#okay sorry for venting but i’ve been processing that session for months | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sidehugsnsideblogs · 3 years

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FSCU #33 Closing In

Vangie and Becca Dawn spent their first week alone following Royce’s stipulations to a tee. They rose at 5am each morning. They studied priesthood guides to parenthood and cooking. They held a prayer circle every hour on the hour throughout the day.

Despite Evangeline’s condition they also kept to the Culton family’s food requirements, eating only one small meal daily. The Prophet had warned that worst way a wife could betray her husband was to lose her figure, no matter how many babies she’d had. They ate mostly salads during their stay as all spices, sugar and processed foods were forbidden.

One of the ways Royce trained all his wives to serve him was by having them study the art of massage. He had terrible migraines from his prophetic visions and often required a wife or two to rub his aching head and feet after his “holy sessions.” As her pregnancy progressed, Evangeline became prone to cramps and swollen hands and feet. Becca Dawn decided to put her practice to use and massaged her hands daily. Vangie was deeply and genuinely grateful.

Royce came over for an increasingly rare visit and asked Becca to rub his hands. She sat him down and went right to work on him. At first he seemed to be enjoying himself. “You’ve gotten so good at this.” He said, smiling. “Thank you, I’ve been practicing.” At this he grew furious. “Practicing on WHO? I am your Prophet and husband and I am the only one you should be touching.” He snapped. He had Becca Dawn sit up all night to think on her sins and repent while he retired to bed with Vangie.

It was Becca Dawn’s fifteenth birthday and her second wedding anniversary and she spent the night essentially grounded. She cried herself to sleep that night. With every passing birthday she could feel her husband pulling away from her. He had been so eager to marry her but nothing she had done since seemed to please him. She worried she’d end up like Marie, unloved and isolated.

The next night when Royce was back on the road Vangie and Becca stayed up talking late into the night. Vangie apologized for accepting the hand massage, she hadn’t known Royce would react in such a way. Then she did something no one in the Prophet’s household had dared to. She told Becca that Royce’s behavior was cruel and unfair.

“I don’t know why he acts like this. He treats some wives like they’re goddesses but others can run themselves ragged trying to please him. It’s not fair.” Once she started venting, everything came pouring out. “My father was the same way. He treated my mother like garbage. I don’t even know where she is. I have not seen or spoken to her since before I got married!” She began to cry.

Becca inched over and gave her a hug. “Sorry, hormones” mumbled Vangie. “You’ll get into trouble again.” “Not if we don’t tell him.” said Becca. After that night they stayed up late talking about things they’d never told anyone. Doubts, fears and their true feelings. Neither of them liked living in a massive ranch house with endless wives and dozens of children. Both of them thought they were too young when they got married. Becca especially would have liked a few more years at home before having to navigate life as a plural wife.

By the third trimester, Vangie was unable to sleep on the floor. She tried the couch for a little while but that was just as bad. Becca suggested that she should sleep in the bed. “I can’t. It’s consecrated!” argued Vangie. “We’ll lose our blessings and go to hell! We can’t sin against the Prophet!” Royce hadn’t been by for a visit in over a month at this point. But after several sleepless nights in a row she relented.

Becca opened the door to the bedroom, she couldn’t believe it wasn’t locked. Vangie waddled in and flopped down on the mattress, she was out within minutes. Becca opened a drawer looking for an extra blanket. She found a small, white laptop at the bottom of a drawer under the blankets. She didn’t touch it but she did have a strange feeling it would come in handy later.

A couple weeks later Royce, Rachel and Emma arrived to help Evangeline give birth. Royce left quickly, he seemed very tense. He didn’t suspect that the girls had been sleeping in the bed instead of the floor but he seemed to have his mind on other things.

Vangie went into labor later that week. Emma tended to her in the bedroom while Rachel sat in the living room, sadness radiating from her. Becca followed her out of the bedroom to see what was wrong. “Father got arrested.” She whispered. “The police figured out he was the one feeding information to Royce so they left a fake tip for him. They busted him when he went to meet with one of Royce’s brothers.” Rebecca couldn’t believe it. The FCSU men had been acting paranoid since the death of the previous prophet but this was the first sign that the authorities weren’t fooling around.

“It’ll be okay.” Rachel assured her littler sister. “Heavenly Father will help us.” With that she got up and went back to the bedroom. Evangeline was deep into the active stage. As soon as she saw Becca she reached for her hand. With Emma on one side and Becca Dawn on the other she brought her daughter into the world. Rachel, acting on Royce’s orders blessed her with the name Victorie.

#fcsu #fundie sims #fundiesims

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ianalizz · 5 years

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So You’d Kiss me?

Harry and Annalise have been friends for a while. She of course has a crush on Harry ever since they wrote a song together the first time they met. One day, their friends foolishly decide to play spin the bottle, without Annalise. Lets see how that goes.

Hope y’all enjoy! <3

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I wake up to the sound of my alarm that I forgot to disable now that it's my day off. I love my job. It starts a noon and I can work however long I want. I go to the studio with my writing ideas. It's a beautiful process and I thank my friend, Nick, for the job opportunity, but I need a day off. I groan and shut off the belligerent alarm immediately. Yet, it still manages to capture the attention of my roommate, Stella, who bursts through my bedroom door. "I'm sleeping." I state in a mono-tone. She scoffs and jumps on my bed, causing me to jolt a bit.

I look over my shoulder and see Stella smiling from ear to ear as she makes herself comfortable on my bed. I look to make sure she doesn't have shoes on. She has sat on my bed with shoes on too many times and I've yelled at her about it every single time. No shoes, good. However, she is fully dressed unlike me who is in a giant tee, underwear, and messy hair. "Na, guess what?" She chimes. I close my eyes and snore rather loudly, but that leads to her throwing a pillow at my face.

"Oww, okay. What?" I whine.

I sit up and place the pillow in my arms, cuddling it while she says, "Harry's back in town." I stiffen my posture at the sound of his name. My heart flutters a bit and I can feel every bit of my body tingle. How does he do that to me even when he isn't in the room? We’ve known each other for almost a year, how am I still weak over him?

I try to play off my awkwardness and grab my water bottle from the night stand. "Oh?" Is all can say before chugging the water to quench my dry throat.

Harry, Stella and I have been friends for about a year now. Stella and I met two years ago when I moved to Cali and found Stella putting up looking for roommate posters.

One day, Nick wanted me to help him write songs in the studio. While in our writing session, Harry accidentally opened the door and awkwardly tried to back away, apologizing. "Nonsense, Harry." Nick said. "You're always welcome. This is Annalise, we call her Nani or Na." I shook his tattooed hand. Nick smiles at the interaction, "Do you want to help us write?" Harry looked at me as if he wanted my permission and I gave him a reassuring smile. He helped us write for hours and even recorded a rough draft of the record before we sent it off to some new boy-band.

After our session, Nick had to go home to his whining wife and I had to meet Stella at a nearby coffee shop because she wanted to vent about her big shot office job. Before I left that day, Harry catches me in the hall and took my hand in his to turn me towards him. He towered me before asking, "Would you like to grab lunch or something?" His pink lips were just asking to be kissed, but I didn’t want to assume. With his grip still on my hand I smiled and told him I had plans with Stella. "But you can join us." My eyes look up to his green ones and I couldn't help, but blush. Especially when his thumb caressed my knuckles softly.

"I'd love to."

We ended up having a great time in the coffee shop and decided to have a movie night in Stella and I's apartment. Some wine, popcorn throwing, and Harry's favorite movie, The Notebook filled the night along with endless laughter. Since then we all have been close.

Stella shoots me back into reality when she takes away my water bottle. "Heyyy!" I complain.

"You're not listening to me." She huffs. I pout before she continues to speak. "I was thinking we can roller skating and get some pizza with the rest of our friends. We haven’t been in the same place in a while." She looks on her phone for, I think, nearby skating rinks. My groan fills the room before I get up from the bed and stretch. "What was that for?" Stella asks.

I slip on my shorts and lightly say, "I just hate roller skating." I turn to Stella, who is frowning. "But you guys can go." Her frown was still prominent on her face as I pass her to go to the bathroom in the hall.

She follows me with her shoulders hanging low, "I want you to come." It's almost as if she pressed a button and turned on her baby voice. "Why don't you want to go? It's like you and Roger are trying to make me upset today." Roger is her boyfriend of six months and they are pretty great together. Other than the fact that they both laugh a little too loud at 2 am.

I didn't want to reveal the fact that I have a fear of roller skating ever since my sister-in law broke her wrist due to a really bad fall. "Roger isn't going?"

"No and don't change the subject."

"I just don't want to deal with the cameras and fame on my day off." I shrug as the lie falls from my lips. "You guys go and come back for pizza. I just need to relax." While brushing my teeth, she finally gives in and decides to leave me alone in the apartment before chirping a "Bye loser." I chuckle, stepping into the shower.

After my shower, I clean my room and straighten out the apartment while dancing and singing in my underwear. Feeling free after days of work, I even decided to make popcorn, place chips in bowls, and make some dip for when my friends come.

Still jamming to music, I lose track of time and hear the door slam, turning to Stella and Harry in the doorway, smiling at me. I look at them wide eyed before turning off the music. My cheeks flush as Stella and Harry hang their jackets on the coat hanger and step toward me. I clear my throat before saying, "I-I'll go order pizza."

I bite my lip in embarrassment and slip past them and into my room, but not prior to Stella saying, "Maybe put on some pants too."

Then Harry chimes in, “Or don’t.”

Rolling my eyes, I close my door slowly and place my face to my hands. "Dammit." I whisper to myself.

I call the pizza after putting on my ripped jeans, oversized grandpa sweater and my burgundy socks. Now fully clothed, I step outside gathering the attention of Harry, who stands up from the couch. I look around for Stella, but she's nowhere to be found. "She went to take a phone call." Harry says. I mouth an "ohhh." I finally take in the man before me. The pink lips, the emerald eyes, and the perfect hair. "I missed you, Styles." I smile.

He returns the favor and grabs my hand, just like the first day we met, but instead of holding it, he pulls me into a warm embrace. I nuzzle in his chest that's covered by a warm black sweater, drenched in cologne. My hands snake around his waist and rest there for a while. His chin rests on the top of my head as he says, "I missed you too." Wrapped around me in a secure way is his arms that do not loosen their grasp. His scent overwhelms me in a comforting way as he says in a soft voice, "I'm sorry the cameras are too much sometimes." I mentally scream. He wasn't supposed to know that.

I retract from his grasp, "No, no. I-I didn't mean that." We let go of each other completely. His brows furrow. "I just really hate roller skating." I say making my way to the kitchen to grab a drink.

Harry follows me and leans against the island while I pour some wine for us. "You hated cliff jumping, but we still went." He argues taking the glass and taking a gulp.

I sip after stating, "I hate skating more." I roll my eyes as I pour more wine into my glass as Harry scoffs in disbelief.

"Listen if the cameras are the real reason…" Harry starts.

I cut him off quickly, "It's not." My voice raises a bit, but Harry's one to challenge.

"Then what is?" His voice a bit louder than mine.

I breath in heavily before yelling, "I'm f*cking scared, okay?" Harry's face drops into a state of confusion as a knock on the front door appears. Harry and I stare at each other intently. I break eye contact to answer the door after the second knock.

The short ass pizza guy stands at eye level with me as he struggles to get the pizza out of his bag. Suddenly, the elevator dings and I hear familiar laughter and chatter. The group of loud guys and giggling girls make eye contact with me while smiling brightly. After the whole shouting match with Harry, I have to falsely smile in return. They make their way in; Nicky, Alex, Kalliope, Connor, and Mia. We’re all pretty close because Mia and Connor work at a bar where all 7 of us hang out. Each day we were there, we got closer and closer. When Harry was done being a busy bee, I introduced him to the group and they all got along with him.

As soon as I bring in the pizza, Stella comes in to grab a slice. Her loud chewing diminishes in the kitchen where everyone is talking about the fall Kalliope had encountered at roller skating, while Harry and I just stare at each other. “Yeah,” Kal starts, “I think I bruised my butt, but it was worth it.” I walk to the armchair next to the couch, not wanting Harry to sit next to me. Stella asks, "What movie are we watching?" She plops onto the couch, oblivious to the scene prior to her entrance, and Harry sits on the other end, closer to me. Kal sits on the floor in front of me while Nicky and Alex took the floor in front of Stella. My eyes glance toward the kitchen where Mia is poking through our fridge. “Nani, you pick since you didn’t skate today.”

All eyes are directly staring at my face, “No, just pick anything.”

Stella settled for 47 Meters Down. The action movie captivated my attention of course and I tried to focus on the movie, but my eyes got heavier and heavier by the minute. Soon, the voices and movie sounds disappear and I drift to sleep.

Once my mind starts to wake up, my body takes a while to catch up. I hear my friends still in front of me yelling ohhhhh and ouuuu. Finally, I lazily put my hands to my eyes and rub them before opening them fully. With my blurred vision, I can see my group of friends sitting in a circle, surrounding a shiny object on the hardwood floor. The shiny object slowly turns into a complete figure; a bottle. Immediately, I’m pissed because they finished my bottle of wine, but my eyes capture something else.

Harry and Stella, kissing while everyone cheers them on. Harry’s eyes flutter open during the kiss and looks directly at me. They widen as I get up to go to my room. He breaks off the kiss and says, “Annalise, you’re up!” His surprised tone makes Stella jump a bit before she turns to me as she uses her fingers to fix her red smeared lipstick that matches Harry’s mouth.

"Clearly." I mutter under my breath. "I just woke up and thought I'd transfer to my bed." I smile through the pain and turned toward the hall.

“Wait, we’re playing a game. Would you like to join us?” He says.

I don’t respond and instead dart in to my room and lock the door. As I crawl under my sheets, my salty tears keep me company. There were plenty of knocks on my door, all from Harry, throughout the night. I was "sleeping". I'm pretty sure he left after the fifth knock, along with the others.

I don't blame Stella or Harry for what they did. They don't know what I feel. I don't even know what I feel. I just know that it hurt seeing her lips on his.

The next morning, I woke up extra early to get out of the house quickly. I'm not trying to avoid Stella, but I just don't feel like lying today and saying that last night's actions were alright with me. Especially if she's going to ask me to not tell Roger.

I make it to the studio at exactly 8, where I thought I can do some writing alone. However, as I enter the room, I see a figure in the corner looking out the window. Of course.

Harry turns around as I opened the door. I offer him a fake smile and he gives me a pitiful one. "What are you doing here?" I ask, placing my stuff down.

He walked toward me and gives me a friendly embrace, but I just let him. I don't hug him back. I don't know, the idea of his body touching me right now makes my blood boil and my cheeks flush. "I thought I'd get some writing done today. What about yourself? It's pretty early."

He lets me go and I swiftly turn around to the piano and grace it with my fingers, "Same." The silence between us cut short when he says, "We were drunk." Looking back, he continues, "We were drunk and then we started to play spin the bottle and I really didn’t want to, but it would have been weird if I joined once you woke up." He rambles on, but I give him a confused look.

I hesitate before saying, “Why would you join after me waking up?”

He bites his lip as if in deep thought. I raise my brow, urging him to answer. “I don’t know.” His words rushed, but I didn’t want to force an answer. “Do you forgive me?”

I sigh, "Harry, there's nothing to forgive."

Now standing before me, looking down at me, he says, "Your two best friends kiss and you're not upset?" He looks almost disappointed that I'm not giving him more attitude or a consequence for his actions.

I hop on top of the high table to be in the same eye level as him, but he still has me by a couple inches. Bravely looking at him and his mesmerizing eyes I say, "No, because I'd kiss you too." Shit. His beautiful green eyes widen as I regret my words.

Harry, clearly taken back, says, "You'd kiss me?" His grin slowly, but surely creeps on his face.

I think wisely and shortly before deciding to answer the question with a question. "What makes you think I wouldn't?" My palms sweat and my fingers grip the edge as he rests his hands flat on the table leaning over my face, merely centimeters away.

He chuckles and blushes before looking down and saying, "I didn't think you'd like me like that." Skepticism painted clearly on my face as he looks up. "Ya know, cause of all the cameras and fame. And you didn't even want to come see me skating yesterday." I throw my head back and groan.

He’s smiling when I regain eye contact. "Harry, do you really think I care about those things?" I smile in disbelief. "I didn't want to roller skate because my sister in law broke her wrist skating and I'm scared that'll happen to me. Or worse. What if I land on a knife?" He laughs and I join him.

We settle down after our fit of laughter and he leans in closer to me and takes my hand in his, "Well, If you ever do decide to go roller skating with me. I'll be sure to hold your hand." I smile at the kind gesture we have always overlooked, but now has a greater meaning to it.

Licking his pink lips that have been tempting me since the day we met he says, "So you'd kiss me?" I could almost feel his lips on mine. Before I could answer, he leans in fully, shocking me a little. My arms make their way around his neck as he wraps his around my waist. We detach our lips, but nothing else. We take a moment to look at each other, breathlessly and at each other's mercy, cherishing the moment where we finally get to taste each other. "Of course, I'd kiss you."

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flockofdoves · 4 years

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4, 9, 25!

omg.. these are all questions when looking through it i was like. i have a lot of Thoughts abt those ones fdkgjhdfkg. thank you angel!!! also please don’t feel obligated to read All This

i’m kinda embarrassed i wrote this much but i’m not good at editing things down after the fact

4. do you like your name? is there another name you think would fit you better?

i do! chiara is my birthname and at times through my life i’ve wished for a more androgynous/masculine name but i guess like. my name and its pronunciation and spelling and what it meant to my mom in naming me has been consistent throughout my life i don’t feel like myself without that. if i grew up in italy i’d probably feel differently though bc at least in the north its become like . italian “maddie” lol i get so confused when i go there bc all of a sudden i’ll be hearing my name everywhere

chiaroscura i came up with as a melodramatic kid after i got excited about reading the tale of despereaux that the rat character chiaroscuro had a name so similar to mine and i thought it was cool he shortened it to roscuro. i liked the art style too and it helped people know how to pronounce my name sometimes. no one irl really called me roscura but i’ve been going by it online in addition to chiara since i was a tween

i’ve tried to go by other names throughout my life like cj and arie (pronounced in 3 syllables ah-ree-ay) and rio but none of them really stuck outside of very specific contexts even if i wanted something more androgynous i think i’m just ingrained with this. i’ve thought about having it be chiaroscuro instead but chiaro for short just seems dumb. idk. and even if roscuro sounds fine roscura isnt just Me me its also a name i really associate with like uhhhh.. some dissociative alter stuff so i wouldnt want to take that away from her idk

i was sure when i was younger i’d want to change my middle and last name. my middle name is anne lol so thats very common and i thought it was boring and didnt feel like Me and too feminine etc but in the past couple years with my nana (dads mom) dying and her name was ann and then also my grandma (moms mom) is annette and my moms own middle name is anne i guess even if i dont like it without context i can keep it for history

similarly with my last name. its anglicized swedish and i have no connection to that part of my family and when i was having a really difficult time with my dad i didn’t want it but now that hes died and our relationship got better towards the end i’m more okay with it.

not sure what i’ll do if i ever get married. also have considered changing my name if i ever have trouble with how fucking stupid i’ve been with being openly a communist/disabled/gay/etc online with my full name since i was 11 lol but i doubt that

9. are you an artist?

lol. i’m not sure anymore tbh :( i at least drew stuff almost every day of my life up until like a bit over a year ago now and even if i didn’t think i was any “good” compared to my peers in like . high school AP art who went on to art school and stuff it was a big part of my identity but i let myself fall out of it even when i’d never let depression do that before and just didn’t get that momentum again. i stress about it almost every day since then i keep saying i’m Finally getting back into it but beyond like . art therapy when i was in a php program or the couple sculpture classes i took before i had to drop out of even part time classes and then a few sketches i still haven’t really provably picked things up again. and its not just digital art or cartooning its also my other creative passions like making clothing and cosplay and making stories i feel like a shell of a person without it i’m tired of saying i’ll Soon get back into it. got as far as sketching something for an actual traditional art thing last week so maybe if i finish that i can prove to myself again. i think i have trouble and why i stopped is i wasn’t doing art because i enjoyed the process anymore, i wanted the final product to be good and got discouraged and fell into a grating routine to make art. i need to learn how to enjoy that process again (or just? let myself? idk) i really need to learn that with making comics because i don’t have much proof at all that i can make things beyond like. 6 pages long. and of course with webcomics you’re constantly learning and growing in developing them thats part of the medium. i want to be able to call myself an artist again even if its hard to see that right now. i almost started drawing before i started answering this right now. i hate that i keep pushing it off. i’ve definitely said this before, but it has to be soon

25. could you live as a hermit?

i think this past 9 months has been the closest i’ve ever been to a hermit and its made me very confident that i absolutely could not lmao. i’m so sick of this i need to see proof of life beyond this place and with irl interaction with loved ones beyond my mom on a regular basis stagnating here for even a few months longer is just too much i don’t even feel like a real person anymore and thats concerning on multiple levels lol. its wild to me i even got to this point and kind of ironic that i feel the most isolated i’ve ever felt once i moved to one of the biggest cities in this country. right now i’m sustaining myself by chasing hope of a way out with the start of maybe actual concrete steps towards just . seeing people i love again irl. but honestly even that is freaking me out because realistically it might take longer to get out of this than i’d like to and i really can’t handle being in this situation more than a few months more.

also just in a general sense i think humans need to collaborate and provide for each other. individualist fantasies of just providing for oneself and not having to care for others both jsut . tend to not actually be accurate and can be pretty reactionary. so many people are so isolated in many ways under capitalism and that makes divide and conquer easier but to ensure a future where that won’t be the case we need to build community/dual power/solidarity/etc etc. i feel a bit guilty i’m not putting my actions where my mouth is with that as an individual right now but i guess it makes sense how i got here when so much is structurally at play. its weird intellectualizing that balance sometimes.

i’m so sorry this turned into some fucking . vent tumblr therapy session jesus christ fdgkjhd

#cpost #asks #futchitachii

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theimportanceofnotme · 3 years

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July, 21 2021

Wow. A lot has happened this week in itself. I’m 20 years old now (My birthday just passed), I might be pregnant, Meagan reached out and now we’re “talking”, my high school sweet heart just started talking to me like we used to before the dating and graduation happened, I met up with someone from bumble but on the BFF Side of things, and I want to move out asap. Okay so starting from the first thing I mentioned, my birthday just came and went but this year we got to go to Salem and see and the witchy things which I just love and my mom hates but another crazy thing; it didn’t rain. Every year for the past 8 years it has rained on my birthday and this is the first year I didn’t have meagan in our family photo singing happy birthday with the cake. Mom mentioned how it was strange not having her home since she had been with us for my birthday for 5 consecutive years. Next day she sends me a text saying she knows its’s not her place to say anything but she wanted to wish me a happy birthday and all of a sudden her and I are kinda talking again? We both said our peace and I think I’ve gotten over it and although it does still sting just a little bit it feels so good to be able to just text her the random shit I used to text to her that I’ve had to bottle up for a while now. Next topic tho! I think I might be pregnant? So My S.O. and I have been doing the do and he always always wanted kids and my fertility is depleting fast so we just decided if it happens then it happens and I think it just happened? I missed my period this month and have gained weight pretty quickly? Not only that but I’ve been overly emotional more than usual and the constant peeing and cravings are killing me. To be fair these were all symptoms of my period but she isn’t here right now. She might be running late this month or maybe she’s been evicted for 9 months. We already spoke about Meagan and all that but If something else comes to mind later I’ll add it in. Oh yeah! the last guy and I think the only guy I dated in high school who went to my high school. He reached out again? He’s done it in the past but it was mainly sexual but I told him no No no and he said he was sorry and we haven’t spoken up until I think he slid up on a snap story I posted of a tik Tok about the Army. He’s an army man now lol but I didn’t think much of it cause to me it was just a funny tik Tok. But right now we’re talking like we used to before him an dI started flirting and before him and I actually dated. It feels nice to reconnect with him cause he was always nice to me. He hasn’t given me any indication he’s trying to get with me romantically or sexually so I don’t see the problem with it but I do worry Edgar might say something and get upset about it. But to be fair it is completely innocent and nothing is going to come out of him and I talking other than me reconnecting with an old friend and hopefully keeping him as s good friend. Edgar and I talked about me making friends cause I’m always with him since I don't know anyone in the area so he convinced me to get bumble and turn on the BFF thing. I did it and matched with this really cool girly. Her and I talk all the time on iMessage and she’s really cool! her and I are pretty much the same person lol. I met up with her recently for the first time and we went out to get things for her boyfriends birthday and it was a lot of fun! we got McDonald's and went to the dollar tree!! After that she dropped me off and we still talk on the phone so all is well with that! I’m excited about making a new friend in the area haha. Now for the big thing. I currently live with my S.O and his parents and sister. We moved out of his apartment to save up enough money to get a better one for the both of us with something that could benefit the both of us but it feels like we’re gonna be staying there longer than just the month. I wanna bring it up to Edgar but I got a strong feeling he’s gonna convince me to stay there longer than we initially intended for. While I'm okay with being there for like another month I don’t want it to be the current solution. I just really want my own place where I can walk around in my underwear without having the fear of someone seeing me and saying something about it. I personally hate pants and take them off as soon as I walk in my room but now when I do that there’s always the chance of someone calling out my name cause they need help with something or maybe they need to come into the room to check something out for the house. Meaning I would need to put my pants right back on and I hate it. There isn’t much space for me there cause I take up a lot of space. I also greatly value my own privacy and I don’t get much of that because I share a small room with my boyfriend and he owns more things than I do so I don’t have much space for growth and it kinda makes me feel stuck. in a box which is the main reason I moved out from my parents. I’ll be honest tho, I’ve thought of calling Meagan at work and asking her if she would like to get a place with me like we talked about in the past but I keep telling myself no since we just started talking and I don’t wanna rush into anything. I mean I can’t even do my therapy sessions without someone being able to hear it. The walls are so thing and even my whispers can be heard loud and clear. I have no privacy as much as anyone tries to convince me I don’t feel like I do and that’s not fun. I’ve been tempted to get a better paying job and getting a place for just me and Edgar can come live with me if he chooses to do so. I actually really miss meagan. I wish I had the option of going to her home and smoke with her. Although I never liked weed I liked being in her warm presence while I smoked a Cigarette. She has a momma bear kinda aura to her and I miss feeling it all the time. I wish I could just ask her to get a place with me and start over. Edgar would be pissed if he knew me and her started talking again so I’m trying to hide it until something comes up where I feel safe and comfortable enough to tell him. Oh I have therapy tomorrow and I’m leaving after lunch to go back home to get ready and I’m staying home so that’s fun! I really hope nobody is going to be home except me tomorrow. You know sometimes I dream of a world where all of these never happened and I’m still living with my mom, me and meg are still best friends and in the process of getting a home with Sara too, I have great grades in college, and I’m genuinely happy. I think I’m happy right now but it’s hard to tell to be honest. I’m getting bored so I might hop on tiktok for a little bit. Thank you for the venting. Good bye.

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isa-ly · 3 years

Text

“I HATE MY LIFE, LMAO”

TW: mental illness, therapy, self-hatred, self-deprecation

Let's start this one off with a text I received a few months ago from a friend, who I hadn't seen or spoken to in a while:

For anyone who isn't fluent in German, it reads as follows: "I'm hip and have a Twitter too now, as you probably noticed. Your own Twitter doesn't sound like you're too doing well. Can I help in any way?"

At first, I was like: "Huh? What does she mean?"

But, well...

Alright, I see her point.

And that's what I'm here to talk about today: Tweeting and joking your sorrows away (and why it's so hard to stop doing it). Before we get into it, however, I want to drop one last screenshot, because it just fits this current situation oh too well, and the irony made me giggle:

Okay, enough social media plugging, let's get back to business.

As you can see, I am quite active when it comes to tweeting about my struggles with mental illness. Which, in this day and age, really isn't a rarity. You just need to take one look at Twitter, Instagram, Reddit, TikTok or any dank meme, to see that joking, down-playing and iRoniCalLy tAkiNg tHe piSs out of personal problems and issues, has become quite the trend for millennials in general. Once again, I'm not the only one guilty of doing that.

Had you asked me a year ago whether or not I thought that constantly ridiculing very serious and traumatic incidents in my life was maybe a bit worrisome, I would have probably gotten very defensive and told you that "it's called coping, okay?” Because hey, making jokes and laughing about the bad things in your life gives them less power over you and helps distract from the pain. And that's good, right? That's what you're supposed to do. Right?

Well.

Dealing with your own issues, whether that's big or small ones, is a very personal process that, quite frankly, no one really gets to have a say in except for you. And yeah, sure, as we all learned by watching Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, ridiculing and laughing about something that really scares you, loosens the hold said fear has on you and makes it easier to deal with. However, there is a very big difference between the boggards of life (if you don’t get that reference, you clearly weren’t around when J.K. Rowling wasn’t problematic and transphobic yet) and medical mental health issues and disorders.

I am no doctor, I am aware of that, but even I know that having an ironic laugh about a shitty day is something very different to basically verbally abusing yourself and trying to make your own depression or anxiety relatable to ... well, to whom, actually? Random people on the internet? That are never going to really care or react to your self-deprecating jokes? That doesn’t seem like it’ll do much now, does it.

And that’s kind of the whole point, if you’re really honest with yourself. Social media has made it oh too easy to simply shout those invasive, painful and scary thoughts and feelings out into a void before they eat you alive. The thing about a void is, though: You're still alone in it. It doesn't answer you back. It's empty. And it will make you feel that exact emptiness inside you, too. It poses no comfort, it doesn't offer advice, it doesn't give you a hug, a shoulder to cry on or anything, really. It may swallow your word vomit whenever it bubbles out of you, but it will still leave you feeling drained and hollow because there's nothing you get from it in return.

Twitter, Instagram and every other easy-to-access-and-rant-on social media platform lets you dump your initial hurt all over it, but it doesn't lessen the pain. And neither do the self-deprecating jokes and dank depression memes.

I’ll say this once again, for the people in the back (me, I’m talking about myself here, I am the people in the back): Being mentally ill isn't a quirky personality trait, and making a lifestyle and constant comedy show out of is never, ever going to solve your problems and make you feel any better. You'll still be miserable if you don't actually work on solving your issues because you're too busy letting them define you.

Depression is not an aesthetic. Anxiety is not a competition. Panic attacks aren't funny memes.

I'm not saying that you can't and shouldn't joke or laugh about your own problems. Humor can be a very cathartic thing, I'm the living example of it. But staying put in your depression, anxiety or whatever issues you're dealing with, and trying to make a comedy skit out of it every time someone asks you how you are, is only going to make you more comfortable and validated in your own misery. And there are way better places to be comfortable in than that. Trust me.

You are not your mental illness. You are not your disorder. Those things will never define who you are. They're a part of you, yes, but they aren't you. You will always be the one that calls the shots and you always, always have choice and hope on your side. Even when it feels like you are alone and being swallowed whole by the darkness, it is never too early or late to get help. It might feel insincere, it might feel terrifying and impossible. But it never is. That's exactly what your disorders and problems want you to think. But they are wrong.

I had to accept that too. I had to accept that, once again, I wasn't as special of a snowflake as my mental illness painted me to be. By doing that, it simply did what any mental illness does best: it isolated me even more. With every joke, every #relatable tweet, every "lol" behind yet another truly worrisome sentence, I sunk back further and further into the cocoon of loneliness. And, plot twist, you can't finger-gun your way out of depression. Sorry, babes.

So, every time you’re about to chuck out another "I wanna die lmao" in a casual conversation with friends or yet another self-deprecating tweet, just take a second to ask yourself: Is this really a way of coping? Is it really making me feel better? Or is it actually a subconscious, desperate attempt of getting someone, anyone, to see that I'm slowly breaking on the inside?

Again, I don't want this to come across as a self-help guide on how to battle your mental illness. Not at all. If anything, the reason I phrase this blog and all my entries the way I do, is because it's what I need to keep telling myself, every time I revert back to old habits. It's a reminder. For me and, in case you want it to be, for you too. I'm not here to lecture anyone. Well, maybe myself, a little. But everyone makes their own choices and I'm no one's guide or saviour, nor do I want to be. However, I made a promise to myself to really commit to this blog thing, so here I am. I'm my own harshest critic, always have been, so if anything, this is a call out post for my own self-deprecating habits.

Receiving that message from my friend made me realize that even though I would have never admitted it to myself at the time, all those tweets and casually dropped “I’m gonna kms haha lol”s were nothing but very badly disguised cries for help. I was just too much of a coward to admit that to myself. Okay, maybe coward is a bit of a harsh word. I don’t want to diminish my fear or vulnerability just because I know the reason for it now. It’s just that looking back at my own denial, and still sometimes catching myself in moments where I slip back into this behaviour, makes me want to grab myself by the shoulders and shake me until I snap out of it.

Which is why I’m just going to do this through my blog now – for past, present and also future me: Get it together. Stop yourself in your own tracks when you’re about to word-vomit up another cryptic tweet or self-deprecating joke. Instead, talk to a friend. Type up a text. Call someone. Schedule a therapy session. It's always gonna help, way better than forcing out a laugh about something that is in no way a laughable matter. Reaching out is not going to fix everything immediately, but in the long run it will. And that's what we're in for, after all.

You can ask any of my friends and they will tell you that whenever they express feelings of insecurity about sharing their worries to me, I will be quick to stop them in the middle of their sentence to tell them that they can, and always should, talk to me. About any- and everything, be that day or night. It is something that I have been preaching for God knows how long, and I genuinely mean it, too. So, I’ve kind of just been a huge hypocrite by never listening to my own advice. And I knew that. Deep down, I always knew that I was ignoring the exact thing I kept telling the people I loved to do too. And what can I say, I hate being a hypocrite.

I’m not saying that any of this is easy. Hell, it can be the hardest God damn thing ever, especially when you’re as emotionally repressed and inept as I am most of the time. And yes, venting and shit-posting about how much you’ve been crying all day or how much you “hate your own life” might work as a quick fix to let off some of that frustration steam. But it’s never going to actually repair the underlying issues that cause you to feel this shitty in the first place. The only thing that’s gonna do that, is actually talking to people. Whether that is family, friends or a therapist, doesn’t matter. Because other than an Instagram story that disappears after 24 hours, or a tweet that has a 280-character limit, real life people who care about you will actually take the time to listen, say something in return, and provide the comfort and open ear no social media platform or meme ever could. You know that. And I know that too.

So, I want to try and quit lmao-ing my way through life and instead do what I actually, secretly know I am trying to do anyway with all those self-deprecating attempts at morbid comedy: ask for help. No lol’s needed.

#therapy #introspection #social media #oversharing #self-hatred #self-deprecation #self-deprecating humor #mental illness

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