#sincerely someone whose mentally ill

[rifualk]

On Mental Health and Cosmic Embarrassment

I don't usually make a post in the aftermath of one of my spirals, so I bet most people see some of the vent posts I make, and assume I am just off my meds or something. I am on them but I might not be on the right ones. This is a thing that happens to me sometimes. I have psychotic episodes, where it feels like the things I am saying are completely inconsequential and I genuinely believe no one cares what I'm saying or, worst of all, that it cannot scare anyone that cares about me. I get too tired to fight my intrusive thoughts and I just ride them out. Most of my thoughts are not ones I enjoy having. I have trouble parsing what is real sometimes. For most of my life, out of a kind of primal shame and terror of being perceived or judged, I beat myself into believing that I just roleplayed as a crazy person online because I wanted attention for it, but it finally clicked for me at some point in my 20s that I was, and am, genuinely very mentally ill, maybe in ways that make me not-entirely-functional in the culture I inhabit. Also, I want attention for it.

Life is very embarrassing. I think embarrassment, shame, et al. is probably the most cosmic feeling of them all, because being embarrassed, for me anyway, leads invariably to my OCD extrapolating the embarrassment, no matter how slight, into its natural extreme, becoming a full-blown existential meltdown and often manifesting in some self-punishment. Or a lot of self-punishment. Instead of saying "everyone wants attention, it's not a big deal", my brain will overwhelm me with shame and make me vow to be quieter about the whole thing next time. Good emotions are meant to be expressed, I tell myself, and Bad ones are not. I think it's very unhealthy for people to not express their negative emotions openly. Or maybe I'm psychotic. I mean, I am psychotic. But maybe right now, too.

Ultimately this feeling peaks with the realization - again - that I'm a eukaryote. I live on a spinning ball of stardust in the aftermath of what had to have been a colossal disaster and waste of time. But it happened, and so now there's a bunch of stuff floating around, and some of that stuff started moving for reasons I don't personally understand and the implications of which scare me. And the moving stuff that moved faster got to stay moving longer. And so a chain reaction escalated, and eventually there were very large moving things whose survival adaptations had evolved in such a way that they could conceptualize and communicate complex information about the world around them, but they were also able to conceptualize themselves. This gave them a lot of grief. They wanted very badly for there to be an answer to why they were able to do that. Surely it served some purpose. But we never found one, and here we are.

I don't have a god to turn to. I have tried - earnestly, sincerely, and desperately - to reach out; I never hear back. I don't want to be an atheist, it's heartbreaking. Honestly. I want someone to be up there, or out there. Knowing there isn't, is just... cruel. It's horrifying and it wrenches my heart. Look at us, look how much we're suffering, where the fuck did you go, what the fuck is your problem? Help us!

In spite of everything, I am still not sure what I believe.

Don't you ever just cry about the world? Like, broadly? Don't you ever just have to take off your glasses and wipe the brine from them because you caught a glimpse of what people, as a species, could be capable of? And I get angry at myself, too. What am I doing about it? What even can I do? I can barely hold down a job. I am barely an adult. I am often mired in this feeling. It permeates everything. I'm living in a tragedy - not just my own, but millions and millions of others'. This is a nightmare. It's a nightmare and I'm an embarrassment, and my brain doesn't work right, and I'm living in a terrible reality that is shared by everyone, and yet somehow equally isolating and alienating to all of us. Does it have to be that way? Aren't we all lonely?

When I am spiraling I really do think that the end is near, either for me, or for everyone, or for both. To be fair, my confidence about humanity's future is not promising even when I am at my most sane. But in this kind of emotional place, the stakes are too high for me to care that what I say might come off as upsetting. It is completely overwhelming. I see my life up to this point, and I see how long I've been alive and realize I'm very Not Normal and I look and sound different than everyone around me and I'm an embarrassment. It's embarrassing to exist. It's embarrassing to be transgender, too. It's really, really embarrassing to be mentally ill and fully aware of it all the time. It's shameful. I am ashamed of how my family likely sees me. How my peers see me. I'm just a walking disaster. I feel like this bars me from leading a happy life or finding some success in art - It doesn't seem like you're allowed to be quite this much of a problem and "get away with it", does it? There's a bit of social sanitizing at work there - you are only allowed to be a certain level of messed up and if you pass that you're sort of a pariah. I don't think I've ever done anything pariah-worthy, but I can only see things from the inside of my own head, and there's a lot of unwanted noise in here.

I painted this when I lived in Oregon. I don't know how. I could not do art like this again if asked.

I'm not in a good place, generally-speaking. It could be worse - and it was for a long time- but it's still just not great. There are two reasons for this. One is that I'm very homesick. The other is that I found - and subsequently lost - my twin. But I only want to talk about the first reason right now - I grew attached to the Pacific Northwest in a way I've never really grown attached to any other place. It had a quality that exists nowhere else. It resonated with me immediately and I knew right away from the moment I first set foot there that it was my home. I grew to be a part of it, and it's the only place I felt I somewhat-belonged... I have been away from Oregon for 2 whole years as of next month. I feel like I'm a fish out of water, or a sapling in the wrong soil. I can't and won't say that the place I live currently is a bad place, but it isn't my place, and the disconnect has been maybe the nastiest shock to my system in all my life. Finding the place I loved, and living for over 12 years there, only to be wrenched away from it so suddenly, left a shock on me that I think has yet to surface in my work. I'm excited to see what form it takes when it does. Location is very important to my mental wellbeing, more than I think it is for most people. Maybe I am a plant. It's also very important for my art. I've struggled to find inspiration since I moved here. That said, I've had the very precious opportunity to just work on myself - on my transition, as well as my personal issues. I think I'm getting better, gradually, in some way. I have a job now, at least. So it's not entirely bad. I even grew sunflowers last summer.

Around this time I got banned from twitter, but I don't feel any shame about the reason why because I believe in my message. But it forced me to be a lot less active online for a long time. It also made me lose a lot of support. That's been something I've grappled with a lot these last 2 years - that people really don't like people like me, for reasons that are mostly not our fault. I will likely always be something of an outsider for being who I am now, but I was one before anyway. It's still worth it. I like the person I'm becoming. I feel like only recently did I allow myself to feel this self-love. I was too embarrassed of myself. It took a lot of patience and a lot of de-tangling my self-worth from a lot of trauma. So it's likely I would have needed to go through all of this regardless of where I was.

I still slip up. It's an uphill climb and it's slippery. I like to be transparent about these things. It's a relief - feeling like I need to hide things is my default state and it's lovely to just let go of stuff so I don't need to keep it in my head all the time. I have a lot of hangups still. I get discouraged about my art still - I fear I'll never build myself back up to where I was before, and that there will never be a time when I can really pay the bills with it. Or worse-still, that it just isn't special enough to last. That it isn't remarkable enough to survive after I'm gone. But I think a lot of people who make stuff feel that way, and it's not our fault. There's some relief in that. I'm happy to have even a few people that care about me and my work, and something I've been trying really hard to remember in recent years is to take time to appreciate them. I'm not actually alone. I have a lot of people that love me. I'm not an outsider. I'm very lucky to know the people I do, and I hold a deep regret for all the connections I've let go of because I was just too sick. Deep down I really do wish I could love everyone. I have no ill will towards anyone, not really.

I still don't know what I'm doing. I am just doing my best, I think. I'm really, really tired. I don't want to get any older. I'm scared of the passage of time. My memory is so bad, it feels like time is taken from me without me realizing. I am 33 years old. I do not have 33 years worth of memories. There are huge leaps. Gaps where suddenly I was just older and in more pain. Being adrift in time like this is horrific - one day I will blink, and the present moment may be completely forgotten. It can't go this fast. It just can't. Something has to be wrong. I don't want to die, I don't want to miss out on so much life or be unable to remember it. I don't want to find myself on my deathbed someday way sooner than I think and be unable to string together any kind of coherent thread from my memories. What is it all for? It has to mean something right? Why am I doing anything?

I think I finally understand that love is why. I don't know much more than that. Love is real, and it's the answer. If you find love, don't take it for granted, ever. No love is perfect. Take it with all its flaws. You don't have time to bargain with it. Love like you'll never love again, love like it's your last day alive, love like it will keep you alive forever, because it will. Every year closer to death you get, you will feel the regret of all the times you did not follow your heart. Life is short. I'm finding this out entirely too late. It goes by so fast, and what you have at the end are people and memories of being loved. To be loved is to live forever. It's the thing that connects us to everything else. It's the source and the answer to everything. It makes more sense the older I get. It used to sound cheesy, but I believe it with more sincerity every day.

I kept my last promise to you - there are no new scars on my arms, or bruises on my head or face.

#mental health posting #is there a better tag for that

[poetry-protest-pornography]

I've seen a lot of people hating on Ray, and it's honestly baffling to me.

As someone who has loved, and been loved by addicts -- someone who was raised by an addict -- it's honestly infuriating and painful to see so many people write Ray off as just a selfish drunk.

At first, it was clear that most people have never met or loved an addict. But it's become more and more about just straight up dehumanizing addicts, as though Ray's alcoholism makes him a bad person who doesn't deserve to be happy.

And like, fuck. If people can't see a character as sympathetic as Ray as a whole person, Ray, whose motivations and hurt are so clear and easy to understand, then what about the people in your lives who are addicts or otherwise struggling with mental illness? What do you think about strangers you might encounter who have fucked up their lives or relationships because of addiction? What about the addicts who aren't so easy to understand and want better for? What hope and care is there for them in your eyes?

Do they not deserve to recover and make amends with those they've hurt and be met with understanding -- not even necessarily forgiveness! Just acknowledgement of their struggle and their attempt to get and be better!

What about the addicts that never really make it out of their addiction? Do they not deserve basic compassion? Yes, even the ones who are mean in their inebriation. Even the ones that can't see or can't care about what they're doing to the people around them.

Ray is easy to understand, and he's easy to love, and some of y'all are holding him to standards the rest of the characters don't have to meet, and it is 100% because he chooses alcohol to cope with and avoid his pain. And I just think you should take a few to really think about why that is.

(it's interesting that Ray's friends and his dad all do this to some degree, this dismissing his worth because of his addiction and reducing him to an inconvenience. That they all dismiss his feelings and his ability to feel, and even tease him about his need to be loved. They all refuse to see when he's trying to be better and making progress, because they've all decided that he can't change, that he can't get sober, and that means they don't have to stop encouraging and enabling his drinking; they don't have to care about him.

Mew gets a pass for his drinking and drug use and assholishness, because they can blame Ray for it.

Sand has been the only person to see Ray as a whole person, and to love him anyway.

It isn't easy, loving someone so deep in their addiction. But Sand knows who Ray is, he sees Ray, and has let himself love him anyway. And some of y'all have decided this means Sand is being stupid, or that Ray has manipulated him into it, and this means they're terrible and toxic for each other.

It's interesting that some people find so little likeable about Ray in particular when the whole lot of them are such a mess.

They're all selfish and destructive in their own ways, but Ray is the one who gets talked about like he doesn't deserve to be happy or redeemed. Because people can't understand why an addict behaves like an addict, and doesn't just choose to stop.)

Anyways, this got away from me.

The way this show is portraying young people living with addiction is so real and accurate, and it's difficult and painful to see Ray and his addiction be treated like he is by the people in his life, and in discussions about him.

I sincerely hope that the people stuck on characterizing Ray as less than never know the pain of addiction, but I really really hope that any addicts in their lives/ who may come into their lives get better from them than they're giving this character who is so clearly good, who is trying, who is so easy to understand; because those people deserve better.

#this got rant-y and kind of messy oops #only friends the series #only friends #ofts ray #sandray #kind of

[parafessions]

I’m so annoyed seeing people with “pro-c paraphiles dni” in their profiles/bios/intros because it’s so incredibly vague and means nothing. Not only is the definition of contact incredibly subjective(ex. one pro-c MAP may be referring to contact as including passing by a kid in public while another means actual CSA and grooming) but paraphilias aren’t all harmful and being pro-c or not makes no moral difference for most of them. Foot fetishes(podophilia) are obviously not harmful but technically people with foot fetishes would be crossing dni’s if they’re pro-c and interact with those people.

It only seems to reaffirm that paraphiles aren’t good people. We’re given the “it’s just a mental illness/you can’t control it/you’re not a monster” pep talk but if we don’t explicitly say we’re anti-c we’re often interrogated. Even if the paraphilia is impossible to act on or is harmless it feels like we aren’t being treated like whole people. Sometimes paraphilias are deemed harmful for arbitrary reasons or because they sound like or are related to other harmful paraphilias(ex. Plushophilia, autophilias such as autozoophilia or autopedophilia, etc) even though there’s no actual harm in them no matter what stance you have.

I want to be open online about my paraphilias but I don’t want to have to align with terminology I don’t agree with. As a zoo I can’t with good conscience say I’m anti-c or non-c because many people see that as no interactions with any animals even non sexually and I have many pets who I love dearly. I can’t agree with it and risk someone attacking me because I’m “lying” about incredibly meaningless and subjective terminology. I feel like it does more harm than good but people assume pro-c by default and I can’t risk that either.

Sincerely,

A very fed up zoo, MAP, and overall paraphile whose philias are almost all harmful or questionable to act upon.

.

#confessions #paraphilia #paraphile

[marblecakemix]

I was thinking the other day about the "super straight sexuality" and how trans folks do not understand how sexual attraction works.

I don't know how other people saw it at first, but I understood the mechanics and need for a "super straight" label to come to life. I didn't see it as something bad, but rather quite helpful for both sides. I thought and still think that it's valid to not want to be in a relationship with a person whose genitalia is not your preferred one. At first, I saw some trans people agree with that want and boundary, but as soon as twitter got involved it became a scandal and transphobic to not want to date trans men/women bc of genitalia. I went with it at the time, bc I was too in this cult of everything that doesn't include trans people is transphobic and that straight people wanted to "take over" LGBTQ+ spaces.

Looking at it now, it should have been a big red flag for the lgb community. At that time it was I believe the first time trans cult declared someone's boundaries and attraction as wrong and offensive on a major scale. And as we can see now it just opened the gate to judge gays, lesbians and bisexuals for not wanting to date trans people because of their genitalia.

They push the same narrative they used for super straights to the lgb community. "It's not a big deal, they are still a (trans) man/woman", "you're weak for not wanting to take a trans dick/pussy", "what's the difference if a trans woman had the bottom surgery or not? She's a woman. You should be attracted to her!". It really shows that they really and sincerely do not care for anyone, but themselves.

I don't know how to tell you this, but when I say I'm attracted to women with pussy, I also mean I hate dick and I'll never take it, even if it's a "trans woman". It's not a trauma response, it's not a mental illness. That's just me being a lesbian. If you really think that anyone who says no and states their boundary is being offensive and transphobic, you should really stop to think for a second.

Being gay, lesbian, bi who only dates males and females or straight is totally valid and shouldn't be up for debate.

#that came out a lot longer than I thought #anyway here's my two cents on the matter #gender critical #radical feminism #radical feminist safe #radical feminists do interact #radfem #radblr #save the lesbians #save the gays #it's okay if you don't agree with everything #it's just my observation #talk tag #my stuff

[lemme-just-oops]

hiii may i request headcannons of arcana twilight bois with an s/o whose mbti personality type is infp?

Alpheratz: You are more on the quiet side, which he enjoys. He does not need someone talkative to relax. In fact it is easier for him to connect to you, since you don't need to talk to spend time together. None of the small talks. When you talk about your views on the world, he listens. Even if he disagrees with you, he will not say so. The world can be weird, messed up or fantastic, but he wants you to be his world.

Arcturus: Both of you seek to make the world a better place, so you better hop on because you have work to do and he knows how to accomplish the goals. He talks a lot about his visions and some you may find to agree with. In his mind, if you only managed to inspire a single person in your life, you already accomplished more than most. You can learn from each other and inspire each other. He will find himself drawn to your ideas. And if you have a creative hobby, be prepared to have him praise your projects almost nonstop.

Pollux: There is a reason why he feels most at ease with you around. Maybe it is because you are not as chaotic as the other people around him, or maybe the fact that you do not judge him. Either way, he thinks you help him stay calm and collected and he likes that. Sometimes he feels small and invisible, but it seems that you always appear to remind him. He is not one for deep conversations, but he mkes sure to always give you attention and try his best to engage thoughtfully. (He did borrow someone's glasses once and bought a turtleneck shirt to appear wiser. And to make you smile)

Sirius: He tries to shake up your worldview wih a lot of news of the surrounding are. How interesting it is to see someone who is a complete opposite of him. Someone who is so painfully sincere that he just cannot stay away from you. It is a double edged sword for him, because just as he reads you, you manage to see through his lies. Somehow this scares him, but he is drawn to the danger of letting you gaze into his soul.

Spica: Sometimes he mistakes your silence with sorrow, so he often asks if you are alright. Of course he does apologize for misunderstanding, and gives you space. It will take time for him to fully understand you, which is because he is in a more privileged position, so if people around him are silent, they fear him or believe him to have ill intentions. When he has to organize a party, he reminds you that you do not need to attend if it overwhelms you.

Vega: He loves the fact that you seem to be selfless, always on the search to help someone or give yourself to a good cause. In his attempts to support you, he might come across as rude. Weighing the effort you put into helping someone with the time it makes you happy. He sees aspects that most people would overlook and might regret, and he wants you to be sure that you enjoy what you do. He really admires you, and will support you nonetheless. But he is concerned about your mental health, because your happiness should not be tied to the happiness you provide others. But if someone ever makes you doubt yourself, he is ready to fight for you.

#sorry if i messed up #the personality types are hard for me to interpret #i tried tho #arcana twilight #arcturus #otome game #pollux #alpheratz #sirius #vega #spica #request #infp

[airiat]

northern sky, seven. ✧˚ · .

{masterlist | beginning}

pairing: joel miller x you / f!reader (wc: 35.3k, 10 chapters)

rating: explicit, 18+

work tags: no outbreak, age difference (27/42), hurt/comfort, ptsd, fate, ldr, explicit sexual content (rough/romantic sex, light d/s & sadomasochism, dirty talk, choking/biting, oral (f & m receiving), unprotected piv, aftercare)

work warnings: themes of death (more details here, contains spoilers), depictions of mental illness/alcoholism, light discussion of theoretical relationship with minor (not condoned by either party), light blood kink

ch. summary: take him back in time with you. he won't flinch.

{ao3}

note: this is the one where the themes of death really come into play. i'll include the more detailed warning once more here, but it does contain spoilers. know that while my depiction is fairly detailed, it is also written gracefully and mindfully. it takes place in the past and is narrated by someone who holds back on thinking about/remembering it.

seven. {4k}

There’s an Italian restaurant in the heart of downtown. It’s one of those with the red-checked tablecloths, the stained glass light fixtures, the little candles on the tables, all that fake plastic greenery. It’s even got the worn old carpet, flattened from forty years of shoes.

This is where Joel’s taken you for dinner. You can’t blame him; it’s the nicest place in town. In fact, the only place that isn’t tacos or McDonald’s. It’s just that this place has seen your whole life. 

You could point out the table you sat at during your eighth birthday party, where you ate too much too fast and were sick in the bathroom. The other table you and your best friend ate at with your parents to celebrate your middle school graduation. Then, maybe, the booth you’d shared with your first crush, where you’d sat next to him on the same side, eaten fettuccine alfredo, and held hands under the table. 

Then, there was no hole torn ragged and ruthless in the paper-thin fabric of your being. Then, there was all the hope of a life unmarred by mistake after mistake after mistake. Then, you were made of roses. And, so, how can you talk about those times without drawing Joel’s gaze to how different it is now? You can’t, so you won’t.

But it would be something to talk about, at least.

You’re sitting at a booth with him, studying the menu, pretending like you’re going to order something other than fettuccine alfredo and a glass of chardonnay when only the drink choice has changed over these years. And Joel has his face buried in it, too, but probably not for the same reason. You’re buying more time.

So, how exactly do you talk to a man who could drive a car while you were still in diapers? Actually talk. Not just give your emotional, half-formed confessionals or let him furnish the fleeting silence with half-sincere declarations of devotion. Talk. How did you grow up? What are your parents like? What did you use to dream about?

You don’t know. 

Lucky is the waitress approaching when the lull has just started to drag on too long. Unlucky is her being a girl you went to school with who you never really liked. You’re adults now, both stuck in the same town of purgatory, but boredom still flourishes. She won’t ask her nasty questions, at least not to your face.

Girl, whose man is this? He’s not yours, is he? He looks old enough to be your dad.

Her shrill giggle rings in your ear even ten years later…except, wait, she really is giggling right now. Your eyes snap up from the menu just in time to see her hand on Joel’s arm, mascara-laden eyelashes batting. No, Joel isn’t yours, but your hackles are raised. You’d bare your teeth, snatch her hand right off of him. But, then, you pause. He’s smiling, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Eyes that are looking only at you.

You bite back your smirk and then, even as her back is turned to you, say, “I’m gonna do the fettuccine alfredo and a glass of chardonnay.”

She whips her head around like she’s just realized you’re there. “Huh, what?”

You repeat yourself, and she fishes for her little notebook to scribble the order down. “Right, sorry,” she says. And then, back to Joel. “For you, sir?”

He squints down at the menu, points at something printed there. “Uh, the meat ravioli, please.”

“And to drink?”

“I’ll have…” his finger drifts to something else on the menu “...a glass of cabernet.”

You never would have taken him for someone who’d drink wine. But when you imagine tasting its flavor on his lips later, you’re glad he is. And, all the same, hope you can somehow slip the image inside the waitress’s head. You can have him, but not her.

She collects the menus from the table with a tight, polite smile. “I’ll have that right out for you.”

“Well, she seemed…friendly,” Joel hedges once she’s gone.

You nod. “Yeah, she was so friendly when she made fun of me for not shaving my legs in seventh grade.”

He grimaces. “Take it you weren’t friends, then?”

“No, we just grew up together in this town. Another one of us who couldn’t get out of it.”

“So, you’ve really lived here your whole life, huh?” he asks.

You cup your hands around the candle’s warm glass, make the flame dance with your tremor. “From birth until death, probably.”

“You don’t think you’ll ever leave?”

You look up at him, find him leaning on his elbows, hands outstretched almost enough to reach yours. “I dunno.” You shrug. “The mortgage is paid off, and I do have a life here. However small it is. Maybe I’d go somewhere warmer, but that’s never seemed like a good enough reason.”

“No, probably not,” he says, glancing at the candle. “You sure don’t like being cold, though.”

You chuckle. “What about you, then? Always lived in Austin?”

“Born and raised in Dallas, then my brother and me set off on our own. Chose Austin. He’s five years younger, always been a pain in my ass, but I liked having him around.” Joel smiles faintly.

“I have a sister,” you begin tentatively. “She’s a little older than me. Lives in Denver with her husband.”

“Oh, don’t think you ever told me that. You see much of her?”

“I haven’t seen her in a few years, no.”

“Denver’s not too far, though.”

This would be the perfect time for the food to arrive. Never thought you’d want to see that girl again so badly, but she and your two meals remain frustratingly out of sight. So, you have to continue. 

“We…haven’t gotten along for a while. So, we don’t talk, definitely don’t see each other.”

This is the truth, yes, but you’re leaving out the part about how your phone has been burning with an ignored call from her received last week. And then another two weeks earlier. And then a third, a month before that. 

“Tommy and I haven’t always gotten along, either. There was a time we didn’t talk for, oh, I dunno, six months. But we made up, realized we were just being idiots.”

Joel, in all his generous kindness, is just trying to be helpful. You know this, but a small burst of resentment still tears through you. Whatever his story, it can’t be anything like yours. Your sister was your best friend. Now, you don’t even know her.

“What were you fighting about?” you ask, just to prove yourself correct.

“There was a girl we both wanted. He was the one who got her. Stole her, I said,” Joel answers with a laugh. 

See? You were right. Something stupid and incomparable. He could never know this pain the way you do. 

But Joel lowers his head to peer into your eyes. “You alright, honey?”

When you blink, a pearl of water falls from your lashes. You’re actually crying? No, why would you cry? You should answer him, make him stop worrying.

Of course, this is when your food arrives at the table. The glass of wine is set before you, and you pluck it to take a long gulp. The waitress stares at you with a look of stifled revulsion. When you put the glass back down, some of the wine spills over the side with how much you’re trembling.

“I can get you another one,” she says flatly. 

“I think she–” Joel starts to say at the same time you rasp, “I’m fine, thank you.”

“‘Kay,” she says, stepping away from the table like she can’t leave fast enough. “Well, let me know if you need anything else. Enjoy.”

The same fettuccine alfredo that you’ve been having for twenty years is, all of a sudden, deserving of your full attention. You bite into it like you’re expecting an answer to emerge from the depths of this too-rich white sauce. When none comes, you let your fork fall with a wet thwap and then just sit there staring at it.

“If something’s the matter, maybe I can fix it,” Joel says softly.

Your eyes drift up to him slowly because you know there is no fixing it. “Can you travel back in time?”

The candlelight swaths his face in flickering shadows. “Maybe. How far back you wanna go?”

“Two years.”

He nods. “When would you like to go?”

“Can we leave right now?”

“Sure we can,” he answers. 

Your hands have found their way back to the candle. Joel cups them with one of his, the other he raises to get the waitress’s attention. She appears moments later with a smile and those mascara eyelashes.

“Anything I can get for ya?” she asks him cheerily.

“Change of plans,” he tells her. “We’ll need two boxes and the check.”

She gives an exaggerated pout. “Sorry to see you go. I’ll be right back with them.”

“I’m sorry. You didn’t even get to have a bite of your food,” you tell Joel when she’s gone.

He smirks, stabs a ravioli, and shoves it whole into his mouth. Takes a moment to chew, then nods appreciatively. “Good, but I think it’ll be even better tomorrow as leftovers.”

You’ve never really agreed with that notion about leftovers. Probably, Joel’s just trying to make you feel better. It doesn’t work. You eye his full plate with guilt. Maybe tomorrow you’ll cook him something even better to make up for it.

The waitress returns a moment later, sets down two boxes, a plastic bag, and the check. “The drinks are on me,” she says. “Hope you two have a good night.” Then, for the last time, she leaves the table.

Joel reaches for his wallet and pulls out a few bills to tuck into the little black book. Then, he hands one of the boxes to you, goes about heaping his pasta into the other. When you’ve both finished, you stand up. He gets your coat and helps you shrug into it, tosses on his own. 

He leads you out of the restaurant and to the truck, where he opens the door for you, and you huddle in the seat like you usually do until it’s warm enough. When he starts the truck, he cranks the heat up but lowers the volume on the radio.

“So, we headed somewhere, or…tell me what the plan is, darlin’,” Joel says once he’s given you a moment to thaw.

You turn to face him, pull your coat up tighter around your neck. “If I wanted to show you what I’ve been living with for all this time, I wouldn’t expect you to tell me what you are.”

He looks over at you, furrows his brow. “Alright…”

“It’s going to be shocking, I think, and I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to leave me afterward. If you don’t like what you see me become.”

“Honey, I–”

“It’d be okay, Joel.”

The cab falls still and quiet. Familiar piano notes from the radio waft through the air, blanketing you in a bittersweet sort of peace. Oh no, I see / A spiderweb is tangled up with me. You don’t know if the feeling reaches him too, but across from you, his eyes close briefly and then open again.

“Alright,” he finally says. “Tell me where to go.”

Like the first night you drove together, the only words that pass between you are the directions you speak in a muted tone. Like the first night, the small space is choked with awkwardness. A million questions and the buzz of your nerves fill your head like fuzz. Should you do this? Is he the right person? What will this change?

But, also like the first night, Joel bridges the vast space and threads your fingers with his. 

Yes. If not him, then who else will it be? And as for the change–doesn’t it all change anyway?

Unlike the first night, the drive goes on. Past the edge of town, past where all the lights still reach. You’re left with only the moon and the glittering stars above the snowy slopes of rolling land and the narrow road that traces it. You don’t know if this scares him. It should scare you that you’d let him take you out into the dark. But the place in your chest where fear would appear is left empty. Maybe you deserve whatever would happen to you out here. Maybe it wouldn’t be the first time. 

“You should slow down a little,” you tell him. “It’s coming up. You’ll miss it.”

Joel does what you suggest, and you start to feel where you should stop completely. Feel it in how your body tightens so much that it aches. Feel it in how your breath stops coming. You look out the window and see a dark shape in the field alongside the road.

“Joel, right here,” you whisper.

He comes to a stop on the shoulder, but you don’t make a move to leave your seat, so neither does he. All he does is glance around the area outside the truck, pause on something, and then look back to you. You’re staring down at your interlocked hands, trying to will them still. It never works.

“You can change your mind,” he says gently. “I can turn around and take you home.”

You wish. But you’re trapped here. Trapped here again. “If you don’t know this, then you’ll never know me.”

“But it doesn’t have to be now. We can come back. Maybe when it’s daytime,” Joel says.

You shudder. “It’d be worse during the day.” You’d have to see it all.

“Don’t have to put yourself through this for me. I don’t want you hurtin’.”

But you would be, even if you were a thousand miles away from here. Any time, any place. You tell him this.

Joel takes a deep breath. “Alright,” he says, but it doesn’t sound like he’s alright. “Tell me how to help.”

“Come outside with me.”

You leave the truck before he does, plunging mindlessly into the cold air. But you freeze at the front, hand on the hood like you’re hoping some unseen force will come and glue it down. Someone does come, but it’s Joel there to stand at your side and wait until you’ve outlasted the sticky fear in your lungs. His breath, your breath, hangs in the air as two pale clouds. 

“This isn’t what I wanted,” you begin quietly. “I tried to stop it. Okay? You have to know that.”

“Okay,” Joel says.

You stride forward, stop stiff and still in front of the small wooden cross sunken into the ground next to the road. Joel, your silent shadow, follows and retakes his place beside you. 

“My mom died here,” you tell him.

“I’m so sorry, darlin’.”

The tiny hairs on the back of your neck bristle. He shouldn’t be saying that to you.

“I was with her,” you say. “I was the one driving.” You stoop down to straighten the snow-crusted wreath nestled around the top post. “She was always making me cart her around town. She had her driver’s license, but you’d never see her behind the wheel,” you continue. “So we were always together. But we never really got along.”

She always picked your car as the arena for your fights. Where you couldn’t escape her, but neither could she escape you. She always had something to say about the way you were living. You weren’t doing enough, usually. Where was your greatness? Your ambition? Your sensibility? 

You’re not making enough money with that salon. You don’t contribute anything except a mess of dirty dishes. I want you out of my house. 

It was no different that night.

 Joel is wordless beside you, but you don’t need him to say anything. You just need the strength of his solidness, the warmth, to keep going. You need him to just hear you. To be the first.

“We argued. A lot. For my whole life. Because I was never good enough for her, and she was never afraid of saying that.” You pull your coat tighter around yourself as his hand finds the small of your back, lets you lean into him. “When I was younger, she used to make me cry all the time. It would feel like the world was ending whenever she yelled at me. But, older, I was more immune to it. If she’d yell, I’d yell back. Until I just got so tired, Joel, and then I’d just sit there in silence. Try to shut her out.”

Your ears were ringing, and your skin was so tight around you, like your bones were going to pop through any minute now. She was in the seat next to you, and her words bounced off you like hail on a glass window. But you could still feel them stinging, even if you couldn’t hear them. 

Are you even listening to me? Acknowledge me when I’m speaking to you, you disrespectful little–

“I don’t remember what we were fighting about that night. It was probably about money. It usually was. She’d shit on my work, my business, but then she’d always be asking me to pay for things. Would never deign to get a job of her own,” you tell Joel, and he makes a sound in the back of his throat. “But I was driving, sitting there trying to ignore her. It was the usual story. Except that night–” you swallow, but it feels like you’re choking “--that night she….” You press your palms against your chest, feel the thundering of your heart. “I can’t, Joel,” you gasp.

“You don’t have to, honey,” he murmurs. “You don’t have to.”

You try again. “She–” But you sway on your feet.

He sinks with you, an arm around your shoulders, as you crouch down, trying to make yourself small, trying to hide from the stars and the moon who saw you that night, which twinkle with watery eyes this night. You breathe hoarsely, swipe your eyes clean with a frozen hand. Her cross is right there. She’s not. But the echo of her is. The shadow of her arm reaching over and– 

“She grabbed the wheel,” you force out. “I was ignoring her, and she grabbed the wheel to get my attention.”

You hear his sharp inhale but, louder, you hear the memory of your scream. Maybe hers, too. It never should have been fatal. It wouldn’t have been. But you were so blinded by shock, made dumb by the terror that she would even do that.

“A deer. I saw it too late. When we hit it, we rolled and rolled, and–” Little beans tossed around in a tin can. The groaning of metal. Glass like stardust in your eyes and your mouth. And then silence. A single cloud of hot breath. Blood running in small streams down your face.

Behind your mother’s cross is the ditch where you landed.

You exhale, rise to your feet, slow. Joel rises with you, takes your hand. You jut your chin out towards the spot in the snow. With half-lidded eyes, a vision of your mangled car flickers in and out of existence. “It was December. I was trapped in the wreckage, in the cold, with her body. I don’t know for how long. Someone finally came across me, and I was barely conscious.”

“God.” Joel’s voice cracks and his hand tightens around yours.

A woman’s frantic voice, muddled as though spoken underwater, but familiar. The grinding of your metal coffin being split apart. The pain as it all finally came into sharp focus. A glimpse of your mother’s long hair spilling onto the snow, her bloody hand like a wilted rose. 

You press your face into Joel’s arm, trying to force the image out of your head. But it’s stuck; it’s burned in. You never should have tried to remember. When you pull back, the sleeve of his coat is splotched with tears and snot. You grimace and wipe at it with your sleeve until he looks down and catches your eye.

The look he wears is why you were always so afraid to tell people this story. You don’t deserve his pity, and now that you have it, you don’t know what to do with it. It’s a smooth pebble held in your palms: beautiful but useless. Worthy of a spot on the shelf, not worth enough to keep it from collecting dust.

You pull your gaze from his, break his hold, step to the cross, and yank the wreath off it. You hit it against your thigh a few times to dislodge the snow, then set it back. “I still loved her, even though I hated her,” you say. “She was my mom.”

Without waiting, without another glance, you turn and walk back to the truck, settle down inside. Joel joins you a moment later but doesn’t speak until it’s warm in the cab and you’ve let your coat pool around you.

“My wife, Sarah’s mother,” Joel begins. He’s staring straight ahead, hands limp in his lap. “She took ‘er own life. We were too young, bad for each other, and I was a shitty excuse of a husband.”

 Your head jerks to him, all your self-pity falling away. This is not what you were expecting. No, you were expecting empty platitudes, clumsy attempts at comfort. But this…this is him baring his own wound, showing you how it looks a lot like yours. 

He continues. “I shoulda been able to see something was wrong. If I hadn’t had my head so far up my own ass, I probably would’ve. But I didn’t want to be married. Didn’t want to be a father. I was so fixed on resentin’ her that I just couldn’t see anything but that.”

A prickling coldness runs through your veins. This sounds nothing like the man who has been so gentle to you–the kindest you’ve ever met. Have you been so wrong about him? Have you really been so ruined that you hadn’t even noticed a stone heart?

What kind of man has a wife who killed herself? 

Joel glances over at you like he heard your unspoken question. “I was just about a monster back then. Took me losin’ her to understand that. But she didn’t deserve any of it. I shoulda been better for her. But I still became better for–for–” he gulps, and when he speaks again, his voice is tight “--for Sarah. Made her my whole life, gave everything I had to her. Maybe it’s my fault she don’t have a mother anymore.”

“Joel…” A thousand different words press at your lips. He’s no longer who he said he once was. You know this. He doesn’t deserve to carry this pain. You would pour out everything you wished someone would have told you. It can’t be your fault, you’re not something horrible, you tried, you did the best you could. But he stops you with a hand on your knee.

“I just wanted to tell you, after what you told me, but it’s still my cross to bear,” he says. “There’s nothin’ you have to say.”

And so, you say nothing. You only just reach across the waiting distance and pull Joel into you. Find the hollow of his throat, take your lips and soothe the ache that comes from speaking those kinds of words. Let his hands come up to thread into your hair, sigh as he empties your mind of the things you had to remember. 

There’s a song in the background on the low radio. You don’t have the wits to catch much more than the velvety guitar, but you do hear: Oh I'll never know what makes this man / With all the love that his heart can stand / Dream of ways to throw it all away. 

It sinks into you, and you pull back to look at him. He meets you with eyes deeper than the earth. You want to ask if this is what he means, if he could have written those words himself, if he’d throw your love away should you ever give it to him.

But there’s no way to say it. Your mouth won’t even form the question. There is no asking it. Instead, you just pull his hand into your lap and hope you can convince him not to.

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #tlou fanfiction #my writing #sun & sky #my posts

[selkiehimbo]

is there an aromantic spectrum where like sometimes you feel love and other times you dont?

because sometimes my mania and psychosis and especially depression from being bipolar can literally make it so i cant feel love. even for like things sometimes but usually i can still love objects and creature comforts. but i also usually experience love for people and places and things. and even concepts. so the lack of this is tied to an episode usually.

so like... is there room for such intersectionality of identity and illness on the aromantic spectrum? if yes, what is it called?

i will have to do some research.

most of what i look up says 'aromantic and asexual isnt a mental illness' which is true and good. but like i am mentally ill and i sincerely feel like during some episodes of my illness, i become more or less asexual or aromantic. and i cant separate which is which because its all me.

there is an ace-flux and demisexual and stuff like this which kinda leaves room for me as a mentally ill person to have my illness impact my sexuality.

and i understand why some ace and aro people dont want to have their sexual or romantic identity categorized as a mental illness or symptom of one.

however, for me... i think it can be. when i experience sexual attraction to someone that i dont know, i am usually manic. so my not being ace is related to my illness at times.

and similarly, any sort of episode but usually a depressive one can leave me feeling aromantic.

i would just like a term for this that doesnt invalidate identities that arent based around having a mental illness, and also says... yea, sometimes mentally ill people be like... having a different sexual or romantic orientation due to their illness and how it impacts them. and like... thats also ok and good and not like... something to be treated ?? yea.

because lbr for a second here... treatment doesnt cure bipolar or psychosis. it just makes it more manageable. even with treatment i have experienced these things. so it is my identity, and my identity is affected by being mentally ill.

and i am also fairly certain i have DID, and like... what if one headmate is ace and the other is bi, yknow?? like... idk man i feel like sexual and romantic orientations need to have more inclusivity of people whose mental illness does affect their identity. without that being like a taboo nono zone. which it currently looks to be.

#.txt #bipolar #aromantic #asexual

[a-tale-never-told]

//Hey everyone, Mod Sam here.

//I come to you with something pretty uncommon for this blog, and it's a discussion about mental health, toxicity, and especially mental disorders, the products of which are kinda heavy, so if you'd rather skip it, I understand.

//But I wanna talk about this because it concerns a growing misconception and trend I've been seeing about a type of mental Disorder that I'm sure we're all familiar with, and that's Social Anxiety disorder, as well as highlighting a life lesson video that I watched about that, which handles the topic poorly and why you shouldn't pay it any heed.

//This one goes out to everyone who suffers from that type of mental disorder and fears how others perceive them. You guys are actually amazing.

//Before we discuss the numerous myths that people seem to label when it comes to the topic of mentally disabled people and the damaging lies and misunderstandings that are really common when it comes to talking about disorders and anxiety issues, what is Social Anxiety Disorder?

//Social Anxiety Disorder, or social phobia, is an anxiety that's characterized by feelings of fear and anxiety in types of social situations causing considerable distress for the person, and damaging or limiting their ability to function in at least some aspects of everyday life. Symptoms of this disorder usually range from expressing concern about how presentable they are towards other people, to fearing being judged by others for their lack of social skills, and oftentimes, it leads to them behaving a certain way or saying something in a normal conversation and then feeling embarrassed afterward.

//Generally, they often tend to isolate themselves from society to avoid being in that situation again, acting distant when they're with large groups of people. In some extremely common cases, they might resort to avoiding eye contact, or blushing when someone's talking to them, which is a key part of social anxiety disorder and the lack of communication it often produces.

//According to psychologist B.F. Skinner, phobias are controlled by avoidance behaviors, which can be put into two categories of how these types of behavioral aspects play out whenever a situation like this happens.

Major avoidance behaviors. These typically include an almost compulsive or pathological lying behavior to preserve self-image and avoid being judged in front of others This is mostly attributed to those who are compulsive liars, or people who have a tendency to lie about everything 24/7, even if they can't control it. One of my personal headcanons is that Kokichi was diagnosed with a social anxiety disorder since it's repeatedly stated that he considers lying a big part of his personality since he'll often claim something only to reveal that he's lying about the whole thing. But that's a topic for another time.

Minor avoidance behaviors. This is the type of behavioral aspect that's often presented in media and the public eye, almost to the point of being somewhat regarded as a stereotype, though they're both similarly used. It's often portrayed as people avoiding eye contact, crossing their arms to hide shaking, or lack of speaking in a conversation. This has been used so much that it's become the de facto behavior when somebody thinks of "Social Anxiety Disorder" and that's kinda accurate for how people with this type of illness act.

//Still, I'm tired of the common thought people have when it comes to portraying people with social issues as being too afraid to speak up, and referring to it as "shyiness" which isn't even true at all, because it exceeds normal shynesss, leading to social avoidance, and missing out on interacting with other people that might've been sincere with us.

//But now we're going to talk about the media in question, which is a life-lesson YouTube video, created by the YouTuber Dhar Mann, whose main brand of content is him taking valuable life lessons and talking about real-life problems, such as toxic relationships, fat shaming, and numerous other topics, and creating the most unrealistic life-lesson scenarios with the weirdest dialogue I've ever seen.

//It's one of those pretty simplistic life lesson videos about how the protagonist warns the antagonist about doing something wrong, but the antagonist ignores the warning and does it regardless. In this case, it's about this teenage gamer called Ali who's having a discussion with his athletic older brother, Brandon, about Ali's questionable habits of constantly playing video games and not doing anything. Brandon points out that Ali's never going to have a successful career by just endlessly streaming, which Ali doesn't want to admit.

//Brandon calls Ali a "shy loser' saying that he'll never achieve success in life if he continuously plays video games and that he's destined to never be successful, even though he's rightfully explaining to Ali the risks and trials it takes to become a gamer. Ali is deeply affected by his brother's torment and toxicity toward him and he begins to question his self-confidence and sense of worth in society, believing that he'll never become successful. And then guess who decides to make an appearance at the near climax?

//Surprisingly, it's none other than Faze Rug, the official co-owner of the esports and video gaming entertainment business, Faze Clan. I'm positively sure you're all confused as to why Faze Rug's making a guest appearance here, on a life lesson video, but it's outrightly stated that Ali idolizes Faze Clan greatly, and Dhar Mann was collaborating with Faze Rug to produce this video from the beginning in an attempt to promote Faze Clan, so that offers a reasonable explanation as to why Faze Rug's present in the video, but it's still a pretty confusing explanation.

//Upon seeing his hero chatting with him, Ali begins to express absolute excitement and freaks out about Faze Rug's sudden appearance, which is certainly not how a person diagnosed with social anxiety disorder would've responded to their idol wanting to have a conversation with them and tells Faze Rug about his brother's harmful advice about his shyness, to which he conveniently says that he's also shy and states that Ail should think of having a social anxiety disorder, constantly stuttering, and feeling like you're perpetually trapped in a never-ending cycle of loneliness is a superpower and that it doesn't make you a loser, but makes you awesome.

//...Ali is inspired by this life-changing piece of advice from Faze Rug, and immediately rushes to his computer and begins his very first livestream. Within the brief span of just a few days, Ail's popularity begins to dramatically increase, to the point where he gets noticed by the Faze Clan themselves and is offered a contract to join their team, which he gladly accepts. He's so notorious that he even manages to purchase a fancy Porsche, gets into an intimate relationship with a popular girl in school, and gets sponsored by GFuel. In other words, all the generic, typical dreams that you'd correctly expect to happen in a scenario like this happen.

//Obviously, everybody, aside from his endorsing fanbase which is literally made up of children, proceeded to rip into the video's horrible presentation of its message, and I completely agree with that, so I'm gonna count the ways in which this life lesson video is awful.

1. Ali and Brandon don't even feel like brothers in the slightest. It doesn't showcase any kindness or affectionate behavior that you'd might expect from siblings, no believable humanity or empathy from them, and nothing about why their relationship took a tumultuous turn in the first place. It just showcases Brandon's resentment of Ali's problems and expects us to side with Ail because it's causing him issues when he's rightfully stating the truth.

2. Brandon's "toxicity" instead feels more like it's a mixture of misinterpretation, lack of proper understanding of the situation, sibling bullying, meanspiritedness, miscommunication, or some other significant problem. That isn't toxic behavior, it's just a simple case of sibling bullying that requires understanding and more empathy from Brandon.

3. If someone is bullying you and stating that you'll never be successful because you're shy/anxious/terrified and that they're feeling jealously insecure about your success a person, the proper response is to ask why they feel that way and not act like it's an intrinsic part of their human nature. Nobody WANTS to have these thoughts, nobody wants to have these problems, nobody asked for them, and nobody wants to have their friends resentful of them. Sometimes, it's just a case of understanding their issues and showing them empathy

4. If you are this person and someone responds to your concerns about being shy/anxious/terrified by continuing to berate you and then abandoning you due to your problems, you are better off without them in your life. They are the toxic jerk, not you.

5. The idea of "being shy is a superpower" is absolutely nonsensical. While the original intentions behind it aren't inherently awful, Faze Rug here has taken it to mean that suffering from extreme loneliness, social ineptness, lacking enough confidence to hold a conversation with someone, and worrying about the slightest of problems is automatically a superpower and that it doesn't make you weak. That's a clear sign of toxic advice being an influential person who only cares about selling his merchandise to fans, disregarding their mental well-being, and proceeding to give them harmful advice. Relationships are a two-way road upward, and the people involved should work to maintain and support it; having only one being portrayed as introverted and the other benefits from it while giving nothing in return isn't friendship or admiration. It's more like parasitism.

6. Brandon's position is that Ail should be the one to communicate more with other people, not wasting his livelihood on video games, but at no point does Brandon suggest any alternative solutions for Ali's social anxiety like therapy, offer suggestions about Ail changing his behavior on their own terms, or even bothering to have a heartfelt or meaningful conversation with, expressing sympathy for Ail's dilemma and trying to figure out what's wrong with his brother. No, Brandon simply labels him as a nervous loser because he's too self-centered to even show compassion toward him, which is not only incredibly selfish, it's one of the most damaging things you could do for someone with rejection sensitivity. Keep in mind that it's his younger brother he's putting down, so it makes it all unbearably worse than it actually is.

7. People with these types of social problems who avoid you or try to isolate themselves from society when you try to interact with them are not being toxic, seeking some form of approval, or trying to manipulate you or deceive you. They're often experiencing real fear and real concerns about how they're viewed by the majority of the public, and so may be avoiding you because it's the only way they can prevent themselves from getting humiliated, embarrassed, or mistreated by others around them. It's unhealthy, but that's why it's better to approach the situation with sympathy and compassion, rather than assuming they have bad intentions.

8: Toxic people are far easier to read than you might believe. As someone who's been exposed to countless amounts of toxicity throughout my life, I can confidently say that it isn't a pleasant experience by any means. They make everything about themselves, put your desires and your concerns down, exploit your friendship for personal gain, constantly try to guilt-trip you and make you believe you're the one at fault, never taking any responsibility, and then cut you off when you're no longer useful or exploitable. In other words, exactly like Brandon and Faze Rug in this video.

9: I'm just going to promptly issue this statement: Mental health problems do not make you a toxic or bad person, especially with severe mental disorders such as this. People with those problems are more often than not the victims of toxic and abusive behavior, not the perpetrators of said behavior. Mental illness gets used FAR too causally as referring to behaviors people don't like or find strange, rather than what they actually are: problems that some people have that do not define their entire character, no matter how much it's portrayed in the common perception of it.

10. I don't even know what else to describe this life lesson video's terrible message other than the fact that it's okay for people to feel introverted and shy most of the time, but it shouldn't define you as an individual or a person and you can't continuously live in a cycle of social avoidance and nervousness, because that's incredibly unhealthy, and only serves to limit whatever social interactions you're missing out on. Working on your self-esteem and self-confidence is an important step in overcoming social anxiety, as it displays that you're becoming confident in yourself as a person, and are more willing to express yourself healthily. Trust me, it works miracles.

//This video's message is supposed to be that having social anxiety issues doesn't make you weak instead, it's apparently a superpower, instead, the message I took away from this was that it's okay to feel introverted and nervous often, but that it shouldn't stop you from socializing with other people and attempting to make lasting relationships with friends, and I feel like I'm correct in that assessment.

//I'm a person who's suffering from an excessive case of Social Anxiety disorder, with my behavior usually consisting of being inept at holding an interesting conversation in real life, as I would just be incredibly hesitant whenever someone was talking to me, and I'd barely even said anything meaningful or amazing whenever I was talking with someone. Contrary to what Dhar Mann thinks, it isn't simplistic and it isn't easy, but the possibility of gaining confidence and connecting with others is very likely, it's just that it gradually takes a lengthy amount of time for people who suffer from an uncurable illness like this.

//It takes kindness, compassion, persistence, confidence, courage, and understanding, not to mention exposing yourself to situations that make you anxious will eventually help you overcome shyness over pointing out that having social anxiety and shyness and being unwilling to change that behavior is a superpower.

//I promise you, whatever problems someone's social anxiety issues might cause for you, the problems it causes for them are far worse. By using avoidance as a tool to cope, they won't be making any sort of personal growth or change, but they'll instead be depriving themselves of a crucial part of human development, and they won't be helping themselves or anybody, as well as reinforcing everything that they were afraid of.

//I sincerely hope Dharr Mann grows up and learns the importance of compassion over selfishness, and makes an effort to give more helpful advice for the majority of his life lesson videos. However, since this is an old video that's been uploaded since 2021, it's extremely unlikely that he actually learned anything valuable, and continues to spread harmful, damaging, messages about real-life topics to this day.

//And to everyone who struggles with these issues, and other types of mental disorders in real life, I promise you, people like this don't deserve to be a part of your life, especially if they're being disingenuous about your feelings. You are worth so much more than you think you are, and you all deserve to have good things in your life.

//The people worth having around you are the ones who acknowledge your flaws while emphasizing your strengths and positive qualities as people. They're the people who want to help you grow out of your issues and assist you in becoming a better version of yourself. And if you have the misfortune of encountering people who relentlessly spew negative, toxic comments like Brandon, you can at least try and take the lesson of what to look out for in toxic people, as they absolutely don't deserve to see just how kindhearted, and amazing you all truly are.

//People are kinder and more understanding of other people's well-being than they're given credit for, and you should be that kind of model person for yourself, it's not impossible. Show yourself compassion and understand where you might've gone wrong, rather than constantly punishing yourself and beating yourself up for the smallest of things. Otherwise, you'll end up destroying yourself, living in a cycle of self-loathing and self-harm that's going to become difficult to escape and detrimental to how you live life. It's better for yourself, especially for you and the ones closest to you.

//Apologies if this wasn't what you were all expecting. Admittedly, this is significantly different compared to what I usually write, but I just wanted to offer some truly useful advice when it comes to addressing real-life problems such as this, and I genuinely hope that people would willingly take away from meaningful words such as this, and frequently strive to become better people and better human beings, treating others with the same compassion, empathy, kindness, and respect, that the ones closest to me were willing to provide.

//Have a wonderful rest of the evening, everyone^^

#mod talks #a tale never told

[financialsmatter]

Saturday Rant...Sick of Woke

If you’re not sick of Woke or Wokeness by now then you will be after reading this rant. One of the mistakes most people make when dealing with member of the ‘Woke’ Cult is attempting to engage them with logic and rational arguments.   Remember:  These people didn’t reach their world view through logic. They did it through emotion.   So, making fun of them is infinitely more effective…and fun. That’s why we’re turning today’s rant over to a reader who goes by the handle Zuby. Take it away Zuby: Absolutely Sick of Woke Wokeness is either a cult or disease of mental illness. And it’s time for us to start slapping it silly. In the past I never cared if someone was gay…until they started shoving it down my throat. And I never cared what color people were, until they started blaming me for your problems. And I never cared about people’s political affiliation, until they started condemning me for mine. I really never even cared where you were born, until you wanted to erase my history and blame my ancestors for your problems. You know, I never even cared if your beliefs were different than mine…until you said my beliefs were wrong. Furthermore, no one had an issue with drag shows, until you involved kids. And no one had an issue with sex changes, until you involved kids. This is not about LGBTQ rights. It’s about children’s rights. And now I care. And my patience and tolerance are gone. And I know I’m not alone in feeling like this. There are millions of us who feel like this. And it’s because ‘Wokeness’ has invaded every part of our culture…EVERY PART. And now we have a “WOKE” DA from NY – with a history of turning felons back on the street by lowering their crimes to misdemeanors from felonies – who wants to arrest Trump on charges that have been proven false? I hope Trump bitch-slaps that fat assed POS back to George Soros’ lair with all of his other bought-and-paid-for lawyers. Who’s with me here? ****************************** Wow! Thanks Zuby and we believe there are plenty of people out there who agree with you. And thanks for the outstanding meme (see below). As always, if you – our Dear Readers – have a rant you’d like to share then please send it to us.   You never know whose life will be affected by it.   And if you want to see some NSFW rants then go (HERE). Remember:  We’re Not Just About Finance. But we use finance to give you hope. *********************************** Invest with confidence. Sincerely, James Vincent The Reverend of Finance Copyright © 2023 It's Not Just About Finance, LLC, All rights reserved. You are receiving this email because you opted in via our website. Read the full article

[indy-gray]

This may be the internalized ableism in me but as someone who has never felt "disabled enough" to chime in on disability policy and advocacy and health care I'm sometimes horribly reminded that I am in fact "other" because of my ADA recognized mental illness. And this is complex in my head, but it doesn't have to be.

Anyway to my point: a lot of my non-mentally ill non-disabled, and frankly incredibly conservative family members or friends don't believe when I say "ANY exception to health-care provisions in the ACA on ANY grounds, religious included, is going to kill people and it will cause terrible, terrible things to happen." And it's because they don't actually listen when so many people say "you don't actually need your meds/mobility aids/accommodations/anything else I'm missing. You should try a holistic method! You shouldn't need chemicals to fix all your problems!" Like these people don't hear it on a daily basis. So when I say "hey the recent ruling in Texas regarding prep and the ACA is a hugely slippery slope that can and will affect genuinely EVERYBODY and could be the death knoll on the ACA if upheld" I MEAN it.

It's not about homosexuality or religion. It's about the fact that if there is an acceptable objection to health care provision to one person, then it is acceptable to anybody. Sure, your religious beliefs say you can't support gay people? (Get help) Okay, sincerely held religious beliefs tend to be protected in the US. But what happens when an anti-vaxxer doesn't cover the flu vaccine? Measles has been on a steady incline for years. Polio showed back up for fucks sake!

Every person with disabilities I know, including me, has heard at least one person say "if it's someone's time to die who are we to intervene?" Like our survival is some sort of ethical debate. Someone needs heart surgery? An employer who doesn't want to pay for it can say "if it's your time to die, then that's God's will" and religious exemption can cover that!

This can be applied to root canals, psychiatric medications, autoimmune treatments, and anything expensive the employer feels they can get away with it. This is an incredibly impactful ruling and it SCARES me. And it should scare anybody who wants to be able to take prescription medication for their diagnosed illnesses and maladies. This will absolutely kill people with disabilities, this could kill me, and I barely consider myself disabled. But the truth is without my meds I often put my life and health in danger. If my employer can say "I won't cover anti-psychotic medications because they dim the voice of God in your head" then I am so unbelievably fucked because I will end up hurting myself. People whose delusions include religious aspects will find themselves in danger and vulnerable to employers who just don't want to cover medication they don't believe is necessary. People who need mobility aids in certain situations but not others will be accused of faking and not have their aids covered.

So many people think the Shirley exception will protect everyone but it won't. It never has.

"Surely they don't mean [insert obviously necessary medical procedure here] because it's so obvious!" Surely you don't require necessary medical care regularly enough because everyone who does has heard someone out there object. If one person can object, we must assume everyone will. If one exception is made, any exception can be made. If one of us falls, all of us will.

#angry about other things and directing my anger at the injustices in the world

[hellbentrapture]

How Truly Unkind

CW/TW: depression, anxiety, mental illness, disability, cultural ableism, antagonism, hate, cruelty, hellworld, capitalist hellscape.

You know, I thought I wasn’t bothered by that one reblog on my “if my existence is an example of anything” post, but it turns out I was wrong. 

“Go fuck yourself. Stay miserable if you want, but don't drag others down with you, asshole.”

I wrote a post, begging and pleading to anyone who would listen to please, pleasepleaseplease, not sell yourself to and for capitalism. I wrote it because I am a disabled queer whose government is killing me and my friends, and I am watching other governments do it too. 

I am trying to access any and every resource I can, but because I am a student and have student loans (that do not pay my bills), I am almost wholly denied these resources. Because I received CRB/CERB until the beginning of 2021, I am almost wholly denied these resources. I am expected to be pretty much homeless or overtly dying before I am allowed to be helped.

My disabilities are partially caused by me selling myself to and for capitalism. My message was to tell anyone who would listen that it is not worth it.

And if you don’t believe for a single second that eugenics of disabled folks is still an active ongoing thing as a part of capitalism, then I prey for such ignorant bliss. To not know how ugly and cruel these systems and structures are. How you are useful until you are not. 

Of course I am fucking miserable. If you met me, however, you would not know. I laugh, I sing, I share things, and socialize with the small parts I can. But I am in agony. And I don’t show it to anyone. Because I can’t. One, my C-PTSD causes me some serious lack of affect. But two: because I am ashamed, embarrassed, and ultimately told to “go fuck myself” when I do share my agony.

How ugly of you, to tell someone who is vulnerable, and is finally being so openly, to go fuck themselves. How truly unkind.

And now, with each hit I take, I hear these words. I try to make a request for mutual aide on Facebook and instead get Facebook jail for a month. “Go fuck yourself.” I dropped down from full time classes to part time classes this term because of my health, and student loans transforms any and all grants to immediate debt. “Go fuck yourself.” I got student loans this term because it is the only way to pay my rent (which, as it turns out, does not actually), so now I don’t qualify for any other income supports. “Go fuck yourself.” My government has lifted all COVID precautions - people who test positive don’t need to isolate, and there are zero mask mandates. “Go fuck yourself.”

And that was the point of my message: that where I should receive care and compassion, instead I am told to go fuck myself. Whether this is my government, big corporations, academia, or support spaces on social media, the disabled are being told to go fuck ourselves.

But yes, sure, I am choosing to stay miserable. These kinds of things don’t happen anywhere except Alberta (you know, the leader in Canada for eugenics) - nevermind literally the whole of Canada, the US, or Europe. Oh no. Nono. Cultural, systemic, systematic, structural ableism is something that only happens sometimes AND I am choosing to be miserable about it.

Go fuck yourself.

-- Sincerely: a disabled trans masculine non-binary person who has and is honors roll and is a 3.5-4.0 gpa student; never got benefits in my life but worked full time hours; and whose body and mind is literally debilitated by the time I sold to capitalism (ie. “pulling myself up by my bootstraps”). All literally for nothing.

#vent post #vent #personal #depression #anxiety #mental illness #disability #disabled #queer #fuck capitalism #capitalist hellscape #hellworld #covid #pandemic

[phasmidcore]

neurotypicals stop using "mentally ill" to refer to both neurodivergent people and people with chemical imbalances at the same time challenge !!

#its ok you're allowed to say neurodivergent if you mean ND #it's not a bad word i promise #use neurodivergent for ND people and mentally ill for chemical imbalances and neuroatypicality #you can also use neuroatypical to refer to chemical imbalances because that is also correct #if you mean both either say ND and mentally ill or just say not neurotypical #neurodiverse also works when referring to both groups #also the names of disorders aren't bad words as long as it isnt an insult #just dont say a slur #sincerely someone whose both and sick of this shit

[raayllum]

anyone who calls rayla selfish owes me $5 bc first of all, that is the point, karen, and second of all, imagine thinking her choice is entirely selfish. i’ve seen people throw the word self-preserving at it, and it’s like... do you not get that this teenage girl knows she’s taking on a suicide mission? do you not understand how her choice is the intersection of both that selfishness and rock bottom self hatred, guilt, and shame? 

do you not get that callum will treat her the way he would if ezran had made a mistake like that? claudia lies to him for a worldview that callum is not aligned with - morally or ideologically - even if she thinks it’s the right thing to do; she repeatedly puts ezran in danger. rayla leaves for the exact same reason callum wants to go with her. it doesn’t make her right, but he sure as hell understands it.

do you not get that callum has also been repeatedly selfish, for his own gain (1x04, 2x04) and no one else’s? that tdp is inherently a story about how Grief can drive us to do terrible, selfish things? that tdp regularly preaches that self destructive routes (like dark magic!) even if they only ‘physically hurt’ you also has consequences for other people around you?

cause all i see is��“rayla didn’t communicate to callum well enough,” (like he was giving her an Option that wouldn’t lead to more arguing), “rayla doesn’t deserve him,” “rayla should have to grovel and beg for his forgiveness because he’s so mad at her.”

that whatever has done for him / her loved ones and has tried to do isn’t good enough, and like. she does not need you echoing the same thoughts constantly running through her head, that have existed long before she met him

rayla heard runaan say she wasn’t good enough to protect her troupe and do whatever needs to be done. she heard ethari admit that one of his and runaan’s last interactions were an argument about her. she has survivor’s guilt, which callum doesn’t have one iota of, by the way.

like, sometimes, mental illness can make you hate yourself so much it makes you selfish, and while it’s good to be held accountable for your actions, rayla has done absolutely nothing to not deserve callum’s eventual forgiveness and understanding, and thinking otherwise is again, just confirming every terrible thing she’s ever thought or done to herself

like just admit u have no sympathy for teenage girls whose mental illness makes them act in destructive ways and go

sincerely someone who also wrote this exchange a month after ttm even came out

“I don’t think you’re paranoid,” Callum says, still angry but no longer shouting. “But you sure as hell are selfish.”

That makes her whip around to look at him, even if he hasn’t moved. For the first time since they’d reunited, he hasn’t taken a step after her. “Selfish?” she balks.

This time Rayla walks up to him as he reiterates, “Yes, selfish. Why does your pain matter more than, mine huh? You’ll lie to me and leave me and leave me again because you can’t stand to lose me, but for some reason, I can stand to lose you? I jumped off a mountain for you, I did dark magic for you, I jumped into the portal for you—”

“I never asked you to do those things!” she snarls.

“Oh, so I was just supposed to let you go off on your own and die?” he demands, gesturing. “Let you get in over your head, again? You never learn ! And I know you’re not stupid—”

“No, I’m just selfish, apparently,” she mutters.

Callum glares at her. “Haven’t you ever thought about how every time you leave me, and get into trouble, I’m always the one bailing you out? Haven’t you ever thought about how much it fucks me over? Or can you only see your own pain?”

[...]

“I know you’re not weak,” she says softly, gazing at the red fabric. If she looks at his face she’ll break down and they’ll never be any closer to peace. “I know that you love me. Callum—I’m the weak one. That’s why people die. That’s why Viren is still out there. All I do is hurt people. Hurt you, and Ezran, and Soren. Ethari. You—you are a good person. You are the best person I know. You are the strongest person I know. I—I’m not worth it. I’m not. You can have a life, and love, and—you are so strong, and good, and compassionate. You’re the first human primal mage in thousands of years. It was your idea to take the egg back to Xadia. You are going to do amazing, wonderful things. You already have. You can live without me,” she says confidently, her voice breaking. “You could live without me. I know you could, if you tried.” Callum is shaking his head, looking stricken when she glances up, and Rayla chokes down a sob and carries on. “But I’ve never been as strong as you. I can’t even stay angry with you. I can't survive in a world without you. And that’s why I have to do this.”

#get in loser we're grabbing braincells #through the moon #the day s4 comes out and puts all the dumbshit 'discourse' to rest is the day i know peace #dragons gets salty #tw suicide mention #also callum has literally lived through this exact thing with rayla in 1x06 And 3x04 #plz rewatch those episodes and come back to me #callum is often at his most compassionate when rayla is at her most 'selfish' (self loathing) #reunion fic #it's called complete devaluation of the self #tempted to make that the tag for this type of thing but maybe i can think of something Funny y'know?

[uhharrypls]

Dont hang out with those Pogues

Your new BF Rafe doesn't want you hanging out with your pogue friends anymore and things get physical. You can't hide it from JJ.

----

Pogue by birth, Kook by marriage. You were in an undefined area now that your mother, a pogue, married your now stepdad, a kook. The pogues were accepting of your new house on figure eight but they weren’t so accepting of your new relationship with Rafe Cameron. Your relationship was new and exciting, he was sweet. They just hadn’t gotten the chance to see that side of him yet.

Your family had met the Cameron’s at the country club for lunch one afternoon. You nearly choked on your water as Ward told you about Rafe’s first surf lesson. You stifled a laugh, excusing yourself to the restroom.

You stood outside the bathroom, checking your phone. John B sent you a video of JJ trying to jump off a rope swing, but getting tangled and swinging from it upside down instead. You laughed, typing out a response when arms laced around your waist. You jumped as Rafe’s head rested on your shoulder, his body pressed against your back.

“I was hoping to get you alone tonight.” He whispered in your ear, pressing a kiss to your neck.

You shivered as his kiss sent a chill up your spine. “Hey, you.” You smiled, turning into his arms, tucking your phone away.

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your lips, sliding his hands into your back pockets.

Your phone vibrated in your back pocket as you pulled out of the kiss.

“Whose got your attention?” He muttered, dipping his head into your neck. He pulled his head back, looking over your screen.

You smiled at your phone, locking the screen again as you looked up. Your smile dropped from your face as you met Rafe’s darkened eyes. “JJ Maybank? Really, Y/N?” He clenched his jaw.

“What? Rafe, stop. They’re my friends.” You craned your neck, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

He turned his face, bringing his hand up to your jaw. “Baby.” He brushed your cheek with his thumb. “Don’t let me see you hanging around those dirty fucking pogues again, okay?” He tightened his grip on your face. “You have a reputation to keep now.” He pressed a gentle kiss against your forehead before storming off.

You furrowed your brow, watching him disappear down the hall. You returned back to lunch, remaining silent as Rafe pretended nothing had happened moments ago.

You brushed off Rafe’s attitude as jealousy. He knew you and your mom were born and raised pogues. He knew they were your friends. He was just jealous. But you were stubborn and you wouldn’t let a jealous boyfriend make decisions for you.

So, when John B called, you answered. The pogues were having a party and you had to be there.

“No, seriously Y/N, it was the funniest shit I’ve ever seen in my life.” John B recalled JJ’s accident.

“God, JJ. You’re a mess.” You laughed, leaning your head on his shoulder.

The night was winding down and the cooler was just about empty. “Shoot, guys. I gotta go. My mom and I have plans super early.” You groaned.

“Need a ride, chief?” Pope stood with you.

You nodded gratefully, waving goodbye to John B, JJ and Kiara before climbing into Pope’s truck.

Pope pulled into your driveway, giving you a questioning look as he registered Rafe sitting on your front steps. “He looks pissed.” He spoke, turning the music down.

“Yeah, he does.” You gulped. “Thanks for the ride, Pope.” You muttered, climbing out.

Pope didn’t pull away until you had reached the front steps and Rafe waved at him with fake sincerity.

“What are you doing here?” You asked innocently.

After Pope’s headlights had disappeared from view, Rafe grabbed your shoulders, pinning you against your front door. “What did I fucking tell you about hanging out with those damn pogues.” He spit, rage filling his eyes.

“Rafe, stop, you’re hurting me.” You wriggled, trying to free yourself.He brought one hand to your throat, the other stroking the top of your head. “You really don’t want to upset me, Y/N. I don’t think straight when I get upset.” He threatened. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He pulled his hand from your throat, running his finger against your cheek as you flinched away from his touch.

You spent the next few days avoiding your friends. You felt awful but you couldn’t shake Rafe’s threat. You had every intention of ending things with him but you hadn’t worked up the courage yet.

JJ had texted you, letting you know there was a kegger at the boneyard that weekend and he hoped you would be there. You replied a vague I’ll let you know and prayed he didn’t push.

It wasn’t until Sarah Cameron and Topper texted you, insisting you to go to the kegger that you decided you would go. Rafe couldn’t do anything if you were surrounded by people. Besides, if Sarah and Topper were going, he really had no room to get mad at you for seeing your friends. You told yourself you would end things if you saw him there.

You pulled your hair back in two braids and pulled on an old flannel, probably belonging to JJ or John B. You met Sarah and Topper and headed to the boneyard. Rafe was nowhere to be seen, to your relief.

You found your way to the keg, filling a cup when a strong arm wrapped around your shoulder.

“Damn, Y/N. You look great in my clothes.” JJ teased. “Where the hell have you been?” He slurred into your ear, leading you towards the other pogues.

“Sorry, guys. I’ve been busy. I actually, um.” You looked over your shoulder to motion to Sarah when your stomach dropped. Through the flames you watched as Rafe crossed his arms, rage filling his eyes as he stared at you, tucked under JJ’s arm.

“Apple of your eye, eh Y/N?” Pope teased, motioning to Rafe’s rigid stance from across the beach.

You shrugged off JJ’s arm, suddenly feeling constrained by his closeness. You ran your hands down your loose braids, tearing your eyes from Rafe. You stuttered out a rough apology, turning away from the pogues, heading in the direction opposite of Rafe.

“Yo, yo, yo.” JJ called, jogging to catch up with you. “Where you running off to? We haven’t seen you all fucking week.” JJ uttered.

You glanced up behind JJ’s shoulders Rafe began stalking towards you. You tore your eyes from him, looking back at JJ. “I’m so sorry, um, I have to go. We’ll hang out tomorrow, okay? I promise.” You gave his hand a squeeze before turning and jogging up the sandy hill.

You glanced up over your shoulder, sighing with relief when you didn’t see Rafe trailing you.

“Where are you off to, baby?” He spoke sinisterly, popping out in front of you.

“Shit, Rafe. You scared me.” You raised a hand to your chest. You looked around nervously, hoping someone was close enough to see the two of you. There was no one. Just the two of you.

He gave you an ominous smile, craze twinkling in his eyes. “Baby.” He pouted, bringing his hand to your cheek like he had done so many times before.

The smile dropped from his face as he tightened his grip on your cheek, throwing you to the ground. “What did I fucking say?!” He leaned over you, spitting his hateful words into your face.

“Rafe, please. I didn’t come with them. I came with Sarah. And Topper. And, and I was coming to see you.” You pleaded.

He threw his hands into his hair, exhaling as you begged beneath him. “God dammit!” He cried, kicking you in the stomach. “Why can’t you just listen to me?!” He shouted as you curled into yourself.

“Please.” You begged, quieter now.He looked down at you, his expression dropping in concern.

He straddled you, holding your face in his hands. “I didn’t want to do this.” He whispered, stroking your cheek.You pinched your eyes closed, flinching away from his touch. “I’m sorry.”

He bit his lip, pulling his arm back and slapping you across the face. You tasted blood as he leaned down, resting his forehead against yours. “You made me do this.” He cried.

Your lip trembled as he came unhinged, slamming his fist against the ground next to your head, tears streaming down his face. He was ill, he was so mentally ill.

His arm fell limp against the ground. “I love you, Y/N.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead before climbing off of you. He looked down at you, wiping the sweat off his forehead. He shook his head as you curled into a fetal position, before he walked away, leaving you on the ground.

How you had managed to get home, you didn’t know. You climbed into your bathtub, fully clothed, turning the water on. You laid in the ice cold water all night, not able to process what had just happened.

Rafe was sick. He was a sick sociopath and you were so afraid. He had beat the life out of you and professed his love for you in the same 30 second stretch. If he could do this to you, he could do worse to your friends.You had to end things with him, but how could you? He was deeply disturbed, who knew what he was capable of?

You promised. Come over. JJ texted.

Sorry, J. Can’t today. You replied, tears welling in your eyes as you turned away your friends, yet again.

Thought you might bail. Too late. We’re here. He replied. You peered out the window, sure enough, there they were at the end of the dock. JJ waved seeing your head peek through the curtain.

10 minutes. You replied, realizing there was no evading them now.

You stared at your reflection, how could you possibly go on the boat looking like this? You pulled on a bikini, tugging on an oversized sweater on top. You pulled your hair out of your braids, hoping it would shield any marks left from the night before. You pressed concealer to the majority of the bruise on your jaw but frowned, realizing you couldn’t cover your split lip.

You walked out to the dock, glancing over your shoulder as nerves slipped into your stomach.

“There she is!” JJ called, hopping over the edge of the boat onto the dock, opening his arms wide for you.

“Y/N, you realize it’s like, a million degrees out?” John B questioned from the driver’s seat.

“Yeah, uh, I think I’m just getting a head cold or something. Super chilly.” You shrugged, stepping out of JJ’s arms.

“Yeah, whatever. Let’s fuckin’ goooo!” JJ called, jumping back into the boat. He held his hand out to you, helping you climb in.

You curled into a seat in the back of the boat, staring at the water as John B cruised into the marsh.

“So, how’s Rafe?” Pope kicked his feet up next to you as JJ stood at the bow and Kie scolded him. “What happened that night?”

“What night? What do you mean? Nothing happened.” You rambled, pulling at your sweater, worrying he had seen a bruise.

“The night I took you home? He was all pissy on the porch?” Pope raised an eyebrow at your reaction.

“Yeah, dude’s a little bitch, Y/N.” JJ called, jumping down from the bow.

“Let’s swim, guys. It’s so hot.” Kie moaned, stepping out of her shorts.

“As you wish.” John B declared, dropping the anchor.Kie and John B jumped in. Pope shrugged, jumping in after. JJ took a running start, flipping off the stern next to where you were sitting.

“I’m gonna chill up here, I think. Still kinda cold.” You lied.

JJ splashed water up at you, squawking like a chicken.You were drowning in sweat in your sweatshirt. You raised the end, revealing the darkening bruise on your stomach and swallowed a lump in your throat. You definitely would not be swimming today.

After what felt like hours, the crew climbed back into the boat, cruising back to the chateau.

JJ slid in next to you, draping an arm over your shoulder. You flinched slightly at his touch and he looked down at you, squinting his eyes accusingly.

He leaned down into your ear, whispering so no one would hear. “What’s up with you?”

You pursed your lips, shrugging. “Nothing.”

“You can’t hide anything from me, Y/N. You’re off and I’m gonna find out why.” He took a sip of his beer, pulling you closer into his side.

You lit a fire and cozied up outside back at the chateau. It was nice seeing your friends again and you felt safe being around them. But in the back of your mind you feared Rafe would find out and he wouldn’t let you off so easy this time.

“So, Rafe likes it rough, huh Y/N?” John B called from across the fire.

“Rafe? Rough? As if.” JJ scoffed. “He’s a pussy.”

“How else would you explain the busted lip?” John B shrugged, sinking further into the hammock he was swinging in.You laughed, bringing a hand to your lip. Your fingers shaking as you brushed over the cut, recalling every hand he laid on you.

“I’ll be right back. Anyone need a beer?” You called, starting towards the house. You felt the tears pricking at your eyes, fearing they would slip out in front of your friends.

You stepped into the house, letting out a shaky breath. You moved into the bathroom, leaning over the sink.

“Y/N?” JJ whispered. You hadn’t heard him follow you into the house, let alone the bathroom. “Hey, what’s going on?” He stepped forward, placing his hands on either side of your arms.

You, again, flinched at his touch and he noticed. His eyes searched yours for any kind of answer as you felt yourself shrinking in his arms. Your lip trembled as you pulled at the sleeves of your shirt.

JJ’s jaw clenched, dropping his hands. He shoved them in his pockets, looking to the far corner of the bathroom. “What did he do?”

You let out an exasperated sob as you stepped forward, he wrapped his arms around you, leaning his head against yours. He let you sob in his chest for a moment before he ran his hands down your hair, pulling your face back.

He blue eyes fixed on yours as he held your tear-stricken cheeks. “Tell me.”

You looked away, unable to meet his eyes as you pulled up the bottom of your sweatshirt, revealing the swelling bruise that spread across your stomach.

“I’ll kill him.” He flared his nostrils, biting his lip in frustration.“JJ, please. He’s fucking crazy. Just don’t.” You begged.

He scrunched his nose, desperately wanting to get his hands of Rafe’s.

“I’m so scared, J.” You whispered.He sighed, pulling you into his chest.

“You’re okay. I got you. He won’t hurt you anymore.” He whispered into your hair.

--

You unintentionally fell asleep in the hammock outside, tucked into JJ’s side. But you didn’t mind. You felt safe with JJ.

You groaned as a car door slammed, curling your head into JJ’s chest.“Fuck off!” JJ called as footsteps grew closer.

You pulled your head off JJ’s chest, peering over the edge of the hammock, letting out a gasp when you realized who it was.

“JJ.” You whispered, sitting up.

“Y/N, baby, where have you been? Sleeping with a pogue? What have I told you!” Rafe called over, a twisted smile spreading across his face as he beat his fist against his chest.

“Fuck.” JJ muttered, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He climbed out of the hammock, pulling you behind him. “Yo, John B? Mind joining us out here?” JJ called for backup.

“That’s my girlfriend you’ve got there, Maybank.” Rafe paced in front of you two.

John B stepped out of the house, his hair was a mess as he let out a yawn, straightening quickly when he took in the interaction in front of him.

“I think it’s not.” JJ smiled, cracking his knuckles as he stepped forward.

“What’s going on, JJ?” John B called out.

“Our buddy Rafe Cameron likes to hit women.” JJ spit, eyeing up Rafe as they paced around one another. Rafe’s eyes flickered between you and JJ.

John B’s jaw dropped slightly as he looked at you with sad eyes. You nodded slightly, confirming JJ’s accusation.“Rafe, please just go. It’s over.” You tried your best to sound firm.

“I don’t think you are in any position to tell me we’re done.” He sneered, running his tongue across his lower lip. “These pogues are going to be the end of you, baby. Remember last time? The blood and the bruises?” He squinted his eyes in your direction.

JJ nodded, stepping forward. “You’re dead.” He declared, lunging at Rafe, knocking him to the ground. He easily straddled him, throwing punch after punch into his face.

“JJ, stop!” You cried as blood began to pour down Rafe’s nose and out his mouth. “John B, stop him! He’s going to kill him!” You cried, throwing your hands into your hair.

John B jogged over to the two rolling around in the dirt, pulling JJ off Rafe’s limp body. “Alright, big guy. You got him, you’re good.” He said as JJ wiped the blood off his lip.

Tears welled in your eyes as Rafe stood, spitting blood in your direction before stalking off.

JJ turned to you, the rage melting off his face as he met your frightened eyes. He opened his arms, stepping towards you as you crashed into his chest.

“I got you, Y/N. You’re okay.” He whispered.

You pulled back, holding his jaw in your hand. You ran your thumb across his cheek, steaked with blood, sweat, and dirt as you searched his eyes.

Your eyes pulled from his, down to his lips. You ran your thumb across the cut on his bottom lip, nearly identical to your own. You looked back up to his eyes as he stared down at you.

You took his jaw, pulling his mouth to yours, pressing an urgent kiss to his.

You kept your forehead pressed to his as you pulled your lips back ever so slightly. “Thank you.” You whispered.

#jjmaybank #jjxreader #obx #obximagines #outerbanks #johnb #Pogues

[dropintomanga]

Why I'm Not Manga Therapy Anymore

So today, I finally want to discuss why I went from Manga Therapy to becoming Drop-In to Manga. Prepare for a lot of questioning being raised.

Over the past few years, I’ve been wondering why the mental health care system hasn’t improved in decades. We have a cultural shift in how to talk about mental health. Neuroscience has been getting more of a spotlight in addressing why and how mental illness/disorders happen. Awareness of mental health is promoted everywhere. Yet despite all of these changes, why are suicide rates still high? Why are still so many people feel burnt out by life? It’s easy to blame the pandemic, but these problems existed before the pandemic for a while and COVID only exasperated them.

I often wonder if that’s because a lot of the solutions being proposed by mental health experts are very neoliberal. When I say “neoliberal,” I mean that the person with the problem has to be the one to take charge in addressing it. Don’t rely on help or go find it yourself. If you don’t feel better without help, you’re a failure. No solutions discuss systematic causes of psychological/mental distress (poverty, domestic abuse, lack of meaningful support, lack of institutional help, etc.). 

A few years back, I visited Fountain House, a clubhouse that helps those living with serious mental illness get back on their feet. Its members are tasked with responsibilities to help make sure the clubhouse is operational. What I like about Fountain House is that it encourages 3 things that do wonders for someone with bad mental health: people, place, and purpose. I’m starting to believe that the mental health system lacks all of these things.

Which leads to my next point: the point of therapy. I went to see a social worker and psychiatrist for 15+ years until 2020. I did enjoy my time there, but I felt at some point, I needed to quit as I finally made some slow gains during the last few years I was there. I wanted to be around people more than a therapist. I know there’s people who worship therapy and think it’s for everyone, but I’ll be the first to tell you that a good number of therapists aren’t culturally/racially sensitive (note: I was lucky to have found Chinese mental health pros). I still remember a quote I once heard from someone that black people are more afraid of therapists than cops.

In some cases, I can understand that fear because therapy does come from a very Western-based way of thinking that doesn’t address structural issues that get in the way of someone’s potential in life. I sincerely doubt that mindfulness and breathing exercises are going to solve someone’s socioeconomic struggles.

That’s why I have a huge dissonance with Manga Therapy. The name is so limiting because people are more than just their diagnoses. I’ve been noticing more and more that people’s problems do have systemic causes. I’m going to quote a line from a very popular site I frequent, Brain Pickings, whose founder, Maria Popova, changed its name to The Marginalian.

“More and more, the curatorial aspect — the “picking” part of Brain Pickings — subsided, as did the purely cerebral aspect — the “brain” part — giving way to the editorial, the contemplative, the full integration of thought and feeling that pulsates beneath all things creative and alive. “

I started to feel more contemplative and thinking about the things around me a lot more. Sometimes, mental health care in a medical sense hurts more than helps. I know there’s people who still stand by therapy and I know it works wonders, but that CAN’T be the only solution. I think that’s the problem I have with this promotion of therapy in this day and age. There’s no one solution for life’s problems. It’s a big reason why I want to distance myself from Manga Therapy.

Finally, reading Shimanami Tasogare: Our Dreams at Dusk opened up my eyes a lot about what drop-in centers do. Drop-in centers are basically places where adults can come in, just chill, and get unconditional support when needed. What they do is address social isolation, one of the biggest challenges (if not the biggest) that people living with mental illness experience. While the drop-in center in Our Dreams at Dusk caters to LGBTQ+ folks, the principles are the same a la real-life drop-in centers: provide a safe space, provide social support without judgment, and promote community involvement.

I want to be more like a drop-in center kind of guy. I realize that there are people who can’t seem to find communities at all. Maybe I want to be the starting point and point them somewhere. Plus, a lot of manga characters have thrived because of the communities around them. Almost every shonen hero has had people who push and/or believe in them. They didn’t see no mental health professionals or didn’t feel the need to because their relationships were so strong. I do want to discuss more about those relationships although I probably have done so in the past.

So yeah, that’s why I’m now Drop-In to Manga. I’ll admit that I’ll mess up and say/do the wrong things from time to time along the way. I learned recently that when people with emotional baggage interact with one another, misunderstandings can happen and conversations go awry. That baggage can come from the lack of a meaningful community in someone’s life. I’m still learning how to address that while addressing my own bias without shame.

And I want to do this the best way I can like the best manga characters do with a good amount of help to drop in along the way. I hope you all will drop in as well.

I want to give a shoutout to Vivdesigns for the logo. You’re the real MVP. :)

#drop-in to manga #manga #mental health #just chatting #psychology #mental illness #drop-in center

[mxgilray]

Loki Season 1 Thoughts

Overall, I really liked this series. It has some issues without question, but I sincerely don't think it's the dumpster fire so many viewers on this site treat it as. Did it go how I expected? Not at all? Did I enjoy the heck out of it and look forward to it every Wednesday? Hell yeah!

Loki's Good Guy Personality

A big complaint many have had with it is how much Loki's demeanor has changed and how his emotional growth feels rushed or his personality is ooc. Truth is, he saw his entire future, saw what his angry, power hungry, I-work-alone persona would get him in the end, and it snapped him back to reality. He has always been shown to be quite emotional and craving attention and lacking in self assurance, it's just in the past movies he's masked it with violence and fake narcissism, and he's always been a secondary character so his perspective is rarely shown. But if you really pay attention it's obvious he isn't truly villainous; we all know that, it's largely why he has such a huge fan base.

Right after meeting Mobius, Loki got an infodump of his future, saw his parents both die, found out that free will means jack shit, and learned he's absolutely powerless in this realm. On top of that, this is 2012 Loki, fresh off of being under Thanos' control, suddenly being shown that the guy who controlled him is going to end up killing him. Frankly,, I think it all broke Loki. He was too shook up by it all and by the sheer helplessness he found himself in at the TVA that he let all his barriers down momentarily. Just long enough for him to open up to Mobius about his motivation and his lack of self confidence. And you know what I bet? Loki felt relieved after talking to Mobius. A weight was lifted, because he bore his heart to someone and wasn't rejected or laughed at or treated like a psycho. And after letting his walls down fully, Loki didn't feel the need to put all of them back up. He stayed guarded around other people, but he didn't need to pretend around Mobius. Mobius has seen under the mask, so Loki doesn't feel pressure to perform as an all knowing, all powerful God around Mobius. That freedom is life changing.

People who gravitate towards broken, pseudo-villain characters do so because we relate to their internal conflict, their mental illness, their need to fake it around everyone close to them. Their turmoil and depression and self destructive behavior are familiar and we see ourselves reflected in their actions. Now, when a person really truly let's their guard down, drops all their layers of facade, and embraces themself, they tend to change demeanor and even personality pretty drastically. It's jarring in real life, so of course when it happens to a fictional character who you usually relate to it is going to be jarring, maybe even more so because it feels like a change you yourself would never go through. I know this sounds bad and people might get at me for it, but...

I believe the issue here is that a large part of Loki's fan base doesn't want him to get better. They don't want him to move past his mental illness, to learn how to cope with anger and disappointment in healthier ways, to be happy. They like his damaged persona, they like the internal conflict. Maybe it's because they're still at that low place themself and feel like a relatable character is getting taken away from them, maybe it's because they don't understand how much being at peace with yourself can alter a person and to them it feels like he's been changed too much. To those of us mostly on the up and up from battling depression and mental illness, it's comforting to see Loki getting a chance to be genuinely happy and accepting of himself.

Sylki and Lokius

First things first, I'm not anti anything. Ship what you want, idc. Personally, I do not see the Sylki dynamic as romantic, but I get why people read it that way. I thought the series did a good job of showing unrequited love, namely Loki falling for Sylvie and Sylvie feeling zero romance towards him. This was aware of his attraction and in the end used it as a distraction so she could get the upper hand. The show played up the potential romance because we are viewing things from Loki's perspective and he's become smitten as a kitten. I do think in the long run they'll have a more sibling-like dynamic, one Loki realizes that you can feel extreme love and care for a person without it being romantic. I enjoyed how the show explored their relationship, though I do wish they hadn't had every character under the sun mention their moment on Lamentis-1 like it was some big deal to bond with someone you're about to die with.

I'm bitter towards the development of Lokius. It had a strong start in the beginning, and in ep 5 had some potential reignited, but then they had Mobius not know who Loki is at the end. I'm still hoping they're playing the long game with this ship and that it'll come to fruition partway through season 2. The chemistry is there, and Mobius knows Loki very intimately and isn't put off by his past. Loki also feels much more at ease around Mobius than he does around Sylvie. It's the comfort of a deep loving bond with Mobius verses the nervousness of a new crush that he feels for Sylvie.

I don't think Loki is quite aware of his feelings for Mobius, simply because it's based in friendship and mutual respect and isn't a hot and heavy lust. Plus, as soon as he was away from Mobius he was thrown into a near death experience with Sylvie and developed a surface crush during their heart to heart. Since Loki's still figuring out what genuine feelings are beyond anger and sadness, he sees the simplistic crush he has on Sylvie as love and the intimate bond he's been forming with Mobius as friendship. He doesn't understand his own feelings yet, but I think he'll figure it out next season. I mean, he was probably already rethinking his feelings for her after she kissed and betrayed him, mentally kicking himself for expecting her to not pull a Loki betrayal like he would've in the past.

The Time Variance Authority

I really like the concept of the TVA, the structure of it, the methods they use, the deeply fucked way they recruit employees, the cult like motto, shady Miss Minutes who is definitely playing her own long game, and the blind acceptance TVA agents have of the Time Keepers' will. It's all very well done... until your dig into the core, aka He Who Remains. They built up the idea that the Time Keepers created the TVA to prevent a multiverse war and that they created agents to enforce their will. Then the creating agents turned out to be fake, the Time Keepers were fake, I expected the reason for the TVA's existence to be fake to. It felt too simple to have it genuinely exist just to keep the multiverse in check. Why the anonymity, unless it's to keep from having agents target and prune versions of himself which.. songs like a decent solution. HWR made it sound as though the multiverse war was just a bunch of versions of himself screwing shit up, so why isn't the TVA's focus on eradicating every other variant of this guy? Sounds a lot easier and nicer than fucking with the free will of every other living being. So either Marvel made a bad call when choosing what HWR's motive was for creating the TVA, or he was lying about it all to cover up something sinister.

Overall Storyline

I'm fairly happy with the plot as a whole. There were some pacing issues and I think a few missed chances for deeper conversations between various characters. While I enjoyed the Loki variants, I honestly would've been happier seeing Tom playing most the variants (except Kid Loki and Classic Loki since they are clearly different age ranges). If there is supposed to be one sacred timeline, it seems off to me that Lokis would be allowed to vary so extremely without it causing a nexus event(an alligator, whose nexus wasn't that he's an animal who obviously can't do any magic much less command Thanos' army, but that he ate someone's cat) and not just in appearance but in life path (ie boastful Loki collected all the infinity stones but it wasn't till he had 6 that he caused a nexus event even though him gaining control of the Soul, Power, and Time stones should've each caused nexus events since on the sacred timeline he never interacts with those 3 and taking any one of them would've fucked up a lot of other timeline parts)

I love the display of Lokis raw power, and 2012 Loki coming to the realization that he's way more powerful than he ever thought. And it wasn't just Classic Loki who spent thousands of years alone honing his skills, 2012 Loki reversed time on a goddamn falling building! I also liked the small magic, the fireworks, the tablecloth blanket, Loki yanking Sylvie away from HWR with just magic.

As someone who is both bisexual and genderfluid, I would've really loved more concrete representation. The comment about there never being another female Loki hit me in the gut; it undermined the Easter egg "Sex: Fluid" on Loki's TVA file. With how big a deal Sylvie being female was made out to be throughout the season, I expected her gender to play a key role in taking down the head of the TVA, like it was foretold that only a female Loki could end it all or some shit.

I don't mind the idea of Loki finding love in a straight passing relationship. I don't even mind the selfcest all that much. It just feels so obvious to me that Sylvie is written as not having any romantic inclination towards Loki, while Mobius is clearly written as falling in love with someone he shouldn't and trying to maintain an heir of professionalism to keep from wrecking his bond with Loki. I really really hope they come through on season 2 and give Lokius the canon relationship and proper representation they deserve.

Mmkay I thinks that's all the thoughts I've got right now. If you've been feeling cheated or clowned by how things went this season, maybe my perspective of things can help ease your pain.

#loki spoilers #loki series #loki #mobius m mobius #sylvie laufeydottir #lokius #sylki #tva loki #time variance authority #marvel #mcu