#overwhelmed by being alive and having people perceive and think of me

[manifestingkai]

Manifesting as an ND person through trauma, intrusive thoughts + survival mode behaviours.

*Disclaimer: I do work in mental health + have it, but I am not a doctor and none of my content should replace health related advice/matters. If you’re in need of emergency or crisis support, please reach out to a trusted loved one or your healthcare team.*

You are not your trauma. You did not manifest your trauma. You are not responsible for your trauma (though you are the creator of your healing, however that looks for you). You do not have to revise your trauma or mental health issues away. This is a hill I will die on.

You are perfect as you are right now. You are whole, complete and capable right now. You can manifest. The law can, does and will work for you. Your best is good enough and you are not an exception to LOA. You are valid, seen, worthy and deserving just as you are.

The law of assumption is so unique in the sense that there are no rules besides the ones we create for ourselves. It’s the coolest and for some the most challenging part of the whole thing - add in the layer of being ND and it becomes a little more dynamic, esp at the beginning.

Yes, if you can think of it and desire it you can manifest it. Your subconscious mind is limitless. This is mind blowing information the first time we hear it and sometimes it takes a little while to fully wrap our heads around it, that is completely common and okay.

Many of us have been conditioned to think and view ourselves, others and the world around us a certain way: for me and many others this was taught in a very survival-based, often negative way.

Examples: can’t have everything you want, life is hard, you can’t always win

The learning that none of that is true can feel staggering, too good to be true. But it is true. You’ll see it for yourself if you haven’t begun to already. As an ND person sometimes this learning comes with its own unique set of thoughts and questions. That’s okay too.

Your brain’s primary function is to keep you safe and alive. It will do everything and anything it needs to in order to meet that need for survival and safety.

When you experience a trauma or ongoing trauma, your brain learns to perceive situations + things as safe or unsafe.

Without getting to much into the science/psychology of it (bc I will link threads at the end), your brain works so hard to keep you safe that it may perceive danger even when it is not there in an attempt to keep you safe. Very common in trauma survivors.

People who experience trauma often live in survival mode. Often hyper-vigilant, in a state of moving from one day to the next with the focus being on getting through one day to the next, keeping safe, protecting themselves. It can be hard to see past surviving for some.

So finding LOA and learning that the circumstances you’re in or the things that have happened to you don’t define you and don’t have to be your future can be overwhelming. When I first found out I wept and grieved and celebrated all at once.

I recognize that you may still be experiencing trauma and your 3D world may not feel safe to you. I’ve been there too. In the moments when living in the end felt too much or impossible, I remind myself that it’s changing. That i’m going to be safe. That my life matters. Yours does too.

Manifesting starts and ends with you in your mind. For those of us who experience intrusive thoughts that can feel scary, too. You are not your intrusive thoughts. You don’t have to spend all day beating yourself up when you have one, you are human and it happens.

It is perfectly okay to allow the thoughts to pass if jumping on it to flip it causes you to spiral into it or causes 15 more. What works for you might be a bit different than what others do and that is okay, your experience is unique to you.

You create new stories in your mind (4D) but you do still have to navigate living in your physical world (3D). If you take nothing else from this, please take that you do not need to neglect yourself or your mental health to manifest. Taking care of you comes first.

You do not have to lock yourself in a room all day and affirm, you do not have to repeat the same 2 sentences for 12 hours straight until you’re burned out and exhausted. The fun in manifesting is exploring what works and feels good for you.

This can be done through techniques: SATs, scripting, visualizing, subliminals, affirmation tapes, lullaby method. There are so many. Explore it, see what feels good for you.

If you’ve experienced trauma, it can be scary and difficult to accept this at first and I encourage you to take things at your own pace. You can start with something like seeing lime green cars, you can test it out, you can have questions. You are supported and you’ve got this. You can trust yourself and you have all of the power. 💕

Source: my thread on Twitter // additional resources here

#kai rambles #law of assumption #lawofassumption #persisting #manifesting #neurodivergent manifesting #neurodivergent #manifesting while ND

[thingsthatcometomymindwheniwrite]

I know that some people are annoyed that authors make their main character have an interest in books but to me it’s such a love confession. I feel like it’s just part of our writing/reading culture to mention in our books that we love the feeling of books, their smell, that this is our world. This is where we go and where some of us are most alive. We write our books and we love it so much that we can‘t help but to mention how it feels to love them, how it feels to love creating and consuming the creations of others. I know it might be perceived as „authors feel obligated to write a main character who likes reading/writing“ but maybe,, maybe sometimes it’s just us being in love with what we do.

Sure, it can get boring when the only hobby possible for a character is reading and we should make sure to include one or two more interests but all in all, i think it’s something beautiful. I write in the library and it feels like I am connecting to my birth place, as a writer. I haven’t been at the library in years, i stepped into the fantasy section yesterday and for a second i was home. I usually feel a lot of anxiety in public but when i was there i barely cared about other people and how they perceive me, i was overwhelmed with joy when i was so suddenly surrounded by books, by the quiet voices of all those authors that came before, all their dreams and inner worlds collected and sorted in this place that was created for just that.

So i get it. I get why they dedicate a few paragraphs to describing the comfort of books. Why they make their characters like reading or writing. I feel like it’s not just a self-insert thing to do,,,,,

#book tropes #booklr #writerblr #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #writerscorner #writing #library #books and reading #books #author #writeblr #reading

[wysteir]

Wisteria' FG Journal

S1 In Review

Around the start of this year I decided to try and get into fighting games! This post will have notes about my journey and learning experiences in the first 3 months

My first* fighting game was Granblue Fantasy Versus: Rising! Asterisk because it was the first game I actually wanted to try to learn all the ins and outs of fighting games seriously.

Before this year the bulk of my experience was whatever odd fighting games we had lying around, including Samsho V, One Of The Mortal Kombats, and One Of The Dead Or Alives. Later got Skullgirls and Street Fighter 4 but never got deeply into either, and I'll include any time I played playing Whichever Versions of smash.

Either way, having fun with them casually, but never really thinking about actual strats. I wanted to fling specials at people and hit then with heavy buttons hahaheeheehoohoo

Granblue stood out to me because

1) A bunch of folks I knew were playing it

2) It touted a relatively low skill floor

3) Fox gal with huge fluffy tail

So I steeled myself for losses, and dove in, except - where do I even start?

Well thankfully my friends had my back on that one. I got linked copious amounts of resources, and of them the most important ones for me personally were the ones related to keeping a healthy mental game.

Fighting games are hard to learn because it's a skill like any other. Learning an art is hard- music, visual arts, writing, dance: all of these are skills that take time and have difficult aspects to learning them.

They should also bring joy when engaging in them, both through the fun of doing, but also the satisfaction of honing a skill. This is where healthy mental comes in. I didn't want to be stuck in a bad mental state learning fighting games. That would cascade into my attempts to learn and would spoil my fun- and at that point why bother?

Staying realistic while taking as much pride as I could in my progress contributed a huge amount in how smoothly I ramped up. In many ways I benefitted from being almost entirely new, and starting with upholding mental first. Note that it was also important to me to not dismiss my feelings or bottle them up. These things linger in the subconscious, they are mind killers and they need to be treated with care.

Immense damage was dealt to me by the North American Education System and Familial Expectations. Part of my journey in fighting games involved a continuation of dismantling the shame in perceived failures. I would let nothing stop me from finding joy in learning, and being silly with it. A key thing for fighting games is that for better or for worse, there's a common perception that the failure state is getting KO'd. After much deliberation, I personally refuse to view it as such.

Winning is merely a side effect of good play.

Losing is an opportunity to hone my skills.

Success to me is the 50/50. I'm a performer by heart, I love the drama, the thrill, the narration. And over and over again, I see my goal in others' replays and tournament footage- it's the 50/50. Being evenly matched with my opponent became an immense source of positive vibes, and as I improved, and got closer to it, the joy I got grew more and more. Most notably, I hit a point where even fighting players who could 10-0 me wasn't even daunting anymore, because every round we played I got just a little bit better, and I knew it was only a matter of time before I could turn it into a 10-1.

Mental is the most important thing because it determines how efficient you are in terms of learning, performance, and inspiration. Once mental tanks or ges overwhelmed, it's time for a break!!!

The next important thing for me was defense and taking back my turn.

I thought about it, and realized that at my skill level, I would probably be on the losing side of the fight more often than not. What I needed wasn't the most damaging combo, what I needed were the skills to get myself out of an inevitable scenario.

A dependency comes about from this then:

1) If I'm knocked down or in the corner, my priority needs to be taking my turn back. I can't do anything else if I'm under attack with whatever mix tape my opponent is blasting on loop.

2) If we're in neutral, I need to find the best way to get into a position to establish offence (or just establish it outright)

3) If they're blocking, I need to mix them and watch out for when they want to take their turn back

4) If I'm hitting them I either won or I'm about to get sent back to 3

Combos ain't shit actually!! They kinda fucking suck for a new player!!!! Combos and Complicated Hornswogglery won't save the new player from the situation they'll be in most of the time, ie- blocking in the corner

Second most important is playing neutral to try and prevent getting hit and cornered in the first place.

When I first started playing Granblue the most I could do was a basic baby auto combo into 236L and easy input super for offense, but I learned how to jab out of pressure, I learned how valuable reversals were, as I spent less and less time in the corner I learned how to approach and counter in neutral, and everything else was the fun fancy stuff that most resources list in great detail.

So! Behold, my power 9!

0) Preliminary research on game specifics

1) Learn how to maintain good mental

2) Learn how to block/evade/tech

3) Learn how to escape pressure

4) Learn how to skip/hold neutral

5) Learn a basic midscreen combo

6) Learn Okizeme/counter reversals

7) Learn a basic corner combo

8) Learn the advanced mechanics

Throughout the discord server I'm in I have lists and lists of things I felt I wanted to learn and some little victories and eureka moments

The 9 things above basically cover the gist of things

As I learned more and more granblue basics I also ended up playing guilty gear strive more often, and applied the same principles. Strive has more mechanics/resources than granblue so some of them came hand and hand with the 9, but I'm sure you'll find they slot in easy

By the end of March I was at a relatively low Mental and was taking it easier, but by then I was also playing in a way I didn't see myself being able to do for at least 6 months.

And now, even only 2.5 weeks since then? I could deck the halls with my March self

And if you've ever been interested in fighting games, you could learn them well too!!!

#fighting games #on living #on laughing #on learning #organic wysteir original #stay pozzy stay cool

[bitterbelphie]

{{ these are some notes for myself mostly dont mind them fjdjfj

that said, i am still alive! blogs not dead i am just throttled irl but i am out here. i am out here. im just very overwhelmed. i am thinking about belphie but have bumbled my goofy ass into some writing issues i want to put down somewhere that wont get lost fjdj so. so. }}

point one;

belphie is one of the most socially involved characters i've ever had in my hands wherein his relationships are so close and impactful on him, and that's considerable! he doesnt know or deal with a billion people all at the same time, but he DOES live with six brothers and a human, and has to worry about others (two angels, one other human, two other Very Big Deal demons) at least occasionally. i have an understanding why the writing team sometimes feels really very rushed the further they go on with obey me im going to be real with you NGJSJF

again, it isn't just the number or proximity; belphies brothers are really very impactful on him, not just in past tense but in the ways they interact with each other, the ways they bicker or support each other or even the human, how belphie perceives these things. he's a more introverted character, but just as he's notorious for his introversion (sometimes levi calls him a fellow shut-in, and hes declined outings several times unless they suited his own needs and interests specifically [before being forced anyway usually]) he's also notorious for watching and listening to the ways the others talk about what's going on, each other, TO each other, how their bonds strengthen or weaken. he's very sensitive to being replaced or forgotten about, or treated as though he's dangerous or like someone doesn't know how to interact with him anymore after the attic incident.

all this to say, to write a rich and satisfying belphie, takes shaking off a lot more rust and getting used to writing several characters in a situation all at the sams time, which i've for some reason been very squirrely to do??? like i'm not allowed or something???? up to the challenge, if only for breaking this very strange sensation of 'oh thats not allowed ):' ON WHAT PLANET. WHEN AND WHY DID THAT HAPPEN

point two;

winter.... oh winter. precious MC stand in. what am i going to do with you.

obviously the mc in a romancey otome game is supposed to move the story along in a way that's as generic and projectable as possible. there's still some personality there; a character that drives an entire family of fallen angels who've had repeated fallings out and coming together again moments and unites them is going to be a sort that's strong in mind and in heart, sure. this is a protagonist in a mushy gushy love game with some edge paint slapped over the top; something i love quite a bit, mind you, but... there's so much blank slate, and so much freedom.

what. am i going to do with you. somehow i did not anticipate The Main Character being something so potentially useful, but also requiring their own good bit of attention. so i should think about where they've been yoinked from and how that helps them adapt to the environment they're in. the mc also has quite the unique relationship with belphie, given the whole murder thing, and subsequent "oh btw the entire reason you did that? built on a lie. yeah everything you justified that with wasn't real. yeah now you both have to cope with that. and each other. yeah."

so winter being a big deal is sort of a big deal in itself. they both have made huge impacts on each other, and belphie's forfeited to them some of his JUST-FOUND FREEDOM to START his apology and that's. i mean god damn. winter knows he'd been trapped a long time, winter knows he'd been lied to, but that his feelings of neglect and betrayal aren't gone... but that also doesn't mean they're just fine now, either. he murdered their ass and he tried to do it again until he was told the truth and broke down as it sunk in fjdj not even immediately.

they have a lot of questions for one another, but also a lot of tension. delicious mix. how much i would love to really do something with that.

very good to get this out of my brain and somewhere i'll find it again fjdjgj

maybe ill noodle around with this??? try to practice some things and lean into that early canon feel i liked so much and base some things off canon events. augh please understand how much this sleepy freak lives rent free in my brain space even though i am so so quiet. trying to get unfrozen in so many ways

#ooc

[endworldbroadcast]

My mood seems relatively stable right now, but I feel suicidal. I think my suicidality isn't contingent on pain and 'feeling bad', it seems like a general characteristic and my mood merely impacts the reasons for my suicidality. When I feel upset and alone I want to die to escape the overwhelming shame that accompanies the feeling, and when I feel okay I want to die almost 'just because'. A sort of apathetic feeling like 'I may not be in pain, but it does seem like life takes a lot of resources and effort, and I don't really want to deal with it.'

I have these vague but relentless memories of watching myself die—I imagine I saw a reflection of one of my attempts once, maybe it was through a mirror or window, I cannot recall—and since then I've 'felt' dead. The knowledge that I'm not is known, but is quite... foreign. It feels more 'true' that I did die, and that it's a 'mistake' of everyone or everything else that I am perceived as alive.

Although logically this is unlikely to be true.

I wonder if my 'decision' not to kill myself (again) is more strongly out of a feeling of warmth towards people who I know would know I would die, or from my distaste of people I don't know knowing I would die. Thinking about people I barely knew or talked to, like random followers from old blogs I was never close with, knowing I was dead bothers me no matter how they react [ Although the idea they would regard my death as 'bad' and 'unfortunate' and 'something that preferably did not happen' makes me more upset than if they didn't care… ]

I'm curious how people who are not suicidal live, because I can't imagine having a different baseline of emotion. Even when I don't want to kill myself it's not because I 'want to live'. It's difficult to imagine suicide as cowardly when it may be my cowardice that is the deciding factor that makes it difficult for me to die by my own hand.

Though a simpler way of framing my feelings is that it never seems enough to die, because death doesn't erase the past. What I 'really' want is the impossible scenario of never having existed. I often feel like... while there are things and people that make me not want to die sometimes, there is nothing and nobody that makes me want to live; that if there was a magical option where I would never have existed even if it means never experiencing those 'good' things I would choose it. Then I feel ungrateful and embarrassed for these feelings, so I can only be preoccupied with how cruel I must be to the people who show me kindness, so in many respects I think I can only live life 'correctly' by being in a position where I am being useful or abused.

I spent most of my life with other people who controlled several aspects of my life and relatively I have only been 'alone' for a short time, and it feels... disconcerting. It is bad enough to feel too isolated and alone. But what is getting at me is the pointlessness of life. I have no competence or skill that allows me to be helpful or meaningful even in the distant way of helping others indirectly, but I also am not likeable to the type of person who would demand much from me.

The people around me are kind and never expect anything from me. Where am I going to find somebody crueler than this? Although it may be cruel in itself to expect this of nice people I often wish that somebody would at least make me do something that could be of use to them. It's like a holdover of being used to being used. Like people who complain or vent about their feelings to you wanting some solution. I don't like watching shows but I feel nice when I get to watch something with one of my associates. Just the feeling of doing 'something' for someone besides just passively existing.

Since these things are not really feasible to expect it seems dull and cumbersome to exist. Death is, among other things, a kind convenience.

#d

[queenslandrail]

.

at the point in the year where it’s coming up for 4 years since rus died this month and 1 year since tai died next month and my brain feels so messy and is struggling with my own thoughts of suicide but idk how to reach out to anyone because suicide is so close to so many people in my life i don’t want to trigger people especially when at the end of the day i just feel like i’m being a big baby and don’t deserve people’s concern

i feel like i’ve lost the passion to create and i feel like i’m so far behind in life from mental illness and i feel like everything costs so much money and i’m in a constant state of financial dread that i’ll never leave because it feels like i’ll never get a job and it’s so hard i don’t know how to navigate my own brain because it feels like no matter what i do i’m losing hope completely. the way the cost of living crisis is impacting my mental health makes me think about rus and their struggles and i find myself relating more to some of their thinking in ways i never wanted to like i don’t want to be in a place where i feel like i “get” why a friend died because i feel myself getting to the same place but i feel it happening

idk idk how to speak about anything i’m feeling at the moment like i want people to know how i feel and support me but at the same time i feel like no one can know the extent of how bad i feel. i feel like the only reason i want to be alive at this moment in time is because i love my cat pickle so much and the love i feel from her makes me want to be here for her because i can’t imagine leaving her behind but beyond that i feel like it’s getting harder and harder everyday to reason with myself as to why i should even bother to keep trying when i feel like i’m so overwhelmed with grief and failure everyday to a point where i’m only just functioning. i feel like at this point in time i don’t see myself acting on suicidal thoughts but i’m scared that will change because the thoughts keep growing and getting more intense

i feel like i’ve lost my ability to communicate i feel like i’m so quiet in social spaces now and i feel myself constantly holding myself back because i’m so scared of anyone perceiving me, even my close friends. i feel like i don’t have a personality anymore and i feel like i’m isolating myself first so i can’t be abandoned and everything just feels like a mess because i feel like I’M a mess. i’m two weeks into seeing an individual therapist again and i just started group therapy for suicide bereavement so i hope these things help but i think i’m still in the early days where i’m still convincing myself that i’m deserving of support and healing

but yeah i think i’ve needed to express some of these things for a while but i’m too scared to talk openly about it with people and i’m scared to be open about my struggles on social media where people will see so here’s a classic tumblr cry for help i’m hiding behind a read more because i want support but at the same time i don’t want people seeing this might delete later who knows sorry everyone x

#tw suicide

[deans-baby-momma]

The Story of Us-Chapter 13

A/N: This is a rewrite of a story my good friend @spnbaby-67 allowed me to take and rewrite. All mistakes are mine. This is canon divergent, meaning some things that happened in the show will still happen here but with my own twist to it.

Summary: She and Dean met when they were kids. Even at such a young age, she knew that he was her soulmate. Being the daughter of a hunter, Michaela (Micki) Singer knew the life he led came with a price, but she was up to the challenge.

Pairings: Dean Winchester/Micki

Warnings: Flashbacks are in italics, fluffy stuff, angst stuff, character death, kidnapping, depression, semi-dark themes

Present Day (2008)

Abandoned barn in the middle of nowhere

“Who are you?” Dean asks, curiously.

“Castiel.”

“Yeah, I figured that much, I mean what are you?” Dean reiterates, already done with the conversation.

"I'm an Angel of the Lord," Castiel answers, matter-of-factly.

"Get the hell out of here," the oldest Winchester scoffs with a roll of his eyes. "There's no such thing."

"This is your problem, Dean. You have no faith."

Lightning flashes, and on Castiel's back two great shadowy wings appear, stretching off into the distance. The light goes out and the image disappears.

"Some angel you are. You burned out that poor woman's eyes," Dean spats.

"I warned her not to spy on my true form. It can be... overwhelming to humans, and so can my real voice. But you already knew that."

"You mean the gas station and the motel. That was you talking?" When Castiel nods, Dean tells him, "Buddy, next time, lower the volume."

"My mistake. Certain people, special people, can perceive my true visage. I thought you would be one of them. I was wrong."

"Well, I'm not buying what you're selling, so who are you really?" 

Castiel cocks his head to the side, like he is confused by Dean's words.

"Why would an angel rescue me from Hell?" Dean inquires, ready to get to the end of the conversation and get back to Micki and Maren.

"Good things do happen, Dean," Castiel informs him. "You need to return to the cabin and reunite with Michaela. I will be in touch."

Castiel disappears from before Dean's eyes. Dean rushes to Bobby as the old man comes to. 

"Come on, Bobby. We have to go!"

Winter 1987

Snow covered the ground in and around Singer Salvage and temperatures were in the single digits.

John had once again left his boys with Bobby and Micki as he went off to work. It was 2 days before Christmas and little 4 year old Sammy kept asking about his dad and Santa Claus.

Dean, at 8 years old, already knew the latter wasn't real but he vowed to keep the myth alive for Sammy's sake.

"Do you think Santa will know where to find us?" Sammy asked his big brother, a hero in his young eyes. "Who's gonna tell him to bring our presents here?"

"Don't worry Sammy, he knows."

"How?"

"Because he's magic," Dean lied. He looked over at Micki to see if she was in belief of the bearded man in the red suit. She looked at him with a sweet smile and shook her head. 

Later, once Sam was down for the night and Bobby had retired to his room, Dean snuck into Micki's room.

"Hey Mick," he whispered in the darkened room. "You awake?"

The lamp on the stand beside the bed turns on and Micki is sitting there in her bed.

"Have another nightmare Dean?"

Feeling his face flush and becoming red, Dean ducks his head. He didn't know she knew about those.

"Uh, no….was just wanting to ask you something."

"Okay," Micki says as she scoots to the opposite side of the bed and pats the now empty spot. "What is it?"

"Do you, uh….do you think Santa is real?"

"What do you mean? Of course he's real! And he's magic too! I just found that out, him and his reindeer can find anyone, anywhere."

Dean deflates. He had hoped he wasn't the only kid who knew the truth. "Oh."

"Dean I'm joking," Micki giggles. "I know my dad is the one who puts the presents under the tree. I've always known."

"Really?!"

"Really. God, you're cute when you're embarrassed," Micki says and then claps her hand over her mouth. She hadn't meant to say that. 

She'd been harboring a crush on Dean Winchester for years now.

Dean smiles sheepishly and then sits beside her on the bed. "You know, you're pretty cute yourself."

Dean and Micki sat on her bed for hours, talking and comparing stories that their dad's had told them.

The two of them had more in common than anyone realized.

Dean drives the Impala like a bat out of hell all the way back to the Singer cabin, anxious and excited to see his love,  awake.

"What exactly did the angel say?" Bobby asks again as they drift around a curve in the road. 

"Said I was chosen by the big man himself; that I deserved it."

"No, what did he say about my daughter?"

"Oh, um….just told me to go back  to the cabin and reunite with her," Dean explains. "Bobby, if she's awake, an angel would know, right? Goddamn," he exclaims slamming his palm against the steering wheel. "I shoulda fucking been there!"

No matter how hard he pushed the accelerator, the trip back seemed to be crawling by. Dean was internally cursing the miles and himself.  

Dean slams the car into park before it had even come to a complete stop, opening the door and jumping out.

He climbed the steps two at a time and crossed the porch in one long stride. He jerks the door open,  almost pulling the wood off the hinges, to get inside.

"Micki? Mick?" He yells as he runs toward the room. As soon as the bedroom door gets in view he takes off running, only to stop in a slide as he looks into the room and to the bed. 

Sam comes out of the room and opens his mouth to ask his brother what the commotion is about but doesn't say a word as he watches his older brother, still a hero in his eyes, break down into tears and cry.

Bobby rushes in at the same time Dean falls to the floor, hitting his knees as his sobs become audible. 

@lostinaseaoffictionalbliss​ @spnbaby-67​ @tftumblin​ @sea040561​ @delightfullykrispypeach​ @larajadeschmidt13​ @atc74​ @vicariouslythruspn​ @squirrelnotsam​  @sandlee44​ @blacktithe7​ @hoboal87​ @mogaruke​ @deanwanddamons​ @supraveng​ @deandreamernp​ @akshi8278​ @lyarr24​ @maggiegirl17​ @chriszgirl92​

#dean winchester #sam winchester #bobby singer #micki singer #dean x micki #the story of us #flashbacks

[deliriouslyshipping]

Sometimes I wonder if I could be like my dad for just a while. I wonder if I drowned myself enough in a addiction, will I be better for it?

Life hasn’t backed me into a corner since I don’t have four walls, so I am constantly shifting away from something whose intentions I can’t trust. Good doesn’t come without something worse following it. For every chance of opportunity, I receive the finality of rejection.

I want to be happy, to dream. But dreams are for people who can afford it. I can’t afford to live, mind you dream. Help is there, but encouragements are overwhelmed with perceived reality. There is nothing that I can do but push myself more. Push my body, mind, and weary soul further past its last recorded limit.

Persistence lingers, hope lingers, but exhaustion and disappointment simmers in the marrow of my bones. I should’ve been better, but how could I? I did the best I could, found happiness there, and yet it still is stripped away. I am bare. I am saddened.

So now I think of turning to distractions that I cannot afford, but I can see the appeal. If I could escape, even for a few moments, perhaps the world may take pity. It’s not true at all, so again I face another foe or merely a past foe’s cousin. My strategy in battle is only to survive.

I can’t do much more than that.

It somehow gets worse when you mention God. It has nothing to do with blaming the being, but simply that I constantly fail others. I’m stuck on this notion that I can never be seen as admissible to any person, especially anything above a person.

Grace and forgiveness is still foreign language. I am learning, but I have faltered in the journey. I feel undeserving; perhaps it doesn’t help that it is affirmed weekly. I don’t understand the concept that love persists past failures, despite the fact I practice this very thing to others. It is me. I hate me. Why should I believe this sentiment isn’t shared by anyone else?

I am a lot right now, I know. I am grasping, begging, although I am not sure what for. There is no hero coming to rescue me. After this, nothing will change. I am still running away, trying to stay alive.

The human will is so interesting. Why desire to put the white flag, yet raise the sword for battle?

I need rest.. I must prepare for the fight tomorrow.

[coccyodynia]

things:

four years and a few days ago, i entered treatment for dual diagnosis care to treat my mental health and drug use

for about 4 straight years before that, i’m not sure i was sober for more than an hour at a time

i was really heavily using benzos and always mixing them with an extreme amount of alcohol

frequently confused as to who i was then, how people perceived me, and how i’m still alive

i’m extremely grateful i went to treatment, because if i hadn’t had some kind of intervention, i dont think i would have survived another year like that

i still really really struggle with relapses

and in the last two years i’m not sure i’ve managed to have a clean streak longer than 3 months

but i am trying

my drug abuse ended up being the last straw for some important people in my life, who would eventually leave my life bc of it

anyway moving on to other topics

i finally saw justin this week, for the first time in three months

it’s been a pretty weird 3 month period of not really knowing where we stood bc i couldn’t keep my feelings to myself, and he needed a break from that i guess

i understand it will never again be like it was when we first started talking

and tbh that really kills me, but i’m very grateful he’s a part of my life still, in some way

the connection was immediately really strong from the start and i really credit him with helping me a lot

he was probably the first person to verbalize “i’m here for you”, and actually follow through with that sentiment

meeting him almost exactly one year after reid left my life is probably worth mentioning here but whatever

ive finally been able to start seeing my therapist again, and i meet with her monday

right now she can only schedule me every other week, which is a really hard adjustment for me to make tbh

since october of 2019 i probably have had therapy at least once a week

im really struggling with staying sane bc my job has become an incredibly stressful place for me, which didn’t used to be the case

like work has always had some level of stress, sure, but this last month or so, i have been getting physically sick from the stress, crying at my desk every day, etc

but on the other hand, i’m also having these really meaningful yet overwhelming moments of gratitude for being where i’m at

like yeah nothing is perfect or even close, but i have created a life for myself that works most of the time

im finally experiencing a level of safety and security that i have honest to god never felt before, and i did not even know that it could improve this much

growing up i didnt have any sense of safety or security at all, which i didn’t realize until very recently

in the last year or so working with nicole (my therapist), i have finally learned that the things i was subjected to as a child were not normal, and that it was traumatic

about 6 months or so ago (possibly less), i learned i have complex post traumatic stress disorder

i had pretty much known for over a decade that i was borderline, before i was officially diagnosed

but i didn’t even have an inkling of an idea that i could be experiencing CPTSD, so when my therapist gently told me i was, my world view realllyyyyy started to shatter and shift

it has been very very difficult to come to terms with tbh

anyways i really miss writing and photographing and making art so i hope to return to that soon

i’m at work rn and i should probably start doing my job before the bosses get here so ta-ta for now thanks for reading this insane post

#things

[deathgatesideblog]

I wrote this YEARS ago and thought a couple times about making this into a full fic but it's in this weird half-written thing already that I don't want to bother unraveling... it was essentially me thinking about what's gonna happen when Alfred dies, cos like, he's definitely going to be the first of the three to go, you know?

Even demigods aren’t immortal. 

Haplo and Marit probably feel old by like 50 (or, you know, whatever the Patryn equivalent of that is? you feel me) just because patryns in the labyrinth basically never live long enough to become affected by age. I mean, don’t get me wrong, they’re still badasses and they still go back into the Labyrinth like Xar did, at least at first.

Alfred has to tell them to quit going into the Labyrinth at some point. They both protest, of course, and Alfred has to sit them down and explain to them, very matter of factly, that he doesn’t want to be the last one to die. 

Alfred was already “middle aged” during the series, and he was in stasis for a LONG time, so who knows how that'll work, but he knows full well that he’s going to be the first one to die, if it’s a matter of age. But you know? He’s HAPPY about it, in a way. Because the alternative would be watching Haplo and Marit die, and he’s already seen his friends and family die once, and then again with Orla, and god dammit he’s going to be happy to leave his friends and partners alive with the house they built together and the children they raised together (and the grandchildren those children raised, probably)

And he starts preparing for his death, finding people who will understand his research, take care of it and continue it. A few of their children did take after his scholarly tendencies, and Alfred isn’t worried. It’s been a long time since he worried the way he did way back on Arianus. And Haplo and Marit watch this and say nothing, because there’s not really much to say, is there?

So he prepares, and he dies. Just slips away, like Orla did. And he’s gone, and Haplo and Marit aren’t. But there was something none of them considered. 

Empathetic connections. Haplo had one with Alfred. His soul mate, in a very real sense, is suddenly just… gone. By that point, Haplo had gotten used to catching little snippets of melody in his head, little flashes of Alfred’s thoughts as he writes his books or goes about his day. And suddenly that’s just… gone.

But life goes on, with that empty space. Alfred’s study gathers dust. Some of it’s cleared out, but neither Haplo or Marit quite know what to do with the rest of it. Life goes on. Haplo and Marit learned a little about cooking from Alfred, and of course they’ve always been able to get by, but he was always the best at it. Life goes on.

They’re no strangers to death, even after all this time. But it’s always been a threat, or it’s always been removed from them, personally. It had never taken anyone as close to Haplo as Alfred had been. And he’s still stoic about it, but the emptiness is overwhelming, sometimes. Marit’s there, grieving in her own way, and they take comfort, as they have before, in sharing their loss. Their children grieve Alfred, too, and so many others– people Haplo hadn’t realized cared enough for Alfred to miss when he was gone. Patryns who had hated him for being a Sartan, Sartan who had hated him for a perceived betrayal… at some point, Alfred had (probably unknowingly) won many of them over. Some things never change.

Haplo starts feeling little waves of…. something. Familiarity. Not always, just in quiet moments. And he KNOWS it’s just wishful thinking, it’s just his mind playing tricks on him, because he knows what Alfred’s consciousness felt like and he knows he’s only deluding himself… but then again, their bond always has surprised him with its tenacity, and it’s almost believable that it could survive even when Alfred did not. And Haplo doesn’t believe in an afterlife or anything like that, he’s always thought it was nothing more than an idea to make death more palatable and all that. He knows all that, but dammit he WANTS it to be the person it reminds him of.

Alfred had believed in something. He had believed in souls, at least, and that the soul did go somewhere after death. The subject had come up often, in his studies of Death’s Gate, in his attempts to crack exactly what it was that he had so unwittingly done to Hugh the Hand, that he could only undo with Death’s Gate. And Haplo supposed that he had experienced something like that, too; he had died, however shortly. His soul had been yanked out of its body, and he didn’t remember it well, but he knew his soul had latched itself firmly to the piece of his soul residing with the dog, the other fragment shared with Alfred. He remembered the urgency, the faint tugging reminding him that he could not have stayed in that form for very long.

Alfred had brought him back to his body, that time. In many times and in many ways, Alfred had always given his soul a safe place to rest, to recover. And now he was gone.

“I choose to be with you,” that’s what he always said, and he knows it’s impossible, but. There’s always a part of Haplo that knows for certain that if there’s any way for Alfred to stay close to him from wherever he is, Alfred would take it. And maybe that’s comfort enough.

If Haplo dies first, Alfred is there to welcome him into the afterlife, and of course he’s been watching over them. None of the others felt it, but he’s not surprised haplo did, even if he only had inklings. They’re both there to bring Marit along, when her time comes. She had a philosophy, when she was young: “Don’t be the one left.” In the end, Haplo and Alfred left her first, but they didn’t, not really. They’ve been waiting for her. 

If Marit dies first, then Haplo is alone, again. Just like he started. Just like his name. But that’s wrong. It’s not like he started, because Marit and Alfred left him with a whole family, a whole world, and when he goes, they’re there waiting for him, just like just like the first time he “died,” in Abarrach, and all three of them are there together again, floating in the wave.

#fanfic #not really though? #the writing equivalent of a sketch #i think in a full fic i'd start it off with just some ordinary scenes-- a kid comes over to collect alfred's notes #we don't know alfred is dead and we don't find out until the end of the scene #death #grief

[lazylogic]

Okay, here are some words, yes it's long

This drawing started as "homework" my therapist gave me to try and draw myself more, just to like...have more of a sense of self, but it kinda turned into somewhat of a vent doodle because I was feeling gloomy yesterday. I think I'd like to make an alternate version of this that's much more cozy and colorful when I'm feeling better, though. Now...updates? Or I guess a ramble, rant, whining, whatever: I'm still not 100% on coming back to posting art, and on top of there really not being any good art site to post on (FA is fine but I know it has its own issues, I just subsist on nostalgia), every single social media platform now seems like a dumpster fire - way more than they already were - that I don't wanna go back to, so I'm not sure if or when I'm gonna change anything anytime soon. I'm already bad at being social in communities but I super do not know where to turn right now if I wanted to be "present online" again. Way back in the day, Twitter and Tumblr were actually fun, but it's all long since become stressful and anxiety-inducing. And at this point, it really doesn't seem like it's gonna ever improve. Frankly, I do kinda prefer living under a rock anyway, but there's definitely part of me that still misses the positive and warm interactions I used to have with people online. Unfortunately, I still feel like there's really no part of the internet anymore where I feel like I belong, or even want to be. This is all very possibly my gloomy mood at the time of posting and seasonal depression talking, but I really just don't feel motivated to post, participate, or interact online much anymore. Partly a good thing, I think, because I have a lot of fun working on my website and hanging out in the small web community, away from the centralized web. But I know it's also partly due to my bad, chronic habit of isolation - because right now I'm not even interacting with said small web community. I'm just talking to my friends on Discord and Telegram, which typically is all I need. But idk, maybe it's FOMO, maybe it's just another art angst wave, but I miss having a place to go for art...just not the way it's been for the past 6 years or so. I wanna be here, for people to know I'm still alive, but at the same time I don't wanna be here and I don't want to be perceived at all. This feeling changes constantly. I don't know why I'm saying all this and I think I just need to stop thinking about it entirely. Ultimately, the internet is really not important in life and there are countless other things about life that I should focus on. I have a life full of love and precious things, and that is really the most important thing. The fact that I'm an artist who decided to start posting online so many years ago just makes this complicated. Being an artist makes me neurotic, and I'm also just so fucking overwhelmed with the way the world is right now that everything feels like an alien place, online and offline.

And I just care about people too much. I wanna give back to the people who always showed me kindness and support online, just for them to know that they've all been remembered and seen and I'm thankful for them. I think that's why this is such a floundering issue for me. I still think that I'm better off not being an artist online, at least most of the time. But idk. I think I'm just doomed to always have overthinking, neurotic turmoil over stupid shit. Time to stop thinking! At the very least, art IS starting to be fun again, so there's that. I absolutely do better when I'm drawing without worrying about perception and opinions. I think the problem arises when I start bringing commissions into the mix...I hate marketing myself, but you have to do that to have any hope of getting clients, so I should either not do comms at all or just not try to rely on it for income. Damn this shit was easier when I was a teenager with no bills drawing people's fursonas for $30

#txt #long post #vent art #vent #i mean kinda #it's more like me being aggressively cozy because it's cold

[chrzkat]

The State of My Mental Health: Resilience Amidst Storms

"How are you?" "Are you alright?" questions that, to some, carry the weight of care and concern. Yet, to many, these words can trigger an avalanche of emotions, a reminder of the fragility of our inner selves. For me, they echo as a testament to the unspoken weariness that resides within, a silent struggle often hidden beneath a facade of normalcy.

I perceive life as an endless battlefield where people struggle to survive challenges everyday. Each person treads their own path, battling silent wars, and I've found myself entrenched in my share of struggles. There have been moments when the weight of circumstances seemed insurmountable, leaving me questioning my ability to persevere.

One problem after another comes; either in family, school, and work. Recently, I came home late at night as usual, carrying the weight of responsibilities from school and work. All of a sudden, tears streamed down my cheeks, seemingly without cause. However, as I reflect on what happened that day and the past overwhelming days, I realized it was the culmination of exhaustion—exhaustion from striving endlessly to meet the expectations of others and the unrealistic standards I'd set for myself.

I once questioned myself, what purpose do I serve in life? Why am I even included to the persons who need to achieve something in life? Who am I without my achievements? Literally, just “living” made me question my worth in everyone’s life. I feel like I’m not doing something good because breathing is not enough, I feel the need to prove something even if it’s not asked or expected, thus I tried to search for something new that may fulfill those dissatisfaction I’m feeling; I got a job. I thought I could find contentment when I became independent financially, I guess I’m wrong.

Did you ever feel like everything you do is lacking? You tried new things but ended up not being satisfied with what you do. I guess we all have been in that phase where we don’t know what we want in life; the things we want to achieve, to prove just to be content with ourselves. Maybe we just need to take away all the pressure we give to ourselves and start focusing on what we really enjoy doing. Life is short but not too short to rush things in the sense of pressuring yourself into doing things beyond your control.

When I started working, I felt a little bit proud of myself; I bought things from my own pocket. However, it did not last as working full time while studying is too exhausting for me. Little did I know that it will also add up to my burdens and stress, as well as to the state of my well-being in general. The state of my physical health started to affect my mental health to the point that the tiredness I’m feeling can no longer be lessened by sleep or rest. I have days when sleep is not the only rest I need as it requires more than sleeping off the things in my head and heart.

Sometimes I wonder to myself, Is there a better future waiting for me? Will all the things I strive to do in this present life benefit me in the future? Are the burnouts, tears, breakdowns, sleepless nights, and exhaustion all worth it?

Infinite questions about life and existence are inevitable because as humans, it’s normal to feel sad sometimes, and it’s normal to question– to wonder because we all experience struggles, stress, and challenges in life. Are you really alive or a human if you did not experience struggling mentally? One just needs to stand strong and find something to cope up with all the stresses in life.

“Everyone has their own silent battles” voicing out your feelings is not easy as many think; you need all the courage you can gather in order to open up with someone. However, fighting a battle alone is harder than doing it with someone, you just need to choose a great companion that will help you win all your battles in life; no more silent battles.

To those people who remember to question my well-being despite their own struggles, may you receive all the goodness in life. Their questions of concern might not help, but knowing that I am seen and loved on a purpose is enough for someone struggling mentally and emotionally.

Thus, to anyone traversing the labyrinth of their own mental struggles, remember this: you are not defined by your doubts or your battles; you’re defined by your resilience, your ability to stand tall despite the storms.

Let us stand together, acknowledging our shared vulnerabilities and celebrating our resilience. For it's through our shared experiences that we weave the fabric of empathy and understanding in this complex tapestry of life.

"In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer." - Albert Camus

[fritzsdiary]

another rant (that’s all this has been)

anytime I would tell anybody of my predicament it’s always “if you know you’re doing this because your insecure and have trauma why don’t you take all this energy and time you’ve put into him and invest it in yourself for growth and improvement” and I have a lot of contention with this

1. just because I know why doesn’t mean I care.

2. i’ve spent every fucking second of my life dealing with myself. I don’t like myself and the idea that everybody it’s going to like themself is absurd. statistically what are the chances that my mental preferences for a human are going to align with what I was born with. and to try to make myself into a person I do like is an fruitless endeavor as well as mentally taxing and I would have to mask who I really am under a facade. it’s hard enough to do that around other people let alone to myself 24/7

3. my perception of myself in no way impacts how other perceive me. idgaf what you think about manifestation it’s not fucking real and doesn’t mean anything in real life. me thinking i’m an amazing beautiful person does not mean anyone else will and the opinions of the majority matter to me. (before you say anything about how I shouldn’t care about the opinions of others I ask why not. if I am too believe that I am equal to everyone then that means that all of our opinions are equal as well. and if there are more people telling me that I am an undesirable unlovable person than there will ever be of me telling myself i’m not than that holds more weight)

4. I genuinely do not want anyone or anything else but him. there is nothing to move onto.

5. what the fuck is self improvement/growth??? genuinely what is that. why are we expected to be in a constant state of change to achieve these stupid ass goals that’s will not matter in the end because we all fucking die. I hate change I absolutely despise it and being told that the only way I can be happy is to constantly be changing so I can achieve I nonsensical goal does nothing but make me more upset.

I also get told that I should focus on my dreams and passions but I genuinely do not have any. Everything I do in life is because I have to. i’m studying to be a teacher because once again I cannot stand change and the thought of me being anywhere but a classroom makes me feel nauseous. I don’t have a genuinely passion for teaching. school is just familiar. I have nothing I want to do and nothing I want to achieve. I don’t want to travel the world (I hate traveling and frankly there is nothing I care about enough to go see) I hate concerts (too loud, too crowded) I hate socializing (the overwhelming feedback has been that I am bad about it) and I don’t give a fuck about having a lot of money. the only thing I really wanted was to have my own family. to get married and have kids but

1) no one wants to marry or have kids with me

2) the person I want to do these things with has ghosted me

3) it is very obvious that I would not make a good wife or mother

the day I abandoned my one and only goal of having a family is the day I did not want to be alive anymore. and every time I allow myself to imagine myself with a family it’s always me and bumblebee

which is insane because he does not want me

at this point I really have nothing to offer life and life has nothing to offer me. I don’t want to be alive anymore but dying is change and we all know how I feel about that

[thenexusofsouls]

“I have no idea,” Mantis replied when Nuada asked about her planet. It was true, she had no memory of her early larva stage. She didn’t know where she came into existence; maybe her mother’s home planet, maybe Ego’s planet. Mantis smiled when he wondered where she spent most of her time. She didn’t understand his interest, but she understood his curiosity. “Spaceships, usually. Although my friends and I recently acquired a place called Knowhere. It is the head of a Celestial. Nothing screams ‘home’ like a giant severed head floating in space!” She spoke with such conviction and joy, it was impossible to mistake her words for sarcasm.

She blinked when he asked what she had to offer the world. She felt uncomfortable when she realized she did not know. Her purpose was to be among the stars and planets. But… what was she offering? “I suppose my assessment of what I have to offer might be inaccurate. Often, we don’t perceive ourselves the way others perceive us. The galaxy has so much beauty waiting to be seen, I can hardly focus on myself. Only those who know me, truly know me, can determine what I have to offer. The rest is just… ego.” She fell silent, wondering if that was actually an answer. “But… whatever I have to offer, I hope it’s good.”

Oh, there he went again. Could he let ten minutes pass without insulting humans? She did not enjoy being near someone who would likely kill her only sibling left alive because of his half human condition. Mantis understood where Nuada was coming from, but his stance was… too radical. And yet, it gave her a sense of familiarity. She knew she shouldn’t hear out anyone who reminded her of Ego, but at least Nuada treated her with respect.

Then, Nuada said what or who came before should not limit how she perceived her power. That was fairly good advice, and relatively easy to follow… for someone who had never been trapped under the influence of a god; one of those entities people prayed to because they were the most powerful. The Guardians tried to overcome their painful past, and Mantis was a hopeful one. But there was no denying that sometimes, the past would stay painful. Sometimes, pain would settle itself deep inside one’s bones. To stay. And one had to simply live with it.

Mantis shook her head. “My powers are… difficult. You see beauty, I see overwhelming responsibility. I could make everyone love one another, easily. Am I guilty for not bringing absolute peace? It is complicated.” With a weary smile, she looked at Nuada. “I appreciate your kind words regardless.”

Mantis chuckled when he said the bark children would find her friend soon. “I believe so. Drax is not precisely discreet. How big is the Market, anyway?” She wasn’t sure what to do or where to sit as the elf started making tea for himself. He was showing her his home, and she did not wish to be rude, so she stood there, devouring the flowers she bought. They were delicious. “And why do you even… trust me enough to bring me here? How do you know I can be trusted? Do I not look like a dangerous individual?” Mantis asked, with her wide, dark eyes, her antennae comprising almost half of her height. His hospitality didn’t surprise her, however. Ego always made sure to show great hospitality to his visitors, too. But despite Nuada’s absolutist thinking, he seemed kinder than Ego. Not like that was saying much.

__________

“The head of a Celestial being? In space?” Nuada asked, though he appeared not all that surprised by Mantis’ admission. “Interesting.” As she seemed to champion this location for a home, his gaze darkened a little, though it was not directed at her. “Of course. After all… there are far worse places to live.” He left it at that, thinking of the dark, dirty, dusty, iron-laden place his family was forced to dwell. “I am glad you have somewhere that feels like home to you. Not everyone does. It is a very valuable thing to have.”

He listened to her very unconventional answer to the question of what she was offering the world, his head tilting a bit as he gave her his undivided attention. The way she had answered was… telling. “Perhaps what you have to offer the world is insight and empathy, since your mind is able to perceive many different perspectives, not simply your own. You consider the perceptions of others when defining yourself, but are not controlled by them. You are highly emotionally intelligent, and that in itself is something to offer the world.” Nuada did not consider the perceptions of others at all. They could think and feel whatever they wanted about him, and it was not going to influence his actions in the slightest. At least, that was what he typically thought.

When she downplayed the beauty of her powers in favor of the great responsibility she felt she should feel in using them, Nuada shook his head. “Why can it not be both? Perhaps it should. That they are beautiful powers and that they come with great responsibility as well. How else should power be used if not with solemn responsibility and thought to the consequences? You are good to care about what you do and how it will affect others.” He had no idea what a walking exception to that rule he was each and every day he took a step closer to trying to rid the world of humans once and for all. Oh, he understood the gravity of what he wished to do well enough, but consequences? Had he thought those through carefully and thoroughly? Hardly.

“It spans a few miles in several directions,” Nuada answered. “Even so, the children know it well, and their chatter travels even more swiftly than their feet. It will not be long.” But as she questioned why he would trust her and asked if she looked dangerous, Nuada smirked a little, slowly pouring the now-boiling water over a bed of dried leaves and letting it trickle down into a bowl-like cup. “Not at all, but looks, as we both well know, can be deceiving.” And yet he was not concerned whatsoever. “However… you are not an irrational individual, and I have given you no reason to wish to harm anyone here. I am not worried.”

As they spoke, a pair of bark children wandered up to Mantis and patted her on the leg, trying to get her attention. When she looked down, they offered something up to her in their three little hands. It was an antique enamel flower broach, with some sparkly stones in the center. They had found it in their travels, and since she seemed to like flowers, they thought to give it to her as a gift.

“It seems you have earned their favor. They rarely part with the trinkets they find, except to those they consider friends,” Nuada explained.

The bark children smiled with innocent anticipation, hoping she would like the gift.

#muse: nuada bethmoora