#i literally feel sick and i think im beginning to dissociate | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bellamygateoldblog · 4 years

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So, I read a lot of your personal posts and I'm just really curious about you. You seem very stressed out and tired all the time. Are you a college student? Are you just in a financial situation that necessitates that you work all the time? I just feel bad because It seems that you do not absorb joy very much. Like, I have seen that you recently started watching that show The 100. You seem very pissed off about it and yet keep watching it? You confuse and intrigue me. Explain?

"it seems that you do not absorb joy very much" has been playing on my mind ever since i read this. It hit something close to my heart.

I know i’m not obligated to explain anything and i don’t tend to put my life online (i don’t have any social media, so that should give you an idea of how secretive i usually am) but i literally stayed awake for 30 hours straight before sleeping for 15 hours straight and of course i don’t feel very well after that lol. I feel like i need to talk through some things that i’ve been keeping to myself for a long time. Get it out of my head, stop carrying it around, maybe gain some control over it.

I never intend to make anyone feel bad though, but i don’t have anyone to talk to so i guess i sometimes make those posts as a substitute for someone listening. Or for me being pissed about the 100, i think that’s my mood translating into what i end up posting in general.

Anyways this is A Lot. I obviously don’t mind if you read it. Advice would be nice, if anyone has any.

I’m a 2nd year university student. Due to severe mental illness (often making me physically sick and exhausted) these last 2 years have been extremely difficult so that's left me in a very intense situation essentially just trying to ensure i pass the year. That means handing in all the assignments i deferred basically all at the same time, after not attending the year at all. Like no lectures, no workshops, no lessons, nothing past the first month of semester 1. It's really not an ideal situation and my condition isn't improving the way i thought it would (you know when you think ‘this is the worst it can possibly get’ and then it gets worse?), and i can't focus. I’m resourceful and naturally decently smart, so i’m able to still pass a year of uni without...going. I’ve become less capable over time but because of other life experience i don’t place value on academic excellence anymore and because of covid there is a benchmark anyway, where my grade can’t drop below a 2:2, so basically i’m good as long as i don’t recieve a fail grade on anything. But that being said it’s still really hard to get things done anyway despite this? especially with depression and concentration issues, because uni in general just makes me really unhappy and disrupts my entire life, and i’d rather do literally anything else.

I can’t function whenever thinking about school in general. If im stressed about something i can’t think about anything else and it ends up seeping into other things im doing.

I have a really clear idea of what i want for the next step in my life and university is the only route available to get to so that’s why i’m still going through all of this when i could technically just ‘stop’. I’ve explored other ideas already and it appears even more stressful and complicated to make a huge change now. Even though i know 3rd year will be harder (which is also a source of stress, anxiety over what’s to come when im already struggling...).

I've been talking to my uni the whole time and while they've been understanding and accommodating (psychology department...like...they Know lol), there's only so much they can do to help me. Everyone i’ve spoken to is genuienly amazed i am where i am, but imo my resilience is bourne out of pure spite not to let my life fall apart along with myself LMAO. I have one assignment deadline left which is tomorrow. It’s the hardest one yet, i haven’t started and i’m filled with dread, and i’m so burned out i have no idea how i’m going to get it done.

To give some context about the whole ‘i can’t help myself when i’m under stress’ thing: I’m a really feminine girl. I have health and beauty routines that i like to stick to, but i can’t stick to them right now so i don’t feel like myself. There is nothing more to my life than stress and depression. I’m pretty sure i experienced dissociation for a few days last week. It was like i didn’t exist.

Just so happens that when i thought i could finally have a break from the extreme stress there are exams coming up on the 11th, which my uni has for some reason decided to make harder!?!? And i need to tell you that because it’s been bugging me ever since i recieved the email. They've completely changed the exams from being 1 hour long multiple choice tests (multiple choice is so easy smh) to basically a group of short answer questions we have 24 hours (each!) to write and submit and it’s seeming like i’ve got another 5 assignments to do after already writing 7 in the past month. It’s open book while the January exams were closed but it still seems to me like the students who didn’t defer (who did the exams back in January) got an unfair advantage over those of us taking them now due to our own circumstances. So I’m confused and upset about that, and about the thought that i probably won’t even get a break before 3rd year begins.

My living situation doesn’t make it better. It’s a really negative and emotionally draining space for me to be in. Just adding to my being drawn to negativity, and my own sensitivity. And covid has made everything that much more complicated, with everything changing and being closed etc. I’m completely alone btw, there is no one i can lean on.

As for the 100, that’s really tricky. I actually stopped “watching” it last year and now mostly consume it through fandom tumblr. I'm just not in the right headspace to sit alone and watch such a heavy show (clearly LMAO). But I’m so comfortable in this circle of fandom & love my mutuals, so i stay. I am actually liking a lot about the final season, like they’re delivering everything i wanted them to lol, but it’s so flawed and easy to complain about when you have a predisposition to be a Negative Nancy all the time so here we are.

I think i don’t really talk so extensively about shows I really love because i feel like i don’t have anything substancial to say about them besides ‘i love it’? Like i just sit there and happily watch and the farthest i go is commenting gibberish love confessions in the tags of a gifset i reblog. So most of my posts end up being me being petty or something. I do want to focus more on shows i love but like i said...it’s so hard for me sometimes to be all-positive and pretend i’m not completely crushed?

I really just want to not be so stressed and exhausted all the time. I want to do something besides worry about and/or do work. I’d love to clean my space & take a shower & read a book without a nagging anxiety in the back of my head. But i have to wait it out, and then wait it out, and continue waiting it out because it feels like things are going to be this way forever or get even worse.

I’ve had a lot of good luck lately though, and i don’t know what your beliefs are but i think someone is watching over me.

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turtle-steverogers · 5 years

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Sand Dollars- a Ralbert War Story

heheh hi guys im in college now and im posting a thing hello

also i know I KNOW that fugitives and titanium need some love

they will GET that love, i promise

ok ok now for the lowdown on this story-

warnings: none for this chap, but OH BOOY will there be some warnings in the future. this is not a happy story

ship: ralbert, some kinda spalbert (but not romantic. its like,,,,platonic ish)

word count: 3228

editing: no, so plz excuse any shit

CHAP 1

June, 2006

Albert tugged at the collar of his uniform, inwardly cursing the stifling heat of the shaky boeing aircraft he’d been trapped on for the past fifteen hours. A thin sheen of sweat covered his entire being and he pushed a hand through his hair, wrinkling his nose a little at the short length of his regulation cut. He usually liked to keep his hair on the longer side when off-duty, framing his face and curling at the nape of his neck. And even though he supposed he should be used to the short, crew cut by now, he didn’t have to like it. Besides, the longer hair suited his face better. Or so that’s what he was always told.

The announcement of their descent echoed through the plane and Albert sighed, vaguely wishing he’d pissed one more time before the fasten seatbelt sign flashed on again. The eclectic mix of uniform service members that surrounded him began shifting around, readjusting their seats back to their original positions and stowing their tray tables.

Albert rolled his eyes minutely, realizing that he should probably do the same before some asshole called him out for it. Everything always needed to be perfect around these people. Dress right dress and all that crap.

But as much as all this shit gave him a headache, there was no place he’d rather be.

His circumstances growing up had been less than ideal. A dead mother at nine and an absent father at eleven had gotten him dumped into the foster care system with his two brothers (who he eventually got separated from and hadn’t heard from since. Which he definitely wasn’t still fucking devastated about. No, he was good at moving on and dealing with his shit. Yeah, very good). No less than fourteen homes later, he turned 18 and finally, finally, he was done being some fucking ward of the state.

But fourteen homes meant just as many, if not more, schools. And when you’re being shoved from household to household with nothing but a couple bags filled with clothes and other absolute essentials, you don’t really have time to do well in school or apply to colleges.

The National Guard had sounded like a blessing at the time. An absolute saving grace with health and financial benefits to last him a literal lifetime. He always had been good at listening to directions and taking orders, so he figured he’d be a perfect fit. And he had.

Those first few years between enlisting and basic training had been some of the best of Albert’s life. He’d made bonds to last him a lifetime, felt the thrill of having something that was his and he was good at. He had found purpose where he previously had none.

Then three planes had gone and crashed into the Twin Towers and Pentagon and everything went to shit.

Albert and one of his buddies from Basic, Sean (who went by Spot, but nobody knew why. Albert had asked once and Spot had just smiled and kicked him in the shin) were living in New York at the time, having moved into a little apartment on the Upper East Side. The morning of September 11 had yielded one of the clearest, bluest skies Albert had seen in his entire life.

He remembered waking up to a call from his squad leader, barely able to comprehend the situation through his killer fucking hangover. He and Spot really hadn’t planned on getting hammered on a Monday night, but sometimes life in your early 20s just happened like that.

The next four days had been a blur of smoke, sirens, debri, and dust. So much dust. It had taken weeks for Albert to feel like the damn stuff was finally out of his lungs and if he still thought about it too hard, a phantom tickle would creep up in his chest.

He tried not to think about that week too much. Spot and him had returned home around the same time, both in varying states of exhaustion and dissociation. They didn’t discuss what they had individually been through, but an unspoken understanding of the nightmare they’d both witnessed had led them into the same bed that night, the need to forget shrouding everything else.

Albert and Spot’s relationship wasn’t anything that could be truly named. They weren’t best friends. They weren’t boyfriends. They weren’t fuckbuddies. But they understood each other better than anyone Albert had ever known in his 27 years on this god forsaken earth. And in that understanding, the knowledge that sometimes you just need to feel good for a night went without having to be spoken. Feeling good didn’t just mean sex, though. They cuddled a fair amount too, which was strange considering how touch averse Spot was with other people. During their first deployment, though, several long days had led to quiet nights spent in each others arms, where they allowed themselves to forget the horrors they were subject to witness and just be.

They were basically inseparable. So when the heavens happened upon them and they were to be deployed into the same battalion again, despite Albert climbing through the ranks and surpassing Spot by a fair deal, he had silently thanked a god he hadn’t prayed to since eight years old.

Leaving home was easy, mostly because Albert didn’t have anyone to leave behind. Spot was already overseas, having left a couple weeks earlier while Albert finished up some things down at the Pentagon. While being deployed sucked, Albert at least had Spot to look forward to.

The plane jolted, tilting a little as it made it made its final descent into the Tal Afar Airport. Albert leaned back against the headrest, closing his eyes and white knuckling the armrests. He was a fine flyer once the plane was up in the air, but taking off and landing fucked him upside down and sideways.

He was just beginning to count his breaths, clamping down the rolling waves of motion sickness, when a low voice spoke next to him.

“Are you alright, sir?” Albert cracked open an eye, glancing sideways at the person next to him, “Not a fan of flying?”

The guy looked...rugged. There was no other word for it. His black hair was cut close to his head, well within regulation and looking a little patchy at the sides. His wide set eyes were sharp and calculating, glinting with something like mischief that would unsettle Albert if he hadn’t seen that look a million times over in the mirror. He looked younger than Albert by a good few years and the lack of shadows in his gaze and on his face cast a look of innocence over him. Albert remembered those days- when naivety led him to a false sense of security. He had been untouchable; indestructible.

“Only take off and landing,” Albert said, clearing his throat and putting on what had to look like a strained smile. He pried his right hand off the armrest and held it out for the guy to shake, “First Sergeant Albert Dasilva. Good to meet ya.”

The guy had a firm handshake and he didn’t seem to mind that Albert’s palm was a little sweaty from nerves, “Private Elmer Kasprzak.”

Albert smiled, “First time in the Sandbox?”

Elmer smiled, looking a little self deprecating, “That obvious, sir?”

Albert shook his head, aiming for comforting, but still sounding vaguely choked, “I just know the look. Way too excited.”

“Oh,” Elmer furrowed his brow, looking like he was trying to decide whether to be offended or not, “I’m just happy to finally be on the frontline, sir.”

“I commend you,” Albert said, wistfully, “It’s a brave thing to be doing with such a strong attitude.”

Elmer blushed, “Thank you, sir.”

“You don’t have to tack ‘sir’ onto every sentence,” Albert assured him, “Some guys are really strict about that, so keep in the habit, but I’m not too picky.”

“Oh, okay s- uh, okay,” Elmer flushed deeper and Albert chuckled a little bit patting his knee.

The plane touched down with a jerk and Albert closed his eyes again briefly while it slowed. Eventually, it came to a stop and the fasten seatbelt sign flashed off. Albert reopened his eyes to see Elmer staring out the window, awe and apprehension noticeable through the look in his eyes and the crease between his brows.

“C’mon, Private,” Albert said, unbuckling and clapping the younger man’s shoulder, “we got places to be.”

XXX

Getting assigned last minute to a completely new battalion and then being shipped overseas two weeks later was not how Race suspected he’d be spending his first year out of West Point. He didn’t mind really. He hadn’t really had any true connections to his old squad and after his little incident with Oscar Delancey, a new start was appreciated.

That didn’t make the whiplash of deployment any less bittersweet.

His nerves hadn’t stopped twisting since General Kelly had informed him of his new assignment, going back and forth between excitement and paralyzing anxiety until his gut was furling with both simultaneously. But now that he was here, things were starting to settle within him. This was his life now and it was going to be his life for the next twelve months. Better get used to it.

He put the last of his shirts in one of his dresser drawers, casting a cursory glance around his side of the room, before eyeing his cheap, Walmart alarm clock. 09:45. The next wave of soldiers should be arriving soon and with them, his roommate.

A wave of anticipation rolled through Race’s stomach and he grimaced. He had yet to make any meaningful connections with his soldiers so far, many of them wary of having a new CO. But he was a people person and this alienation was killing him, even though he understood their hesitation. Part of him hoped that whoever his roommate ended up being wouldn’t hold the same vigilance towards him. Maybe he could even make a friend. Someone he could theoretically get a drink with. Completely hypothetically, of course. Drinking wasn’t allowed on base.

Sighing, Race grabbed his patrol cap, cramming it onto his head and grabbing a pack of cigarettes from his desk. He bounded down the stairs to his trailer and made his way over to the coffee line, nodding his greeting at a small clique of soldiers as he passed. He only got a couple nods in return, and every single one of them wore matching, judgemental looks. Race tried not to take it to heart.

The line for coffee took forever and Race hummed a little to himself, toying with the pack of cigarettes in his pocket while he waited for the cue to move at a snail’s pace. Once he held his little styrofoam cup in hand, he ventured off to the smoking pit, draining his coffee along the way.

Soldiers were beginning to arrive and Race lit up a cigarette, watching with casual curiosity as groups flooded into camp. He eyed them, vaguely wondering who each of them was. Who he would get along with. Who he would despise. Who would despise him.

He quickly got overwhelmed again and stomped out his finished stub, lighting up another to kill a few more minutes.

An indiscernible amount of time passed and Race kicked his last cigarette to the dust, pulling back the sleeve of his ACU jacket and checking the time. 11:15. Damn, that coffee line really had taken forever.

Deeming his little break long enough, Race wandered back towards his trailer, heart rate kicking up a bit when he noticed that the door was propped open.

Steeling himself, Race climbed the stairs, knocking once on the door jamb, before ducking inside.

The person inside turned his head, peering up from where he was folding a few grey, regulation workout pants on his recently made cot.

He was wearing his ACU pants and boots, but his jacket had been discarded and with a quick glance around, Race found it draped over the back of his desk chair. The guy was attractive- a sharp jawline accentuated by his pale skin and dark red hair, which was trimmed attractively, fading up the sides. It was as if the guy knew from experience how to make the most of the look without pushing regulation. His arms and chest were muscular, highlighted by the stretch of his tan, liner t-shirt.

A charming smile stretched across the guys face as he straightened up, crossing the small expanse of their room and holding out a hand, which Race took firmly.

“First Sergeant Albert Dasilva,” He said, his voice smooth and a little gravelly, “Pleasure to meet you, sir.”

Race smiled back, “Lieutenant Antonio Higgins,” he said, hoping he sounded a lot more confident than he felt, “I’m honored to be working with you and your squadron and I’m looking forward to getting to know everyone.”

Albert dropped his hand, turning back to continue unpacking his things. He only had one large duffle and two small carry on bags and suddenly, Race felt self conscious about his two duffle and impressive assortment of other luggage.

“Honestly, we’re just lucky that you were available to serve with us, sir,” Dasilva said, straightening his shoes by his closet, dress right dress, “Everyone was really bummed and pretty panicked when Lieutenant Morris fucked up his leg, so it’s great that General Kelly was able to get you on board so quick.”

Race crossed to his side of the room, tossing his cap back onto his cot and slumping into his own desk chair, “I was pretty eager to get overseas, but I wasn’t expecting it to happen so quick.”

Dasilva hummed, sounding a little surprised, “This is your first deployment?” He asked, looking over his shoulder and raising his eyebrows a little.

“Yeah,” Race said, ducking his head a little as he flushed, “Just got outta West Point last May.”

Dasilva whistled, looking impressed, “You musta done damn well if you’re already a Lieutenant,” he said, smiling a little challengingly, “and add the fact that Kelly sought you out directly,” he shook his head, bemused, “Damn, sir, you’ve got quite the rep.”

Race wrinkled his nose, “My so called ‘rep’ ain’t really getting me anywhere with your men.”

Dasilva shrugged a shoulder, waving his hand dismissively, “Don’t take whatever they’re doing to heart,” he said, “They’re all still upset about Lieutenant Morris. He was a great Lieutenant and a lot of the guys are still feeling his absence. They’ll warm up to you, sir.”

Race grunted noncommittally. He knew that Dasilva was trying to make him feel better with his little pep talk, but the knot in Race’s stomach only grew. It seemed like he had pretty fucking big shoes to fill.

“Aha!”

Race was pulled out of his spiraling worries by Dasilva’s voice and he looked up to see him holding a toothbrush and toothpaste.

“Finally found them,” Dasilva said, triumphantly. He waved them a little in Race’s direction, “I’m gonna go freshen up. That fifteen hour flight always makes me feel grungy as shit.”

Race nodded his acknowledgement, watching as his new bunkmate exited the room and traipsed down the steps, leaving the door open behind him. He could see him greeting other soldiers with a level of enthusiasm and charm Race could only dream to match. His jealousy spiked even further when he got equally happy greetings in response.

Blowing out a measured breath, Race flipped open his notebook, toying with the pristine patch on the front as he vaguely studied the Arabic terms he’d been practicing on the plane ride there.

He was pretty good already, if he said so himself, with an impressive language proficiency score of 3+ under his belt. But solidifying knowledge was always beneficial, no matter one’s skill.

A few minutes later, Dasilva bounded back through the door to their trailer, finally easing the door shut behind him. He stuck his toothpaste and toothbrush back into his little hygiene kit and tucked the thing neatly into the top drawer of his dresser.

Race kept his eyes on his notebook, not entirely sure how to progress with their conversation. He was out of his depth- usually being the loud and confident one, but somehow rendered socially inept in this completely foreign environment.

Dasilva didn’t seem to notice his internal battle, though, and a moment later, he spoke up.

“You fluent yet?”

Race startled a bit, looking up, “Almost, I’m still working on conversational communication, but I’ve got all the basics in the bag.”

Dasilva grinned, seemingly not jarred by the sudden change in language, “That’s good. Already something you have over Lieutenant Morris. With him, we almost always needed a terp on site.”

“No need for one of those here,” Race said, switching back to english.

“Obviously, sir,” Dasilva agreed. There was another lull in conversation, but Dasilva didn’t seem uncomfortable, “Do you like running?”

Race felt his stomach flip excitedly, “Yeah, actually, I love it. Did track all through middle in high school. That’s actually where-” He cut himself off hastily. Dasilva did not need to know about his little adolescent nickname that he still used unironically. Not yet anyway.

Dasilva gave him a funny look, but didn’t push, “Great. I go running every morning with one of my buddies before call. You’re welcome to join us if you want.”

“That sounds nice,” Race said, “I’d love to. Who’s your buddy?” He added out of curiosity.

“Sean Conlon,” Dasilva stated and Race hummed, recognizing the name, but not having a face to put it with, “He and I go way back.”

The weight of the words seemed to hold something heavy, but Race returned Dasilva’s courtesy and didn’t push.

“Sounds like a good guy,” Race said, “What time should I wake up?”

“We usually go around 04:45,” Dasilva said, leaning back into his regulation pillows, “You’ll probably hear my alarm anyway.”

Race nodded, “I’ll set one on my clock, too, just in case.”

“Good plan.”

A knock at their door had both of them exchanging a curious look. Race stood to get it and found a taller man with straight, cropped brown hair and a rigid nose standing at ease outside the door. He smiled cordially when Race looked up at him and offered him a hand.

“Lieutenant Higgins?” Race nodded and the man shook his hand firmly, “Excellent. Captain David Jacobs, it’s nice to meet you.”

“You too, sir.”

“General Kelly would like to see you over in his office,” Jacobs continued, sounding a little warmer. His eyes flicked over Race’s shoulder to Dasilva, who hastily stood at attention.

“First Sergeant Albert Dasilva, sir,” Dasilva said, his voice hardening as he saluted.

“At ease, soldier,” Jacobs said, “Pleasure to meet you.”

They all stood in silence for a short pause, before Race awkwardly turned and grabbed his patrol cap.

“General Kelly requested for me now, sir?” He asked Jacobs.

“Yes,” Jacobs confirmed.

“Alright,” Race placed the cap on his head and looked back to where Dasilva was still standing, “I’ll see you later, Sergeant.”

“See you, sir,” Dasilva smirked, “Good luck.”

Race resisted stating that he’ll need it as the trailer door swung closed behind him.

thanks for reading, chiefs

hmu to be added to my tag! and if you were on my tag, but changed your username, please let me know!

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#newsies #newsies fic #ralbert #racetrack higgins #albert dasilva #davey jacobs #Jack Kelly #spot conlon #war au #sand dollars fic #hehe #uhhh #please yell at me #yeah...#college is wild and this happnened

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subnova-scion · 5 years

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🟊⟅⸉ IM GONNA TALK ABOUT NOVAVERSE CYM AND WHAT HAPPENS AFTER CAUSE I HAVE THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS LETS GO ⸊⟆🟊

During the final confrontation with White Diamond, not only were the CG’s unable to help Steven, they were turned against him. If the B-team had come in at that moment, they would’ve been turned against him, too. Can you fucking imagine? Seeing your family and friends slowly being possessed? Screaming, howling in agony as they’re turned against you? And you can’t do anything to stop it? And all you’ve got to back you up is your human friend who the person controlling everyone else thinks is disposable? And will not hesitate to try and kill her?

And you’re just a child?

Yeah!!! Steven doesn’t just end up having nightmares about being ripped apart from his gem once this is all over! He also has nightmares about the White Puppets. He had to see them turned! Every adult figure he’s ever trusted and loved had been turned against him by a villain who LITERALLY TRIED TO KILL HIM NOT EVEN MINUTES LATER. LIKE. WHITE DIAMOND DID THAT, KNOWING THAT THE ‘HUMAN CHILD’ PINK WAS ‘HIDING IN’ WOULD PROBABLY, IF NOT UNDOUBTEDLY, DIE.

“I’m tired of this shit, Pink. Time to end it and kill the organic parasite so you can’t run from your problems anymore.”

This is why Steven’s relationship with White Diamond in NOVAverse will be far from canon. He will always be scared of her!! AND THAT’S THE TEA!

As for the attempted murder, Steven barely remembers what happened when it comes to getting his gem removed and seeing his other half. Because when his gem was taken out it was, uh, very bad. Like,, from a gore standpoint. He only remembers vague feelings and images. Both halves experienced the same event, but from their own separate perspectives. One half was bleeding out, though, and your memory kind of takes a back seat when you’re LITERALLY DYING. So Like? He remembers it? But it’s mostly one sided, through his gem half. And that’s why it feels so bizarre when he tries to remember what happened. It feels like an extreme case of out of body dissociation.

Meanwhile, Yellow and Blue and the CG 3 couldn’t remember anything. They didn’t know what was happening, just what they were feeling as White was controlling them. It was severely emotionally and physically painful, and that’s all they knew! So they had no idea what happened, and the crystal gems freaked out when they were freed from White’s control and saw the state of their kid. Because there was still blood!! Everywhere! All over him! And Connie! Since she had to carry Steven over to his other half while he was BLEEDING OUT WITH A HOLE THE SIZE OF HIS FIST IN HIS GUTS.

And these two kids were too relieved and in shock and generally traumatized to answer their questions! They couldn’t even begin to process what exactly had nearly happened to him. Nova had already started to dissociate as soon as he was whole again? Cause his brain was like: ‘Haha gonna just black most of that out and go numb to protect you and keep you functioning through this hellish experience lmao.’

Considering he was almost killed for like the 12th time in his 14 years of life, there are VERY obvious reasons as to why he began falling into a state of dissociation, but what he started dissociating from first is deeply rooted in what happened to him. The first thing he dissociated from was his feelings. See, after his human half sustained serious damage, guess which half has to kick into higher gear to keep him alive and functioning after going through awful trauma?

The gem half. Which is well… Numb. We see that PINK!Steven literally cannot process emotion other than the intense, overwhelmingly negative ones. That sudden outburst, the literal grief and rage of a young god that is sick and tired of everyone wanting his mother to be alive over him. Quartz (That’s what I call Nova’s gem half) didn’t hesitate to strike at all of Nova’s loved ones. He had no attachment. He was doing what he needed to do to protect himself and his other half so they could be whole again. Everyone else was an afterthought.

And that’s how you know Quartz is different. Because the human half, and even as a whole, Steven puts everyone else first. Human Nova (who I call Universe) is literally bleeding out and he’s crying out for his other half to stop because he’s hurting them. But that half is a part of him. And it’s a part he’s been needing to get in touch with for a long time. Considering Steven puts others before himself even to his own detriment, and the reactions of his human half only solidify this fact, if his gem half was anything like that, Steven could have died. He couldn’t afford to strain or distract himself trying to help or protect others. He needed to help himself. Save Steven. That was the objective.

And even as two halves are united again, the gem half is still more or less handling the reigns because of how straight wrecked the human half is at the time. It’s still working to protect himself as a whole. And the first sign of this emotional change is shown in the first thing he says to white after she tried to murder him.

“I am a child. What’s your excuse?”

See, now that he’s been reunited with his other half, he has all the emotions and feelings his human half provides, too. So he’s able to actually lay down some sick burns and common sense without going absolutely apeshit and creating craters with his screams. And this boy didn’t leave quietly with ‘If you let everyone else be whoever they are, maybe you can let yourself be whoever you are, too.’ No. That didn’t quite happen in NOVAverse. Yanno what happened? Yellow and Blue confronted White first, and since she had yet to regain her composure, she was shaken and defensive.

They almost started fighting all over again. They were all terrified and scrambling in fear of the unknown. Until White’s attention was on Steven again. Because, who is this little creature supposed to be if they aren’t Pink??? What the fresh fuck is going on?! Now, we all know PINK!Steven is Mcfuckin Pissed. The gem is back-loaded with thousands of years of emotional turmoil and trauma, most of which isn’t even his own. And this is related to WHY he initially goes off on the diamonds, too.

Because he goes off on them defending Pink Pearl.

Steven had to relieve through so many of his mother’s memories of abuse, and her painful memories of regret regarding what happened to her best friend??? So to actually see Pink Pearl okay and looking like herself again was so important to him. He didn’t just go 'welcome back’ and pat her on the shoulder, HE HUGGED HER AND HELPED HER TO HER FEET. HE WAS IN TEARS. He walked her over to the CGs and said, “ You’re coming with us. ”

LIKE. SHES BEEN SUBJECTED TO MENTAL AND PHYSICAL TORTURE FOR +8,000 YEARS??? GET HER AWAY FROM WHITE. And when White managed to regain her composure and what he was doing caught her attention, she asked him what he could possibly be doing taking her pearl? That’s when Nova went off.

“ She was never yours. She was my mother’s best friend and you took her away and turned her into a puppet and used her as an emotional manipulation tactic to keep my mother under your thumb.

You have kept her like this for thousands of years. It’s time she comes home with us so she can finally start to be herself again. Far away from you.

Die Mad About It.”

Boy put his foot down not just on that, but about his mom and why she left, and why he came here in the first place, that he needed White’s help. And everyone was in such shock and was so overwhelmed and lost because of what just happened that they listened to what he had to say and they did what he told them to! They didn’t know what else to do or how to move forward now that their worlds have been turned upside down!

The night they got back to Earth, the diamonds had to hang around for a while because Steven and Connie are a mess and the CG’s have to take care of them before anything else happens. They have to get them checked out (thanks Dr.Maheswaran.) It was determined they were both in shock, but Connie wasn’t too badly injured. Steven, however, spent the night in the hospital due to blood-loss. He was in enough pain that he had to take it easy and mostly stick to staying in bed. It was fine, as he was majorly exhausted and slept like a rock.

His nature as a demi-gem allowed him to heal faster, but the human half was still seriously damaged. He has to take painkillers and not be too physical for a while. He also has a sicknasty scar around his gem because it was ripped out so that’s Neat. When he uses his powers and his gem glows, you can really see the scarring. It looks something similar to what it looks like when his body comes into contact with destablizers. (He decides to wear bigger t-shirts from now on. He doesn’t want it to be exposed, and he doesn’t want his family to see it)

Then, the next day was the big Bubble Bath. They were all up late, so the healing party happened the following afternoon. Once he was cleared, they checked him out of the hospital, and went straight to the fountain to meet up with the diamonds and finally cure corruption. The water from the fountain helped him heal more, too, so he was feeling better already. He loved meeting all these new friends and was so relieved it was all over. But after a few hours, as it usually is at parties, he just kept talking to so many people and getting distracted and, god, he just couldn’t leave.

Yanno? You just keep trying to leave a party but someone or something keeps sucking you back in. All the people there. How loud they all are. Using his voice becomes exhausting. Thinking becomes exhausting. People talking to him becomes like nails on the chalkboard? Suddenly, everything is so irritating and blurry and painful and so, so loud he feels like he’s going crazy. And when he finally has a quiet moment to himself to be mindful of his own state he’s like, “Oh. I’m having an anxiety attack in slow motion and probably experiencing sensory overload. Cool.”

He’s so mentally overwhelmed and burnt out that he just felt himself having a meltdown at ¼th the speed and knew it would speed up or blow up if he didn’t leave. They had to take him home and he just went to bed. From that day on, for another week or two, Steven is under the constant watch of the Crystal Gems and doted on. He didn’t particularly mind some affection, because he was just so relieved to be home. To be safe. To be alive. Understandably, his family and friends were worried, of course they were. How could they not be, with the state he was in after that fight?

He looked like a dead boy walking, clothes and limbs absolutely bloody. They hadn’t the slightest clue what happened after White Diamond took control of them, and they could only look to Steven for answers. Steven always told them he doesn’t really remember what happened, which is only partially true, and they say that since then, he hasn’t seemed like himself. They say that in the aftermath, that he acted strange and cold, that now he seems ‘far away’ and is too quiet.

While that was true, it was only the case at a certain point because Steven found it harder and harder to be around them when they looked at him like he could die at any second and talked to him like they want to scrape the inside of his skull with a spoon.

See, Nova is struggling with his emotions a lot more now, in terms of emotional detachment and his literal demi-god power showing through in his personality a bit more? He was BORN a fusion, but reflected his human half more than the gem half for so long because he wasn’t in touch with gem stuff for the first 10 years of this life.

This is why he couldn’t use his powers for a long time. But NOW that he’s come so far and has seen his gem half for what it really is, seen himself for who he really is, it’s changed the cognition of the human half. So now that they're whole, the gem half and all the Diamond Powers are like, ‘Hello, I am here now. I am also you.’

And both halves are struggling to balance the whole self out again. This is why his Pink Power™ is more obvious from this point onward. It’s the “Light of his gem shining through”, as White Diamond put it. Now, Steven himself doesn’t know this, so he can’t put his finger on why it’s so hard to talk, why he feels distant, not only from his family, but his own feelings.

He needs time alone to work through them, to try and understand what exactly happened, and why he’s feeling so odd. At times, he feels simply… indifferent to everything, some kind of numb. But there is another uncommon feeling that frightens him more; Anger, it rises within him frequently, so much so that he almost feels bad about it when it does. He was never one to feel this way so easily before.

Not to say he doesn’t have things to be angry about, to be emotional about. He’s angry because wasn’t even allowed to leave the house by himself for a whole week. He hadn’t seen Connie since they got back, and it seems that he could never get enough time with his father, the only other person who being around would make it easier to breathe. Every conversation with the gems eventually leads to being about what’s wrong, the questions Steven couldn’t answer, that he doesn’t want to answer. It’s hard to express this when they’re each being their own ways of overbearing about his well-being, and his anxiety is off the charts.

The question of the Diamonds and what they were going to do, how they were going to continue, looms over him. It’s such a source of his stress that he has as much trouble falling asleep as he does staying asleep the whole night through. He has to know what’s happening. What they’re doing. He couldn’t just leave them be and expect things to not go back to how they were before. At times, he feels like he has to go back to Homeworld, but how could he?

Especially if he told his family what happened to him? Steven knew that if he did, that they wouldn’t let him, and who knows what else would happen. Truthfully, he’s afraid they wouldn’t see or treat him the same anymore. He feels like he has to be okay as soon as possible so he can do what he feels needs to be done, but the longer this goes on the more he feels like he’s having a meltdown in slow motion.

The peace he was hoping to have after going through such a harrowing time is yet again out of his reach… and it’s getting harder and harder to swallow his slowly boiling frustrations.

#🟊⟅⸉ᴏᴏᴄ⸊⟆🟊

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777horns333rats · 3 years

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dwindling before hrt

11/22/2020

today i scheduled an appointment to start hrt, i am so beyond excited and grateful that im going to be able to do this. now that i got that out of the way, a lot of being trans just inherently kind of sucks.

my appointment is for the 10th of december, which is relatively very close, but it couldn’t seem any further away honestly. i feel like i’ve waited too long and my soul is slowly dwindling away until the day ill be able to start. of course this doesn’t make me any less of a woman, but the waiting has allowed time for my dysphoria to really set in. i think ive been so excited about realizing im a girl that i havent had any time to actually check in and internalize the fact that i spent so many years not being true to myself, that i spent so many years not on hormones, that i spent so many years letting testosterone run my life and the way ive grown. that’s sort of why even a few weeks feels like an eternity. its been long enough and i dont want to wait anymore.

i don’t want this to be too upsetting though, im looking up things i can do to make me feel better, but none of them truly relieve any of my anxiety except for actually literally stopping testosterone from doing any more damage. im also noticing im sort of beginning to dissociate more again, which is getting annoying. weirdly i associate my dissociation with identifying as male, so its bringing me back to doubt a little bit, its sort of a sick twisted monster cycle where the dysphoria makes me dissociate, then the dissociation makes me doubt weather or not im trans. im hoping things do end up feeling better after i start hrt. at least when i felt like this before i came out it did just feel so incredibly hopeless, and now theres at least hope.

altogether im annoyed, impatient, tired, oddly angry, anxious, but im still made of love and hope. i know ill get through this. thats something i couldn’t say before, and that has to count for something.

#venting #diary #trans #trans girl

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thenightisland · 7 years

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you know the drill:

this is becoming like its own series but idk how else to explain this awful year i don’t even feeling like properly linking so here’s just the URLs of the other ones in the series: 1. http://thenightisland.tumblr.com/post/161087786689/explanationsupdates-under-the-cutmore-i 2. http://thenightisland.tumblr.com/post/161920216354/additional-updatesexplanations-under-the-cut 3. http://thenightisland.tumblr.com/post/163767959805/updates-under-the-cutmore-post-one-post-two-on 4. http://thenightisland.tumblr.com/post/164398486219/on-the-fourth-edition-of-what-the-fuck-is

one of the assessors got jumped a while back. she was just walking past a pt in the main assessment dept and he jumped up, punched her in the back of the head, took her to the ground and beat the fuck out of her. she was out for weeks and weeks and had broken facial bones. i can’t believe she didn’t quit.

our nurse executive quit though. not like, went prn or gave two weeks notice, like just straight up was like I’M DONE and walked out which honestly is the closest i’ve ever come to respecting him.

while having more psychologically unstable pts isn’t new, having more medically unstable pts has been a problem lately. like our crash cart is not like a medical hospital’s crash cart it’s like. an ambu bag some iv supplies and a stethoscope no lifesaving medications. when a pt has a medical issue we send them out to a medical hospital because obv we don’t have the resources to treat complex medical issues where we work. which didn’t used to be an issue because you’d used to see maybe two medical codes a year on my unit. we’ve had /ten/ since my last update post /just on my shift/. two of which weren’t even “pt is going downhill fast” codes they were “pt has no heartbeat and isn’t breathing” like we had to fucking bring two people back from the goddamn dead /within ten minutes of each other/. we’re all like we’re psych nurses man if we wanted to do this shit we’d work er. [and the er we’re required to send these pts to is awful like they sent us back a guy who had almost died twice in three days who had an /untreated brain tumor/ bc obv he’s totally fine]. or we’ve been doing mash unit style medicine like the suicidal kid with partial thickness burns all over his chest and neck that literally no one was doing anything about. we were debriding burns with a mixture of different PO IM and SQ drugs to achieve the same effect as IV morphine because debriding is extremely painful but not doing it will just make things worse and no one else seemed to care so we just fucking did it. like we’ve done so much medical nursing lately. like the one with the uncontrolled severe seizures that led to the medical hospital labeling her first break schizophrenia despite no family history of mental illness but /five different medical issues that all cause psychosis/. or the one they let on the unit despite being on the do not readmit who has untreated hiv that he actively tries to give to other people and /active tuberculosis/. or the one with the aneurysm. or the one with severe CHF. and on and on and on. and remember: we’re not the most medically unstable unit in the hospital because we have a 40 bed /geriatric psych unit/ so you can imagine the kind of pts /they’re/ getting. on the plus side, all of our ten odd codes lived.

my personal life is still a goddamn mess, of course, but that’s a given. don’t even know where to begin with all that. and i can’t talk about a lot of it which makes it that much more fun.

i had an entire crisis about the odyssey [which tbh is still kind of going on even after /weeks/] because i’m getting so cagey in memphis because i fucking hate this town. and i just got back from new orleans which is the closest thing i have to an ithaca at the moment and it killed me to come back to this fucking city.

i’m also really paranoid right now because after i come back from vacations, something terrible always happens and i’m not exaggerating it’s like clockwork to the point that the bad things have all happened between friday and sunday after i’ve returned from my vacation, each time, without fail. well that would be this weekend so i am just waiting to see what great horrors await me this goddamn time. [last time, it was the whole coworker killed in vehicular homicide thing]. but i guess paranoia isn’t the right word. you’re only paranoid if you’re wrong, and my life has already set the precedent. so i guess anxious is the better word.

the anxiety is increased given that my mother has been out of work all week because they’ve had trouble regulating her blood sugar and so she’s been really sick and even said so herself she’ll probably end up in the er over the weekend because she doesn’t think she can make it till her next doc appt because she’s miserable, and she’s already been in the er once when this weird shit started happening a month or so ago so the Vacation Curse has me even more concerned than usual, which is saying something.

there’s a new psych doc working now and everyone is really unsettled by him and we’re pretty sure he’s a genuine psychopath like completely without exaggeration and he’s already done a lot of really creepy things to/with staff members and one nurse said in passing “i’ve known a lot of doctors like him he’ll end up fucking a pt at some point” which we initially left to hyperbole but he’s been doing shit like transporting female pts to other units without the staff’s consent in his own car which is like all kinds of not allowed, and the way he talks to some of the staff is just downright rapey honestly. and so we had a rough case this summer who, through the combined efforts of my squad, we got her from a diagnosis of intellectual disability with schizophrenia, nonverbal, self harming all the time, history of physical and sexual abuse, constantly in restraints and on a 1:1 obs level to a new diagnosis of autism spec with ptsd because her “hallucinations” were /flashbacks/ and she ended up very social and verbose and like fucking read william blake for fun and had a great sense of humor and was off all special observations and had a transfer to another facility pending so she could get more 1:1 long term therapy, and the creepy doctor was covering her case while her actual doc was out of town and he rode all the way to the other hospital with her which is another thing you do not do, and we found out from a coworker that she is now a /2:1/ [two staff members within arm’s reach 24/7], self harming again, in full shutdown/meltdown mode, and nonverbal. and it was such a rapid deterioration that all of us lost sleep over the possibility that this creepy doctor might have done something because even after she was at the other hospital and therefore no longer our pt, /he kept going to see her/. which fucked us up a lot because we were the ones who worked so hard for so long with her. like even the thought of it.

recently had 25th birthday so naturally had a crisis about that because i’d always said my goal was to be out of memphis by 25 and yet here we are.

another of our fave pts, esp one of /my/ fave pts, died out of literally nowhere. the day before my birthday. so that was great.

also felt really surreal to see the news about the convictions in the holly bobo case, which i found out about when one of my coworkers was reading the news on his phone during a lull one night i forgot that to him and everyone else it’s a national news story [hell it even has its own wikpedia page] but to me it’s just /holly/ because she was /in the class above me in our nursing program/. my first semester in college i remember seeing her face on missing posters on every building on campus. so it was really a weird moment of dissociation for me. glad the motherfucker was found guilty on all charges, obv.

the tech of mine who got his skull slammed into the floor, the one who’s been out with what can only be called severe psychological trauma, is supposed to be coming back the third week in october. which i just. i mean i’m glad because he’s one of our best guys, but i’m also like /why the fuck would he come back/ because he could be a fucking english professor again. motherfucker spent part of his youth growing up in italy and montreal, lived on the west coast for years, /was/ a college professor, did time as a script doctor in LA, and was a fucking thriller novelist who just gone girled himself for whatever reason and ended up working with us. there’s literally a reddit thread asking if anyone knows what happened to him and i want to be like don’t worry it’s fine he works with me. but so we’re like why would you come back to this place after what happened to you when you have so many other options available to you????? what are you running from that makes you so desperate to keep centering your life around a locked acute psych ward???? why did you gone girl yourself to begin with??? like he was screwed up enough there for a while that he wasn’t even answering his calls or texts and our boss had to send the police to do welfare checks on him because he lives alone so it’s like man why not go back to the life you had before and /get away from all of this/ it’s not like my situation where i’d rather be living a different life but have never done so, he already has the foundation because he’s already lived a different life he has an in that i don’t have and i can’t for the life of me figure out why he thinks working as an acute pysch tech is the better option.

but i mean. we /do/ call our unit the hotel california for a reason.

#karen's adventures in trying to sort her life out #this got longer than i intended whoops

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