#trigger: tw: mention of chronic pain | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

creative-caramel-coffee · 7 months

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Hihi! currently dealing with a bout of bad chronic pain and it got me thinking.

Any chance to get a hall mom Thornhill and platonic student reader who has chronic pain. Hurt / all comfort lol.

thornhill makes something to ease the pain using some of her plants in the greenhouse? And maybe she specifically started growing the plants once she learned one of her students suffered from chronic pain?

Please and thank you! Also feel free to change anything up!

Much love from the frog king🐸

Exam Season

Pairings: Thornhill x Reader (platonic)

Word count: 1.6K

Summary: Reader has been in some pain and finally finds a solution.

TW: mentions of drugs, chronic pain, mentions of addiction, mentions of alcohol

A/n I had so much fun with this one. I did a lot of research through my old medical textbooks so most of it is hopefully accurate.

It was exam season which meant pain, both from studying and well … the chronic kind. And just because you were used to it didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt. Because it did. Badly.

There were a few things that caused pain flare ups for you ever since the car accident you were in a few years ago. Of course, one of the two was stress which was assured with exam season and the second was disrupted sleep patterns and with all the late-night study sessions that was another thing you could check off the mental triggers list. But it's not like you couldn’t study. You needed to. You prided yourself on it. Your family name was all you had left of your parents. They, unlike you did not survive the crash. So you used the fear of being nobody with no home as a drive, to work. To be someone worth something.

The light was on in your dorm once again as Ms Thornhill made the rounds before going to bed herself. Ophelia hall had few rooms where there was only one student. You had been lucky enough to be one of them. So she knew you were awake. But the light had been on four nights in a row now. Surely that was getting a little bit excessive. She made mental note to ask you about it later in her class, she knew you were a responsible student and as you were old enough to make your own decisions, she trusted you to make good ones at that.

It must have been around two am before you actually got to sleep. The next morning the pain was so much worse. You dragged yourself out of bed in hope that a hot shower would relax the muscles in your neck. You stood and lazily made your way to the ensuite, mentally thanking whoever was in charge of the roomie situation that you simply didn’t have one.

After a shower that seemed to have little to no effect at all on the stupid amount of pain you were in you dressed slowly and grabbed breakfast before heading to botany.

You had no meds for the pain, Panadol never touched the level of chronic pain you were in. High dose stuff made you nervous, you didn’t want to get addicted at such a young age. But you also couldn’t ask for help without exposing the fact you had nobody at home to get you anything.

You made it a point to avoid the infirmary, opting to look out for yourself.

When you had signed up for nevermore yourself, you had faked your parents' signatures based off some old documents you found in your father's study. You had guarded that secret with your life.

Every parent's weekend you simply said they lived far away which was why you stayed on the grounds during breaks, not because you hated the empty house you would eventually have to go home to. So no, you didn’t risk seeing the nurse.

Taking your seat in the room you were slouching badly, trying to ease the pain by loosening the muscles. Every once in a while, you would roll your shoulders to try and get a temporary reprieve in the constant gnawing on your sanity. After a bit you gave up on the worksheet all together and put your head down on the desk trying to get comfortable, or at least as comfortable as possible in that moment.

You jumped when you felt a hand make contact with your back gently. Looking up with bleary eyes, glazed with pain, you saw the concerned face of Ms Thornhill looking down at you.

“Honey are you ok?” She asked already knowing the answer, she was biting her bottom lip, usually you were veery composed so she knew it was something bad.

“Im fine Ms Thornhill.” You said sounding slightly strained.

“Darling I’m your dorm mom right now, call my Marilyn sweetie.” She said and began rubbing circles on your back. You relaxed under her touch, it was soothing and it had been so long since you had any sort of positive contact. You relished in the feeling. You were too tired to care right now about the rest of the class who luckily seemed to be paying no attention at all to the two of you.

“Im fine Marilyn.” You said and ducked your head again.

“Darling don’t lie to me I can tell somethings wrong.” She said softly but sternly. You nodded with tears in your eyes.

“Can I talk to you later.” You whispered.

“Well class is over in a few minutes so please stay behind and talk to me.” She said sensing that you weren’t going to talk in front of your peers.

When class finally ended you packed up your books slowly and stayed seated as the class trailed out. Ms Thornhill came over and pulled up the chair beside you, taking your hand in hers and rubbing it with her thumb grazing gently over your knuckles.

“Talk to me sweetheart.” She said and you choked back tears. The dam burst when she pulled you in for a hug. It had been so long since you had a hug.

You sobbed into her shoulder, and she rubbed your back.

“Shh shh shhh its ok Darling. Im here. And I’ll help you however i can sweetie.” She said before pausing.

“Darling how long has it been since you had a hug?”

“T-too long.” You sniffled.

Then you simply buried your face in her neck until you calmed down. When you finally pulled away, she wiped away the tears with her thumb.

“Now whats the matter many darling?” She asked and you swallowed.

“A few years ago, i was in a car accident. I got whiplash and hurt my neck. It’s never really been the same since. I know it's not in my file but i can usually manage it fine by myself. With the stress of the exam coming up and late nights studying it … it hurts so much more than it normally does. Im scared to take anything I might get addicted to.”

“Well first, we will need to update your file.” She said squeezing you hand gently. “Second if this is a bad flare up...” she paused and waited for your response, and you nodded. “Which it is.” She said slowly, “I can give you something for the pain. And we can manage it together. Ok darling?” She asked and you nodded feeling slightly overwhelmed.

“Now I don’t think principal Weems would approve of me growing you some medicinal Marijuana.” She said and you gave a choked laugh.

“No, I don’t think I would.” Came a voice from the doorway and both of you turned to face the principle. She was wearing a small, amused smirk as she walked over to join you.

“I had a report Y/n wasn’t in her second class. I thought i may find her here.” She said. “Anyone want to explain?” She asked and you looked to Ms Thornhill to answer.

“Y/n was just telling me how she’s been having some issues as of late. Chronic pain was it darling?” She asked looking at you and you nodded and looked away studying the plants on the window cil. “We were just discussing some options.” She finished.

“And I’m glad you have ruled out medicinal Marijuana.” Weems said with a laugh.

“As am I.” You whispered making them both laugh.

“Glad to see you were paying attention in last week's drugs and alcohol assembly darling.” The principal drawled. “However, Ms Thornhill here, may need another.” She said jokingly. “So, whats the plan?”

“Well, I was going to make Ms L/n here some chamomile, willow bark and meadowsweet tea for the pain. Maybe a massage and a heat pack.” Ms Thornhill said standing and grabbing various tins of dried herbs. “I have been wanting to grow some more of my herbs for any students that would need them, and it seems u have found my first patient.” She smiled kindly at you, and you simply nodded again.

“Well, I’ll leave you two too it. I’ll also excuse Ms L/n here from her classes for the day. Provided you are either with Ms Thornhill, at your dorm or at the infirmary.” She said and you thanked her as she left.

A moment later the botany teacher placed a steaming mug of tea in front of you and you sighed as she pressed a heat pack she had seemingly pulled from thin air against your neck.

“I can give you a massage later, the upper traps and right across your shoulders if you like?” She said and you nodded. “Yes please.” You said shyly and she beamed at you.

“Drink that tea darling girl and then we can see how you're feeling. Also, I’d be happy to tutor you if it helps with the stress.”

“Oh you … you don’t have to do that, I’m sure I'll be fine.” You stammered not wanting to take up anymore of her time.

“Darling I’m offering.” She said and you paused.

“I’ll think about it.”

“That’s all I ask my sweet.” She said and you sipped the tea again.

It was safe to say the tea helped significantly. Despite being an old remedy and not being clinically proven, it worked really well.

For the rest of the day, you hung out with the botany teacher, and she helped you study some more. Maybe, just maybe, life would be a bit easier from now on.

MASTERLIST

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snailsagere · 5 months

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Please read my dni in my bio before interacting

Life update #1

So you guys voted for the life updates so here we are :3

I'll post them whenever something significant happens and I'll include a trigger warning at the top of each post!

Tw- mentions of ED, talk about poor mental health, m*d!ca! mentions etc this post will pretty much be a brief rundown on why I am so not good haha, I'm not going to go into detail but still!

So I originally started my silly tumblr account in 2020 and definitely wasn't expecting to get as much attention on it like I did, obviously I appreciate it so so much but I wasn't expecting it, but I am mentally ill so it makes it hard sometimes for me to post-

1) I have anxiety so interacting with people is very hard for me which is why I think I may come across as rude sometimes, I really don't mean to but I just struggle talking to anyone because of my brain

2) I have depression so my motivation is usually not very good, I would like to be able to complete requests faster but I really can't and I'm sorry about that

As well as all this I have a lot of issues with my day-to-day life, I don't really talk about more serious topic but a quick run-down of my diagnosis' and extra stuff I guess-

I have been diagnosed with anxiety, depression, ptsd and autism

And I believe I had anorexia and am currently recovering from that, I also strongly believe I have borderline personality disorder due to childhood trauma which I don't really want to go into rn and I'm very certain that I have chronic pain as I have had constant back pain since I was around 12 after my spinal surgeries I had when I was 10 and 11 (I had really severe scoliosis), also I have come to the conclusion that I likely have these things based off lots of research! I believe you should always make sure to research anything before assuming you may have it! And I do want to talk to my doctor about a bpd diagnosis at some point but my ptsd is medical (from my surgeries) so doctor trips are not ideal so I've been a bit slow with it but as I said I have done lots of research into it!

In general lots of stuff in my life make everything really difficult for me so yea, but I'm trying my best!

I will post these little life updates whenever something significant happens etc as you all voted for me to post these so I will try my best to do so!

If you wanna ask any questions about anything really I'm fine with that! Obviously if I don't feel comfy answering I won't but I'm ok answering most things I believe! Just please be kind! :3

#snailsagere

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xxmrs-waynexx · 1 year

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Rules/Notes:

Please read!!

THIS BLOG STANDS WITH PALESTINE

Who I Write For:

Pretty much anyone in DC. If I don’t write for them, I’ll add them here! This is a new blog so I guess we’ll find out!

What I Will Write:

Smut, Fluff, Angst, etc. Platonic is a fun one for me. I love batfam content.

What I Won’t Write:

Incest, pedophilia, and again, this is a new blog so I guess we’ll find out based on requests what I should add to this list. If you have to ask “do you think nova would write this…?” then send an ask and I’ll let you know!

On a less intense note, I won’t write canon characters ONLY. All things I write will include x reader

Notes:

Hi! I’m Nova. I’m a full-time college student and as much as I love writing, things may become difficult. I also have chronic illnesses and will be in pain/sick 9 times outta 10.

Also, please reblog if you enjoyed anything I have written. It means so much.

In regards to the Batfam/Certain characters:

I myself am Jewish and therefore, I stick with a Jewish Bruce Wayne. Unless specified otherwise (i.e. you want a nice Christmas with him), he will be Jewish.

Dick Grayson is also a Romani Jewish man. He is not white. Not for my little world at least.

Quick Rules:

I will always give trigger warnings/warnings in general

I want to get to know you guys! Send in more than just requests please <3

DC is a dark universe, therefore I do write some dark topics at times

Masterlist:

Bruce Wayne:

Stressed (smut)

Young Again (fluff)

Clark Kent:

Gloss & Glasses Series Masterlist

Dating Clark headcanons (fluff)

Wally West:

You Can Always Call (angst/comfort/tw)

Dating Wally headcanon (fluff)

Jason Todd:

I'm Fine (fluff, nsfw mention)

Tough as Nails (fluff, comfort)

Dick Grayson:

No Peace (fluff)

#dc imagine #dc #dc comics #dc fanfic #batman #batman fandom #wally west x reader #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #bruce wayne x reader #clark kent #clark kent x reader #superman x reader #bruce wayne smut #superman #batman smut

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simplysickness · 7 months

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hii i’m the previous anon and i was in love with pretty much any fic where soren was the sickie i would seriously be over the moon if you could post one of them

of course nonny!

if you have more requests, feel free to send them and I will happily write them ASAP.

this is a rewrite of one of my favorite sick Soren fics.

tw migraine, pain, mentions of past trauma (two mentions in dialogue, nothing descriptive), emeto, nausea, memory issues

"First, medicine," Lex said, his voice cutting the silence of the dimly lit room, as he knelt on the edge of Soren's bed, holding two medicine bottles.

“Migraine, and muscle relaxer,” Lex said, showing them to Soren.

The day had begun like any other for the couple, waking at an unusual hour, going about their morning routines, and eventually retreating to their shared home studio for work. It was their normal, their sanctuary.

But today had deviated from the usual script. Soren's morning had taken a turn, and in response so did Lex’s.

It started with a random loss of appetite, followed by a telling tightening in his neck that intensified with each passing minute.

As they continued working, photosensitivity finally caught Soren’s attention, prompting him to shut everything down and ensure their work was saved.

"Bed, now," Lex directed firmly, a mixture of concern and determination in his eyes, and Soren needed no further convincing.

Soren retreated to his room, while Lex swiftly gathered supplies in the kitchen before joining his fiancé just outside the bedroom door.

Together, they entered the room, and Soren sank into the welcoming embrace of his bed. Lex remained standing, making preparations on the nearby side table.

Their routine, born out of necessity, was a comforting ritual for Soren, especially during these agonizing episodes. He appreciated Lex's unwavering support. And for Lex, it was a sort of leveling experience, to balance out the times something went wrong. It was a balance.

Now, Lex held up the medicine bottles for Soren's inspection, ensuring he was aware of the relief they promised, all while guarding against the possibility of triggering paranoia.

"How did you know I was in pain?" Soren inquired, struggling to sit up a little more as he observed Lex's preparations, his voice tinged with curiosity and pain.

Lex carefully dosed out the medication and offered it to Soren with a glass of water.

"Well," Lex began, his fingers gently tracing the contours of Soren's neck, "You have a pattern."

Soren accepted the medicine and sipped the water before setting the cup aside, his pain-addled mind swirling with confusion and questions.

Lex continued, his fingers moving with precision as he explained, "Pain, whether chronic or migraines, always starts here," he said, tracing a path from the base of Soren's neck up the left side, "Moves up, wraps around, goes back down, and stops... right here, most of the time."

Lex's fingers traced a pattern that ended in the middle of Soren's back. "Sometimes it engulfs you entirely, paralyzing you in bed. This seems to be one of those flare-ups. Now, lay back down."

"Gladly," Soren replied, though he did offer a sort of thankful smile.

Lex's gentle fingers brushed through Soren's hair, sweeping it away from his face before fetching a damp cloth from the bowl.

Lex wrung it out and placed it gently on Soren's forehead.

Soren, his pain-induced haze blending with gratitude, remarked, "Smells good... what did you do this time..."

"Rosemary for the headache, peppermint for nausea, and lavender as a sedative," Lex explained. "Rosemary for the migraine, peppermint for the inevitable nausea, and lavender to help you rest."

"You're like a witch or something," Soren mumbled, his speech slightly slurred by the pain.

"And you need rest," Lex replied with a soft chuckle, "Pain makes your speech impediment worse, especially when you're exhausted."

"You're a hippie encyclopedia, damn," Soren managed to jest weakly. "Lay down with me."

Lex complied, nestling beside Soren and pulling him close.

---

After an hour or so, Lex shifted his position, sitting beside Soren as he adjusted the damp cloth on his forehead. Soren sensed Lex's movement and, with a feeble effort, lowered his head to rest it on Lex's thigh.

Carefully, Lex peeled the cloth from Soren's head, moistened it again, and placed it back, covering Soren's eyes in the hope of continuing the treatment.

During this time, Lex distracted himself by gently running his fingers through Soren's hair, a tender massage of the spots he knew were the most sensitive.

Lex's intention was clear: to lull Soren into sleep, hoping that rest would alleviate the pain.

But, after another hour, Soren awoke, feeling even worse than before. The pain had intensified, spreading throughout his entire body, turning every slight movement into a nauseating ordeal.

And the nausea itself was escalating rapidly. Soren was on the brink of sickness, but he knew that once it started, it would be relentless.

Summoning every ounce of strength, he forced himself to move, his body protesting as though it had fallen asleep, refusing to cooperate in this dire moment. He managed to sit up and bury his head in Lex's shoulder.

"Poor thing," Lex murmured, resuming his ministrations in Soren's hair. "Anything new?"

"N-na...nausea," Soren stammered, his speech more slurred than before, struggling to string words together.

"Can't speak?" Lex offered, finishing Soren's thought. "Your speech worsens during migraines. It's okay. Let's try some yes-or-no questions."

Soren nodded slowly, each movement causing additional discomfort in his neck.

"Has the pain spread everywhere?" Lex inquired, and Soren nodded weakly.

Lex pondered for a moment. "Is it difficult to move?"

Soren hesitated briefly before nodding again.

"Do you think you're about to throw up?" Lex asked with concern.

Soren knew he had to muster the strength to answer this critical question, as he felt the queasy sensation gnawing at him.

"I... I don't... I... know," Soren managed to force out.

"This is really taking a toll on you, isn't it?" Lex remarked sympathetically, as Soren nodded slowly.

"I won't move us yet," Lex assured. "Just tell me if you feel more nauseous. I have the trash can ready, but if your migraine continues to fuck with you like this, I might need to move you..."

Soren nodded again, agreeing with Lex's assessment. He understood that once the vomiting began, it would be difficult to control.

For a brief moment, Soren attempted to regulate his breathing, determined to delay the inevitable. But the nausea intensified, becoming unbearable.

"L...Lexi..." Soren struggled to articulate, his speech now severely impaired, "We... we need... to move..."

"Okay, I've got you," Lex responded promptly, connecting the dots and taking hold of Soren, guiding him to his feet.

It was a strenuous effort, and Soren nearly collapsed if not for Lex's steady support.

Every movement sent jolts of pain through his body, and his limbs felt like they were encased in lead.

Together, they stumbled towards the bathroom. Lex carefully released his grip, allowing Soren to crumple to his knees, where he immediately began retching.

Lex had known it was a risk, but there was no time to ease Soren gently to the floor. He knelt beside him, whispering reassuringly, "I'll be careful."

Each retch intensified Soren's agony, making it feel like his head might split open at any moment.

His mind conjured gruesome images of his brain exploding out of his skull, causing him to retch again and again, each heave accompanied by a nauseating ache.

Lex remained by his side, tenderly brushing Soren's hair back and rubbing his back, applying pressure to the spots where pain was most acute.

The nausea refused to relent, forcing Soren to suppress another round of retching as Lex flushed the toilet. But it quickly returned, prompting another round of gut-wrenching sickness.

It continued, an agonizing cycle of retching and emptying, with Lex faithfully tending to him.

After several rounds, Lex finally remarked, "Soren, how can you have so much to throw up?"

Soren felt even more drained, allowing Lex to wipe his face with a wet cloth before resting another warm one against his forehead.

"You shiver when you vomit," Lex explained. "You don't have a fever, so warm water should help."

Soren nodded slowly, his energy completely spent.

Lex disappeared briefly, saying something that Soren couldn't quite grasp in his pain-addled state.

When Lex returned with a glass of water, Soren's condition took an alarming turn. He didn't recognize the person in front of him, a stranger with dark hair pulled into a braid, pale skin, glasses, and a septum piercing. Soren couldn't connect the dots.

"It's just water for now. Drink slowly to avoid triggering another bout of vomiting," the stranger said, concern evident in his voice, “Hey… Soren? You still there?”

"I... how... you... know my name?" Soren managed to ask, his confusion growing.

The stranger's face registered realization. "You don't know who I am, do you?"

Soren shook his head, taking a hesitant sip of the water.

"I... what's... why can't I... speak?" Panic welled up in Soren's chest, overtaking the pain momentarily.

"Okay, that's okay if you don't remember," the stranger reassured him, stepping back. "My name is Lex. Lex Millington. We're engaged,” Lex said, holding up his hand and showing Soren the metal band around his finger, silver and obsidian, “And we have been friends for seven years. You have migraines, mainly from childhood head trauma, which can make your memory fuzzy during severe episodes. If you try to stand, you'll end up on the floor. You also have chronic pain issues that flare up during migraines."

"But... why can't I… I…?"

"Again, it's the head trauma," Lex explained patiently. "You have a speech impediment even when you're not in pain, and it worsens during migraines."

Soren attempted to process this new information, his memory struggling to catch up.

"It may not make complete sense right now, but I'm here to help," Lex said. "Once you've had a bit more to drink, if you'll allow me, I'll help you up, mix some more oils to ease the pain, and hopefully, you'll be able to rest, and your memory will return."

"O... oil?" Soren queried, managing to utter the word without slurring it as much as before.

"Yes, essential oils, natural remedies," Lex replied. "Medication helps, but these oils provide an extra layer of relief. I mixed rosemary, peppermint, and lavender for you."

"You're like a healer," Soren whispered, taking a few more sips of water before the stirring nausea made itself known again.

Lex laughed at the comment, “I believe your exact words were that I am a ‘hippie encyclopedia’, dear.”

Lex rubbed Soren’s shoulder for a second. Keeping enough distance that if maybe, just maybe, the lack of memory processing caused panic, Soren wouldn’t feel trapped.

"Would you like to lie down?" Lex asked after a few moments of silence.

Soren nodded, and Lex took the glass from him, setting it aside.

Drawing closer, Lex wrapped his arms around Soren, helping him to his feet.

"I've got you," he said, “I’ve always got you. Okay?”

#emeto fic #emeto cw #emeto tw #tw emeto #cw emeto #sick soren castellan #i think im lost again saga fics

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kunikidas-lost-glasses · 1 year

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BSD college!AU headcanons - Study group on friday

TWs: Slight mention of OCD, Slight mention of heart palpations, slight mention of SH? I think? It's Fyodor's finger biting/hurting them in the process if that's triggering to someone.

It's all very slight though

Obviously thier mental health isn't as fucked up as in the canon universe here.

Also Oda is alive in this.

---------------------------------------------------

Usually, Dazai, Kunikida, Chuuya, Fyodor, Nikolai, Shibusawa, Sigma, Ranpo, Poe, Mushitaro, Yosano, Atsushi, Akutagawa, Higuchi, Bram, Gin, Lovecraft, Steinbeck, Louisa and sometimes even Jouno and Tecchou meet every Friday in the little Cafe close to their college in order to study together, do homework or just gossip about the day

They are all either majoring or minoring in literature so the all know each other in some way

It all started with Atsushi frequently joining Dazai, Chuuya and Kunikida after their lectures in order to study together with them because he dislikes studying alone.

Besides this, Dazai literally was his tutor for quite some time and still helps him out with homework sometimes (Atsushi still has to do a lot of convincing most of the time)

Atsushi actually picked the café because Lucy works there and he can see her more often now

Atsushi then told Akutagawa about their study sessions and begged him to come with him next time which he eventually did

Akutagawa then told Gin, Gin told Higuchi and so on

Dazai on the other hand once begged Fyodor to join them at the café once for whatever reason and Fyodor dragged Nikolai, Shibusawa and Sigma with him. Sigma told Bram, Bram told Lovecraft, and Lovecraft told Steinbeck

Ranpo is there because Yosano, who knew about the study group from Chuuya, convinced him to come too and he decided to drag Poe and Mushitaro with him.

Poe also told Louisa and Louisa was surpringly thrilled about coming with them to the café since her girlfriend works there

Jouno and Tecchou once decided to study at the café after their military training one day and saw the large group studying the same stuff as them and so they scooted over to that table to exchange some informations and to compare what they've written.

Since then, they sometimes join them once or twice a month

They don't just do their work for their literature course there. Fyodor is mainly coding something on his laptop for his coding major, Nikolai is revising his plays or makes Sigma read out the other roles while he revises his lines and Ranpo is whining about criminology being too easy and that college is unnecessary

Usually thier meetings are 50% studying and 50% gossiping

Thanks to Louisa, Lucy let herself get convinced to let them stay in the café even after it's closing time during the exam season

Bram and Lovecraft doze off nearly every hour so Steinbeck has to wake them up again all the time

Lucy coming to thier table, sitting down next to Louisa and chatting a bit during her short breaks is a thing

Her making sure that Louisa is doing fine and isn't overworking herself, kissing the top of her head and praising her but also roasting all the others for choosing to study and now suffering every few months because of exams while she decided to start to work instead of torturing her with even more school is a thing too

Ranpo often wears noise canceling headphones when the café is too crowded

They all grew kinda close to each other, some more some less, after some time. After all, they studied and talked together for hours every single friday

They also found out a lot about each other there

Bram found out that Dazai suffers from chronical pain aswell and now always keeps some less intense pain killers like the ones he has to take with him in case Dazai forgot his ones again with him

Sigma and Chuuya found out that the other suffers from OCD as well and now they always keep an eye on each other and comfort each other when it gets too bad

Dazai nearly always blasts pop music from 2010/2011 over his headphones

He is also always chatting with Fyodor for literal hours.

They don't get a change to chat for long super often due to Fyodor having afternoon classes and usually working until late at night while Dazai takes morning classes and works in the afternoon so those Fridays are great to finally talk with his best friend again

All of them bitching about the amount of work they have to do is a thing too

Atsushi loves the study sessions extremely much. He feels super comfortable in that group, even though he is admittably a bit scared of Nikolai, Shibusawa and Fyodor

Sigma and Atsushi always chat. Just like Dazai and Fyodor they see each other rarley during the week so this is a great opportunity on catching up on how the other is doing

The Perfect crime trio always orders an concerning amount of coffee

The tables which they shoved together to one big table are usually cluttered with laptops, papers, worksheets, books, plates with pasteries, headphones, cutlery, pencils and pencil cases, different kinds of folders, phones and a ton of cups

Due to this, Dazai, who only drinks his coffee decaf with sugar and not hot but warm, once accidentally blindly grabbed Fyodor's cup of hot black coffee and took a big sip while he was writing on essay on his laptop

Needless to say, he spit it out and dramatically complained and whined about the taste as well as about accidentally burning his tongue with the hot drink while also judging Fyodor for drinking such disgusting things

Fyodor just listened with a small amused smile and the judged Dazai for drinking decaf

Dazai complaining about literally anything is a thing too

Mostly he is complaining about studying

He can complain and whine about not wanting to do the work for college for hours

Chuuya and Kunikida are the complete opposite tho. They can work for hours without an break and especially Chuuya always works past his limits so Dazai has to keep an eye on them and especially on the redhead so that he won't end up horribly overworked and dizzy again

Shibusawa working quietly most of the time, only occasionally sliding his sketchbook over to Fyodor, Nikolai or Sigma, asking them what they think of his designs

He always has his one little lunch box with apple slices with him for some reason. He eats them when the employees of the café aren't looking

It's diffrent when he has an art/design block though.

He is in a horrible mood then most of the time, sketching sometimes only to skribble wildy over it again or he isn't even touching his sketchbook and is complaining about everything being so boring and every design looking dull then

Dazai "helping" Akutagawa with the latters tasks only to tell him the most cursed shit and giving him wrong answers is a thing

Usually Atsushi overhears it though or see the notes Akutagawa made and proceeds to lecture Dazai

Atsushi likes Dazai, that's put of question. He admires the older. But he's also so done with his shit like 80% of the time

Especially when he is messing with Akutagawa again

When Chuuya finds out, he usually smacks Dazai's head, scolding him for messing with Akutagawa (Chuuya took Akutagawa under his wing after and became his tutor after Dazai dropped him so by now he cares a lot about the younger student in a mentor/big brother kind of way)

Ranpo could technically help nearly everyone with their tasks but he only helps when he recrives payment in form of candy or other sweets. The more difficult the task or the more the work, the more candy he demands

Usually you get roasted about not being able to solve such an easy task too

So asking Ranpo for help is something you usually do if there is litarally no other solution

Ranpo or Mushitaro often hold Poe's hand under the table if the café is very groweded and they sense that he's becoming nervous again

During exam phases, everything is a tiny bit different and everyone looks pretty done with life

Dazai once even arrived to the café in his pyjamas during the exam phase

It actually made Fyodor laugh for the first time that day even though he tried not to laugh about it at first

The russian didn't looked any better though. He wore comfortable pants, a lavender zip up hoodie, had his hair tied up in a messed low pony tail and looked like he hadn't slept since days

His fingers were covered in colorful band aids for kids which Nikolai put on them after Fyodor bit them all bloody and wound again

No matter how long Dazai and Fyodor knew each other, it still felt weird to see him in other clothes than the black, white and lavender silky, a bit old fashioned but elegant looking clothes which he usually worse

Atsushi also looked like he hadn't slept since years, Yosano had wine in her water bottle, drinking it like water and looked like she was close to loosing her mind (she studies/majors in medicine), Chuuya had been overworking himself since the past week, Sigma had probably been through five panic attacks since Monday and Bram was just sleeping it off

It's not like for example Dazai and Fyodor think the topics are hard to understand and can memorize it in a matter of two days but it's the sheer amount of work which tires them out

Thier part time jobs, lectures, studying, it's all just a lot

Lucy supports them with regularly bringing them new coffee, tea and their favorite pastries to thier table (They happened to have them in stock. She absolutely didn't order them to made especially for them because she knew they were in the exam phase.)

Fyodor just dozing off on the table is a thing too then

Nobody dares to wake him though. For different reason

Some fear his anger, some are just happy that he finally gets some sleep

Poe and Nikolai usually bring thick plush blankets with them during that time and completely wrap themselves up in said blanket for comfort

Shibusawa once brought his sewing machine, sewing tools and fabrics with him and finished a whole outfit which he started sewing at his dorm at the café, completely unbothered by the stares he got by some costumers

Lucy keeps an emergency kit in a storage room ever since the study sessions became a regular thing

Chargers, tissues, pain killers, scotch tape, band aids, lavender pills, pens, ear plugs, pads, bandages, iron pills, you call it.

She often overhears them forgetting stuff so she made that emergency kit

She then, happened to have the needed item there by coincidence

She'd rather die than to admit she buyed stuff to help them

After the exam phase is over, Lucy opens the café for exclusively them on Saturday so that they can celebrate

Ranpo often simply snatches Mushitaro's tablet away from him when he notices that Mushitaro is close to getting a migraine again or when his heart palpations which are always acting up when he has a lot of stress, are acting up again so that he can't continue working on his tasks since he knows that Mushitaro is prone to work past his limits

When someone can't come to their study sessions, at least one of them, will send a long report about today's meet to them, usually with some solutions to some tasks attracted to the message

Sometimes Oda and Ango who happen to come to the café during their breaks, stroll over to the group, greet them and chat a bit with Dazai who's always excited to see them, already waving to them from his seat as soon as he sees them entering the café

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thecatslug · 1 year

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🎄Let’s Flesh-Out Strahd: Part 3🎄

Happy Holidays my dears! As a much requested treat, this week on LFOS I present to you (drum roll please) Strahd’s mental health! So, without further ado, let’s dive into Strahd’s struggles with clinical depression.

UPDATE (2023): There's now a more in-depth version of this post you can find here if you'd like a better look at Strahd's mental health in Ravenloft

(I’m not generally one for trigger warnings because the world is a scary place, but TW kiddos for suicide and self harm.) The I, Strahd books are wonderful novels written by the titular dark lord (in universe) which both have a startling number of pages dedicated to thinly veiled suicide attempts and episodes self harm. I, Strahd: War Against Azalin alone spends pages recounting Strahd throwing himself into the mists and off mountain tops in attempts to end his misery. As a person with chronic eldest child syndrome, used to bottling up and downplaying my emotions, it is very telling when a character with similar issues mentions even that much about their struggles. Because it means that if it’s bad enough for Strahd to dedicate pages in his already unreliable memoirs to? Then it’s absolutely a massive problem behind the scenes.

Strahd, as much as some would like to say, is not a self-pitying drama queen. Well, not in the sense that he’d just ‘decide’ to try to kill himself for the aesthetic. We’ve already briefly established in this post (link) that he doesn’t suffer from any narcissistic personality disorder or other condition that could explain such a thought process. Not to mention that even viewing ANY person in such a simplistic light is a pretty naive view of depression and suicidal ideation. Strahd is Barovian, and as we’ve also established- Barovians have a very dry, self deprecating sense of humour. Such descriptions in his books are glaring attempts to cover up and brush aside very real pain with a somewhat sardonic coat of paint. Alright now that I’ve established my rebuttal to the “Strahd is just a monster” mindset (it’s ok, 5e brainwashed us all), let’s dive into why he got this way, how it happened, and what exactly is going on.

Strahd (in my unprofessional psych student opinion) suffers from major depressive disorder that manifests as agitated depression (so snapping at people instead of moping as much) with psychotic features (i.e. sporadic psychotic episodes brought on by extreme stress). Strahd likely developed the disorder in his early to mid teens, and inherited the conditional predisposition from his mother Ravenia, who may have suffered from a mood disorder (i generally headcanon as bipolar 2). The strain of military life since the canonical age of 7, coupled with his father’s constant emotional (and possibly physical) abuse and neglect took its tole on the boy- as it would for literally anyone in his shoes. While too stubborn of a personality to really crumple under the weight, the underlying depression dogged him into adulthood, eventually leading to his first massive depressive slump and eventual first psychotic episode. After the sudden death of his parents in his early 30s (we’re using my revised age timeline for the family here btw. You can read more here), Strahd hit a massive depressive wall which publicly manifested as extreme irritability and exhaustion as he privately grappled with grief and the realization of unresolved childhood trauma. Already predisposed to mood and possible psychotic disorders thanks to dear old Ravenia, Sergei’s wedding and the meddling of The Dark Powers were the catalyst for a psychotic break of epic proportions. A break which plunged Barovia into the emo hell we know and love today.

After the fall of Barovia, Strahd’s depression caught up with him and only worsened. He didn’t have the distractions of constant military pressures and duties to keep him occupied, meaning the full weight of his disorder truly set in. His depression shifted more and more into spiralling suicidal ideation as incarnations of Tatyana began to pop up. Incarnations that may have triggered smaller psychotic or semi-manic episodes in the already unstable vampire. Strahd likely only sought true suicide once, when Tatyana died mysteriously of plague (an account you can read in War Against Azalin), meaning it was possibly the only time he tried to truly die- thinking it may actually work. After the realization that the dark powers would likely never let him truly die, he may have begun to use these temporary “deaths” as an extreme form of self harm. After all, if it’s not going to truly kill him, why not jump off the tallest tower at Castle Ravenloft? Why not let adventurers try their hand at killing him? If he’s in a depressed enough state- the twisted catharsis of semi-death could become addictingly soothing if left unchecked.

This is not to say, however, that he’s always throwing himself at death. He’s struggled with underlying depression long enough (depending on when you set your campaigns) to not really deal with suicidal ideation or psychotic episodes unless the stress is extremely severe. Remembered childhood trauma and the sins of his past provoked to light are probably the few things that could truly trigger such episodes or ideations, but even then only if they’ve severely mounted to push his breaking point. Strahd is extremely resilient, and only grows more so with age. The more times he deals with Tatyana, the less likely she is to stir such severe reactions. Over time he may learn to cope with his depression, if given the right tools and support (in my game, Madam Eva, Rahadin, and his partners have been instrumental in helping him). Strahd can learn to manage his depression, to deal with the effects in a slightly less self-destructive manner and cut down on psychotic episodes. He cannot, however, fully cure himself. First of all, there’s no SSRIS or mood stabilizers to deal with the brain chemistry issues that even Eva’s therapy can’t wholly fix. But deeper than that, part of Strahd’s curse is his depression. His struggles with past (and present) trauma are what the title of the titular 5e module refer to. It’s not Tatyana, it’s his past, present, and future trauma which he will forever be grappling with. The dark powers will always create new ways to psychologically torment him as he copes with the past. For every success and joyful day, there will be a new day of struggle and a new traumatic event to unpack years in the future.

“We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell.” -Oscar Wilde

(So for my usual end of post “thank you but here’s a disclaimer” I’m reminding y’all that I’m NOT a professional psychologist, but I AM in training to be one. This is my unprofessional opinion, but one I’ve put quite a bit of research into. I also personally suffer from a mood disorder (bipolar II) so Strahd’s thinly veiled struggles were eerily familiar when I started DMing for Ravenloft again. As always, these are my opinions. Feel free to steal for your games, to discuss and provide feedback, or to just disagree. Though for this post, I squint at flat out disagreement- because I’m sorry, but this man is hella mentally ill my dears. Thanks for reading, and happy holidays!)

#LFOS #Catslug’s Psychoanalysis #Someone give this man Lithium #curse of strahd #ravenloft #dnd #strahd von zarovich #dungeons and dungeons #strahd #dungeon master #dnd npc #NPC Analysis

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wclking-fire · 5 months

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HEALTH UPDATE

trigger heavy: vent tw, hospital tw, illness tw, blood mention tw and I guess harassment? a few comments were made, just read with caution please!

✿ Please know I am doing much better now, I am resting although I now think I have chronic fatigue from the fever which is a pain in the butt but I am glad I have recovered well. ✿

✿ Meowdy! I have something of a health update. So, remember that cafe job I got? Well it wasn't a job, it was a trial run. Basically free labour for them. Yeah. That started as a weeks trial and then some how stumbled into a month and then stumbled into two month trial, even though I mentioned my aim was to make money for christmas but whatever I guess. As the days went by I went from doing around three hours for three days to six days and almost doing six/seven hours worth of work. WITHOUT PAY I MIGHT ADD. Anyway that isn't even the worst thing. Get this. A month in I get bacterial tonsillitis and I am on a course of penicillin for ten days. They still have me working in the cafe, the only day I had off was when I booked the GP appointment to get my throat checked. Five days in and my tonsils are getting worse and worse and I am struggling to breathe at night like near on choking out. This employer is seeing how I am like during hours working and still doesn't let me go home and they still ask me to do more hours with each passing day. I have a fever, I am working seven hours on two hours of sleep, I am covering staff that don't get punished, they get sent to the back where I am front of house and just doing everything, I am stumbling over my feet because my ears are going with the tonsillitis. BUT GET THIS. IT GETS SO SO BAD I HAD TO GO TO HOSPITAL BECAUSE MY GP THINKS IT IS GLANDULAR FEVER. So, I get sent to hospital and turns out I had bacterial tonsillitis and glandular fever. The blood tests came back that my liver function was up, my temp was 38.6 which is deadly and my blood pressure was 167/93. I had fluids and went on my way, but like what the fuck? Like I have just had the absolute piss ripped out of me. Granted I said yes to all the times they asked me to come in so maybe it is my fault too, but still. If you can't tell someone is that ill??? Like really?? I sounded worse each day. Not to mention the texts messages sent were not showing any mercy like I said the doctor recommended two days off. They didn't they told me to go back when I felt better, but I was stubborn and told said employer 'oh they said two days off.' The employer responded. 'If you wanna come in tomorrow that is totally fine.' Then I was like well shit. I have to come in now... Lot of guilt tripping. They told me to call them next time I was off because it wasn't nice to read that I was off from a text??? LIKE WHAT-???? Then when I phoned them again about the whole thing it was just sighing like it was my fault I was ill??? News flash, you get glandular fever from scrubbing dirty dishes and guess what my job was. The scary part is that glandular fever affects the liver and spleen if I knocked my spleen whilst I was working it could of ruptured. Not to mention the sexual comments made to me like insinuating I performed sexual acts for a taxi ride I laughed it off but I shouldn't have and the comments about my weight like bleh. ✿

TLDR: The person who hired me for the free labour worked me into the ground whilst I had bacterial tonsillitis and glandular fever. After my trip to the hospital they sent me a message saying 'have they fixed you?' and I am like WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK-

#iv had a v bad month ;-;#✿ 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝖺𝗆𝗆𝗈 -𝗈𝗈𝖼-#hospital tw #illness tw #blood mention tw #vent tw

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abbott-gillinski · 7 months

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A B B O T T G I L L I N S K I

FULL NAME: Abbott Gillinski NICKNAMES: Abby, Abs, Gill HOMETOWN: Boulder, Colorado DOB: March 4, 1983 AGE: 40 GENDER: Cis Man PRONOUNS: He/Him OCCUPATION: Surgeon AFFILIATION: None SEXUALITY: Pansexual LABEL: The Unaffiliated HEIGHT: 6'0"

BIOGRAPHY

Full bio under the cut. Please read trigger warnings before proceeding!

TW // cancer mention, military, bomb threats, burns, PTSD

The healthcare system had never been kind to the Gillinski family. Abbott spent much of his younger life in and out of hospitals, following his mother with chronic pain and a younger brother with cancer. While his father struggled to pay for the ridiculous medical bills, Abbott was forced to do whatever he could to make money. He was young when he started begging on street corners, but when he realized he made better money as a pickpocket, crime became his go-to. Working for various gangs for-hire, he would steal, drive, be in the right place at the right time... and it was how he came to meet his various connections in NYC... until the army gave him what he needed - money for his parents, stability for his life, and an education.

Abbott learned from the medics in his sect and found it to be his calling - healing those on the battlefield and not waiting to take their credit card first. It made him see things in a new light. After a rogue bomb detonation, Abbott was left with burns on one side of his body and even more determination. Honorable discharge from the military meant a new life on the streets of New York City.

His prior connections came in handy. Soon Abbott was setting up his own 'practice' while he studied cybernetics and the various parts and insides of replicants. What made them tick, and how does one replace the pieces without injury? Suddenly Abbott's underground medical practice had connections to each and every gang... though some didn't look so nicely on him offering aid to other factions, too.

Abbott's practice has been threatened, set on fire, and he's had many visits from capos and soldiers warning him to close it down. But Abbott isn't really afraid. He's not doing anything wrong by offering his services. He just can't control who might show up at his door...

#lawless.intro #!!!! abbott's here!!!

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rainbownomja · 7 months

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TW: Pet Illness and loss, in depth discussions of grief and chronic illness, and mentions of emotional abuse

Last Friday, September 8th, 2023, I had to say goodbye to Soup.

Back in early June, he got an infection in his dew claw. That infection over the next two months and some change, got into the bone where antibiotics couldn’t reach it. By the time we did an X-Ray (two weeks ago), when he’d already gotten it cleaned and had been on multiple antibiotics three separate times, we found out that the infection had managed to severely damage the cat equivalent of his first knuckle and was working on the second. The comparison of his paws was like night and day, even to an untrained eye like mine.

The single treatment option became amputation, which as you can imagine was extremely expensive. But it wasn’t the cost that was the most important to me. It was whether or not I could provide the care that he would need post-op given my unstable health. And ultimately, I asked myself: do I want to take a chance on the possibility of giving him more time and hope that whatever goes wrong next isn’t worse, or do I want to make sure that, for the time he has left, he’s happy and in the least amount of pain possible?

I am furious at the universe that I had to choose this for him. I know it was the most humane choice I could make, but I am still enraged by it. Because he deserved more happy times, and I deserved more time with him.

The positive, out of that horrible choice, was that it was a choice. I knew it was coming. I was able to schedule it when his normal vet, who loved him and had been giving him the best possible care since I got him, was available. I was able to make sure that on his last night I slept in the room with him again, something I hadn’t done in over a month because we were in separate rooms (see: unstable health.) That night, I fell asleep with him curled up in my arms purring away like it was any other night.

On Friday, he got to have an excessive amount of his favorite treats, his normal meals were no longer medical food that he only kinda tolerated, and I bought him chicken nuggets since he’d been eyeing mine for years without getting to have one. Although it turned out he wanted my fries more (and I was happy to share.) We were able to give him an anti-anxiety medication for the appointment so he wasn’t afraid. And a couple days prior I’d gone back to my apartment to get his bed and my quilt which he loved so that he was comfortable in a space that wasn’t his true home. Then, I brought his bed along with to the appointment so that he was as comfortable as possible there too.

I have an honor code when it comes to my pets. I will not cause them needless suffering for the sake of simply extending their lives, the quality of their life with me is more important to me than the quantity of time I have with them. And, if I am able, it is my job to be there with them all the way to the end, to calm them and so they know that they are not alone or abandoned, that it's gonna be okay. I want to be there so that they cross the rainbow bridge knowing without a doubt that they are so extremely loved. I never actually had to make end-of-life decisions in line with that honor code before Soup though.

His vet had said some months back that the health of our relationship is also an important factor when making those decisions. Prior to separating my sleeping space from Soup, I was growing increasingly more frustrated. I was in extreme pain, exhausted down to my bones, and he was waking me up in the early hours of the morning every day with a non-stop stream of cries that often triggered panic attacks for me. I loved him so dearly, but I was also running on a spoon debt that just kept getting deeper and deeper, because it’d been this way for months on end. I was losing my temper with him and I hated it, no matter how short-lived that moment was. Because I knew he was in pain too, that I was quite literally his only source for comfort and getting his needs met. Because I knew that these outbursts would only damage our relationship if they kept happening.

I didn’t know when I moved us from my apartment that he wouldn’t be coming home with me when I eventually returned. But I am grateful that I moved us when I did, so that my last month with him was not one filled with frustration and irritation.

Soup crossed the rainbow bridge curled up calmly in his bed which I had set in my lap, because he otherwise refused to stop pacing and lay in it. He went with his head propped on my arm as if we were simply going to bed like usual, and I pet him long past the moment he was gone. He went hearing how good he was, how loved he was, and that he did such a great job taking care of me. He knew how important he was to me and how much I cared about him, of that I am certain.

I also have no doubts about the fact that he was not just loved by me. My queerplatonic partner had a story to tell and a picture with him from the times she’d stayed over and he visited her in the living room, which she shared with me that morning.

A friend that I’d forgotten to check in with for months, expressed how deeply sad Soup’s impending passing was to him when I finally did reach out again. He made me feel less alone, less like my world was once again turning entirely on its head while everything else remained the same.

One of my best friends, who I always trust to tell it like it is, continued to reinforce to me, every single time I got into my head, that I was a fantastic pet parent, that while it absolutely wasn’t fair, I was doing right by him and I always had.

Another best friend, spent our weekly hangout listening to me talk about Soup and provided me comfort and a safe space to cry in.

@its-a-me-an-idiot bought me a goddamn Polaroid camera from multiple states away so that I could have tangible pictures with Soup, which I didn’t know would matter so much to me, but now that I have them I am unbelievably grateful.

In telling this story I also have to say how spectacular the staff at my vet clinic are. Their jobs are not easy, and I know, because they told me, that they don’t often get told when they do well in someone’s eyes but pretty much always get told when they do poorly. Regardless, they are always kind to me, were always willing to roll with my talking in circles in both anxiety and ADHD ways, they laughed at my jokes, and it was always clear how much every single one of them cared about Soup.

I did not expect to become his sole owner, I adopted him with an ex-partner after all, and being that was frequently difficult. The period in which I was fighting to have, for lack of a better term, sole custody; When my abusive ex was removing me from vet records and changing appointments without my knowledge, and then put it on me to fix the mess he’d made when I called him out on it. When he fully just left town and forgot about Soup’s care entirely (thankfully, I did not.) When ultimately, after weeks of fighting and bullshit, I succeeded in remaining his owner and removing that ex from both of our lives entirely? All of that was a truly deep low point that, in some ways, hasn’t really let up. I have very few relationships with people who are local to me, most of my friends moved away after college, which meant then that I had very minimal in-person social interaction.

There were times when Soup’s vet appointments, regardless of their outcome, were the highlight of my week because the staff at the clinic were simply willing to talk to me past what was necessary as a client. They did their best to lessen the financial burden on me as much as they were able to within the systems that they had. In the few days before and on the day of, every person that was able to took a moment out of their day to talk to me and/or give me a hug. I know that they are currently working on a card for me (and I’m working on one for them, but that parts a secret.)

I know that I am not the only person, nor will I be the last, that they walk out to their car after an appointment like this.

One of my favorite veterinary assistants there literally sought me out when I came in on Wednesday to give me her condolences and a (perfect level of squeezy) hug. She was there to take me to the room with him and explained the pre-procedures with incredible compassion. She would pause and reinforce that it was normal and okay that I was crying which, as a person who despises and is very uncomfortable with crying in front of anyone ever, was extremely helpful to my efforts towards not bottling up my feelings. And she gave me two churus to give to him when he got back from the catheter placement, which I know he appreciated because he ate both of them in their entirety even though he was clearly a bit agitated.

His veterinarian is a wonderful human, who asked me about my life and cared about the answers, who always patiently and thoroughly answered my questions (and often figured out the real question I was asking, sometimes when I didn’t even know myself, and would switch gears to answer that instead.) She is also a truly incredible veterinarian. She told me that Soup was an anomaly, even for cats with FIV. She was working against so many unknown co-occurring conditions and with limited information almost all the time. From the collapsed lung lobe that looked like it could be cancer on an X-Ray, to the hair ties in his stomach, and his REM sleep disorder which on its own is a pretty rare condition in cats.

My vet never gave me a recommendation just to get me out of the office so she could keep to her schedule (and I know I’ve gone at least thirty minutes over my appointment time often. Take notes human doctors.) I also know for a fact that she spent so much time researching his strange conditions, the best treatment options within my financial (or workarounds to that end), and the answers to my very specific (and therefore not normal) questions. She took time to talk to other vets and specialists to get second opinions and ideas when she didn’t quite know what the best move was. And she stayed with me and Soup the entire time on Friday.

She reminisced with me, she asked about my shit ex (“We don’t like him right?”) and emphatically agreed with my “fuck that guy” sentiment when I explained the manipulative stunts he pulled. She walked me through what was happening with a calm that didn’t speak to detachment, but to care. And she told Soup how loved he was along with me, and in place of me when I couldn’t speak through tears. I could not have asked for a better vet for Soup, really and truly, and any other vet my future cats have will have a very high bar to reach. I honestly don’t have enough words to express just how much the work, care, and compassion of everyone at the vet clinic has meant to me.

A long time ago, probably here on Tumblr honestly, I read a post about the idea that maybe sunsets are the gods letting those who’ve passed paint the sky. On Friday it was cloudy all day, except for a short period after the appointment, when the sun peaked out and shined into my window. I like to believe that, once Soup had made it across the bridge and into the waiting arms of Maggie and Sasha and Winston (The Nomja Family Poker Team*), the first thing he did was get some cosmic entity to signal to me that he’d made it over okay.

I think Soup took his mission as my cat with as much seriousness as I took my mission of being his furless mom. And I maintain that until the day I get another set of cats, he’s going to keep close watch over me. And when they arrive he’s going to give them the most important quest of their lives: to take care of me as well as I will take care of them, and took care of him. I don’t think he’s ever really going to stop watching out for me. I know he’s still cuddling me at night as his little ghost self even though I can’t see him. That is, when he’s not playing (and losing) poker with the Nomja family pets.

I miss him so much it hurts, sometimes quite literally. I know that in time it will stop hurting so very much. That someday, when the ball of grief hits the edges of its box, I will be able to look back on our relatively short time together with joy instead of heartache.

The pain of losing him is the price that I would pay again and again for the privilege of getting to love him. And I will continue to love him for the rest of my life, even though he’s gone.

To those who chose to read this unintentional essay, thank you. It feels like a lot, to basically have a eulogy for a cat, but I’ve decided I don’t care. He’s too important to me to not write about him. So thank you for caring, even a little, about me and him too.

To the best emotional support cat a girl could’ve stumbled upon, Rest in Peace:

His Majesty, Sir Chicken Noodle Soup “Soupie” III, First and Last of his line June 4th, 2014 - September 8th, 2023

*When Maggie died I was 10 and based on that painting of dogs playing poker that that was what she was doing. Saying “Aces are wild” in a very specific tone has been a running joke in my family ever since even though I'm fairly certain that is not actually a thing in poker.

For his 9th birthday this year I got him a platypus kicker because I'd finally learned the name of that kind of toy. It never hit the status of his blue one (which was gifted to him by a family friend after his surgery back in February.) He used that one as a pillow more often than he played with it. But I was just so happy he'd made it to 9 all things considered that I didn't care I just wanted to get him a present.

#An Av Original #tw: pet loss #tw: pet illness #tw: animal death #tw: animal illness #tw: pet death #tw: chronic illness #tw: emotional abuse #tw: grief #soup the cat

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therapythoughtstogether · 8 months

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Why can't I seem to change my disordered eating behaviours even if I've changed other very harmful behaviours and ways to cope?

TW ED behaviours and other harmful behaviours general discussion

I have proved to myself that I CAN change my behaviours:

I have stopped drinking ridiculously dangerous amount of alcohol to soothe my intense pain and emotions, escape reality and harm myself.

I have stopped all the kind of SH behaviours that visibly show on my skin.

I have stopped slamming doors and yelling when I'm angry and overwhelmed.

I have challenged my OCD fears may times, specially my fear of contamination, that's the most prevalent at the moment.

I have stopped crossing people's personal spaces when they inform me about it.

I have become responsible taking my meds.

I have pushed myself to leave the apartment at least once a day during deep waves of depression, at least to take the trash out.

I have stopped repeatedly calling and texting people I care about when I'm worried and anxious that something bad has happened to them (including at night), as I was told it was seen as controlling and simply annoying.

Yet I'm still bouncing between the two extremes of my eating disorders.

It seems like I CAN'T not use food as a way of control, self soothing when I get triggered and self punishment at the same time...

Maybe because my eating disorders have been with me sadly since I was a child. They are the longest lasting of my unhealthy coping mechanisms. They feel like they are part of me at this point...

I have suffered different kinds of trauma and that always seemed an easy way to cope. It's so engrained in me now...

But I'm making this list of behaviours I have changed as a person with BPD, OCD, chronic depression and anxiety disorder as a reminder to myself that I can beat my eating disorders too. I'm way too tired of them affecting my life and my health (both mentally and physically).

This is something I will discuss with my therapist. All of the wins mentioned above are greatly thanks to my work in therapy. But there's so much going on in my life (and mostly negatively, sadly) that I hardly touch on this topic. Maybe also because I'm clinging to it as my last and longest way to cope, even if it harms me...

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mental-health-advice · 1 year

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Tag: 🌌🌟☔️

Heyhoo! First of all, thank you for all that you do!

My question is (tw: ) childhood trauma related. I'd love to see an external perspective on it.

(Update: this turned into a trauma vent, please, if any of you doesn't feel comfortable to read it, do not. I'd rather have it unanswered.)

Two of my great friends were both shook to hear when I explained to them (briefly, without details) how a few things were, how my Dad could sometimes be aggressive and why. But recently my doubts arose, and I feel like I have fooled myself.

TW: childhood abuse, neglect, suicide attempt mention, illness mention, cancer, death

My Dad was terribly critical and self-critical - you could say, self-hating - he treated both us and himself badly. His family was nothing ideal either; his father didn't care much for him (or at least he couldn't express it) (he was likely aggressive with them at times), the parents simply left the kids to live with their irascible grandma most of the time, so they will mean no trouble around their house. Throughout his life, he was constantly criticized for and forced to repress every emotion he had for the sake of practicality and "rationality." (Even though he used to be a deep-feeling, imaginative, idealistic child and I know deep at heart he still was.) As he grew up and got married, so he didn't have to face his pain and admit his parents wrongdoings, he adopted his father's ideology and declared that all that was done to him was fair and righteous and should be done similarly. He grew to hate his own emotions and was triggered by the emotions of others. The only thing he allowed himself to feel was "justified" (and desperate) anger, towards anything, but his parents. (Although he was rarely angry at strangers.) He decided that the only way he can be worthy is if he accomplishes something great, but his own perfectionism never let him. A few months ago he died in the same type of cancer his father had - he wasn't much older than 50.

I loved him dearly and I am still crying inside for the life he had never had. I was probably the closest with him, the translator and advocate between my Mom and Dad, although my Mom most of the time took it as "allying with the enemy." My Dad could be cruel to my Mom.

My Mom also came from an abusive household, her parents got divorced, her father had a drinking problem, her brother always mocked her, she was most of the time forbiden to leave the house, later her mom tried to make her stay by refusing to buy her any usable clothes. One time her mother attempted suicide and she saved her life. The sweet little girl who loved and kept hugging everyone became depressed by the age of 3.

My Dad's family only treated her worse than their son. She became often and chronically ill.

[Tragedy - I'm serious.]

And there come I, the oldest daughter. Slowly I understood that it was traumatic. That it was the reason for memory loss, nightmares, and self-destructive behavior. But recently I started to doubt, that it really was "bad". Maybe I was overreacting! And also, apparently, I was a heartless kid?? Because according to Mom I didn't have much empathy and didn't seek hugs. [I have an explanation for the hugs...]

Every since I was small, my Mom vented to me. She was often very frustrated and depressed, and often sick. My Dad was working (at the time and at home) and needed space so he sent us down to the playground. First, when I was a baby, with my Mom. Later with my little brother. It was a soulless, small, gray playground. Then two other every time we moved.

I was a reckless child, but I still can't remember nor imagine (neither did I understand it back then) why I got so many creative punishments. Even if they didn't actually fulfill their threats, I was threatened that I would stand in the corner for days, from morning (they'll wake me up!) to bed time, and if I opposed, I might not get dinner/food either. (I did stand in the corner, but not for that long - mercy) For a while I was banned from the few rooms we had in our flat and sat on the floor in the hallway. I was even forbidden from playing with the shoes. (What did I commit?? Who did I set on fire?? For reference: I was 4-6) I was forbidden from playing. One time I wanted to run away from home in a quarrel, (I was ~8) packed stuff in a small box and told Mom that I'm leaving, to which she replied that "okay, you can leave, but you'll have to leave here everything that we gave you." I angrily left the box (it was a tiny box) on the floor and took my shoes. "No-no, even your clothes." "None?!" "None." That was it.

Every single one of our flats was chaotic, complete disorder, either everything, everywhere or nothing nowhere. I remember once (age 5) Dad asked me to clean the room and so I put away all the toys in boxes in the closet (that's what it's called?) - he then came and poured out each of them onto the floor in a big pile again and said that we are going to sort them out all by type. He did this several times throughout my childhood, he always ordered us to tidy up then came and found mistakes in everything we do. He very literally criticized/corrected everything we did if he was in the room. When I made a surprise breakfast for the family, he changed everything on the table and me and my brother cried about it (Mom didn't even see it yet!) he gave us a cold shower. When he was angry, we hid from him under the bed and desk, or the bathroom. He didn't like that my little brother reminded him of himself, and I always tried to protect him. I was his "favorite" (my brother my Mom's) so when he got punished, I suffered from "survivors' guilt." When they argued my ears were red from pressing my hands so tight to cover them. He of course spanked us or slapped us quite a lot. (As I remember) (Mom did much more rarely.) Mom doesn't remember most of it. We (he) had debt, even Mom didn't know, and so there was no hot water, or heating in the flat from one point. We were forbidden to open the windows because then the cold'd come in. The air wasn't too fresh, and it was dark. We only ate bread and a cheap sort of sliced meet for a good while. It was a danger that "the government/the bank" would come at any time and take our furnitures. When they came, we hid our toys, when they left, I remember Dad complimenting how nicely we tidied up, "it should always look like this!"

When I was 6, I told myself a bedtime story in which I got into a hospital with a not-so-painful illness and lived there and been taken care of. I kept drawing comics in which a 4 years old little girl got lost in a forest (her Mom sort of left her) and lived there alone. It was my dream to get lost in a forest. In one "episode" the little girl (8 at the time) helped a mama bear out of a trap, healed, dressed, fed her and led her back to her cubs. But at home the papa bear was spanking all the 10 of them, because he was sleeping, the cave was too small, and when they tried to get out, one of them stepped on his tail/ear. I also kept drawing (one after the other, dozens) a comic about "the good kid" and "the bad kid," the bad kid was reckless, messy, (I'd rather not go into detail...but he wasn't well groomed... and it didn't even occur to me that it'd be the parents responsibility) he always misbehaved, cursed, and drew on the desk, whereas "the good kid" was... good. He/she was clean, neat and tidy, had his/her own little room, and clothes he/she liked, (in some versions they were both boys, in some both girls, in some, varied) the parents loved her, took care of her, she got food that she liked, etc. In one version, the two were brothers, and the "Bad kid" (aged 8!) was taken to a young offender institution. He didn't hurt anyone.

In first grade a years older classmate of mine (his father was a criminal, he failed several times) got authority by an older teacher to do whatever he pleases as her "little helper" every afternoon - he smashed those who behaved and stayed silent to the wall and gave candy to his friends. Also, in first/second grade I repeatedly witnessed COCSA.

Thank you for listening, I had doubts that none of this even was bad and I just overreacted, but written down it seems bad enough. (Thoughts are yet welcome!)

I went trought great healing in the last two years as I turned 18 - now I have acces to all the resources and possibilities that weren't available to me as a child. I'm free. I have friends and I am in college. My Mom and my Brother, and even Dad's Sister's family - we are all Healing! It's like the spring! It was just so hard to believe! *weeps* I am free.

Thank you for listening!

If the asks seems too long please feel free to answer in a new post! (Maybe it would be better because of all the details... I'll find it by the tag "🌌🌟☔️" anyways :)

Hey there,

Unfortunately we are unable to answer an Ask that is over 700 words. The reason for this is that we find it incredibly hard to read through the whole Ask if it is any longer as we find it really overwhelming.

If you could please shorten your Ask that would be great, or else unfortunately it will not be answered.

I hope that you can understand this and I hope that you are going well!

I'm thinking of you!

Take care,

Lauren

#mha-lauren #advice #advice blog #mental health advice #🌌🌟☔️

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