#is it keeping me from having daily meltdowns from actual life

[katy-kt-katie]

PURPLEROW

❤️What happens when the most famous woman in the world and a regular guy, fall in love?

👩‍🚀Astronaut Dana Scully is world famous for her accomplishments in space.

🦊 NASA psychologist Fox Mulder has admired her from afar, but is now tasked to keep her company virtually while she’s on a mission solo.

📖 RATED E. Chapters Daily. This is a NOTTING HILL AU. Chapter 1 below:

I was never meant to remain alone up here. It was supposed to be hours– twenty-two to be exact; everything in space is known and measured, precisely predicted. And yet, here I am—preparing to be completely alone for an unknown amount of time.

I hear the quiet whir of machines as I bound weightless from screen to screen, trying to determine my current status. But even as I look from screen to screen, my brain wrestles with a feeling of impending doom.

“Some issue with their main rocket,” the voice in the speaker tells me, “that’s why they aborted.”

I’ve prepared for situations like these. You don’t become an astronaut by being delicate or soft. I remind myself of the tough stuff I’m made of: graduating from The Naval Academy top of my class, breezing through medical school, and being recruited by NASA. Having a successful career as an astronaut—

“Dr. Scully, can you confirm your current velocity and the pressure parameters?” a technician asks, interrupting my inner pep talk. The technician is one of many voices from Houston—the Johnson Space Center, to be precise, where several dozen engineers and scientists monitor everything that is happening up here.

“Seventeen thousand, six hundred and eighty-four miles per hour, Houston. Pressure gauges are within limits.”

“Thank you, Dr. Scully. We’re working on next steps down here. The Director suggests you might do your daily exercises and report back when finished?”

“Affirmative.”

Houston ends the call. They’re still monitoring hundreds of readings—pressures, temperatures and speed among other things, but when our calls end, they mostly leave me alone.

Despite the isolation I feel at being alone here, it’s nice to have a bit of privacy in which to continue my mental meltdown. If every step I took up here was being watched as if I had a stalker…I think that would be worse.

I huff laughter at my thought—I don’t actually take steps here. I’m floating two hundred and fifty miles above Earth on the International Space Station. I push from a wall and float through a chamber into another section, finally ending up in node three.

ISS inhabitants are required to exercise daily for ninety minutes, a necessity to keep our gravity-less bodies healthy and strong. I use the weight-lifting machines and run on the treadmill—my body harnessed down so I don’t float away.

As my Nikes pound the platform, I close my eyes. I’m completely alone in space. No other human is with me, nor is anyone scheduled to join, thanks to a rocket issue with the Russians.

This was supposed to be the smallest mission on the ISS in terms of people; dubbed “Expedition 4A,” it was set to determine the minimum number of crew members that could successfully maintain the ISS between more elaborate missions. I am the lone American taking part, along with one Cosmonaut and one German who were set to join me today—but alas, the rocket failure.

I know I can handle myself up here—I’ve already been through some extraordinary situations with NASA. But, I feel haggard as I finish my run—my heart racing faster, my sweat beading harder, and my breath catching. It’s a panicky feeling I’ve experienced occasionally in life, but not in years.

I turn off the treadmill and take a deep breath, centering myself before returning to our main communications pod. Houston is waiting for me.

“Dana?” I hear the voice I recognize as Mission Director Walter Skinner booming through the speaker.

I pick up the headset—although I can hear through the speaker, the headset is much clearer. I turn on a monitor, seeing Mission Control brightly lit with dozens of bodies bustling about.

“Director Skinner. I’m here.”

“Alright, Dana. We’ve been discussing next steps. Our plan is to abort the mission and bring you back down, but it’s going to take us about a week to prepare.”

“Okay, sir,” I say. I’d love to argue the mission could continue with just me, but it’s not designed for one person, and I learned many years ago—as the daughter of a Naval Officer—that I need to accept the well-thought-out decisions of my commanders without debate.

“Also, we noticed a blip at the end of your workout—an anomaly—possibly indicative of a panic attack. Are you alright?”

How could I forget I’m hooked up to heart and respiratory monitors while exercising? Houston misses almost nothing—they can’t afford to—too much is at risk. “I’m alright, sir. I just needed a moment to collect myself. I uh—I haven’t ever been in space alone. I just needed to wrap my brain around that.”

I see Skinner nod his head. “I wondered about that. I’ve called for a NASA Psychologist to check in with you,” he shuffles his papers; “I’m not sure if you’ve worked with their team before…Dr. Diana Fowley runs the unit.”

“A Psychologist?”

“Just to make sure you’re feeling okay about the mission getting canceled and being up there alone.”

“Okay, sir.” For the second time in minutes, I begrudgingly accept the decision without further debate.

READ THE LONGER STORY HERE: on AO3

#the x files #fox mulder #dana scully #msr #today-in-fic #today in fic #mulder and scully #outer space #slowburn

[confessions-official]

i’ve tried to start crocheting recently and i CANNOT do a chain stitch. i just can’t. i’ve looked up multiple different ways, i’ve tried each of them many times but my hands are just. Not doing it right??? i am actually on the verge of a meltdown because What the Fuck i have spent an HOUR trying to do an allegedly easy thing. specifically it’s the yarning over thats fucking everything up for me. i am trying so so hard but i am ass at anything to do with coordination and i would like to have another body please. i would like a refund on my flesh suit or at least my brain because it’s really amazingly shitty at working like it’s supposed to. i am genuinely considering staying home sick from school for the rest of the week so i can keep trying to make this goddamn motherfucking chain stitch.

and i can’t talk to anyone about this or anything coordination-related that i struggle with because they’ll say “its fine, practice makes perfect, nobody gets it on their first try” and its like. okay but YOU are not experiencing this. YOU do not have to deal with being disabled even though 1) your disability isn’t recognized as a disability even though it is extremely fucking disabling which sucks because 2) i am diagnosed with this, i was diagnosed with it at a young age i will be dealing with this for the rest of my fucking life it impacts literally every facet of everything which makes it more infuriating that 3) mostly people don’t fucking know what it is. which makes it very tiring whenever i talk about it because i have to preface the conversation with an explanation of what it is. and whenever i’m explaining this to someone as a reason for why i can’t do a thing or will do badly at a thing they’ll be like “ok well you shouldnt let that impact you so much, stop using it as an excuse” because 4) most people do not consider it a physical disability. they just don’t! which is. kind of wild to me. because like. yeah the disorder that makes everything involving coordination 100 times more difficult DO interfere with my daily life, actually. nobody gets that. it’s not that i’m clumsy, my legs just don’t work like they should. i can’t even run for longer than a couple seconds without needing to lay down for a couple minutes.

my body doesn’t work right. thats it. thats the whole thing. it doesnt work how it should and that’s fucked up every single part of my life. “dyspraxic children may be more vulnerable to bullying and social rejection” YEAH NO SHIT! even as a kid in PE classes i could see everybody else doing things that my body just wouldn’t. i tried for years but i am simply not built for that. and of fucking course thats going to get you othered, rejected and bullied, which if it happens enough times will fuck up your social skills for A While. i’m not trying to mope around about it because i understand that it’s not that bad a disorder, it is disabling but other disabilities are more disabling and i can mostly pretend i don’t need any accommodations. thats fine. i can do that. its just that the fucking chain stitch made me realize “oh, fuck. i know why my life is like this.” and maybe i am having a very strong reaction about not being able to do a chain stitch but i don’t know. it was the straw that broke the camel’s back, i guess. like, i can’t do any sports or most art, i don’t have any friends, i don’t go out and do things and i can’t even do a fucking chain stitch? i can’t even do that? i probably will end up getting it in a while but idk. i just want to crochet, man. i don’t know why this is so difficult for me. i wish i wasn’t like this. i wish i was better. like, just in general i want to be better. i’ve tried but i can’t. i just want a body and brain that work how they’re supposed to. i don’t see why i have to work twice as hard as everyone for the same results. i know nothing in life is fair but jesus christ this is ridiculous. i’m very “sad, down on his luck protagonist who gets sucked into a whirlwind adventure” coded. i am. going to start crying

.

#confession

[yakumtsaki]

Well things were nice and calm for one entire update, but don’t worry, we’re back to normal AS AIDEN CHEATS ON SANDY WITH JENNICOR TRICOU. AIDEN WHY. YOU ARE IN LOVE WITH 3 BOLTS

-C̴A̵N̵'̸T R̷E̷S̴I̸S̵T T̴H̸E V̵A̶M̶P G̴I̸L̸F🧟

OH MY GOD

-H̶O̵W C̸O̶U̷L̶D Y̸O̵U̵ ̶A̵I̸D̴E̵N, I̴ G̷AV̴E U̸P M̷Y L̴I̸F̴E A̶S A̷ C̷R̶Y̶P̴T S̸E̷R̵V̶A̴N̵T F̸O̴R̶ T̶H̷I̶S🧟‍♀️

Bro I can’t. I try to unlag our lot by marrying Sugar off, he cheats on his wife. I try to unlag our lot by marrying Sandy off, she gets cheated on. Not to be self-centered but WHY DOES THIS KEEP HAPPENING TO ME

-Welcome back Sandy, the bathrooms need cleaning! -G̷O̷O̵D̴ T̵O̴ ̴B̸E̴ B̴A̶C̴K🧟‍♀️

UGH

-Don’t worry bitch, I’m about to help with the lag once I take this final dump!

-Nice! About time I fuck outta here, see you stupid assholes never! 

DOBRONEGA NO

-Tell Cyn that I love her and my children that I hate them! 

-NOOOOO DOBRIE NOOOO HOW AM I GONNA LIVE WITHOUT YOU💗

Poor Cyn was devastated, she cried for days, her and Dobronega really had a Victoria/Victor pet soulmate thing going💔 RIP Dobronega, I’ll miss you so much💔

Because I wasn’t upset enough, the goddamn cleanbot had the worst meltdown yet, look at this shit:

FML. Sophito you have maxed mechanical, feel like taking a crack at fixing this??

-No thanks, I’d much rather play the piano and risk actual death by flies! 

Thank God we have iVan around here because you people are USELESS.

Case in point. The military uniform is killing me.

-𝙿𝙰𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚃𝙸𝙲. 𝙸𝙵 𝙲𝚈𝙽𝙴𝚂𝚆𝙸𝚃𝙷 𝙷𝙰𝙳 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙲𝚁𝙴𝙰𝚃𝙴𝙳 𝚆𝙸𝚃𝙷 𝙼𝙴 𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙶𝙴𝙽𝚈 𝚆𝙾𝚄𝙻𝙳 𝙷𝙰𝚅𝙴 𝚂𝚄𝙿𝙴𝚁𝙸𝙾𝚁 𝙼𝙴𝚃𝙰𝙻𝙻𝙸𝙲 𝙱𝙻𝙰𝙳𝙳𝙴𝚁𝚂.

Bartholomew’s amazing 1 nice point is starting to reveal itself, this kid is a NIGHTMARE.

-Come on, Barth, concentrate! You’re four, you need to learn how to speak! -GOO GOO >:(

Bartholomew straight up exhausted Sophie so I had to send in reinforcements. 

-Alright, listen here, Bratolomew, I have enough disappointing family members, so learn to talk or Mr. Teddy loses his head.  -FINE, YOU WIN, GEEZER

Felina returns from her first day of school, runs to hug Sophito (I’ll never get used to what good parents him and Liz are)-

-and brings with her Spice! Sugar has actually been a really good dad other than you know, destroying his marriage for no reason, while Spice was a toddler I always invited Sug over to hang out with his bebe so they have a good relationship. Now that Spice is a kid we can invite him over to our lot!

Awwwww❤️ God Sugar I’m still SO PISSED AT YOU FOR THE CLAIRE DIVORCE

Jojo is on his last legs (screaming crying throwing up) so I fulfil his wish to re-become a werewolf-

-BUT APPARENTLY HE HAD A SIMULTANEOUS FEAR OF BECOMING ONE TOO. ARE YOU KIDDING ME. WILL YOU MAKE UP YOUR MIND

-NO.

Here we go again, YOU’RE CURED. LAST TIME JOJO, I MEAN IT

-It’s ok, I’ve made up my mind..

-..a face this stunning should not be covered in fur!

No comment!

-OH MY GOD MY NEAT POINTS CAN’T TAKE THIS MESS -MINE NEITHER I’M LOSING MY MIND -IF ONLY iVAN OR SANDY WERE HERE TO CLEAN -EXACTLY, WE’RE TOO GOOD FOR IT

Un.real.

OH HELL YA, GET IT. Once we hit half a mil we’re moving to an even bigger, laggier mansion!

-Omg you guys, isn’t so funny how all 3 of you have worked most of your lives and I got a job as an elder and make more than you? Huhu!🌸

-Seriously, it’s totally crazy how my earnings have eclipsed yours! I mean look at Sophie, worked and worked to top the law career and for what?💗 -So I can represent myself in your murder trial. -Huhu looks like you guys are having your toast with a side of envy! Don’t even get me started on Shajar, mayor by 25 because she was running unopposed! Boy my life is FINALLY perfect!🌸

-HI WHAT THE HECK💗 -That’s right Cyneswith, I’m here to replace Aiden and Jack Do as your obligatory psycho spurned lover! I’m gonna barge in here daily to catch you cheating on me with your husband! 

OH MY GOD GINGER SHEA JOHNSTON GTFO WHEN WILL THIS STOP

Awww❤️

Awwwwww❤️

Aww- SUGAR WHY IS THE GIRL YOU CHEATED ON JESSICA WITH HERE

-What do you think, Barth, time for ole’ uncle Sugar to get married again?

YA IT ABSOLUTELY IS NOT

I don’t know if you guys realize how long I’ve been trying to get Sandy on top of the culinary career, it’s RIDIC. This is the hardest time I’ve had with a career since Wyatt, Sandy WTF

-P̸E̸O̵P̸LE D̸I̵S̷C̴R̶IM̵I̶N̷A̵T̴E A̴G̷A̴I̴N̵S̸T Z̸O̷M̷B̷I̸E C̷O̷O̴K̸S̴! S̷O̷M̵E̷O̸N̷E F̵I̵N̷DS Y̵O̷U̸R E̷Y̵E I̴N T̷H̸E̴I̵R S̴O̷U̵P̸ O̵N̷C̷E-🧟‍♀️

OK MOVING ON

-Alright Felina, seeing as science is your one true hobby, your father is useless, and I have one day left on this wretched planet, it’s time for me to teach you the secrets of repairing iVan! -But I don’t wanna learn to repair that stupid robot, huhu!🌸 -ALRIGHT THE HUHUING STOPS NOW. Write this down: “To repair iVan you turn off his killmode switch-” which of course I’ve always left on.. -Ok.. -“and reassure him you love him and he’s a good boy, but if he doesn’t calm down you’re turning him into car parts”.

Oh wow, super scientific! 

It’s Bartholomew’s birthday from which I have no pics because iVan almost killed us again..

-𝙸 𝙲𝙰𝙽'𝚃 𝙱𝙴𝙻𝙸𝙴𝚅𝙴 𝙼𝚈 𝙻𝙴𝙶 𝙸𝚂 𝙽𝙾𝚆 𝙿𝙰𝚁𝚃 𝙾𝙵 𝙰 𝚂𝙲𝙷𝙾𝙾𝙻 𝙱𝚄𝚂. -Believe it, buddy!

..and here he is with his glorious Ti-Ning nose! Boy did that toddlerhood cuteness of yours disappear. 

-We get the face we deserve!

At least you’re self-aware!

Felina brought Cyan, June and Lakshmi’s bb with her from school! It’s so nice that all our lil cousins we’ll go to college with are showing up❤️

-Swan soooooooooong......... So loooooooong, shitty family, so looooooooooong..............🎵

It’s time😭😭😭

-Hello, old friend. Have you come for me? -I HAVE BEEN WALKING BY YOUR SIDE FOR A LONG TIME💀 -That I know. -ARE YOU PREPARED💀 -You have no idea.

SHAJAR DO YOU FUCKING MIND

OH MY GOD SHAJAR SERIOUSLY GET OUT OF THE FRAME

-It’s alright, it’s only appropriate that Shajar disappoint me one last time. So long, family! And truly, it’s been SO LONG. I’m going to find Wyatt now, but don’t worry, my spirit will always be with you, judging, lecturing, and making you soil yourselves.  

-WAAAAAAAAH -WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH -HEY-YO SHAJ! -HEY-YO! 

OH MY. FRANCES

-DADDY NO!!!!

OH WOW LOOK WHO WOKE UP. Shajar seriously ffs even for you this was unreal. Jojo left money to absolutely everyone, even Don! Charitable king💔

Frankly, I don’t even know what to say about Jojo, like I try to keep things lighthearted but I teared up when he died. I loved Jojo since he aged up into the snootiest Mr. Darcy toddler of all time, he was one of my favorite sims ever, he had so much personality, he was so much fun to play, and despite being pure evil he really did love his family and always tried to shame them into not being losers. Most of all, he loved Wyatt, with whom he’s now reunited❤️ RIP Jojo, I’ll miss you terribly-

-but clearly your spirit will live on. ABSOLUTELY NOT, SOPHITO

#long post #gen 4 #ts2

[feeshies]

I know this is a hot-button issue, so please just keep in mind that I'm speaking from my own experiences and I don't mean to discredit or invalidate the experiences or comfort levels of other people.

But I hate it when schools and workplaces try to euphemism their way out of talking about my disorders and disabilities because it "sounds nicer"

No, I don't have an "alternative learning style". I don't have "different abilities."

In my daily life? Yes, I do have alternative learning styles and different abilities. That's how my brain works and when I'm doing my own thing, we get along quite fine.

But within the restrictions of the schooling system, it's a bit more extreme and urgent than that.

I didn't go to my school and say "I need accommodations because I have an alternative way of learning :)" I said "I need accommodations because I have a disorder." I'm not ashamed of it. I've carried this diagnosis with me my whole life, and I know it well enough to know that it has a debilitating effect on me in many realities of the school system. This doesn't mean I haven't found happiness and peace with it...that's just not going to happen in school lol.

When the actual systems that are supposed to help me use these euphemisms, it makes me worried that they don't know how serious this is for me. If this was just a matter of "alternative learning styles," I wouldn't have had one of the worst meltdowns of my life recently. This isn't "I know you serve peanut butter, but I prefer chocolate." This is, "I have a peanut allergy, and you guys keep acting like I'm just on a diet and that makes me nervous."

Anyway, just wanted to get on my soap box.

(Note: This isn't about my current school, but I actually started seeking accommodations for once and it got me thinking about my many years being in school with disorders.)

(Note 2: I'm not talking about people using terms like "spicy brain" or whatever. I don't like that term either, but I've only seen it being used by individuals and not...institutions.)

[kurnutus86]

Today I got into this sort of reminiscing and pondering about how very few people in my life have known that I write, or what I write, beyond this "blog". Those who do know of it, usually appreciate it. But ... I've always ended up keeping it under wraps, especially after my ex who ran a real grinder through it all. Yet, I believe most of the trauma stems from this combo of being an invisible to mistreated kid at both home and school, spending the critical growth years of my life being faced daily with the message of 'your life doesn't matter at all and if it does, only in a bad way.' All of that really messes a human up when it comes to having a functional sense of self-worth. I suppose I had a little bit more self-confidence when I didn't know just how cruel academia around writing can be, how difficult publishing can be, how rough the social circles in it can be. But mostly I've just given up before I even really put my feet in. I've been my worst opponent with the only real talent that I have, at levels of behavior I don't really have any real control over. Anything past the act of writing so easily triggers trauma decades and personality wide; having to think of what to do with it, to talk about it, to show that it's actually worth something beyond just sitting there, pushes me very fast into meltdown levels of dissociation and self - hate, with the end result usually being a complete wipe. but the bottom line seems to be: the only thing I can manage is writing, and everything past that sucks hard and I am basically completely helpless with what I love to do; as a 37 year old human being who can and has to otherwise have survived their way out of a nuclear pit of difficult BS.

[alostlittleriverlotus]

I know we can't romance anyone, but Ursula is fully my wife. She almost always comes to see me fishing, more than the other characters. And I'm pretty much just gay for her. And she calls me sweet pet names. So in my head, she is my wife.

Also the amount of times someone says something to me about it being dangerous or I could really risk myself and I'm just like "eh, I've faced worse. Not like my life matters that much. It'll be okay, unlike that one time when things didn't work out, but that was in my world not yours!" so I feel like everyone in this valley just watches me walk around like the autistic bean I am and then just get worried cause I keep mentioning really dark shit. I swear if they could hear me, they'd be really concerned.

Spoilers for the quest The Curse in the game, it's a story quest:

I love how this whole curse is going on and I'm just over here like "serves ya right Scrooge. Fuck you and your prices. I hope you're fecking miserable in there, ya stupid damn capitalist." and then I'm just running around trying to feed the rabbits and sea turtles while everyone is basically trapped. And then I'm told I have to give up my magic and I'm just like "yeah, okay. That's fine." And Ursula is like "we'll see if it's so easy for you" and I'm like "nah it's literally fine. I don't care that much." And Kristoff is ready to give up his memories of Anna and I'm like "I'm sure it'll be fine, it's not like that one time when things didn't work out. But that was just something with me. Everything will be fine, I know it." And I swear Kristoff would be so worried about me lol.

Like this entire curse is going on and I'm just going about my business best I can and just focusing on cute animals and taunting Scrooge McDuck and I just wonder what the characters would actually think of me.

Also this was just crack, but I had a daily discussion with Scrooge in his store and he asked if I saw Donald anywhere. I just turn the camera and stare at Donald like 4 feet away staring at a mannequin. Like, yeah I have no idea where he is (/sarc.) I literally walked into the store and heard his meltdown and it was just fecking hilarious.

Anyway, Ursula makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside cause of the pet names and compliments I get from her so yes I am very gay. She's a lovely woman.

And finally. I was not ready for the gaslighting from Mother Gothel. Like it didn't last, but the first meeting did slightly trigger me.

#disney dreamlight valley #dreamlight valley #disney #ddv #Ursula #mother gothel #actually traumatized #I'm like trauma dumping on fictional characters lol #small spoilers #I'm marrying Ursula #Her name is Ursula not sea witch #Better respect her Merlin #Seeing Mother Gothel ask Merlin about his age had me dying of laughter #I hate Scrooge McDuck #I am very happy #actually autistic

[theendofuno]

okay….haii tl;dr: i want to throw myself from a reactor nuclear and besides loving this page dearly keeping it daily isnt helping me with these kinda of thought so ill start a god-knows-who-long hiatus

now *puts a music box version of meltdown by iroha for dramatic purposes* *cleans throat* pretending im talking to an audience its easier for me okay dont judge me :(

i dont know how to write texts but ill try my best to explain everything without going into too much annoying stuff but the text may have a few suicide mentions here and there

okay

i created this page in a very dark period of my life that never went away, it actually worsened everyday. it was supposed just to be fun and games, "oh this character didnt got released this month, maybe drawing him everyday for a month until he gets here will be very funny!!!" *stares at 2 years*

as you can see, i didnt had ANY prepare to keep going for the long we did, but this is 100% not a complain

i really love this page, i really do love everyone i've met, i love having this project with my best friend, but i cant and wont lie: it made me VERY worse than i already was. it made me feel good, it made me feel loved, it made me feel human again, and at the same time it absolutely killed me

having to keep this consistence everyday, having to do good drawings, not allowing myself to do what it was better for my own health just because i didnt wanted to disappoint people with silly drawings when the first week was all cool drawings full colored with a bunch of details, references and etc

i really lost my count of how many times i had a terrible breakdown or even an attempt and my first thought was just "yeah that sucked. anyway i have to work so people will have some art tomorrow!"

and to be honest i dont think starting this page with my friend was…..that of a good idea. i know youre here just for their art. you dont need to lie i know theyre better than i am and you would prefer to see their art everyday other than mine. dont worry the feeling its mutual

but well theyre a slow artist and i wont be the one forcing them to draw everyday, i am the one that can do it and thats what i did for 300 days until now!

but that was something that kinda broke my feelings also cuz im very harsh on myself and keeping comparing their drawings to mine, not only the quality but also the different attention it all got (and sometimes it was almost a 20 likes difference so..sucks to be me ig) isnt doing good for my little damaged brain. its 100% not their fault tho and im not saying it is KJGDKFDK but if im going to be honest then i will

i dont know how to keep going the text tbh,, so,, my point is that im havent felt well since i started the page, and i love it with my whole heart, and these feelings have nothing to do with uno, grand chase itself, or the community (maybe a 2% fault go for annoying people from twitter /hj), im just being a little egoistic and doing this for myself or otherwise i can go completely insane and well. psych wards dont look funny :(

i really feel nasty, an HORRIBLE human being, absolute egoistic trash by abandoning the page, i feel SO FUCKING BAD for not drawing my son, by not updating here everyday and allowing people to see the silly stuff i do, but i guess i got to my breaking point where i just cant keep ignoring my suicide attempts by drawing and keeping my mouth shut (really, my last attempt was so scary i didnt fully recovered from)

yeahhhhhhh

i guess that was it

i pinky-promise i'll try my best to keep drawing and posting everytime i can, but it wont be daily, and it may not be weekly also, but i didnt gave up and i WONT gave up, this page is my absolute pride and joy and i cant just let it go away for a bad mental day. i still love and forever will love uno and drawing him, and i'll be forever happy for everyone i've met and helped me even without they knowing, just by liking or commenting on my stuff

i hope you guys can forgive me for abandoning stuff right now and i hope y'all dont forget me. i wont be mad if you forget me. i'll just be a little sad. maybe cry a little *stares at you like that ( ◕_◕)* but dont worry. its okay.

i'll be trying my best to get back posting daily at least around day 330, but dont put high hopes. please. dont expect much. bigs chances i'll be just dropping a stick man with a heart ahoge saying haiiiii and go back to posting silly ugly art

#daily-uno

[ravynfyre]

minor meltdown today over an old HS friend...

my mentally challenged old high school best friend puts me on blast on FB all the time for not being willing to make her the center of my universe. At least one comment a week, naming and tagging me, about how she "doesn't want to share" me or how she's "jealous that I have a life that isn't her" or that I'm "too far away and that's a bad thing that makes her sad"... and, on the surface, I mean, there's noting really *bad* about her comments, but the CONSTANT tagging and nagging about how I'm, effectively, a shitty friend for not being present in her life enough (we live in separate states, and the drive back is 1) expensive, 2) takes away from the time I need to work on my farm, and 3) seeing her is actually mentally/emotionally traumatic for me because of how my dad died)... nevermind that "enough" would have to be "daily" before she would be content.

Today, she asks me if I am going to be "coming *home* soon" to "get presents, or should she send them?" I AM home. I am NEVER moving back to that conservative cesspit, and where I am at IS my home. But I will just handwave that off to her inability to comprehend some things due to the severe brain injury over a decade past. I just answer that I don't see myself returning to that state anytime soon, because I just can't afford the fuel to do so. She replies that everything must be expensive these days...

and then makes a whole new post about how I - again named and tagged - don't "WANT" to come see her. and I am fucking SICK of it.

yeah, I know I am a shitty person for getting angry at someone who is, at best, a young teenager in their head now, no matter that she is almost 50. But gods damn it, I am SO FUCKING TIRED of getting put on blast to gods and everyone about what a shitty person I am for not being as obsessed about her as she is with me! I am SORRY that I am the only one of our high school folks who still talks to her or visits at all or keeps in any contact with her. That isn't my fault! and I am sorry that I am not independently wealthy enough to make a roughly $200 round trip every fucking week! Think I don't feel shitty enough about that? Think it doesn't hurt me that I can't be a better friend? I KNOW that I am the asshole here, as she is literally incapable of understanding how her words affect people. But gods damn, I am so tired of her saying shit about and to me like this, especially when it isn't fucking true!

and then I fucked up by telling her that I didn't say that I didn't "want" to come to see her, but that I could NOT afford to, and that she needed to stop saying this stuff about me and to me on FB... and past experience tells me that I am about to be in for a roller coaster of three to five times daily mentions for the next several weeks, about how she is mad at me for being mad at her, and she hates that I have a life that isn't her. and I am so close to just... quitting FB entirely to get away from her. and that makes me feel like absolute dogshit. EDIT: went back and removed the part about asking her to stop saying this stuff, because I know that will really fire her up... but is it wrong of me to NOT remove the part where I corrected her? Just because she's got a brain injury doesn't completely negate my right to respond, does it? I'm just so fucking tired.

tl;dr?

my disabled friend puts me on blast on FB because she's obsessed with me, and today I told her to stop because I can't handle the pressure anymore.

#last time i visited her she called me 10 minutes after i left to ask when i would be arriving because she'd already forgotten i'd come #that's the level of brain injury we are talking here #so yeah I am a shitbag for getting mad at a CHILD #but fuck my life it is so EXHAUSTING and it shouldn't be #it's just fucking words #why is it so exhausting?

[distortedataraxia]

Hi there! May I have a BSD matchup please? I’m a bisexual, ambiverted, demi-female with male preference for a match up. I’m very sweet, bubbly, kind, loyal, and sensitive at times. People kind of assume assume I’m ditzy, stupid, or clueless because I space out easily and have a hearing problem due to my ADHD processing difficulties. However, I’m extremely intelligent actually and can read people very well socially and emotionally. It often surprises people that I let on more than they know.

I’m very in tune with people’s feelings, but I have a habit of making their problems my own. Sometimes I’m too compassionate, idealistic, and trusting towards others who take advantage of me. Sometimes I get so overwhelmed with sensory problems I have meltdowns from my autism disorder. I also have anxiety and depression so I often need to treat that daily through self care. I usually care for myself through eating proper foods, exercising, and taking mental/physical breaks. I also try not to let negative people being down my optimistic view on life.

My hobbies include baking, cooking, dancing, yoga, meditation, and binge watching horror movies/video games. I don’t like thunder, insects, bullies, dolls, liars, and large dogs. Also my favorite animals are cats. Especially big ones like lions and tigers. If you decide to do this thank you love! Have a wonderful day! 🙏💕💓

Author note : Hi , thank you for requesting ! I'm sorry for the time it tooks , i've been busy and i had to take a break ,nontheless , i hope you'll enjoy this one despites the wait , take care !

Now into the matchup ★

I pair you with...

Atsushi !

Atsushi would take notice in your intelligence,and how you can read people very well socially and emotionally. And he will notice your habits of making people's problems your own , he'll try to make sure you take care of yourself and he loves you very much. Please remind him to take care of himself too

He hates it when people take advantages of you and he would never do that. He'll try to keep you out of Dazai's nonsense too-

He'll be there to comfort you whenever you feel down or need it and also , remember to pet him when you're feeling bad -

Besides he's a cat - I mean a tiger ! big cat ! what a coincidence !

He'll let you take care of yourself for sure and he wants you to be okay , and he'll help you out if you need. I can see him just going to see you in the morning on chill and smiling mode with a small gift as you do your routine.

He's very sweet and positive most of the times , and , he'll propose a lot of random sweet date for you both. You like dancing ? Hell let's go dance over that beautiful place and call it a lived dream-

He'd try to go with quiet places for dates , though.

He'd love to bake and cook sometimes with you , i wonder how this could go ..🤔

I'll let it up to you to imagine !

You both would be a nice couple , and i hope that he's the right one for you , sending positive vibes your way !

#Bsd #Bsd matchup #Bsd matchups #Atsushi x reader #Atsushi x y/n #Atsushi x s/o #Bsd x reader #Bsd x y/n #Bsd x s/o #matchup #matchups #Bungo stray dogs matchup #Bungou stray dogs matchup #Bungo stray dogs matchups #Bungou stray dogs matchups

[brokenfoxproductions]

The phone that I had to switch to because my old one shattered whenever I had a seizure is so shitty that I can't record YouTube videos on it, and my YouTube channel is literally one of my only remaining coping skills.

There are literally points where I don't understand why people blame me for getting depressed or even having thoughts of self-harm because my life literally just keeps spiraling downwards and every coping skill that I have and everything that I enjoy that still keeps me sane is slowly just being ripped away from me.

I really don't understand a lot of why I get treated the Way I do by people and why my life is so shitty. Even just the fact that I keep dealing with the shit with my psychiatrist's office and the patient advocate actually is on my side and actually thinks that I am not in the wrong for how I responded to being treated badly because I explained everything to him in detail and he admitted that he would act the same way, and he acknowledged that every single thing that they're complaining about is literally a symptom of the disorders that I'm being treated for, but they keep making up excuses as to why I'm not allowed to see an outpatient psychiatrist anymore.

I'm probably going to get handed an eviction notice tomorrow. My mom refuses to talk to me after threatening to kill herself the same way that my ex-girlfriend passed away. My therapist can't see me until the last week of the month and my psychiatrists are refusing to let me have any sessions with anyone because the last person I saw was transphobic and accused me of being a drug addict on the first day I met her.

It's all just feels so fucking hopeless. I wish people could actually understand how much stress I'm under on a daily basis and how hard it is to live as a disabled and mentally ill person who is responsible for three other people on a daily basis and how hard it is to know that I'm not allowed to fail or fall apart.

I keep getting bullshit thrown at my face and I'm expected to handle it with the grace and respectability of a politician. Why am I not allowed to respond to people who are awful towards me in the same way that they treat me because masking my emotions as an autistic person is nearly impossible? Why am I supposed to take discrimination and still go back to the same provider who told me she's not willing to see a trans person?

Why is it that I, as a person who suffers on a daily basis with bipolar disorder, autism, and c-PTSD, I'm supposed to be more professional and respectable than people who went through 12 years of med school and a psychiatric rotation?

Everyone around me wants to fucking point and make jokes about "oh see I told you they were bipolar, look at how they're acting" or "stop having an autistic meltdown" but they aren't willing to actually just let me see a psychiatrist for medication management so that I can start dealing with these things in a productive manner instead of having to argue with some receptionist or patient advocate about why it's wrong for me to ask to be treated normally.

The fact that mental health treatment in Pennsylvania is this bad literally explains so much of our fucking history including all of the bullshit with Bud Dwyer. This is why we have someone who's wanted by the police who stalking up and down the Appalachian trail right now near where I live setting fucking fires. This is why the place that I have been trying to get psychiatric care from since literally 2001 is ready to fucking kick me out because I said that I don't feel safe with an openly transphobic employee, and also now they're saying that it's because I asked for an anti-anxiety medication for my complex PTSD that was causing stress-induced seizures.

Fuck everything in Pennsylvania.

#trauma #trans #childhood trauma #transgender #ptsd #lgbtqia #transmasc #ableism #autism #trans masc #bipolar #actually bipolar #actually autistic #actually ptsd #mental health care #health care discrimination

[loveyourselffool]

I killed my dad. Maybe not directly, or maybe it was.  He was diagnosed with Stage 4 Lung Cancer in February 2020. For a long time, he never felt the diagnosis, he was still golfing 18 holes up until the end of June. Clearly, my dad wasn’t sick enough yet for me to care for him 24/7, but he also had random appointments or tests here and there. I was very stressed and overwhelmed at trying to balance the new grad life, and being the perfect daughter. Inadvertently, I couldn’t keep up with both. With some resentment, I stayed casual for a while even though I stubbornly and secretly wanted more. I was offered line after line, and the managers seemed to take a liking to me. With much angst, I felt like I was thriving and enjoying the fruits of my labour. As in, finally appreciating the fact and feeling prideful that I graduated from Nursing even though I never had my parent’s support, and I was reminded of that day and night. Anyhow, I stayed casual so I could make every single appointment and test. We say it was for “translation” but my mom’s English is beyond basic. Looking back, I don’t resent being there for tests or appointments, if anything, I regret feeling even the slightest craving to start my career at that time.

My mom was very displeased that I continued to work casually (secretly I think it’s more because I actually graduated from Nursing), she never understood how much importance everyone puts on your first year of Nursing. I enjoyed working, it was always a learning opportunity, but also an escape. Starting in July, my dad’s symptoms finally became apparent. That was when I knew that I needed to take a real break from work. He couldn’t sleep in his bed anymore as the tumour or nodules prevented him from laying fully prone. I bought him an expensive and comfortable recliner that he started to sleep in every night, in the family room. Eventually, along with the pain, he started to develop respiratory issues as fluid would continuously fill his lungs requiring him to get frequent Thoracentesis procedures. My dad had always been a very reliant and needy person, merging that with the strong doses of steroids, his demands and fears became increasingly more exigent. It also created severe panic attacks at night where he would wake up screaming for help. I’m guessing it is from feeling like you’re drowning inside out. 

Since mid July, I started to sleep downstairs in the family room with him, on the floor while he was in the recliner. I was able to calm his anxiety and meltdowns, but it only allowed me to have 2-3 hours of sleep every night. Due to the pain and his consistent need to smoke in the garage/outside, he would wake up every 2 hours or so. Understandably, when he struggled to sleep, he would want the company to listen to him talk about his past. For some reason, this was always at 3 AM. Fortunately, or unfortunately, I’ve always had poor sleeping habits so I could still function with the lack of sleep. I would have quick short naps throughout the day whenever I could. When we made it to August, I was lucky to even get 2 hours of sleep overnight. His attacks worsened, both frequency and severity. He started to require oxygen and Hydromorphone to help calm his respirations. My mom was hesitant to start medications, but with doctor’s and specialist’s persuasion, she was willing to try. My dad grew weaker as the days went by. With my small medical experience (I say that because I just graduated and felt like I hardly picked up enough), I tried to give sound advice or help gather the proper equipment that I felt would benefit my dad. My mom and I got into arguments daily because she didn’t feel like my judgement was trustworthy enough - fair enough though.  His gait got weaker, I would have to wheel him to the garage while juggling his oxygen so that he could take his few puffs of nicotine. He couldn’t really stand anymore without human assistance. Palliative care got involved near the end of August, only because I was passing out in the room during my dad’s appointments, and the oncologist saw. Palliative care wasn’t helpful, I’m sure it is highly beneficial for others but it was basically useless for us. The palliative care team asked us what we needed help with, we responded that there wasn’t really much to help with as I was doing everything. I bathed him, fed him, and basically provided care 24/7. It’s not like my mom and I had to work, so even if they took over the care - we wouldn’t have just moved forward with our lives. They weren’t permitted to stay overnight for more than 4-6 hours, but they received special instructions that they could remain for 8 hours every night for my dad. Thus, allowing me to get more rest at night. That didn’t work though. My dad’s panic attacks were so bad by that time that even my mom and I had a progressively difficult time calming him down. So having a stranger in the home did nothing, I still slept downstairs on the floor getting 2-3 hours a night maybe. The nurses could administer Hydromorphone SQ... but I can do that too. And I was already doing that. My mom liked detailed administration notes of exact time, dosage, reasons why he needed it etc. So naturally, everyone including the care team felt better if I just continued with the administrations. 

By the end of August, my dad was also starting to develop delirium. He was quite obviously confused, sometimes, he wouldn’t even make sense anymore. They think it might be from the Hydromorphone, since he’s never taken narcotics before. I always had my sleeping area set up closer to the fireplace so it was out of the way and he wouldn’t trip over me when we had to get up to the bathroom or for a smoke.  Come September, on a Monday at like 3 AM... I woke up to crying...screaming? I can’t even remember, but I woke up. And I immediately look at the recliner to find my dad missing. I’ll never forget that feeling, my heart dropped. I was tired. I had fallen asleep, even though I was trying to stay awake. The past few days, he was presenting with even more confusion and I was scared. But it always comforted me that my dad couldn’t get up on his own and walk. He had to juggle his oxygen, grab his walker and he always woke me up if he needed to get up. He would say my name (I’m a light sleeper) or just nudge me with his foot. That thinking was the biggest mistake of my life. I found my dad laying in a fetal position near the front door. I don’t even know how long I screamed for. My dad was on/off confused, but he was able to say that he was “trying to go to the bathroom upstairs, but got tired and had to sit on the ground”. He hasn’t been upstairs in months... The palliative care team came to access him right away. They found no apparent or visible injuries, and everyone believed that he really just sat on the ground. Everyone but me, and my mom. I begged them to do an x-ray or CT scan or anything to prove that he fell and I was 100% at fault. They didn’t. The only reason we knew he even stood up on his own and adjusted his walker properly was because of the doggie cam we had for Momo. I’ll never forget my mom’s look. Shame, disappointment, hate.. but she never said anything to me. 

The rest of the days leading up to his passing is a blur. After his fall, I felt more inclined to stay awake. It also helped that anytime I did fall asleep, I immediately got nightmares of my dad falling so I was terrified to close my eyes. I even tied my wrist to his ankle so I would know when he was trying to un-recline his chair. I don’t know why the thought didn’t occur to me earlier, but I finally was smart enough to get my dad a hospital bed rental in the home. We already knew from the start, and at my dad’s request, that hospice wasn’t an option for him. As soon as he was in the hospital bed in the family room, he got more comfortable which made him more drowsy. It scared all of us, but had a significant impact on my mom. The palliative team restarted their overnight care with us after the fall, especially since the nurse saw my guilt and self resentment. On the night of his passing, he was having a really bad panic attack and respiratory distress so as ordered by the doctor, I was told to try Midazolam. My mom was with me, (Ruby wasn’t really ever at home and when she was, she wasn’t in view of my dad much - she couldn’t handle it) we ... I couldn’t decide if Midazolam was a good idea. I explained to my mom that I know Midazolam makes you sleepy, and basically very drowsy but it would calm him down enough to let him rest. My mom was hesitant but I gently advised that I thought it would be best, I think I made a quick, rash decision as it was distressful seeing my dad thrashing about. Well, after I administered Midazolam and my mom went upstairs to shower... my dad passed. The nurse passed me their stethescope and told me to verify. I wasn’t processing anything, and was in a robot state of mind - so I didn’t realize how traumatizing and destructive that was to my mental health.  I was shaking so badly, and confused, and scared. I had to go upstairs to tell my mom, and no matter how much I drink, I can never forget how that went or her cries after or her fists banging on my chest screaming why I gave him Midazolam. The first person I ever pronounced was my dad. The first time I gave Midazolam to someone was to my dad. The first fall I ever experienced was my dad’s. It was a lot of firsts. I never forgave myself, I never will. I truly think the fall inherently killed him. And if it wasn’t the fall, then it was the Midazolam. And it doesn’t really matter which one it was because I was the cause of both. 

I always wished that I was the one laying in the bed sick, and not my dad. The only reason why I stayed alive was for my sister, because I owed her so much. (I ran away when things got bad at home, and have also never forgave myself for that because I left my sister). I promised to live for her and to never leave her alone again. Over the years, I tried to fix myself, to heal. I tried therapy, I tried drinking my problems away, nothing truly worked. I got “better”, the grief got “easier.” and my mom and I got “closer.” But the guilt never leaves. I hate myself. I don’t know why I never saw it. I don’t know why I never thought that a delirious person would get up to walk. I don’t know why I didn’t call the palliative nurse to inquire more about Midazolam before administering it. This trip has been significantly challenging, my mom hasn’t been coping well. We’ve been getting into bad fights, she finally admitted that she thinks I killed my dad and I didn’t make the appropriate decisions. In retrospect though, I don’t know if I could have done anything differently to change it.