are no longer profitable to Big Pharma, we are erased and become part of a silent epidemic. At the end of the day, all they had to do was be honest, even just with the fact that they haven’t researched enough to understand the big-scary-bug. But of course that’s a big ask from a big system.

At my very best, my body can’t work or live like abled bodies can, and if I force myself to (because I desperately want to) I always crash and burn. All because of pathogens. And I don’t want you to fear pathogens or give me a pity party. I’m someone who says fuck the system and believes I can continue to heal despite so many doctors giving me bad news throughout my childhood. I’ve already beaten the odds and am proud of it, so this isn’t about me. Right now, I just want someone out there to see what is happening surrounding another pathogen and to pay attention.

I never expected the whole world to understand any bit of how it feels to be at the mercy of a pathogen. Some people will act like you’re being dramatic, faking it, or that “even if it is bad, it’s not that bad because only the weak people die.” Listen, even if you don’t die (I barely survived a few times) that mindset totally discounts the trauma and suffering that lives with you forever. It doesn’t matter if you don’t die. This shit sucks. So now, I’m grappling with many things: wanting to help people through the beginning stages of processing this despite being decades ahead in processing it and sick of thinking about it, being wholly frustrated with those who STILL openly treat disabled people as expendable goods instead of human beings, and ultimately feeling like even if I did explain, it might only make people feel hopeless. However, these are all fear-based thoughts.

The truth is that I know what I’ve experienced for the past 24+ years, even if no one else ever can understand it or believe me, and these experiences helped me understand how pathogens and infections work from an emotional and mental level, not just what it physically does to your body. And I want to help somehow, so I’ll share what I can for now.

If nothing else, I want you to only take away this — pathogens are also living things. I don’t care if I sound crazy, wholly realizing this helped me end that nine year treatment battle with Lyme disease (even if I’m still working on handling the destruction it left behind).

An infection is just as much a mental and emotional battle as it is physical. These pathogens do not have the ability to understand that they are killing the hosts they need to survive and reproduce, they just take take take. I feel like we can all sense this beneath the surface. This microscopic expression of selfishness is a source of the deep, out of control, primal urgency we’re feeling. I’ve felt it before, and they are never the only ones acting out. And this is really important — we have to stop mimicking the pathogen’s behavior in response to its behavior, trampling over each other in fear and hoarding chunks of this world’s wealth/goods that are too big for us to hold in the name of “survival.” Or pretending the outside world doesn’t exist, that “you’ll be fine, so it doesn’t matter if I go out” and spreading sickness to others. This is an exact parallel to what the pathogen behaves like.

I need you all to care with me about fellow human beings. That is our strength as a species, and we are not pathogens so we don’t have to stoop to their level. Get your helping pants on. Tell someone you love them, and spend some time with them to distract or calm their anxieties. Stay home as much as possible and fight for those people who can’t go out or people who are forced to stay in, even if they want to.

And then I need you to hold our government and long-broken medical system accountable. Please, don’t let them brush their wrongdoings over this time, now that their behavior is out in the open. Don’t let them forget what they’re doing, who they are turning away, who they are making us believe are just “a few numbers.” Don’t let this pathogen take you down mentally, either. Even if you get sick, even in a mild case, and it effects you mentally on top of physically, you are not crazy. What traditional medicine tends to neglect is that these pathogens get into your head (trust me) and it’s important to realize that so you know it’s not something you’re making up. It’s not your fault. It’s not wrong to feel hopeless or shattered or depressed or unlike yourself when you get sick, you are just ill. You need help. Deserve it. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

Take it seriously, but don’t let it take over you. This is a delicate balance and you may waver from one side to the other, but I promise it’s possible to both care and not submit to fear. Pathogens feed off of “weak” openings, and so fear and stress before you even have it is the last thing you need. Btw, no one is truly “weak,” even if you go through moments of weakness. This idea of strong vs weak is just how primal thoughts work, and pathogens are very primal so I’m explaining through their instinctual “perspective” as a species.

And I’m not sure what I can do about this, but I don’t want more people to live like I did growing up. I want people to see what I’m seeing now, decades later, that there is actually hope. There is more to society than a government that treats its people like business deals. We are more powerful than we feel. We are capable of fully caring about each other, even if it’s just through one anonymous message on the Internet.

———

I’m sorry if this made no sense, especially in response to an anonymous message, but thank you again for being here. I hope you are staying indoors if you can, and are safe and healthy to the best of your ability. I know it’s hard even if you are healthy, and there is so much that can feel out of our control in response to illness, but what’s new and a possible hope for me is that we are not alone in this experience this time. I hope you can feel the love even from miles away, I’ll try to make an extra effort to show I care.

#anonymous #inbox

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dariuskinkaid-xiv · 5 years

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I really don't like to rant. I hate sounding whiny and letting people know that something is truly bothering me tends to get me to a point where everyone is going "PLEASE LET ME HELP TALK TO ME OH MY YOU NEED TO VENT BLAHDEBLAH"

All I need to do is get one little blurb of fuck this lady sideways with a road work sign out there and I'll be fine. Trust me.

ANYWAY convention season is starting and I am so excited. So so very excited...well, I was.

Normally I hit up the local anime con in April here in my neck of the woods. I get to see friends from college who've stuck around in the city and it's a great time! Normally, I'd stay with them, but last year my girlfriend and I snagged our own room. The wake-to-sleep periods vary wildly in our group and I know my girlfriend likes to shower for about an hour, so we took initiative there last year and it worked out. We did it again this year, but suddenly this is a fucking problem.

Girlfriend wanted to dress up as aggretsuko or however it's spelled. Awesome. Her friends decided they were gonna group up. That's fine, too!

Then her mother decided she wanted to join in.

The girlfriend's mother has BIG. ASS. MOTHERFUCKIN. Issues. She's one of those people who loses a parent and decided that she needs to be super involved with whatever her kids do because how will anyone remember but is secretly trying to vicariously live through her kids and hate when someone has a shred of independance. If you don't understand that, you should've seen the reaction I got when I bought my girlfriend a tv and this woman realized her daughter had the option to not leave her room post installation. She BEGS for her to come downstairs to 'chat'.

Anyway, she feels the need to be included in every event to the point that girlfriend and I have talked about going to something and have totally eliminated said plans because her mom goes "OH WE CAN ALL GO AND IT'LL BE SO MUCH FUN". We did a Bravely Default group once and she INSISTED that she 'take the bullet' and be our missing Tiz when we never asked. The woman gets 'involved' in every thing her daughters get into and start fucking harping on it to the point that it goes from something you enjoy to something you hate. Happened with BD, happened with pokemon go...I mean hell, if the woman gets a hitch on Kingdom Hearts what will my girlfriend even do?

But, yeah, the lady goes to cons. Still dunno why, really. Sometimes I view it as kind of creepy, but idk fam, this lady...but still, ain't gonna shoot that down, that'd be super close-minded.

Anyway, we snagged our hotel this year and her friends ended up going elsewhere with her mother. Suddenly, there's a photoshoot scheduled at '2:45' first day of con. That time has now changed to 1:30-2, and now I'm driving up alone because this WONDERFUL LADY WHO DIDN'T ASK ANYONE ELSE WHAT THEIR FUCKING PLANS WERE can't move her slot.

Fuck, dude, I seem self-centered but plenty of folks will tell you altruism is a better trait I display. Normally, I'd not say a word, but the NERVE of this cow to act as if I should be spending more money to go up earlier when we mentioned we were not going up a day early...I SPEND ENOUGH AS IT IS FOR THIS. THIS IS MY VACATION, TOO...

Normally, I put blinders up, but I'm not. I hope this lady sees this shit somehow, browsing the internet that magically shows her every vague thing about her. I WANT WORLD WAR THREE. I WANT TO TELL THIS WOMAN HOW QUICK A DOCTOR WILL DIAGNOSE HER WITH BIPOLARISM. SHE'D NEVER DO IT BECAUSE SUDDENLY PEOPLE WOULD 'CALL HER CRAZY', BUT FUCK EVERY DUCK DUDE, IT'D HAPPEN SO FAST.

I feel better.

It's 1:30ish in the AM.

It bedtime.

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mrdevorak · 5 years

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I knew I was different for as long as I could remember; but I didn’t always think of it that way. It wasn’t brought to my attention until 6th grade that girls weren’t supposed to think they wanted a penis, that they wanted to be like other boys, or; be a boy. But when I was little, I was never introduced to that because my dad let me do whatever I wanted. I loved boy stuff, especially Spider-Man with such a passion I couldn’t contain myself at most times. I’d collect endless amounts of his comics, his costumes, his figures, anything I could get my hands on. Anything Spider-Man, I had to have. I even met Tobey Maguire at Harper College once, and he signed this little Spider-Man I had that had suction on his hands and feet so I could stick him to a window and took a picture with me. A lot changed over 18 years of living. By the time I got out of the hospital for the third time when I was 16, my parents took everything I owned and left me with nothing but my furniture and a TV in my room that didn’t work. I wasn’t allowed in there unless I was sleeping. This drained my social battery so much, and my parents acted as if my mental illness wasn’t even there. I had no electronics, I had no car. All I had was my house, and I was never, ever allowed to leave unless they did, they never trusted me alone. They took all my clothes and every day they’d make me wear my mom’s clothes. Push-up bra’s, really skimpy underwear, her jeans, her shirts, even her socks. She would watch me put on deodorant that couldn’t even be unisex, she’d sit me down and put her makeup on me, spray perfume on me. She even did my nails once. I couldn’t wear any dark colors. I couldn’t cut my hair, including dead ends. I had to bleach my hair to this horrid blond color. I had to live my life as someone I wasn’t all over again for almost two years. It took so much fighting, so much prying, to even wear a t-shirt that was for either gender. And the only thing I could wear was something from the Avengers. Now, I hadn’t been too involved with Marvel for awhile at this point, but they meant a lot to me to begin with, so I was going to take my opportunity. I couldn’t even watch something that was PG-13, because they had a fear the media “influenced my bad behavior.” So I would sit down and watch all the Avengers movies on repeat for hours. It became an outlet for the only thing that made me happy, the only thing I hadn’t cut ties with from my childhood that made me so, so happy. They’d watch them with me, so I could finally breathe and not fight with them and just watch a movie for awhile. When I was allowed to start cosplaying again, I started investing in Avengers cosplays. Tony was the first, and eventually I was able to revamp my Loki cosplay. I was allowed to walk around like that, finally feel masculine again. And as I got older, I realized how much they meant to me and how much I neglected it for so long. I mean; 3 years later, my room is covered in Avengers memorabilia, including my bed sheets. It looks like a 10 year old boy lives in here, but it’s fine. After being diagnosed when I was 16 and finally getting it on paper when I turned 18, it was never easy. I wanted to be normal and function like anybody else. I didn’t think I had anything left in me. I saw Infinity War about; 5 times total? When it was still playing. Every time I sobbed my eyes out like a little bitch and I couldn’t get enough. I needed a good cry because I couldn’t do it any other way, and it made me come to terms with the fact that I still had passion in me, that I was still a person. That I still felt things for the people I cared about. And when Doctor Strange was portrayed by Benedict, my all-time hero, I was so overwhelmed with joy. Thor brought me to tears in laughter through each of the movies and brought me so much happiness. I could sit and watch these actors and actresses for hours and seeing how positive they were, knowing something in my life wasn’t damaged or had been tainted by negative thoughts or times. I remember finding out about Thor and finding hope in myself because I was a Norse Paganist/Lokean at the time. I remember seeing my dearest friend have such a good light in her life when T’Challa came to theater because she finally had someone in her skin and culture in such great spotlight. I remember a convention friend being so beyond happy when people finally started recognizing him as Doctor Strange after all those years of cosplaying all his costumes. I remember sitting in the car with my grandpa listening to Stan Lee talk on Elvis Radio and we laughed and listened for awhile because we shared those grounds of interest. I remember this stunning Captain America asking for my picture with him at one of my first cons when I was Bucky Barnes. I remember my dad picking me up and swinging me around so I could pretend I was Spider-Man, even when his shoulders hurt. I remember when Black Veil Brides made a song for the first Avengers movie and got on the soundtrack.

I’ll always remember all the friends I’ve met through Marvel, all the memories it has made and how many it will continue to make. And I owe it all to Stan Lee, I’m so blessed to have been alive the same time he was. May he rest peacefully with his friends and family, it’s a shame to watch him go, but he’s not gone, he just went to a different place. His legacy will carry on for generations to come and have such a great touch on the lives of many, many more.

#long post #stan lee #rest in peace #marvel #thor #spiderman #captain america

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7wanderingpaws · 6 years

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6: This Is It. (Another Life)

Genre: soulmate/magic AU

Pairing: Jackson x reader

Word count: 2.8K

Song: Bien - Last Man Standing

Synopsis: You are more than happy in relationship with Jackson Wang, the hard-working and successful fencer representing Hong Kong. So what happens when you visit a local witch wanting to know more about your future as a couple?Because you always knew he was the right one for you. Even in another life. But would he really be the one?

((Enjoy! I truly hope you will like it! <3))

*** 1. // 2. // 3. // 4. // 5. // 6. // 7-1. // 7-2. // 8. // 9. // 10. // 11.

- - - This Is It - - -

Hong Kong, 2015

You had a long day at the hospital to say the least. You were rushing from one surgery room to another, running around the labs for the test results just to personally make sure each of your patients was well taken care of. You were still not an independent doctor. You were still supervised by your seniors, still questioned when there was a specific diagnose which meant you underwent lots of stress.

Jackson might have been joking about you not being constantly at the hospital, but now you could barely find the time to reply to his eager texts. His practices also increased, he was travelling from one fencing or training camp to another, always working hard on himself.

This was the only time that you didn’t complain about him being away as much as you used to since your home was now the resting room for doctors during shifts.

This particular night you had a night shift at the emergency room which was the one you liked the least. The horrible sights you saw there made you sometimes reconsider your career path but thankfully, you always remembered why you started in the first place. And you did love your job dearly.

“Ms Y/L/N!” you heard an urgent voice when you were checking a patient who was now in a stable condition. “There was a big car accident,” said the nurse and you found yourself rushing to the main entrance, awaiting the ambulances with the injured.

Everything happened in a flash. Once the patients arrived, you’d gotten to see probably your worst ever case as a doctor.

“It’s a young family with two children, both three years old,” said the medical intern as he was rushing them inside. “Children are being checked at the moment, probably nothing serious, but the mother fell out through the rear window.”

The bodies looked just… utterly horrible. Everything was bloody and their skin was coming off, the glass ripping it off of their flesh. You didn’t have time to freeze and throw up as you had to harshly swallow down whatever would come up.

“We have to take them to the operating room immediately,” you shouted at everyone. “Reschedule whatever surgeries are of smaller importance and prepare it. We are starting right now.” You were already turning around, getting yourself ready as everyone was rushing, doing as they were told.

Right now, you had lives to save.

Hong Kong, 2015

“Y/N, your date literally starts in 10 minutes and you are still here!” shouted Sara as she was running around your apartment. “Here is your dress, change quickly!” She threw the baby-pink dress at your head, leaving you in pinky darkness.

You snatched the glittery textile. “I am not going anywhere,” you stated proudly, sitting down behind your desk. “I have so much work I didn’t get to finish and I am not even interested anymore-”

“What on earth are you talking about?” said Sara as she stood in front of you, her hands on her hips, her face strict but her eyes ever gentle. “I’ll tell you what you are talking about: nothing. You are not saying what you are thinking, honey. You have to go to the date. You have been waiting for this-”

You shook your head frantically, turning on your chair and grabbing whatever paperwork you had there to show Sara that you were, indeed, busy.

Sara gave out a loud sigh and ran her hand through her blonde hair. “What should I do with you? You are acting like a child, not like a 21-year-old grown woman that I know.”

“Ah, don’t start with this talk,” you whined, not daring to turn to look at her.

“Listen, Y/N. Just hear me out, you don’t have to look me in the face like a well-raised person should,” she added, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “This meeting doesn’t mean anything. You are not going to get engaged, nor is he going to ask you to marry him - yet -” you snapped your head at her angrily “but you still deserve to have fun and enjoy a bottle of wonderfully sweet red wine.”

“I can’t,” you murmured after a few seconds of silence. “I just really can’t.”

“Is it because-”

You sighed, pushing away from your table. “Yes and no. It has been a year and I still haven’t moved forward with my plan. I’m a penniless loser so that is more of a reason for me to give up on the hope of ever seeing him…”

“You will get to see him,” said Sara, her eyes sparkling with something you couldn’t quite read.

You shook your head once again, your entire body giving up. “No, Sara, I will not. I just don’t want to talk about him or anything that has got to do with him.”

“But you love him!” exclaimed Sara loudly.

Your heart skipped. “And yet you are making me go out with Martin!”

“I just want you to have fun and enjoy your youth.”

“No, I can’t. I can’t and I won’t.”

“You are so stubborn, do you know that?” Sara was now shouting. “You are stubborn. You were not like this before.”

“Before as in the past life huh? Well, Sarita, not many things are the same as they were before. Yes, I learned to admit the fact that I love Jackson and it physically hurts - god, you have no idea how it feels like - but I don’t have a chance. In the past life, I had a better family life and more financial resources. Now, I’m stuck with school work and internship and barely managing to survive on daily basis. So I can’t go out with Doctor Martin just because he has lots of money. I don’t and therefore, I won’t be able to afford the sweet red wine.”

You hated shouting at your best friend but you were desperate. You stopped looking at Jackson’s pictures altogether. But there was still the tiny detail that he was representing the country you both come from and so sometimes you would get triggered when you turned on the TV and he would be there, making everyone laugh with his silly actions…

Heck, he was even a blond at the moment. Now was the time when you could really see how the previous life and the current life took different directions. He never really changed his hair colour before and now, he was there looking so good, so fine, he had much more muscles than you remembered, he looked expensive and elegant and just so high-class that you wouldn’t be able to see his top even if you bended your head with all the tensed up muscles of yours. He was so out of your reach by now, there was no chance he would recognise you. The worst thing was that even if he got to make an eye contact with you, he wouldn’t have to remember you at all.

“Sara,” you said, your voice strained. Oh no. Were you going to cry again? “I want to get drunk, but only with you.”

Sara looked at you, her sad smile giving you more of a heads up than her cheerful “yes” did.

So after you cancelled with Martin (who bombarded you with messages), you found yourself sipping the wine that Sara was talking.

“You shouldn’t drink that much, Y/N,” said Sara as she threw a green grape into her mouth. “It’s your birthday soon anyway, you should get smashed there.”

You shrugged. “Please. My birthday was never special, why would this one be any better?”

Sara bit her bottom lip, looking down at the ground. “Well, you should totally get laid to make it more special.”

You laughed out loud. “With Martin?”

Sara nodded, amused.

“I totally should, right?” you said, dumbstruck. “Ah, I think I should start contemplating this option.”

Sara’s phone beeped with a message and as she was listening to your tipsy blabbers, she checked it and she had to hide her immediate excitement that overtook her.

Unknown Number (22:41): Your ticket confirmation no. 2358 for GOT7: Live in Hong Kong has been processed.

“Oh my, I can’t believe we are actually here,” you said as you were inside the arena, waiting for the concert to begin. There were still not many people inside as you got there too early and you were waiting with a bunch of other fangirls outside of the actual stage. “I don’t know how will I ever be able to repay you.”

Sara was smiling proudly and kept checking her wrist watch. “Don’t thank me yet. Just make sure you will do your job properly,” she said and before you could ask what she was talking about, there was a staff assistant who told you to follow her.

“Y/N,” said Sara cautiously. “Don’t freak out, please.” You turned to her, your eyes in little panic. “This is it. You have to make sure he looks you in the eye.”

“Sara, what are you talking about?”

But just then you appeared in an empty room with a long table covered in black cloth. The staff was giving you directions as to what to do and before you could really burst into pure panic, you saw 7 men enter the room. All the girls hid their breaths while you didn’t even know what air was anymore. Jackson was going inside as the first one, followed by the others. His blond hair was quite eye-catching, nicely pushed up, his tank-top showing off his muscled and veiny arms that you knew so well. And here… you were a stranger to him.

You gulped and Sara gave you a squeeze. “I’ll go before you.” She winked at you.

The little event started and all you had to do was just hi-five. Simple. Nothing serious, you didn’t even have to say anything if you didn’t feel like it.

Now you didn’t feel like doing anything besides hiding somewhere. Your heart was beating so fast you actually had to scold yourself for feeling this way. You were no teenager anymore, what was this silly behaviour of yours?

The line was going way too fast and soon you knew you had to face him. By that time you became completely desperate with ideas as to how to get him to look at you properly. Soon enough, you were saying your greetings to other members, who were very kind and smiley.

Jackson was the last one. He was enchanting for you. He was grinning at everyone, oh, what a handsome smile he had. You knew all his facial features perfectly, god, you were both so into each other and here all you could do was make a two-second body contact with hands and…

“Hey,” he smiled at Sara who was telling him something quickly which made him giggle. “I hope you’ll enjoy the show!” he told her, his voice raspy and deep.

And then it happened.

His eyes fell on you. His big brown eyes met yours as you gave him a gentle smile. Your hand made a contact with his, your hand not stable enough to make a proper clasp with his.

It felt like the time stopped. He was staring at you, the smile that Sara created on him still lingering on his lips.

“Hey, Jackson,” you breathed and it didn’t feel weird at all. It felt as if you finally met him after he was at one of his training camps for months.

“Hey, enjoy the show,” he said to you as if he was distracted.

He was following you with his eyes and your throat became dry as tears overcame your sincere eyes. He was there. He was right there. You wanted to hug him, to hold him in your arms, to call him home so you could finally fall asleep next to him, to feel his warm body around yours, to wake up to his sleepy eyes, to his caring messages.

“Please, move forward quickly!” urged the staff.

And just like that, it was over.

Sara made you turn around to see him once again but he was paying attention to the other fans, of course.

“Sh, don’t cry,” said Sara and you didn’t even feel the tears running down your cheeks. “It’s alright.”

You covered your mouth as you made your way out on your shaky legs.

Jackson stole a glance at your disappearing figure but you didn’t see that anymore. You also didn’t see how he became suddenly dizzy. But that could have been caused by tiredness. How would we know…

Catania, Sicily, 2016

The water was a beautiful turquoise. The waves were small and friendly, nothing dangerous for your body that lacked the ability to swim. You were always scared of the water for no particular reason. Thankfully, nobody made fun of you for that (because you never told anyone besides Jackson).

After all the hard work you’ve been doing in the hospital, this trip to Italy was more than welcomed. The fact that you were able to follow Jackson to his training camp through half of the world meant a lot to you. Since you’ve been spending so much time in the emergency room, you had countless sleepless nights thinking about patients, Jackson being the only person who could calm you down and lull you to a dreamless sleep. So, naturally, you hated coming home to cold, empty bed, him being away for competitions. This way, you could be with him and still enjoy some vacation.

“Hey, Y/N!”

You turned around to see the entire Hong Kong fencing team, Jackson in the lead smiling widely at you. He ran to you, jumping onto you almost making you fall backwards.

“Where have you been, guys?” you asked, laughing as Jackson gave your cheek a wet kiss.

You knew the team so well they were basically considered a big family. Also the other boyfriends and girlfriends of the fencers were there so you didn’t have to feel embarrassed for following Jackson to Sicily.

“Morning training!” wailed Stephan, a year older ginger haired guy. “Which means we are gonna swim to get rid of the tension!” he winked at me.

Jackson giggled as everyone was already taking their sports clothes off.

“I see you were prepared for the swimming session,” you commented, seeing everyone was already dressed in swimming suits.

Jackson pouted at you. “Not me, though. I had to stay longer for-”

“For being sneaky!” chirped in Lena as she grabbed her boyfriend’s arm.

“What? Sneaky?” asked Jackson, shocked. “I didn’t do anything! I was late for personal reasons!”

Oh my. You covered your mouth, deep red blush colouring your cheeks. Everyone gave you a mischievous grin, knowing well you were the reason Jackson was late for the morning training. You wouldn’t let him get out of bed.

“So I’m going to change now and I’ll be right back, okay?” whispered Jackson into your ear, gently touching your skin on your bare hip that was poking out from underneath your red shirt.

You nodded, smiling at him before he took off, his hips handsomely swaying. Everyone was already running into the water and you sighed, sitting down on the blanket you prepared and taking your shirt off.

“Hey, Y/N,” smiled Lena. “You’re not coming? The water’s great.”

You shook your head no kindly. “Sorry, erm, I’m just gonna enjoy the sun for now.” Phew, how much you hated lying. But the fact was that you had zero guts to admit you couldn’t swim when everyone was so good at sports. They were professionals, for God’s sake.

“Oh well, if you don’t want to now, we will just have to do something about it,” said Lena, looking somewhere behind you.

You frowned slightly, not sure what she was on about. Soon enough, you found out when you felt 2 pairs of strong hands grabbing you by your arms and legs.

You shrieked, panic and shocked flooding you. What were they doing?

They were taking you straight into the water. “Guys! Stop being silly, put me down!” you demanded, trying not to sound panicked.

“C'mon, Y/N, have fun with us!” said Lena as she was laughing, and splashed some water at you.

The guys were already in knee deep water. You were squirming, shouting at them to stop, your head spinning around. You were scared of the water. You disliked it and you never wanted to fight your phobia.

“Put me down!” you screamed, panic cutting through your voice. Nobody cared to notice your tears forming in your eyes.

Just when you were about to scream the truth they threw you in, quite far into the deep. Water hit your nostrils and you were choking, unable to catch your breath, sinking, not knowing how to move upwards.

So this is how you and Jackson were supposed to get separated. You would drown.

--- continue ---

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sufficientsucker · 6 years

Text

Your Friendly Neighborhood Pool Guy cp.3

When I wake up I feel as those I’ve just been thrown through a wall. My head is pounding something awful and my body aches in ways I’ve never felt before, but the most obvious difference is I can see. I can see everything perfectly fine, which wasn’t the case yesterday. I reach up feeling across my eyes and waiting to touch glass but my glasses aren’t there. Scrambling to sit up I look around my room in a daze. All the colors are brighter, more intense and if I focus on my backpack I can see the threads of the fabric.

The stabbing feeling splitting through my head starts to get worse as I look around causing me to lay back down. I try to correct my breathing as I lay in bed going over everything that’s happened in the last twenty-four hours. The field trip, a spider bite- I check my hand only opening my left eye enough to inspect the area. Nothing.

I stay like that in bed for what feels like forever, breathing in deeply through my mouth and out my nose trying to feel somewhat normal again. Finally feel well enough to sit up, and when I do I take a moment to settle before I try to stand. Once I’m up it’s like all the pain was just a dream, I feel- amazing. Like new really.

“Peter!” I hear aunt May call from somewhere down stairs.

“Yeah?” I answer.

“You’d better be up!”

“I am!” Pulling off the clothes they must have left me in from yesterday I turn to start going through my drawer for a new shirt when I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Now I’ve never really been anything other than thin, just a stick with no muscle to speak of, but looking at myself now it’s hard to believe I’ve never actually stepped foot into a gym outside of a school setting. The definition in my abdomen isn’t something that usually pops up overnight.

I continue to inspect myself as I undress completely, taking note of the differences in my body from just the day before. I look to my hand again as I pull on a new shirt. This has to have something to do with that spider from the museum. Deciding that I’ll ask Harry about those papers he mentioned possibly getting I shrug it off for the moment I make my way down stairs. Aunt May’s got the table set up as always with more than enough food for everyone.

“How are you feeling?” She asks as I take my spot at the table.

“Better, a lot better actually.” I smile up at her and she nods.

“Good, wouldn’t want you missing any school.” This time I nod as I begin to fill me plate. Ben walks in not too long after.

“Look at you- good as new, huh?” He raises an eyebrow, to which I nod sipping my orange juice.

“Yeah, I guess so.” He laughs and ruffles my already unruly hair.

“That’s my boy!”

“You know,” Aunt May starts, “Harry seemed very worried yesterday, couldn’t get straight sentence out of him while he was on the phone.” She’s got this know-it-all smile on as I flush a deep red.

“He’s a good friend!” I say quickly. “I would hope he would be worried.”

“Friend hmm?” Ben says next to me.

“Both of you stop it now.” I plead feeling the embarrassment in my bones. Aunt May and uncle Ben had known about my crush just about as long as I had. From the get-go I’d been a little too infatuated with the cool boy from my class. At least that’s how I’d referred to him before we’d been formally introduced. It was during one of Oscorps holiday parties, Mom and Dad had been over the moon when they found out that kids were going to be allowed that year. It was the first time I’d ever had to wear anything formal but it was completely worth it because from that day Harry and I had been somewhat inseparable.

I remember when Mrs. Osborns diagnoses had been confirmed, Harry had cried with me in his room for hours. Same with when his mother died, and then he’d been there for me when my parents had been killed in the accident. Mr. Osborn had offered to adopt me but I chose to live with aunt May and uncle Ben.

“Whatever you say Peter.” May says, as usual having to have the last word. Ben smiles at his wife fondly. I truly am lucky for have such understanding people in my life.

Once I’ve finished breakfast I kiss aunt May and grad everything I’ll need for school that day, feeling my phone vibrate in my pocket as I step out of the door. I pull up messages as I stand on the sidewalk smiling when I see it’s from Harry.

-Pete, picking you up, stay where you are nerd.

-I hope this doesn’t mean we’re going to be late to school. May’s really tired of getting those calls you know.

-Seriously you care about this stuff way too much.

-That’s because I actually need to get good grades to go to a nice school and get a job.

-Are you implying that I don’t?

-You know you don’t. I laugh looking up as a sleek black car pulls up to the curb in front of me. The back door pushes open showing off a pouty Harry.

“That stings Pete.” He says as I slip into the back.

“Yeah well it’s the truth.” This time he sighs.

“You might be right. It’s just that you’re the only person with enough balls to actually tell me the truth.” He slumps down into the seat.

“And that, my dear friend, is why you keep me around. I keep you grounded in reality.” I pull my backpack around to sit in my lap.

“Among other things, I suppose.” Harry whispers to himself, but I ignore it.

“Hey, Har?” He raises his eyebrow at me in a way that suggest I should continue. “About those papers you were saying you could get for me-” He laughs.

“Knew you couldn’t resist, which is why I asked dad last night- and,” He reaches into his own backpack that’s sitting on the floor of the car unzipped and untidy inside. “I got them this morning, you’re welcome nerd.”

“Why do you always call me that?” I ask grabbing the papers from him and beginning to flip through them.

“Because you are a nerd.” I spend the rest of the ride completely immersed in the papers. As far as I can tell there doesn’t seem to be anything too crazy about the experiments going on, but there’s parts were it seems like some information has been deleted. The only thing of any real interest is this previous experiment they keep referencing, but before I can get too far in the papers we're pulling up to the school.

I say goodbye to Harry as we part in the front entryway of the school, promising to see him at lunch in the library. Getting to my first class isn’t too hard but focusing is something else completely. By the end I just barely manage to finish the paper that was passed out. The whole day seems to go by like that, slow and uneventful, until lunch rolls around. We’re in the library, I have the papers out and am trying to find anything that could tell what experiment they’re referencing when the flat screen tv’s that were gifted to the school by one Norman Osborn turn on. The speakers that are usually used for the announcements come on as the picture on the tv zooms in on who could only be Tony Stark.

“Holy shit.” Harry says as the telecaster starts to inform of us of what we’re watching.

“We’ve just received word today that Tony Stark, owner of Stark industries has been rescued after spending close to a year in captivity. Mr. Stark disappeared last year during a military weapons display. Obadiah Stane, acting CEO of Stark Industries released a statement on behalf of the Company.” I stop listening after that as I watch the most well known man be escorted onto a plane.

“I totally thought he was dead.” Harry states.

“Everyone did.” I answer, but my mind’s elsewhere. Oscorp isn’t the only one working on this project. “Hey Har?” He turns to me.

“Yeah?”

“Does Stark Industries keep different files?” He looks confused.

“I don’t think so? It wouldn’t be much of a collaboration if they did. Why? Is there something wrong with the papers?” He leans closer looking them over quickly.

“These paragraphs aren’t very cohesive. See this one,” I point it out on the paper so he can follow along. “Doesn’t flow into the next one, as if there’s supposed to be something between them that’s been taken out. Without that paragraph this, no these papers are useless.” Harry picks them up and starts reading over them himself.

“So you think Stark industries is keeping something from Oscorp?” He asks looking at me.

“That or your dad didn’t give you the whole thing.” He thinks for a minute before nodding.

“I think I know someone we can ask about this. You free after class?” And that is how we end up down at the campus.

“Are we even allowed to be here?” I whisper as we walk through the halls.

“Are you kidding me? I don’t know if you realize it or not but my dad has a bit of a penchant for talking about you with his work friends, which mean most of these professors are already drooling themselves over the prospect of teaching you, so it’s safe to say we’re fine. Besides, they know me.” He waves to a security guard to prove his point and the man nods back.

We have to wait outside one of the lecture halls for about twenty minutes, which Harry spends teasing me about random things. I’m nearly ready to call myself a cab and call it a day when the first of the students start filing out. We stand there for at least eight more minutes before there’s finally a break in the wave of students and we can make our way inside. Once we’re inside I see that we’ve just spent thirty minutes waiting to talk to Doctor Octavius.

“Harry?” I look over to him wildly, grabbing his arm pulling him back. He stumbles a bit, having to break his I-have-a-purpose walk.

“What?’ He whisper yells back to me, eyes ridiculously wide.

“We can’t just walk in on Doctor Octavius!” I say and he huffs rolling his eyes.

“And why not?” He asks putting his hands into his slack pockets casually, making his blazer to that- that thing that just, god, I wish he wouldn’t wear such fancy clothes, he looks so good in them.

“Well we aren’t his students for one,” I gesture between us, but Harry looks unphased and perfect. “And he’s probably busy.”

“Yeah, okay, you stay here then and I’ll go talk to him.” He turns to leave but I grab his arm again.

“Harry!” I whine, because I give up, yes I whine.

“Peter!” He mimics me. “When did you get so strong?” He asks, looking me over.

“I- what?” Shit, I nearly forgot. Wait for I really do have muscles now?

“Nevermind- com’on stop being such a baby.” He grabs my wrist and pulls me to his side where he then puts his hand on the small of my back pushing forward. “Octavius!” Harry pulls that charming yet not at all real smile he gives everyone accept people he knows. The Doctor turn his head smiling just as nicely at us as we walk down.

“Ah, Harry Osborn what a nice surprise.” He shakes Harry’s hand and then turns to me. “And who’s this? The boyfriend maybe?” He looks at Harry knowingly.

“Possibly.” Harry says and I am completely blindsided though in the next moment he’s pulling the papers out and moving on. “Well Otto, I’m going to get right to it because I know you’re a busy man,” He holds them out to the man who takes them easily, flipping through them and skimming quickly.

“This isn’t really my area of expertise.” He says.

“That’s true, but I was wondering if maybe you know of the experiment they mention. It seems to be a fairly old one, but every time it’s mentioned the paragraph after is deleted so the information is useless.” The Doctor looks it over again, huming to himself as he notices the discrepancies himself.

“What project is this for?” He asks.

“It’s a collaboration between Oscorp and Stark Industries.” Recognition flares in his eyes.

“I do know the experiment they’re talking about in these.” Harry looks at me and then back to the Doctor.

“Well?” He asks.

“The super soldier experiments they did back in world war two. I didn’t know that anyone was still trying to recreate the experiment after Dr.Bruce Banner's failed attempts.” I recognize that name.

“Doctor Baner died in those experiments.” I say looking at Harry, Doctor Octavius suddenly seems very uncomfortable. “Didn’t he?” I ask. The man looks around skeptically.

“I didn’t tell you this, okay? After I tell you this I suggest you drop it. Nothing good will come from any of it, you understand. This isn’t the first time those fools have tried this type of thing, the last time Dr. Banner- he, hell I don’t know what happened to him but he just wasn’t the same and know one’s seen him since. And the time before was the explosion at Oscorp.” I suck in a sharp breath and feel Harry place a hand on my back.

“Has it ever been successful?” He asks.

“Yes,” The Doctor nods. “Only once though, in 1941, but those were very special circumstances.”

“Why?” Harry presses.

“This is that last thing I’ll tell you and then I want you to walk away from this okay?”

“Yeah okay.” Harry promises.

“His names was Steve Rogers, better known as Captain America.” He says.

“I thought he was just some character.” Harry seems surprised, I am too, no one really believed he was all they said.

“That’s what they wanted.” The Doctor sighs. “Now if you’ll excuse me.” He says pointedly and Harry nods.

“What could they want with a super soldier?” Harry asks once the Doctors left and we’re walking out.

“I don’t know.” I say quietly, but I plan to find out. After all I didn’t promise to let it go.

cp.1

cp.2

#peter parker #Wade Wilson #Harry osborn #Spider-man #Tony Stark #captain america #super soldier serum #Spidypool #your friendly neighborhood pool guy #Cole the novice writes

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altruistic-meme · 6 years

Text

alright my dudes, this post is going to go deep. in it, I'm going to talk about some rather triggering content. under the cut I'm going to tell you about my personal experiences with the mental illnesses I have and just basically try and give you an understanding as to why I sometimes act the way I do. so if you care to read, and reading won't in any way negatively affect you, then click that read more. if not, feel free to scroll on, no hard feelings. sometimes you aren't feeling up to reading dark shit and I can respect that, I get that way too. now, with minimal further preamble, the undercut and what lies beneath...

(potentially triggering content includes: discussion of depression and anxiety and mentions of self-harm and suicide.)

well hello there, and welcome to the undercut. I'm about to take you on a journey through the messed up part of my mind. I'm gonna try and keep this short and to the point mostly.

A QUICK THING; it's probably going to be very incoherent, and if you are confused about something or would like more information about something, do feel free to visit my inbox or messages and ask! a lot of people are very uncomfortable talking about this stuff and lbr, I kinda am too, but I'm making an effort to speak up more about it, and to reach out a hand to those who need it, as I never really had one put forth for me. so do not be shy to ask about anything, that's what this post is about, hm?

let's just jump right into this, shall we?

HERE WE GO; I HAVE AN ANXIETY DISORDER AND MILD-SEVERE DEPRESSION.

neither of which are fun, lemme tell ya. (and I am totally in awe of people who have either or BOTH and are out there, working and being an adult in general like damn. u strong. go u.)

a disclaimer before I continue: this post is about MY PERSONAL experiences with these illnesses. this is NOT a post about the general symptoms of these illnesses. if you relate to anything I say in this post, I'm v v sorry that you are going through this, bc it's hell, not gonna lie. anywho, I had better see 0 bullshit about "oh, you don't have x bc you don't do/feel blah blah blah" not everyone goes through the same stuff, dipshit.

moving on.

symptoms yayyyy;

Anxiety: -I am extremely socially anxious. -this means going up to the counter to ask for a take-out container for leftover food at a restaurant? u m no. -talking to strangers? no. -it is also really hard for me to talk to little kids or older folks. -and then there is also; feeling anxious (wow) -having 209745 worst-case scenario's go through my head. -trying to sleep and instead having my brain interrupt and tell me "hey ya know what's cool? thinking about how you could mess up x" -actually that happens a lot. -a general thought process for me; "am i good enough? do I look okay? do I act like an idiot? am I charming or stupid? am I cool or a know-it-all? I talk about myself too much. what else can I talk about? them, talk about them. but that doesn't work either. I don't know what to say." -not fun. -and that is just what came immediately to mind. there are lots and lots of different variations. -don't even get me started on how doing my school makes me feel. -and a metric fuckton of second-guessing. -no panic attacks yet but I have felt like I was close to having one often.

Depression: -just. suicidal thoughts. let that sink in a minute. -also thoughts of self-harm. -like there are days where looking at a knife will make me want to cut and I have to hold knives on a daily basis pretty much so not fun. -can we see that self-deprecation?? yeah we can. -constantly wondering if my family loves me. -don't even get me started on my friends. -hiding in my room bc it's literally the only place where I feel kinda safe from myself -except for when I remember that I have scissors in here. -enjoying things I used to love whom?? -times where I have to take a minute to psych myself up for little tasks like carrying my dishes to the sink. -i n s o m n i a. all over. -some days I lose all will to eat, or just my appetite as a whole. -motivation?? don't know her. lack of motivation is the only one here.

ah, yeah, let's stop there for now.

another interrupty thingy!!: bc I'm gonna go out on a limb here and assume at least some of my friends will read this, there are two things to assure you of; YES I know you love me but depressions goggles make it hard to remember that sometimes. and PLEASE don't freak out over the first 3 items on the depression symptom list I'm fine. I will explain in just a sec.

okie? okie.

so now ya know! not fun! kinda terrifying actually!

"oh, well, Ac, why don't you just try sleeping more? or going outside more? or drinking water? or eating regularly? doing yoga?"

all very good suggestions. yes, they CAN help improve mood, but at the point I am at, they aren't going to help much.

and for the sleep part, lemme tell you, I KNOW FULL WELL that I should sleep more. but guess what? I can't. like, I can. not. sleep. I want to sleep. I enjoy sleeping, I enjoy being fully awake during the day and I enjoy not feeling and looking like a fucking zombie. but you know what? Anxiety and Depression by themselves usually make it harder for people to sleep. combined? I'm fucked. sometimes, yes, I get a regular amount of sleep. but also sometimes I don't. I'm not yet sure what it is that triggers me into either cycle, but they can last from two months to four days.

and OK. I get that you have your ways of making yourself sleep. but you don't understand. I have had to sit through the same speech from my mother about "just picture a blank wall" 6. TIMES. your methods are yours, and while I'm very glad they work for you, it is highly unlikely they will work for me.

okay now, if you got worried when you saw the first 3 symptoms under Depression: I really do appreciate your concern, and I am touched that you care. I'm not going to say it's ok bc of course it's not, it's very not ok, but it is something that I am and have been working on. the first time most of these thoughts hit and hit hard was November 2017, and immediately after I calmed down from them I decided that I had to talk to my mum about going to therapy.

this started a kinda long process including telling my gf, my friend, and my sister before telling my mum. and then of course when I did tell her in December we weren't able to actually try and setup an appointment until January due to being out of insurance. and ofc after that we find out that the recommendation I had gotten the previous year for anxiety was expired and this resulted in me having to go back to the doctor, then to the ER bc that was the only way to get their on-hand therapist to come that day, and then I had to spend 2 hours there bc they were v v concerned and I was almost admitted for a few days bc of my thoughts.

and yeah, it was a mess.

but I do now have a therapist who I've been seeing for a few weeks, and we have a safety plan in place, and he was v v impressed with my knowledge on coping mechanisms and just my symptoms as a general.

random story: when I was maybe 14 I had already self-diagnosed that I had some sort of Anxiety disorder, and I mentioned it out loud in front of my two sisters and one, who had had panic attacks that had sent her to the ER before, was like ah, yeah. and the other one, who as far as I know STILL doesn't have an anxiety disorder let alone had one back then, said basically "no you don't. god. like, I believe that you have anxiety bc everyone does but you don't have REALY anxiety" which is, ya know, why she didn't know why I was going to therapy until my mum told her several weeks in (and even then idk if she evens knows the full reason, but she hasn't asked me so fuck that)

anyway, i'mma try and wrap this up now!

tl;dr, basically; I have Anxiety and Depression. I have had suicidal thoughts (in the past and recently) but I am working to get rid of them, and until such a time occurs, I do have a plan for if they show up that will result in me being protected and safe. I have coping mechanisms and I use them whenever I feel like I need to, and sometimes when I don't simply bc I enjoy them. I'm currently in once a week therapy with someone who let's me talk and laughs with me when I crack a joke and listens to my stances on issues. I know that you have your methods for things, and I'm very glad they work for you, but do NOT try and force them on me.

I hope you now understand a little bit more about me and why I sometimes react to things the way I do.

have a great day, month, year, life.

~Ac

#I said I would post it so here it is #and again; if you want to know about anything please don't hesitate to ask me about it #mental illnesses #disorder #depression #anxiety #generalized anxiety disorder #(pretty sure)#mild depression #severe depression #self care #self help #tw; self-harm #tw; suicide #tw; suicidal thoughts #tw; suicidal ideation #Shh AC

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