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dallonwrites · 1 month

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Lover Boy But It's The Camp Nano Intro?

Sometimes Beau thinks his heart must be made out of the most fragile, feebly tissue paper – the dainty pink stuff pushed into the bottom of a Valentines giftbag, the biodegradable kind that immediately crumbles when it’s met with water or trash compost or an uncaring hand. But it’s not his fault he’s a hopeless romantic.

genre: adult litfic

setting: san francisco, 1980s

deals with: grief and loss, queer history + the AIDS crisis, sex and the body, terminal illness and caretaking, being a hopeless romantic but like for all kinds of love, platonic love, friendship when one of them is ill and knows they will likely die, disability and how caretaking can reshape dynamics

summary: It's about love, babey! Beau tries to navigate all the different types of love in his life -- romantic, sexual, platonic, familial, communal, self -- as he leans into relationships, even the unhealthy ones, to try to cope with the death of his best friend Bobby, who Beau took care of whilst he was sick for two years. Told with a dual timeline showing those two years as Beau processes it. It's about being messy and confused and trying to understand how to move forward when the biggest part of your life is now gone. It's about being in love with your best friend but like platonically and also your best friend is dead. It's about queer sex and grief and caretaking and the AIDS crisis. Beau is also obsessed with horror movies and is definitely autistic but doesn't know it. Bobby loved volcanoes and mountains, acrylic painting, David Cronenberg movies and also The Muppets (his fave was Gonzo btw). If you want to know more I have a more detailed WIP intro and also the tag where I post way too long excerpts!

status: 16,391 words into the first draft, but that's been writing whenever/whatever I want rather than a consistent routine

my goal?: get a consistent drafting routine LOL. Word count wise I'd like 15k to basically double it, but we will see! Would love to write everyday at least though.

I haven't done taglists in a while buuuut if people are doing camp nano taglists? That could be fun? This story is so sad but sometimes it is so silly and fun. If you like stories where the grief and joy hold hands then this might be for you !!

What Beau remembers: The quiet when, for a long moment, Bobby didn’t speak. Then, a whisper. “Today wasn’t the day.” And Beau understood what he meant, a painful but deep knowing -- how they still weren't ready, whenever they talked about it, to say the word die. “No, today wasn’t the day.” Bobby, quieter. “And tomorrow. Tomorrow won’t be the day either.” “I don’t think it will.” Beau thinks, at this moment, that he kissed the top of Bobby’s head, or he whispered one into his hair, pressed his cheek into it. At least, that’s how he remembers, or how he wants to. “I don’t think it will be the day for a while.” What Beau remembers: Bobby, still quiet, his breathing slowed. But still awake. How he moved closer, and Beau held him tighter. Sometimes Beau believed that if he just held onto Bobby tighter it would somehow lengthen the time between now and the day, that the universe would sense their closeness and not dare to sever it. All if Beau just held him closer, heartbeat to heartbeat. It was so dark in the room, the moonlight a thin sheet behind the curtains; just them and their bodies, their breaths. And he thinks he remembers Bobby smiling, that he felt it or even sensed it, the presence of something happy, something that, for a moment, let itself be hopeful. “Your heartbeat is so relaxing,” he said. “I love that you sleep like Dracula.”

#the way i literally tried to make this short. i kinda flopped #laughing so hard this is basically the same length as the other one but like bc my ass needed THAT excerpt at the end #camp nanowrimo #lover boy #me doing the exact wip intro style i said i didnt like for my camp nano post LOL!#i tried to parallel the vibes w the excerpts like #lure you in with the hopeless romantic quote and then OH! it's about seeing ur best friend slowly die

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cemeterything · 1 year

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Hey there Mr. Loveless! As a fellow chronic pain person, how do you deal with the fear that things might only get worse? I want to believe in the whole "it gets better" thing, but it's hard when I can't do things I used to be able to. Sending you all the best <3

i'm sorry i didn't answer this sooner; i needed time to think about my answer because i really wanted to say something meaningful and constructive. but i think i have it now.

i've been reading a lot about death and grief recently (there's a point to this, i promise) and coming to terms with accepting the inevitability that i will experience grief and loss, especially as i age (which is also inevitable). i feel that's something that can be applied to the experience of having a chronic pain condition as well. grief and frustration are inevitable, and it doesn't make you weak, nor is it the 'wrong way to handle' those feelings by being afraid that they'll get worse. it's okay to feel those things. it's important to let yourself acknowledge them, even though they hurt. there might be nothing you can do, and that's an upsetting thought no matter how optimistic you try to be, and no matter how much you love life and living despite everything. it's the kind of thing that can drive you to despair if you're not careful.

but i find that a good way to balance that out and acknowledge my disability whilst preventing a full-blow anxiety spiral is to ask myself what i can do for myself right now, in the present. the future is uncertain, and that's frightening, but right now is within my control and reach, and it's up to me to decide how to use it. to me, that makes the future feel less daunting, less of a looming spectre that prevents me from enjoying anything or being too afraid to participate. there's no point, to me, in "saving" my opportunities to experience life and avoid pursuing things i think will bring me satisfaction and fulfilment for a later date. it's not something i'll get any bonus points for at the end of the game if there's more unspent happiness in my inventory when it's over.

obviously i try to be sensible and know my limits so i don't complertely wreck myself and destroy any chance i have of experiencing a future at all, but sometimes you just have to say "fuck it, we ball" and do what you want regardless. it gets easier with practice. the fear is still there, and it always will be, but so is the knowledge that no matter what happens, i'll try to make the most of what i have for as long as i can. and i can live with that.

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frankiensteinsmonster · 5 months

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My fucking Bones Hurt today????? Like not my joints and my normal back pain that add up to skeleton pain but like. The Inside of My Bones???? Pressure and movement didn't make it better or worse it was just.. hurt. This is New and Sudden and Very Intense :'0 going to my Dr about it asap bc what the hell. Is this. A common fibromyalgia symptom?

I can still walk and shit for now bc it like I said, moving doesn't make it worse per se. But it hurts so fuckin much I don't necessarily Want to walk either because the pain is so intense and it's all I can think about when it happens. (⁠´⁠;⁠︵⁠;⁠`⁠) thankfully it's very come and go but like. What if I wake up and it's still happening?? You know? Why did my body pull the rug under me like this? I'm like. Fine with it Being Disabled, I just wish my symptoms took their time arriving instead of just hitting me so out of nowhere with no apparent cause.

And while all this is going on I need to prepare to defend myself against all these people who don't know what I'm going through assuming health and that with enough exercise or whatever I can totally be fixed. Whilst also being told I have an incurable musculoskeletal disorder?? Like. I need everybody to shut up, make up their minds, and listen to me. And not just???? Imagine shit?? Prepared to yell. I'm bringing in a loved one to my appointments from now on.

#it would suck so bad if it was jdjsjsjsj Fucking Bone Cancer lmao i would be destroyed #🥲 likeeeee im not going to catastrophize or think about it too hard #but ahhhhhhh #okay im done #fibromyalgia #fibromyalgia :')#fibro problems #cpunk #cripple punk #chronic pain #bone pain

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m-joys · 2 years

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Donnie x Anxious Mutant S/O

@bevkin :hi!! I just found your blog and I really like your writing with your hc!

I want to send in a request so I hope this is ok,, Can I request for a scenario with Donnie and a mutant s/o (gender neutral is ok) who's very quiet because they don't want to scare others, maybe they also have a scratching habit from the neck due to anxiety, they could be based on a reptile of some sort, I haven't seen alot of people with a mutant reader so I hope this is ok!

wordcount:

A/n: Did I stray away a bit?Yeah. Is it absolutely awfull? Not quite I would say.

---

Its been almost four years since you've met the turtles and even longer since you've last been in contact with other humans. Sudden mutation which disabled your abillity to live a normal life has taken a big toll on your somewhat already strained mental health. Along with trouble getting used to the new form of living, the building insecurities about your brand new look werent helping much.

Some of the weight has been lifted off of your shoulders since bonding with the turtles, majority of it being since you've gotten close to the purple nerd in a romantic way. Even while you have still been just friends, you've felt the most comfortable around him as he's shown you that you can lean on him whilst he respects your personal space and boundaries. He made sure that he and others listened and respected what you had to say even while your voice was the quitest in the room. Even when you didnt voice it, he still asked for and appreaciated your input on whatever the topic may be. What more, listening to you telling him your opinion on his hand crafted trinkets or future plans has been especially dear and enjoyable to him.

As a mutant himself, hes obviously very aware on how you may feel about your appearance and tries hardly to show you that it doesnt matter what people think as long as youre still your good-intentioed self. It goes in hand that hes noticed your scratching habbit and, while it does pain him to see your unhealthy coping mechanism, he tries to gently, almost secretly, approach it and help you without overwhelming you.

You have been sitting quietly on the pillow overflowed bed in his room thats convenietly connected to the lab. The two have been separated by just a heavy steel door that even Donatello himself sometimes has a hard time pushing. Its been two years of your blossoming relationship with the purple clad and it only came as natural to start sharing the same space and move into the same room.

While yes, you have gotten better over time generally, but the anxiety that followed you before your mutation was still present. Managing it has been for a great portion under control along with not letting it get to you too much, yet one thing you seem to not be able to get rid of is the constant scratching your neck had to endure out of habit. Already having tried things like fidgets, cutting your nails, taking deep breaths of which none had worked, you've quietly gave up on stopping it much to your lovers dismay.

This week, tho at first glance avarage, had many small slip-ups that have greatly builded up in a large, seemingly burning, pile of cripling nervousnes that takes control over you especially when you're alone with your own thoughts. Sitting in a uncomfortable positin with your knees thightly against your chest with your arms hugging them, cold sweat seemed to constantly drip down your forhead and under your oversized found clothing. Eyes pacing in all directions folowing your brain, your hand secretly found its way to your bruised and damaged neck. Anxiety blurring your thoughts enough as to pay no mind to your harmfull doing.

It wasnt your first time something like this happened, and you were certain it wasnt the last. Anxiety attacks have slowly exited your life over time as you've worked on your health, but now seemed that youre on the werge of choking on seemingly thick air which would allow heavy sobs to escape behind your eyes. Your state has made the world irrelevant and the only thing you could focus on are the blury sheets infront of you.

Not having noticed your partner entering the room, you jumped and almost winced at his sudden touch of pulling your hand away and pressing it on his lips. "Im here" he reassured as he sat himself behind you enough to lean you on his plastron whilst still holding your hand. Even tho your state has easen at the thought of him being there for you, your hand gripped and burried its nails into his as if its beinf restricted. He didnt mind if it meant you'll calm down.

Slowly turning you around so he could connect with you better, you instictively burried your face in his neck as to inhale his ever calming scent. Patting your back he moved your head so you could listen to his much slower heart beat as to help calm you down. You've been together for a while and there wasnt any issues, but sometimes he does whish you would be more vocal about what you needed and when you needed help but theres plenty of time to work on that as long as your willing.

"Its going to be okay, I"ll make sure its okay"

#tmnt 2014 #tmnt bayverse #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt 2003 #tmnt 2012 #tmnt donnie #tmnt donnie x reader #tmnt donatello #donatello x reader #tmnt donatello x reader #2003 donnie #tmnt 2003 donnie #2012 donnie #tmnt 2012 donnie #tmnt x reader #bayverse tmnt x reader #teenage mutant ninja turtle imagine #teenage mutant ninja turtles x reader

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sleepingdeath-light · 1 year

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disabled friend hcs ; levi ackerman

requested by ; will-grammer (02/05/23)

fandom(s) ; attack on titan

fandom masterlist(s) ; here

character(s) ; levi ackerman

outline ; “May I ask for (platonic) headcanons for Levi Ackerman with male reader who is disabled? Specifically, with a bad leg and bad coordination, chronic pain and asthma. Reader is a civilian and he and Levi met in town? Maybe they both bought the same premium tea and began chatting. Something comforting, please. What kind of friend Levi would be like? Thank you.”

warning(s) ; canon-typical references to violence, brief references to ableism, but other than that it’s really fluffy

it’s rare that levi finds someone that shares his appreciation for tea — or, at least, someone who isn’t a rich snob — so stumbling across you at a random market was a welcome surprise

even if that surprise nearly had him knocking you flat on your backside when you both reached for the same bag of tea and you startled the living daylights out of him

but regardless, apologies were made, names were exchanged and pleasant small talk (about tea) was had and all was well as he returned to base

and then he bumps into you again when he’s fetching some odd supplies from that same market and he just about manages to stop you from falling over when you go to pick up a different brand of tea

he’s concerned, though he doesn’t show it, and you apologise and make a joke about coordination and point to your bad leg — which he raises an eyebrow at and nods in acknowledgement

and the the subject goes back to tea and you start talking about how it’s quite rare to see this sort around locally — and he realises he’s never tried it

to which you offer to share some and he insists on going halves on the payment

which was the beginning of a peculiar friendship

you’d meet up every week to catch up over a cup of tea (well, many cups of tea) either at your home or at a cafe where you could try new blends of tea

you’re the only person he voices his frustrations to and you get all of the scout gossip — he’ll also tell you about the world beyond the walls if you ask

you keep him in the loop with regards to your life and other general civilian stuff — which includes random tangents about health and such

levi becomes incredibly protective of you because he can’t bear to lose anyone else — and especially with your disabilities he frets about your health turning or you being harmed by other civilians

he’s already witnessed how inconsiderate and cruel people can be to you (having to step in multiple times to intimidate them into backing down and leaving you be)

and he’s aware of how testy and difficult it is to get access to proper healthcare, which is a particular concern of his because of your asthma

now he never voices these concerns but you do notice that people start leaving you be and you’re able to get appointments to discuss your health with doctors — which, due to the timing, you can pretty easily chalk up to your new friend getting involved

he also ensures that you have proper mobility aids by asking around retired/discharged scouts and officers and figuring out who he should call after to get a hold of something like that

when you have flare-ups, levi will happily come and perform errands for you (unless he’s out on a scouting mission) — whether that’s fetching medication or food or drink, finishing your chores, tending to any pets you have or just keeping you company

on a related note your house will end up spotless after he visits because he’s so particular about cleaning that he’ll usually end up doing it for you

his reflexes are extremely good so he’s usually able to help compensate for your bad coordination and will catch whatever it is you’ve accidentally knocked over — or you, if that happens to be the case

you’re the only person still alive to have seen him at his most vulnerable — when he cried and trembled whilst talking about those he’d lost to titans and to circumstance

about his mother and his friends from the underground, about his squad and petra and mike and everyone else

about all of the gore and viscera he’d seen, all of the good men and women he’d lost — kids, he called them

but the next day he acts like nothing happened and you follow suit, never bringing it up again

he jokingly calls you brat — but the slight twitch of his mouth gives away his light intent

erwin is the only one who knows where he goes every week, but as long as levi completes his assignments and paperwork he has no reason to complain

even if, on occasion, some of that paperwork has been completed at your home with a steaming cup of tea and a conversation about some neighbour of yours going on in the background

#sleepingdeath #male reader #platonic x reader #disabled reader #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan x male reader #aot x male reader #aot x reader #aot fluff #attack on titan fluff #snk x male reader #snk x reader #snk fluff #fluff hcs #fluff

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lily-janus · 1 year

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Someone Like You - Chapter 3

Chapter 1 | chapter 2 | next

Summary: Janus and Roman tour different places to see if they're good for their film. And it goes great in case you were wondering...

Pairing: pre-romantic roceit

Warnings: disability, jealousy, painful past, food mentions, low self esteem and self depricating thoughts. Be sure to let me know if there's anything I missed.

Word count: 1,712

Hello everyone! It's that time of the week again! This chapter's first half is still by the incredible @prince-rowan-of-the-forest ! And the other half is finally by me! My part will be in purple text so you'll know when it starts and from that point on all the chapters will be my own writing! Thanks again for anyone who reads this and for @prince-rowan-of-the-forest for letting me adopt this wonderful fic^^

Sorry for the long intro, hope you enjoy!

His father had been ecstatic when he found out that Janus was meeting someone outside of school. He knew that his dad worried a lot about Janus’ lack of friends in school and he had tried at first. It had been better when he had Virgil and after he had been ditched he’d tried to keep Virgil’s absence a secret from his dad. He’d started saying that Virgil was too busy to come over or that they had still been hanging out in school but eventually his dad had figured out what had happened. The man wasn’t stupid, after all.

So when Janus asked for a lift to the coffee shop the man had been incredibly excited. He had needed to sit through the ten minute drive being fired question after question. Which was- annoying, but tolerable.

“Have fun!” His dad called as he climbed out of the passenger seat, “Don’t stay out too late-”

“I’ll totally be staying out here for eleven hours-” Janus said, rolling his eyes, they had agreed to meet at 11am. It’s not like Janus would be staying out all night.

“Text me when you want to be picked up,” His dad said, ignoring him, “Oh! And take this, buy yourself a slice of cake or something,”

His dad stuck his hand out of the car window and Janus shook his head, taking the 20$ bill.

“Goodbye,” Janus said, already backing away from the car.

“Remember to call me if you need anything!” He called even as he started to drive away at a snail’s pace, “My phone’s on if you need me, don’t be mean to your new friend! Have fun!!"

Janus just sighed as his dad pulled away, still waving out of the window. He loved his dad- he really did- but the guy could really be over the top sometimes.

Shaking his head to move his thoughts along, Janus straightened his capelet- what? if he got stared at anyway he may as well dress however he wanted, and if that was like a 19th-century noble, then so be it- and sighed before making his way into the coffee shop.

He had arrived about half an hour earlier than the time he and Roman had agreed upon so he wouldn’t have to worry about locating Roman in the slightly crowded shop. Instead he was able to pick a table closer to the back and sit down, resting his cane against the chair and picking up the paper menu tucked into a plastic holder that also displayed their table number- 17.

Whilst he waited Janus ordered a coffee using the bank card his father seemed to have forgotten that he had again. He’d probably keep the twenty anyway, his dad wouldn’t mind.

Roman arrived with all of his noise and grandeur forty minutes later. He had made Janus jump when he slammed his bag onto the table and stopped a minute to catch his breath before placing it on the floor and sitting down.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Roman apologised, shaking his head, “I just- ran all the way here, were you waiting long?”

“Not long,” Janus lied.

“You look- fancy,” Roman commented, looking over his outfit.

“You’re not exactly looking societally appropriate either,” Janus pointed out, it was true, Roman was wearing much more makeup than he usually wore in school, thick wings of eyeliner set off by sparkly gold eyeshadow that beautifully set off his green eyes, he wore dangly earrings and an open dress coat, under which he could see a loose shirt and a corset, paired eloquently with a skirt that reaches his shins So yeah, Janus wasn’t exactly the most extravagantly dressed person here, “You do know that we’re not attending a fantasy ball today, don’t you?”

“And you’re aware that you’re not the evil king’s sorcerer sent to the ball to seduce and kidnap the most handsome Prince?” Roman quipped back, leaning forward and raising an eyebrow. Was Roman… flirting with him? Is that what this was? But wasn’t he dating Virgil, or was this just part of the trick? this didn’t make any sense.

“Well obviously I wouldn’t be there for you, then,” Janus said instead of what he had really been thinking before mentally kicking himself for not coming up with something better when he saw Roman’s crestfallen expression, he hadn’t meant to hurt him. What the hell was he supposed to say now?

Fortunately Roman simply shook his head and smiled again, “Mind if I grab a coffee? Then we can go over what I have planned for today!”

“I don’t control you,” Janus shrugged, “Get whatever you want,”

“Uh- thanks? I think,” Roman said, looking momentarily confused before shaking his head again and taking the menu that Janus had left on the table. He looked at it for a moment before scrunching up his face in a way that Janus was pretty sure meant he was considering something.

“Hey, Janus?” Roman said, looking up at him, he raised an eyebrow, “Opinion on red velvet cake?”

“Oh, I hate it,” Janus said immediately, before panicking slightly, “Totally the worst cake flavour out there, I would just hate to be given a slice,”

He really hoped Roman would pick up on the sarcastic tone he had added to the second statement to amend the instinctual lie. From the way Roman barked out a laugh he guessed it had worked. Why the hell did Roman want to know his opinion on cake flavours anyway?

Roman went up to the bar to order because he just had to be extra like that, when he returned five minutes later he was carrying a tray that held two plates and a glass of the most obnoxious iced coffee Janus had ever seen, and he didn't even know coffee could be obnoxious.

"Why did you get two?" Janus asked, looking at the two slices of red velvet cake on the tray. Roman smiled at him.

"Didn't you say "Oh I would just hate to be given a slice by the best, most handsome group project partner ever?" Just now?" Roman asked, putting so much drama into the impersonation as he pushed one of the plates towards him, Janus stared.

"I don't talk like that," Janus said, "That was a terrible impression of me, but…. Thanks, I guess, as offensive as that was… "

"You're welcome!" Roman cheered, completely ignoring the rest of his statement as he dug into his cake, Janus just rolled his eyes and ate his own slice in silence.

About half an hour later the pair had left the coffee shop to embark on a route that Roman had up on his phone. Their first destination was the local church which was only a short walk. All the way there Roman kept up a stream of chatter. He didn't feel the need to stop talking unless Janus actually interjected, which was nicer than him needing to provide a back and forth.

Janus thought he might actually struggle to keep up with Roman's somewhat quick pace if he had to talk at the same time. When they finally arrived at the doors to the church, Janus had to lean on his cane in hopes to catch his breath without Roman noticing his struggles. He didn’t need pity from the guy, absolutely not, especially since- for some reason- Roman seemed to actually be respecting his existence as a human being at the moment.

“Alright,” Roman said, placing a hand on the large church doors,, “Hopefully there isn’t a service on right now or this’ll be really embarrassing,”

There wasn't, at the moment, much to Roman's clear relief. And they both walked inside. They stayed silent to respect the few people who were praying there as they checked the place out to see if it fits their intended film.

As Janus walked around the church he couldn't help the occasional glance to Roman's direction. The guy had a passionate gleam in his eyes as he looked around, smiling slightly and nodding to himself. Janus did not find it cute, definitely not. Not like it would matter if he did anyway..

They suddenly locked eyes and Roman gestured for them to go talk outside.

"So what do you think?" Roman asked as soon as they stepped outside.

"I don't know about you but I already have so many ideas about a bunch of scenes and…" Roman began rambling on about his ideas, smiling and gesturing with his hands to emphasize his words.

Janus tried to follow but ultimately ended up spacing out, only responding with the occasional nod.

"...What about you?"

Janus suddenly realized Roman was looking at him expectantly. He shrugged, "sounds like you have enough ideas for the two of us…" he sneered, "...and the entire class too." He added.

Roman bit his lip, "right… sorry, Virgil always tells me how annoying I get when I'm overexcited but… I wanna hear your thoughts too… please?"

At the mention of his ex-friend, Janus stiffened. Not like he forgot the two were dating, his mean mind wouldn't let him if he wanted to, but hearing Roman casually mention him was like a punch to his gut.

"...let's just check out the next place.." he tried hard to not let his voice shake as he swallowed the lump in his throat, grabbed his cane a little too tightly, and started walking.

"Janus?" Roman easily caught up to him, with his long, healthy legs. "You okay?"

"Fine." Janus gritted out, trying to pick up his pace and put Roman's annoyingly worried face behind him. Which obviously didn't work.

"You don't seem fine-"

"And what do you know?" Janus snapped, stopping in place and glaring at Roman, "you don't know anything.."

Roman looked down and started playing with his fingers awkwardly, "I know… I want to though, I want to know you." He looked up and hesitantly met Janus' eyes.

Janus looked away, "no, you don't, nobody does. So let's just get this project over with and never speak to each other again."

Roman must have sensed Janus wasn't going to change his mind anytime soon and just sighed, "if that's what you want…"

Want… yep, that's definitely what he wants, one hundred percent, no hesitation.

…isn't it?

#Someone Like You #Lily writes #chapter 3 #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfic #pre romantic roceit #ts roman #ts janus #janus sanders #roman sanders #cw food mention #tw low self esteem #tw self deprecation #wip exchange #roceit #cw disability

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crazy-stupid-potato · 9 months

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This is mad long, bare with, or don't lmao

TW's for: References to depression, r*pe, a*use towards women, and a bunch of other women rights related issues. I don't go in depth, but they are very much there. Be careful. Look after your mental health, please. Also a smidgen of spoilers for the Barbie movie at the end.

So, this whole tangent began with the Barbie movie. I've wrote all my thoughts down in a notebook, that's how I know what I'm going to type - vaguely. This will seem insane to have come from the Barbie movie, but I think it will hopefully be coherent. (Not like anyone will read this, lol. I am NOT anywhere near popular enough for this to even get a comment but here we go)

Right. A bit of context to my life. Since I was about 14, I have always felt that I am some sort of trans. For a while I thought I was non-binary, then I thought I was gender-fluid, then (a recent development) I thought I was a guy. So, you can imagine the absolute loop I have been thrown through when I realised that what I might have been feeling is internalised, borderline, misogyny.

Wild right? Let me explain.

Since I was 11, I have repeatedly heard the horrors of being female in this world. The rape/murders that happen on a daily basis. The horrors towards women in the past. The continued disregard for female autonomy. The abuse faced at the hands of people who are supposed to protect us. It's all horrific. Not only this, but I have seen, heard, learnt, about the way society completely destroys women. The lack of acknowledgement for the pain of females', the constant dismissal of mental illnesses, physical illnesses and disabilities (this also happens with males, too, I am aware, especially in the mental health department, but this section of this post is about people with the female anatomy.) The blatant disregard towards women who report abusive partners or stalkers is disgusting. (And that is just in 1st World countries where human rights are supposed to be the best. The horrors that happen in other countries are worse, but I am writing about what I know. I cannot say anything about other countries other than I know that there are some truly atrocious things happening to women in a lot of them because I am not educated on those situations. But believe me, I see it.) I see people AFAB lament the horrors of having the female anatomy. The wish to not have periods, or a uterus at all. The constant pressure put on women to look a certain way all the time. To not be too thin or too fat, not have too much hair but have enough that it doesn't look like you're trying too hard, etc. Honestly, the Gloria speech in Barbie is the best one I have ever heard about what it's like to be a woman. I see people expressing disgust at pregnancies, how they never wish to have one because it'll make them look ugly, or because of the complications that come with it. I have seen it, and do see it, all. For the past 7 years I have seen it all.

Can you imagine how much that has f-ed me up? I'm sure you can, because I'm sure it's also true for a lot of you.

All of this has made me hate the idea of being a woman.

When I was in my early years of high school (I'm in the UK and we start high school at 11 and finish at 16) I always said how I would "love to be a boy" because I always saw it as easier. I hated being a girl because everything was so shit. And that carried on into my later years of high school.

As I was introduced to the wonderful different gender identities that exist, I began reading and hearing stories of how trans/non-binary/gender-fluid, etc, people felt before they realised they were what they are. And I thought, "oh, damn. That me." So I began experimenting with labels. But even whilst I did that, whilst I played around with pronouns, names, hairstyles, clothing, I always felt this deep want to wear pretty dresses and have long hair. But I rejected those wants because I was "trans/non-binary/gender-fluid now and if I want those things then I can't be any of those." Which, yes, I know, is very binary of me. I understand that anyone can wear pretty dresses and skirts and have ling, flowy hair that they place sparkly pins in. I know. But you have to understand how damn difficult it is to ignore the stuff you have been taught all your life. I wanted to be called she/her but at the same time rejected those feelings because the thought of being a woman made me sick.

But then I watched the Barbie movie.

Now, I don't remember my childhood much. I don't know if it was what you would call "traditional girlhood." But I know it was good. And I know many AFAB have experienced horrendous childhoods, which hurts me to think about every time. But when I saw the ending of the Barbie movie. When the videos of those girls and women were playing. I felt something in me. I'm sure you've all heard different renditions of how the montage made women feel, and a lot of them is how I would describe how I felt. So, I won't get into it. But just know I felt a shift in me.

As well as that montage, other things in the movie got to me. The inherent femininity of it, for one. I know from discussions with other people, and from seeing many videos/blogs online, that what I'm going to mention is a common experience for a lot of AFAB. I hated the colour pink. Despised it. I only very very recently, before the Barbie movie, began admitting that the colour wasn't so bad. But the Barbie movie made me think that, omg, I might actually love the colour. Alongside the colour pink, I loved the outfits of the Barbies'. They were so freeing to see. As I wrote previously, I wanted to wear pretty skirts and dresses and have pretty hairstyles, but always refused to acknowledge that. Seeing the Barbies' in their overtly feminine clothing (again, I know I'm leaning into gender binary but please give me some slack. It's hard to write when you're not a novelist) made me feel giddy. I saw them and was like "pretty pretty pretty" and not just because all the women were beautiful lmao. It lit up a spark of joy in me seeing them dress in those clothes. That's how I can best describe my feelings. I just suddenly felt that I could wear those things. Weird, huh?

Another thing in the movie is the portrayal of happy older women.

This again links with the video montage, but also links with the old lady at the beginning of the movie saying she knows she's beautiful, with Ruth Handler being so gentle with Stereotypical Barbie and not ridiculing her for being stupid or naive. It also links with Gloria. I freaking loved Gloria. All of these portrayals made me so happy because it gave me a sudden sense of hope that I will be okay one day.

As someone with severe depression and probably autism/ADHD, who doesn't remember not being depressed, that really spoke to me. These women were happy. They were okay with themselves. No, the LOVED themselves. It was beautiful.

This movie healed me, just a bit, and let me make the first real steps to healing fully. I'm still not 100% sure about my gender identity, but tbh I don't quite care. I'm starting to wear makeup often, starting to take care of my body better. I also bought a cute little Stitch dress lmao, and a white, frilly tank-top with purple flowers on it. I'm embracing my feminine side and I've never felt more free.

It's a wonderful feeling. I'm surprised myself that this all came from a Barbie movie. But, at the same time, I think I was beginning to realise this about myself before the movie. Having finished college and not needing to worry about Uni as I'm not going has given me the freedom to actually look at myself, internally, and ask "what do I feel?" Again, linking back to the Barbie movie when Ruth says, "Take my hands...Now, feel." And I have done. I've asked what my brain needs, and it's full of pretty dresses and pretty hairstyles and warmth and a want to live again.

I'm aware that this may seem silly to a lot of people. Maybe even childish. But I don't care. And that's a lot for an 18 year old to say, because many people my age, and older, do care. A lot.

This has just been an introspection, but I chose to share it because maybe it will help other people.

(Also, heavy disclaimer if you got this far. I don't know what terms are still used now, or how they're used. And writing about girl/womanhood and femininity whilst also trying to be inclusive to those who have the female anatomy but don't identify as a woman, and those who don't have the female anatomy but identify as women is very difficult. So, I deeply apologise if I used the term AFAB wrong, or if it is no longer an accepted term. Also, if anything else in this post is wrong/offensive or incorrect, again I'm sorry. Please let me know what is wrong and how to fix it and I will do my best to edit this post with the updated terminology/fixes.)

#this was a doozy #drink some water #stretch #this took me an hour to write #barbie #the barbie movie #barbie 2023 #barbie the movie #barbie movie #barbie spoilers #self introspection #introspection #women #beautiful women #love life again #womens rights #speak up

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hangingslothcentral · 1 year

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happy trans day of visibility! I know it's rough out there right now, especially for those of us who have other marginalised identities as well as trans and/or nonbinary-ness, because so often it seems like the news is either full of vitriol against us or going out of its way to frame our pain, discomfort, suffering and death as the only things that matter, leaving next to no room for the real joy which can be a part of the trans experience. so I want to tell you this:

in January someone important to me started using the right pronouns for me for the first time after years of really struggling to get my pronouns right. we've spoken about it before and whilst he understood what I was telling him in principle, he couldn't really follow through on it because it just didn't compute in his head. it was not an act of malice but a failure to conceptualise, and i didn't force the issue as much as i could have because i didn't want to (which is a totally valid choice).

i have, however, written several long coming out letters which this person has read, had many long, difficult conversations with them, tried my best to provide educational resources, and generally pointed out when their language or choices further marginalised people like me. none of this had a measurable impact on the way they talked about me.

last year, in April, I started taking testosterone and it's had this massively positive impact on my life. I'm happier, less anxious, and more comfortable in my skin. the change is really, really dramatic, though it's come on slowly. it's hard to fully articulate the difference this has made because it's so big but also so subtle. it's like existing just became incrementally easier and easier.

I'm happier and it bleeds into every facet of my life. I'm making healthier choices, I'm easier to talk to, and it's a far cry from the absolute rock bottom I hit several years back which this person bore witness to and which coincided with when i first came out. and it was just me being happier which made him understand what my identity meant, and which ultimately got him to the place where he uses the right name and pronouns for me.

i'm incredibly lucky to have had the access to medical transition that I have had. what should be the bare minimum of care is extremely hard for so many people to access, and it's so often down to the luck of where you're born, your ethnicity and your level of general health, and none of that is fair or right.

access to medical transition hasn't just changed my own life for the better, it's helped the people around me see me more clearly, and the joy I so obviously experience as a result has helped them completely reframe their views not just of me, but of the entire trans community.

(i do also wanna say that I know it's not going to be the case for everyone that they'll be able access medical transition at all and that even if they do it's not a magical trump card which will suddenly make everyone who's not accepting of your identity come around to seeing you as you really are.)

absolutely it's important that we hold people to account for the harm they do to trans people. it's important to remember the names of the people we lose every year to systemic failures preventing access to trans health care and as a direct result of a failure to empathetically educate the public about what trans and nonbinary identities are. there is a need to outline in detail all the ways we're being let down and how this harms not just us but everyone around us, and to outline how these problems are only more difficult for trans and nonbinary folks who also have any skin colour besides white, or who are disabled, or mentally ill, or in poverty, or any number of other factors which make it harder for them to move through the world.

but! trans and nonbinary joy is also desperately, desperately important. it can be a beacon of light to those of us in dark places who have forgotten that joy is even a possibility. it can give hope to children whose families turn against them and let them down. and it can also change the world. i know this because i've seen it happen in this very small way, where one person's views were reshaped by nothing more than me living my life and being happy in my own skin.

last of all, know that you are loved, whether you're out or not, whether you're happy or not, whether people see you for who you are or not. you are loved.

#trans day of visibility #tdov 2023 #tdov

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teasinterests · 1 year

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Ok yk what Tatsumi rambles lets go.. this is gonna be a long one so buckle up & enjoy the ride..

‼️ CW: Mentions of abuse, religious trauma, physical violence, mentions of physical disability & eating disorders ‼️

Anyways Tatsumi??? Slaps this guys head.. this bad boy can fit so much trauma ❤️ can we just start off with the random fact that his parents kept him in a bedroom with blood stains all over it?? And that he considers sleeping outside better than his own room??? 😭 I also just wanna remind everyone that Eichi compares Tatsumi’s family as a “force to not be reckoned with” these mfs are batshit insane…

BUT ANYWAY!! I love Tatsumi’s development after what happened during Reimei. His parents fucking sent him there to spread the word of Jesus & Religion but Tatsumi doesnt want that, he was raised to fear people, he was raised to stay confined and brainwashed by religious shit and be worshipped by their following. Tatsumi literally wants nothing more than to be loved. It’s his whole motivation, he would do anything for love, he would do anything for the people that he loves himself. He still says shit like this in the current story, where as he says he’ll sacrifice himself, or makes comparisons to dying in order to protect everyone in Alkaloid. Lets not fucking forget that one time he threw himself at Hiiros phone bc he thought it was a bomb??? LMAOO?? 😭 Tatsumi’s whole thing at Reimei was because he wanted to do something good, he wanted a legacy to be left behind, and for people to “love” him for who he is and the things he’s done for others. He worked himself constantly, and even mentions how he hardly ate. Tatsumi still struggles with natural eating habits because of this. There were people at Reimei who would get mad at Tatsumi if something didnt go their way, and Tatsumi wanted to help everyone. His life was constantly being threatened, and yet he still trusted everyone so blindly. It genuinely makes me so fucking sad bc he’s such a sweetheart and was torn to shreds because of it, which Himeru comments on in the main story. Fucking kudos to him btw for acknowledging that.

Why is this gap so fucking big Tumblr layout..??

Anyways.. Tatsumi ended up being hospitalized due to his mentality, and physical condition. He wasn’t sleeping, nor eating, honestly I wouldn’t be surprised if he wasn’t showering..? Though I feel like thats a heavy stretch. Nonetheless Tatsumi pushed past his breaking point and ended up collapsing. He would have done so on his own most likely, but Ibara helped speed up the process to get Tatsumi out of the school system. Unfortunately for Ibara, Tatsumi ended up returning, and because of Kaname claiming all of Tatsumi’s work and regaining his power, he was able to bring Tatsumi back into the spotlight instantly. Though for their unit Kaname claims that “Tatsumi needs someone to take care of him” which I absolutely adore btw. Tatsumi was concerned for by others, but Kaname was the only one that truly pushed it. Not to mention that Kaname was Tatsumi’s very first real friend.

Now check this.. Kaname being hospitalized in a coma for getting attacked by the schools students. Tatsumi tried to save Kaname, and was pushed off stage, and beaten on the ground by a second group. Tatsumi stated whilst he was hospitalized this second round that he cried, and practically begged God asking why this would happen? He did nothing wrong, Kaname did nothing wrong? And yet they were broken beyond repair for wanting a better life, a better school system.

Tatsumi believes “HiMERU or Oremeru” to be Kaname.. Tatsumi adores Himeru, and his feelings for Himeru/Kaname has not left despite the way Himeru treats him. Tatsumi says he deserves to be treated the way he does for what he did to cause Kaname/Himeru so much pain. Tatsumi, who used to be hella agile and swift, can hardly stand for so long, and struggles running around because of his disability. Although his chronic leg pain IS a mental condition. It’s a form of PTSD actually if I recall correctly… though as a disabled person myself, I actually prefer to headcanon that during his depressive state, Tatsumi simply just gave up. His spirit & faith were broken, and life just didn’t turn out the way he wanted it to be. He became a martyr. The very thing he feared the most in life. Without attending his proper therapy, his leg simply just didn’t heal correctly as it should have, and he recognizes this as punishment for what happened during his time at Reimei. He tells Himeru that hes happy for him, and that seeing Himeru on stage is absolutely the best feeling to him. Tatsumi fucking loves Himeru, and that wont change. Because he THINKS Himeru is Kaname. But, Kaname is still in the hospital, unbeknownst to Tatsumi.

As for Tatsumis development.. he exercises, he takes care of himself, he’s able to work solo, and has a unit that looks after him, and notices the self destructive signs that he frequently shows. I fucking love Alkaloid as a whole, but holy hell, does Tatsumi absolutely deserve them as a unit. He even acknowledges harmful things that he USED to do but doesn’t anymore, such as pushing himself past his limit, or being overly trusting of other people. Though he still has this tendency.. Tatsumi is genuinely just a very loving person, he’s silly, and touchy, and kinda lacks common sense at times which is so goofy? I absolutely love the times where you can tell that he’s behaving childishly because he never did that when he was younger. Tatsumi is truly living a happier life, and is even repeating the year of schooling that he missed after such a long hiatus.. I absolutely adore him, pls love Tatsumi Kazehaya. 😭 …pic at the end cus this mf is gay & HIMERUS REACTION KILLS ME 😭 😭

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sailsonthehorizon · 1 year

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New to Blogging! So Why Sails on the Horizon?

Because at heart I am a sailor.

I spent 12 extremely happy years teaching sailing in the Lake District, on the water is perhaps the only place I don’t feel the need to explain myself or over-apologise. I know what I’m doing, I know how the boat will behave, and I absolutely love being out in the elements being punched by the wind and soaked by the spray. Taming manic sails and a pitching 16ft dinghy into a driving force creates an addictive juxtaposition; the fierceness of the boat forging through the waves and the greatest feeling of peace.

I taught myself to sail. I was home-educated in rural Wales which had it’s own shortcomings, but it did come with the massive perk of being forced to use your initiative. If I wanted to do something, I had to figure it out. So, I bought a Mirror dinghy off eBay for £50, chucked it on Ullswater and fell in a lot. Which each epic voyage I fell in less, and eventually I was quite good at staying dry.

No longer being able to sail on my own terms - small boat, big waves, high speed - is a hard slap in the face.

Why film photograpghy though?

Time. What I have now - being limited in mobility, in constant pain and with depleted energy levels – is time. I never had time before I got ill, I was out. Out working, biking, going to festivals, gigs. Even out as in going out for a coffee. Out out.

As a quick synopsis to set the scene; if I am careful, rest a lot and use mobility aids, I can manage perhaps two days a week ‘out out’, and evenings maybe once a month. Providing I’m going somewhere that has super comfy chairs, and I’m back by 9pm. Yep, it is pretty dull.

I needed to find something creative I could do whilst crashed out on the sofa. Which is why a key part of this project is the use of 35mm photography (with the occasional iPhone pic in emergency situations!). I chose film because takes a fair chunk of time, and not just to develop and process the photos. You can’t just snap a gazillion your iPhone and delete the ones you don’t like, slap a sexy filter on the ones that you do.

The camera I am using is my dad’s old Pentax MV (seen here with a double espresso, which will most likely become a recurring theme). You have to check the exposure and focus the camera for each shot. Makes you stop, think, appreciate, and smile.

I’m 45 now. I’ve worked in animation, outdoor ed, ran my own business - which I am still grieving over - and now work (mostly) from home in marketing and design.

I love to travel, I love the arts, I love the outdoors, I love my family. So this blog is about all of those things, with the challenges of living with a progressive disability woven in.

So that’s me. I am also on Instagram as…

@sails_on_the_horizon

…please do feel free to give me a follow and a double tap if the mood takes you.

Thank you for coming with me on this journey. Peace out.

#photography #film photography #sailing #disability #disability awareness #new to writing

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lizmindpalace · 2 years

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Blood and Crime

Summary: A new and unusual murderer will make Sherlock change in ways he would have never expected.

Warnings: In this work there will be eventual explicit content, graphic depictions of violence, there may be a lot of triggers such as anxiety, depression, paranoid, mental illness, murder, suicidal tendencies, horror, very toxic relationships, manipulation, sexual innuendoes, gore, lots of blood, nightmares, fantasy and vampires.

You can find it also on AO3.

Chapter 1- Darkness

It had been a long time albeit it felt like time had been paused at that spot, now his shelter, where darkness was the only inhabitant besides him. This was the way death felt like. It was like falling asleep waiting for waking up without realising it, without waking up and being mindlessness during the act, sleeping without dreaming, forgetting to raise. A fine scarlet line ran as if it was a drop of blood that expanded quickly through his eyes, painting them in red once he had been able to open them. His head was spinning around. He attempted to identify the place he was trapped in, he was not able to remember beyond the pain he had suffered, shadows covered completely the place he was lying on, some seconds later he noticed his hands were unintentionally over his abdomen, his icy fingers were intertwined and he could hardly move them, allegedly, they had been in that position for ages and had lost the ability to move. He searched through the cavity: wooden roof, old and chipped wood, that made his index feel a stabbing pain. The ground was soft; the smell coming from the outside, leaked through a hole, a draught filled with the smell of wet soil, petrichor. It reminded him of the times when he was a child and he would lay on the ground after the rain and would stare at the trees, and in fact, as if he had gone back in time, he was enjoying the night whilst resting on his arms, or at least that was what he was trying to picture, a good moment although at the time he could not remember what existence was like.

The pain in his body, the sensations harassing him and the trembles increased gradually, as if he was coming back to life after a long journey from the unknown to Earth, through the breath of the bottomless pit of hell; he could not breath, or see, or hear, he was disabled due to the restrictions of his prison, that in this case was his own body.

Going out and leaving that place he was caught in behind became a priority, as soon as he was able to think properly, like he used to. Notwithstanding the fact that despair was aiming to hold him between its cold arms, he would keep moving, he didn't want to be restrained anymore, and yet, his body was so weak, his forces weren't enough to set him free. Tiredness made him fall into the land of sleep for an amount of time he was not able to keep track of.

It was insane he didn't feel as he used to be, because he didn't have any memories he could use as reference of his old self, and he couldn't bring back any memory which could tell him what circumstances had taken him to that specific place and time in those gloomy conditions either. Perhaps it was the effect caused by the darkness, being all alone for such a long portion of time, perhaps it was the fact he was still sleeping among the dead, who also happened to have nightmares.

He was thirsty. He had never been this thirsty in his whole life, if it could be called life this new form of confusing and poisoning existence, there, he could barely receive what was needed in order to survive, which didn't felt like it should, or at least that was what he could think, existence as an idea shouldn’t feel like this. It could be possible he was not really there and he was just drowning in drugs as many times he had been before and his hallucinations had taken him to that oneiric world feared by human conscience, under conditions where weaker minds would develop phobias. Fortunately, his was not that dim, he had to remain in calm and find a way out of the grasp of death.

Despite the fact he was unable to see, he could perceive the night had come, his weak body felt it, the best way to save energies was by sleeping, or whatever was called the trance he had woken up from a brief interval of time ago.

Days passed, they would not stop just because a man was a convict confined in a wrinkle of time. And even the strongest mind has trouble when found in complete isolation and seclusion, despite the fact he would sleep for most of the time, while he was awake terrible hallucinations would abuse his fragile mind, it was due to it he started to scream and to strike everything at his reach, suddenly, he noticed his prison was not comprised by solid materials, at least not as solid as he had thought of them in the first place, the wood was creaking, a sign it was tearing apart. A hit with his now covered in blood, leg, and he could assert he was not under the soil, because he could feel the air hitting his face, but most important, he was able to hear distant echoes, and sound is a wave that travels through an elastic medium, through a fluid, in this case, wind.

"Help me, please" his gruffly and weak voice due to the lack of use had barely broken the deafening silence. And he decided his loss of voice must have been worse than he had thought because no one came in a long time, and even if he tried it a few more times, not even a murmur or the reverberation of his voice replied.

So he kept fighting, using his fists, legs, arms, hands, fingers along with his head and chest, everything he could to break the now cracked and fragile wood, making injuries that bled, or what else could it be the liquid running through his face until reaching his lips that tasted like metal?

Dawn was about to come to Earth again, he knew because through the hole he had opened, he could clearly observe the roof and darkness was not as dense as it was over the last hours, the darkness his unholy eyes had grown used to, for being plunged into it for so long. The distant cry of a fowl confirmed his deduction, joy spread through his body, it was the first good message he had received from the world in a long period, ever since he had woken up to life; if the day came soon, he could expose his numb limbs to the sunlight, he would be able to feel the wind on his face, nothing would have been more meaningful to him, even if during the past he had never felt the urge to appreciate nature, now it looked like it was a sign that told him everything would get better, and his fears were a product of his human weakness under such conditions. A couple more of hits and he would be free.

It was perhaps the fatigue that came as a result of the strength he had used in order to break his cell, or the lack of food, or just because the day had come and it meant he had to hide from it, but he fell asleep again, before this adventure he had never slept that much. The sun and the wind would have to wait for him.

Next chapter

Notes:

This is the first chapter of this work, I decided to publish it today due to Dracula's release anniversary, however, I plan to post more regularly during autumn and finish it by Halloween.

You can read the finished work in Spanish on Wattpad.

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awkwarddystopianwarlord · 5 months

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Twenty-Five, Still Alive, Trying to Thrive

Being in my twenties is weird. I’m halfway through, at a quarter of a century now, and I’ve simultaneously grown so much spiritually whilst also deteriorating exponentially mentally and physically the last few years. People often talk about how wild and fun and self-discovering their twenties were and the pandemic absolutely fucked those important years up. Though it wasn’t just the world mildly ending that was responsible. My individual self got pretty fed up with me too.

If I just reflect on the years where I’ve lived on my own in my quaint little murder building, I can see how much has changed. I’ve always felt like a child, a predominantly independent and responsible child, but a child nonetheless. Now though, I feel more and more like a toddler, crying and whining and useless. I used to cook proper meals for work. I would prep them for the week and spend about three hours in my galley kitchen making lunches and dinners. I used a cookbook and everything. When I worked two jobs during the weekdays, I did all my prep on Sunday. I cleaned my house and shopped for groceries and prepared my meals and did my laundry. I also had a little spa evening too where I would pamper myself after completing my chores and put on face masks and do my nails and smooth my feet with fancy foot scrubs. Then I eventually started working only four days a week and Monday became my prep day whilst Sunday became my rest day. After doing that for a while, it was hard to contemplate how I used to have only one day to do all my adult stuff. Once I was able to sleep in on Sundays, I gradually went from sleeping nine to ten hours all the way to seventeen when I was truly exhausted. In the winter, I wouldn’t see any sunlight on those days. I also used to bike to and from work except on the days I had dance classes. I don’t have the energy to do that anymore.

I don’t have the energy to do a lot anymore. Even my Sunday spa nights don’t happen. As time went on, I started realizing that there was a lot more wrong with my body than I thought. I used to gaslight myself into thinking I was just being lazy or over dramatic or weak. I grew less and less able to do that though when the knee braces and the pain meds became a daily thing even though none worked for long. Once I got a nurse practitioner, I was really able to find out just how fucked my body and brain was. I wasn’t lazy looking back, I was burnt out. Now I only work three days a week, that’s predominantly to get disability, but still. I did have this work week in the past, with only six and a half hour shifts rather than eight and a half. It was after I quit one of my jobs, the one that started this blog. I just didn’t fill in the two empty slots with another second job and instead took a bit of a break with a more relaxed work schedule. Once my precious mall side opened up after COVID slightly waned, I was back to four days at eight and a half hours, with Monday free to do all my chores that required offices unopened on weekends. My suffering grew more rapidly after this, leading to my current state.

My chores are a lot more spread out now, not because I need something to occupy my free days, but because I simply cannot do much in one day anymore. Sunday is my loafing day and only my laundry is done. Monday is a doctor's day every two weeks or so but I also water my plants that day, check my mail, and sometimes vacuum my house. Tuesday is grocery shopping plus food prep day, though I also clean the house if I didn’t the day before. Even with this layout, I still get bushed so quickly. I only really get frozen meals now for my work lunches when that used to be a last resort. I make simple dinners that require little effort. And I still skip certain chores like checking my mail and cleaning the house because I don’t have the energy.

Yet, at the same time, I feel more like myself than ever. I do my eight dance classes a week, even though I often feel like I’m going to die, because dancing is what I want to do. It’s something I now know I’m good at and I can go somewhere in life with. I don’t feel as strong as I used to but I feel more qualified if that makes sense.

I discovered my gender identity and it feels right and true and I’m comfortable. My boobs are also smaller and that has taken both a literal and figurative weight off my shoulders. I’ve expanded my wardrobe and how I express myself through clothing and makeup. My hair is green which, as unnatural of a color that is, it looks correct for me and it’s cut in a way that suits me and grows out well.

I know where I stand in life a lot better now, my values are much clearer. I don’t put up with people’s shit nearly as much anymore. I deserve better and I have more bravery and fed-up-ness to act on that. I’ve awakened to people’s true colors and ignored faults and I can distance myself to protect my sanity.

As time has gone on, I feel more and more like a fully realized person, in spirit. Like I’m discovering superpowers and watching them evolve and grow and strengthen. Or like I’ve built me from a shabby fixer upper that showed some hints of character into a lovely forever home that’s all character.

I just don’t know what to do with all of this discovery though. I don’t know what kind of future I really have, I mean the world is undeniably going to hell in a dilapidated little handbasket. All the things are uncertain, those milestones you’re supposed to hit throughout adulthood. Marriage isn’t happening. Children isn’t happening. Buying a home is pretty much impossible. Going to university isn’t happening. Making an income from a passion rather than a shit job is unlikely. So what does the latter half of my sacred twenties look like? I already feel like I’m in limbo since the COVID-y COVID years all blended together and I can’t remember how old I am or how much time has passed after moving out. Those years went to waste to a degree. But the ones to come next look so grim and confusing. I know the most of who I am now and I feel the most comfortable with myself than I ever have to date. But my body and brain are in the worst condition to date and only seem to be getting worse. I’m like a ninety-seven year old one year old. I have the wisdom of ages living in a useless vessel. Hell, I’m writing this at one in the morning on a Friday because my body is aching so much for whatever reason and I can’t sleep.

I really have to hope that thirty, flirty, and thriving becomes a reality in my life. Maybe that will balance out all the crap that came before. I’ve got five years to find out. In the meantime though I’m going to hold onto all the doses of serotonin that I receive. The Saturday’s with my friends, the adventures we have planned, the occasional shopping purchases, the gaming nights, the after doctor hangouts, all of it. It will be my fuel to sustain me until I can actually get my life started.

#writing #blog #friday post #thoughts #biweeklyblog

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raggedy-anne4013 · 8 months

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My Thoughts on 'Girl Meets Farkle'

Girl Meets World was my special interests for years. I can quote many of the episodes by heart and it was the first show I ever started writing fanfiction for (though I didn't know what fanfiction was at the time). Recently, when I decided to see what the internet thought about Girl Meets World as it is still my comfort show, I found out that the show had practically been cancelled due to the episode in which Farkle is suspected to have ASD. I know I'm late to hop onto the bandwagon but, as an Autistic person who absolutely loves this show, I thought that I might as well rant on Tumblr :)

GMW is a very Autism coded show. The main characters Riley, Farkle and Isadora are all Autistic (in my opinion) and a lot of the dialogue, therefore, is very accessible, straightforward and easy to understand for someone with Autism. Whilst this is similar for a lot of the Disney shows (such as ANT Farm and Liv and Maddie), GMW has always struck me as more so in this regard.

However, in 2015, though the DSM-5 was in effect (published in 2013), there was still a lot of stigma regarding Autism. As this study from WHO articulates, there was "a general lack of public awareness, as well as prevalent stigma and discrimination [which] act as significant barriers to the engagement of families and communities in advocacy efforts." Thus, when this episode was aired, their wouldn't have been many of the available resources we have today. We have taken leaps and bounds in the area of neurodiversity (not just Autism) in the past 8 years and we take this for granted sometimes.

Should the writers have done more research or asked Autistic people? Yes!!! Definitely! But I truly believe the people on the show were trying their best with what they perceived they had.

As well as this, a lot of people have treated the scene in which Maya and Riley try to 'gaslight' Farkle into believing he's not Autistic as mal-intentioned. I've seen people (I don't know who, sorry, please share if you know) say that they treat Farkle as if he's being tested for Cancer and not ASD. However, may I just say that ASD is a disability! I think it's normal to be shocked when someone you've known all your life has been suffering with something and you did nothing to help. Both my parents went through this realisation and it was not inherently malicious or filled with ill-intent. They were just surprised and acting as they knew how. This is only furthered by the lack of information they would have had at the time.

On top of this, the treatment of all the characters to Isadora who was diagnosed as Autistic, was great! They accommodated her and accepted her differences but didn't judge her for them. She was (in my opinion) seamlessly added into the group! Farkle's parents said near the end of the episode that "even if Farkle had been diagnosed with something, it never would have changed how much we love him". I really don't think that this was intentionally harmful for these reasons. I think they were trying to express that being Autistic is how life is for some people but that does not make them any less deserving of love (also shown by the Smackle and Farkle relationship which I think really started this episode).

Finally, I just want to say that this episode helped me realise that I might be Autistic. The reading of traits of Autistic people and the portrayal of Isadora (however flawed) led me to do my own research and discover the world of Autism. I had grown up in a family which had previously believed that Autism was a condition that belonged to naughty little boys with behavioural issues. Since then, five out of the seven people in my family have been diagnosed and one more is self-diagnosed.

I don't want to dismiss the pain this might have caused for some people but I really just want to reiterate that even if you perceived it to be a horrible depiction of Autism, at least it started the conversation! At least it opened up those doorways to more research. The TV industry is very flawed but if we keep cancelling them for representing disability and minority groups, they will stop! So thank you to the GMW writers for trying.

#girl meets world #girl meets farkle #rant post #autism special interest #controversial #actually autistic #media representation #representation in media

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brckensocietyarch · 1 year

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i’m making this update to link in my pinned post, y’all don’t have to read but i need to put this out here given the shit show atm. it is long, just warning y’all.

so, i am going to be very honest about how life is going right now. not good. mentally i’m just not doing well thanks to the system for getting help as a disabled person letting me down (for reasons that are so fucking stupid) and i am currently prepared for a full ASD assessment which has me immensely stressed. on top of this my general chronic pain is flaring which isn’t fun. but what’s worse is i am once gain going through the great situation of having a new kind of pain that is wiping me out. i am looking into this pain but that is also stressful. it’s legit t the point where my mum and i are debating if it’s worth going to hospital or not (sad fact of being a chronic pain sufferer, knowing if i do go to hospital they might not even look into the pain or treat me because ableism and shit, sigh). now, tumblr is a good distraction at the moment but i am going to be blunt when i say i cannot guarantee a fast response and will be favouring certain threads. please do not take offence to this. i am not doing it to be rude or anything, i just am majorly struggling in a multitude of ways and am trying to not make doing replies into a forced thing. also, with all the stuff going on my brain fog is in high gear too so if i make any mistakes (outside of the missing ‘a’ and ‘s’ with the keys fucking up) i do apologise, if anything in a thread needs clarification just reach out and i will happily fix or explain it. this post is also kind of serving as a reminder that this mun is heavily disabled, and is doing their best. please just be patient with me and understand some replies may take time. (note: i know it’s a thing for people to say “hope you get better soon” or something along those lines. whilst well wishes are nice please don’t say things like that specifically, i am a chronic pain sufferer with multiple incurable problems so it actually makes me feel kind of shit hearing that when i know i won’t be getting better.) i really do appreciate everyone who interacts with me and love all my threads and pairings. thank you to everyone who helps distract me from the bullshit of my life <3

#ooc.

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raeesadarsot · 2 years

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Blog 3: Occupational barriers experienced in mental health in South Africa

There are various Occupational Barriers to mental health that are unique to our country and to name a few:

South Africa is a rainbow nation. Her people are of different cultures, religions and backgrounds, such as the different African Tribes, Indians, Afrikaners, Asians, Caucasians, to name a few. Although the various cultures are all so different, many of them have commonalities - one being the stigma around Mental Health. From what I’ve seen first hand in my Indian culture, if someone has a physical ailment such as a migraine, they are considered “sickly and unwell” and are treated with care, with the hope of them being cured or made to feel comfortable during illness. However, if someone has a mental ailment such as depression, it is downplayed and they are made to feel less-than, family and friends start avoiding them and they are often gossiped about due to their disability. This directly leads to the decline of one’s mental health and also prevents someone from coming forward to receive the care that they need to manage the symptoms with the fear of them facing social exclusion. Therefore, the first Occupational Barrier experienced is the STIGMA surrounding Mental Health.

The unemployment rate in South Africa is currently at 33,9% ("South Africa Unemployment Rate - 2022 Data - 2023 Forecast - 2000-2021 Historical", 2022) and the poverty rate is around 34% ("South Africa: worries about poverty 2021-2022 | Statista", 2022). This means that more people are faced with mental illness due to challenges of not finding work but also, less people are able to seek intervention for their mental health because they cannot afford it. If you give a breadwinner the choice between feeding their dependents/consuming a feel-good substance such as alcohol to numb the pain of their challenges, or seeking expensive psychiatric treatment for a mental illness, the decision is an obvious yet detrimental one. South Africa’s HIGH UNEMPLOYMENT AND POVERTY RATES are huge Occupational Barriers to Mental Health.

South Africa in all its 3rd-world glory, does not have the funds or equipment to address the growing need for psychiatric intervention, making LACK OF FUNDING a big Occupational Barrier. This is mainly due to the mismanagement of funding at a government level which directly affects our people - “one-third of the world’s population lives in countries that allocate less than 1% of their health budget to mental health.” ("Barriers to Mental Health Care", 2022) Treatment for psychological disorders are often in the form of medication which is inaccessible and unaffordable to majority of South Africans. Aside from the lack of funding, there is a lack of mental health care professionals. These professionals are often not compensated enough for the work that they do and choose to relocate to other, higher-paying shores further North, leaving behind a great need for them in our country.

The lack of mental health awareness means that many have not even heard of most mental illnesses in South Africa. This is directly related to the LACK OF EDUCATION in our country. This prevents people from recognising symptoms of mental illnesses when they persist, which delays or stops them from seeking intervention for themselves or mentally-ill friends & family. Early intervention and a stable treatment plan are crucial, which is almost always neglected since people are not educated enough to realise that they need help. When it comes to mental health, many are of the impression that it will get cured over time or they can cure themselves. Whilst the treatment involves accepting the illness and complying with the prescribed treatment methods individually, just like with physical illness, medical intervention from health care professionals is necessary. Mental Health awareness needs to be both regular and accessible to people of all backgrounds in our country.

These Occupational Barriers are many and huge! They definitely can’t be corrected by just you and I, but if we all make small efforts to the best of our ability like simply educating as many people as we can on the various psychological disabilities or just fiercely advocating for our psych clients, these small efforts can reap great rewards! Happy Occupational Therapy Month! 🌈 :)

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