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#with a caption talking about how they had a relapse
spicedwatermel0n · 11 months
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TW// S/H, BLOOD, BRUISING, AND IMPLIED ABUSE ON THE THIRD IMAGE, TALK OF ABUSE, ALCOHOL AND S/H IN SECOND PART OF THE CAPTION BELOW THE DRAWINGS.
I would also like to add that these are mostly headcanons that I've made for coping with my own trauma with the subjects. I make these headcanons for my own comfort knowing that I'm not alone when struggling, and for people who struggle with these things themselves who wish they could see their struggles portrayed in their favorite characters. I do NOT support acts of hurting oneself or others and if you're in a bad situation please get help if you can <33 these struggles can occur at ANY age. If you see signs of someone possibly hurting themselves, hurting others, or being hurt, no matter how young or old, tell someone who can help them get out of the situation.
I think they'd always be there for each other, even for small things like one of them being a little angry or one of them just having a bad day. They love each other, and feel comfortable enough around each other to let out their emotions freely without fear of being shamed. Wally likes to tell Hoagie that they're "battling this together", even if what is happening to Hoagie has nothing to do with Wally. He likes to compare it to fights with adult tyranny where he thought he'd lose but ended up winning in the end, and tells Hoagie that he just needs to keep fighting.
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They both share similar struggles, both are abused and both have a tendency to hurt themselves on purpose when they feel strong negative emotions. Wally deals with his mother who lost her job recently and has taken to drinking alcoholic beverages to cope, which causes unnecessarily violent actions towards Wally and ONLY Wally, at completely unexpected points. She's normally very sweet and caring, but the alcohol messes with her and makes her feel as though she needs to punish her older son in more extreme ways. Wally has gotten used to the feeling of being hurt that he impulsively hurts himself constantly out of habit (typically with his nails, scissors, edges of tables, etc) or out of anger (banging his head, ripping his hair out, slapping his face, etc). Hoagie deals with the same issues, but they form much differently than they do for Wally. His grandma hurts him both mentally and physically, but instead of doing it when/where no one else can see like Wally's mom, she does it anywhere at any time in front of anyone. His mom is too afraid to confront her own mother, so he's forced to deal with her abuse (caused by dementia). Unfortunately, Hoagie grew up with unrestricted internet access and learned about unhealthy coping skills far too early in his life. He never showed an issue with keeping himself safe until Abby had a brief struggle with it a year prior to the show. She had picked it up from Cree, who encouraged her to hurt herself to make herself feel better. Of course, she realized how horrible it made her feel and the permanent damage it would cause and stopped doing it, and eventually got her sister to get help for it, but Hoagie began doing it afterwards because Abby had explained to him *why* people hurt themselves sometimes. He ended up with a habit of hurting himself very quickly, and even got to a point of addiction to hurting himself (that only lasted a week thankfully) where he would carry around a box cutter and just start hurting himself at any time and place if he felt the urge to. He's gotten much better about it thanks to support from his friends, but he still deals with occasional relapses.
The two are sticking together to try and keep the other safe. They both struggle with trusting people but they've grown so comfortable around each other that they can trust one another with almost no issue. That has proven very helpful for their recovery, as they both kinda just needed someone they can genuinely trust. They usually just watch Yipper together when they feel bad, it's their favorite thing to watch together lol... Besides romcom, which is more of Hoagies taste, but Wally still enjoys them because it makes Hoagie happy
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Picking A Bone with Dan Savage (I Said “Bone,” not “Boner,” Beavis…)
Full disclosure: I love Dan Savage. My parasocial relationship with the political commentator and sex advice-giver has deepened as the years have passed. It is a cold and empty week that I don’t hear from him…via the podcasting app on my iPhone. We have never met. But we have lively disagreements nonetheless. 
The biggest, of course, is about the nature — indeed, the very existence — of sex addiction. A Q&A from episode 826 of his Savage Lovecast, week of August 23, exemplifies my frustration with his perspective on this issue. I have decided to give myself the last word. 
(Note: The question and answer have been edited for brevity. No facts have been altered.)
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Q: 41-year-old cis East Coast person calling. One of my best friends has been dating a man for a year. She shared that he was a recovering sex addict in a 12-step program, working on problems with cheating. She's a monogamist and needs to be in a mono relationship. To me, someone with his history needs to just understand who he is and not fuck up everyone's lives all the time by entering any mono commitments. He relapsed in the winter and they stopped talking for a minute while he got help. 
She's been really happy in the relationship since. Fast forward to last night. I opened Facebook saw a photo of an acquaintance of mine with what wasI  hoping was this guy’s doppelgänger, captioned “My man.” My heart sank and I needed to verify it was him. I texted the acquaintance and of course she gave my friend's mono partner's name. I had to be the person who broke my friend's heart. 
She's fucked up about it, of course. Plus, the other person told me that they too were in a supposedly mono partnership, taking trips together this whole past year. Same timeline as my friend! She shared with me verbatim what my friend told me he has said to her: “You are the first person I've ever been with where I don't want to be with anyone else.” 
Dan, I don't want to pile on her pain and it's not my place to tell people what to do. But she needs to stop talking with him. I've known her for almost 20 years and am looking out for her, knowing what I think she needs to feel happy. She responded saying she's not yet in a position to make a decision about the dude. How do I tell her that she needs to stop talking to him? Do I share that he was conducting two simultaneous bullshit mono relationships with the same script, even though she doesn’t want to hear what the other person had to say?
A: You should tell your friend: Look, you can *not* listen to the things that I have to tell you, things that I think you should know, or you can complain to me about your relationship. But not both. This guy is an asshole. I think your friend should stop talking with him, if only because he was so clearly trying to manipulate her. “Oh, I’m the victim. I am a sex addict. Oh, I’m a victim of my very own dick.” No. Sex addiction ain't really a thing. This guy is an asshole and a player, as they used to say, and a scumbag… not that your friend can't be the primary partner or the current partner of a lying manipulative asshole who's attempting to leverage women's sympathies by claiming to be a sex addict, so that you know when he relapses it's not a choice he made to do something with his dick. He was defenseless in the face of this powerful chemical addiction he has to fucking around. 
Obviously you're frustrated, by this guy but if your friend wants to be with them, you know she could construct a rationalization or she could change her position on monogamy. She could be in an open or polyamorous relationship with this guy. But he's not interested in an honest, open, ethically non-monogamous relationship. On some level, someone who plays these kinds of games gets off on the deceit and the risk. That he’s risking other people be terribly, terribly hurt as well — that is not a bug, that is a feature. 
The pain your friend is in right now was intentionally inflicted. He manipulated her into this position. He threw her into the bathtub full of razor blades, knowingly and on purpose, not because he's an addict, and he's so sorry, and he had an erection relapse that lasted the entirety of the time they've been together in this relationship. But because he is an asshole.
She should stop talking to him, and stop fucking him, and stop dating him and block him on all the social media platforms and block his number. Maybe your friend doesn't want to hear this from you. Maybe she would be open to conversing with your acquaintance who also happens to be dating this guy. Maybe, with her consent, you could share that person's phone number.
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ME: So, here’s the bone I’m picking. Yes, this is a lying, manipulative asshole and the caller’s friend should dump his ass immediately. (Not that she will, of course - if you’re getting involved with a self-identified sex addict, you already proved you don’t listen to reason….)
Also yes, gaslighting two different women by swearing to each that she is your one-and-only is does not mean you’re a sex addict. It just means  that you are (say it with me) a lying, manipulative asshole.
HOWEVER, neither of those things means there’s no such thing as sex addiction. Nor does it even guarantee that the asshole in question isn’t a sex addict. 
Sex addiction isn’t having a side piece and running to 12-step program because you got caught. Sex addiction is swearing to yourself, one more time, that you’re going to close out the porn in 15 minutes, tops, and get some sleep, and still end up missing work in the morning, one more time.
Sex addiction is promising yourself — swearing on all that’s holy and totally meaning it — that you’re not going to touch the kids’ college fund for massage parlor money, doing it anyway and being so ashamed of yourself you can’t look in the mirror. 
Sex addiction is getting your arm broken by an angry pimp at Harbor and Third… and as soon as the cast is off going back to Harbor and Third. Sex addiction is jacking off so hard and so often you strip the skin off your dick.
Sex addiction is not having too much fun with your side piece who thinks she’s your number one and your other side piece who thinks she’s your number one. Sex addiction is not fun at all, and I’m tired of people blaming their abusive asshole behavior on sex addiction. It gives sex addiction a bad name.
But just like an alcoholic will hide empties in the laundry basket, a sex addict will cover up the most extreme and shameful behaviors. So while this dude may have gone into an “S program” to get the last gf off his back, he may also have gotten fired from his last three jobs for jacking it in the bathroom because it felt like he would suffocate if he didn’t get off right now. It is possible to be both an asshole and a sex addict. 
My lips to Dan’s ears: Once upon a time, your attitude towards drunks was “no one poured the booze down your throat, fuckface.” Then you learned more about the disease of alcoholism and found some empathy. You used to berate fat people something awful: “No one jammed the chocolate cake in your mouth, lady.” Then you learned more about the brain chemistry behind compulsion and obsession and you found empathy there, as well.
Talk to some self-identified sex addicts and see if maybe two things can be true at the same time: This guy is a lying manipulative asshole… and sex addiction really is a thing. 
My lips to the caller’s ears: Your friend’s happiness is not your job. You might find Alanon meetings useful. And your friend… well, she’s a love addict. But Dan doesn’t believe in that, either ;-)
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chitownwolf · 2 years
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Can I get a snippet of a story? Sad Tarlos breakup with Olivia R.’s Traitor?
You betrayed me And I know that you'll never feel sorry For the way I hurt, yeah You'd talk to her When we were together Loved you at your worst But that didn't matter
It took you two weeks To go off and date her Guess you didn't cheat But you're still a traitor
It happened after the farmer's market. TK stormed into their home, packed up some things, and left without hearing Carlos out. Carlos called, texted, and even tried to contact Owen, but no response.
TK found himself in LA.
He found Buck.
They went out to have fun.
TK didn’t relapse.
He took a picture with Buck and posted it to Instagram.
In a lapse in judgment, he captioned the post “To New Relationships ❤️”. Without double-checking the spelling he posted it.
He spent the night with Buck, on the couch, they didn’t have sex. They didn’t kiss, they didn’t even hold hands.
TK woke up to many missed calls and messages from the 126, his dad, and even Carlos. Just one text message and it brought his whole world down.
Not even a week and you’re moving on? You didn’t even tell me we were done.
TK is rushing out the door of Buck’s place. Not even bothering to say goodbye. He’s on a plane back to Austin, all his calls and messages to Carlos are ignored. His foot bounced up and down in anticipation. He doesn’t want to break up with Carlos.
It was just a misunderstanding.
He felt insecure about Carlos’ parents. Thinking they weren’t solid, but now? There may be nothing to go home to.
He knocks on the door and almost breaks when he sees Carlos’ red-rimmed face with tears. He says nothing as more tears well up and spills down his face.
“Carlos-” TK steps forward but Carlos takes a step back before shutting the door.
He tried again later.
“What do you want?” Carlos asks, voice thick of tears.
“We’re just friends”
“Sure as hell doesn’t look like it. Not even a week TK?. How long have you been talking?”
“It’s not like that. Carlos, I swear! I-”
“I thought it was a joke…but I guess not. But it’s funny isn’t it?”
“…what is?” TK asks, sniffing.
"I thought...there's no way that TK would do that to me. Not the man I fell in love with. But I guess I was wrong. I thought there's no damn way that you could be with somebody that quickly..."
"I didn't cheat-"
"But you're still a traitor...god. I wish that I thought this through before I fell in love with you"
"I love you" TK says quietly.
"You gave me your word that he meant nothing...guess that doesn't mean shit now"
"Can we fix this?" TK asks, numbness spreading over his body.
"I don't think so...and the reason I didn't tell my parents is because of them...not you. But I know you're not sorry for what you did." Carlos reaches out and silently asks for his key back. TK hands it over without fuss.
"I love you Carlos"
"Goodbye TK" Carlos says before quietly shutting the door.
TK knows he'll never forget the way he betrayed the man he loves.
God, I wish that you had thought this through Before I went and fell in love with you (Ah-ah-ah) When she's sleeping in the bed we made Don't you dare forget about the way
You betrayed me 'Cause I know that you'll never feel sorry For the way I hurt, yeah
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shock · 3 years
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ElleWulfTaxidermy scammed me out of a $700 commission, along with who knows how many others. I don’t know if I’ll ever see my pelt again, but I’m posting it with the fear that she might sell it and to warn others in case she comes back. 
I commissioned Elle back in April of 2020 for a custom soft mount. Her portfolio featured works like this: 
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For the first month, she was incredibly responsive and shared progress shots. 
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On June 10, she messaged me discussing “health complications” and that she would be working on the pelt when she visited her partner. She then updated me on July 13, saying, “Hi there! Just letting you know that I am recovering from some health issues and am taking a small break from work. Luckily your fox is almost done either way so she should be sent out soon after I’m back on my feet. Thanks!”
I responded with support and well wishes. She did not message me again until August 15, vaguely mentioning that she was “dealing with a relapse” of one of her illnesses. She posted this on Instagram on August 20th: 
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Caption:  
 General life update. I disappeared off of Instagram and Discord for about 2 months, and am back with some news and changes. Firstly, yes I’m okay. Being ill and disabled gets in the way often, and it decided to take it’s toll these past few months - so I was pretty much forced to put everything down and take a long break. Spent the time at my partner’s house (I’m still here for 2 days) and will continue working when I’m back in Alabama. Thank you so much to those who have been waiting for me, it’s well appreciated. I learned that while doing taxidermy gives me great joy, I simply cannot handle doing it as a job. The money, the timing, and every little thing makes my anxiety flare up to no end. And with my poor mental health, there’s no telling how long this would last. But I guess it has ended now. As of now, I am quitting. I am no longer doing commissions of any sort. This will force me to slow my own collection and personal pieces as well, but that is what’s best. I am obviously finishing up my current mounts, but after this I am done. I will only do this as a hobby until further notice. If people are curious for details, feel free to DM.
She did not message me personally, so the Instagram post is all I had. I gave her space to respond until I decided to message her at the end of August. Then, this is the only communication we had (posting as text for ease of viewing):
Aug 31, 2020 Me: I know things are a bit all over the place right now but if you have any idea of an ETA I would be very appreciative! Elle: Of course! I think a week or 2 at the most, honestly. Her face is done, so now that I’m back to work it won’t be long! I’ll send more updates as I go along. Sep 18, 2020 Me: Hey, any updates? I may have to move again soon and I’d really like to know. Thanks! Sep 20, 2020 Elle: That’s totally fine! I plan on getting all my commissions done by the end of the month + early October ^_^ Oct 6, 2020 Me: Hi! I just finished moving in. Any updates? Oct 16, 2020 Me: Please get back to me if you can. I’ve been getting worried about receiving her and want to know when I’m supposed to expect her. :(
After not hearing from her for a week after my last message, I filed a request with Etsy to investigate. Literally three minutes after the claim was filed, Elle messaged me. 
Oct 21, 2020 3:52pm
Me:
Issue: I haven't received it Ideal resolution: Receive pelt + refund for any unfinished work I haven't heard anything from you in several weeks and am unsure what to do. I don't know what's going on and just want to talk about any potential solution we could reach. I'd rather have the pelt than a refund, she's very special and I've been waiting months to get her, but I need to know if getting her to me is an option at this point.
Oct 21, 2020 3:55pm
Elle: Hi there, I’m so so sorry. I just got out of the hospital a few days ago and was away from my phone. The situation was urgent and I was not able to reach out to clients. Your fox is still in my possession and will be finished. I know I have said this many times, yet a lot of personal factors have been implemented which has made work hard. Even with that said, the time it’s taken to get her finished is still not appropriate. But now that I’m out of the hospital, I’ll definitely keep at work. She’s very close to being finished - she only needs her legs 
Me: I understand, but this isn't an issue spanning just a few days when my messages have been ignored for weeks and I'm not the only person who's been having similar issues, I can only assume the worst when I haven't been spoken to at all or given any updates in months. Either you can send her to me as-is without having to work on her more with a partial refund so it's over with and you don't have to work more, or we can figure out a day to have her done and shipped by and I can get picture updates because I'm just starting to worry and I don't think it's fair that I had to escalate to filing a case for you to message me at all to let me know anything about the situation.
Oct 25, 2020
Elle: I know. I really do apologize. I can send you images later this morning or afternoon - she’s here with me. Due to a lot of personal circumstances, doing any work at all has been hard. But that still doesn’t excuse the fact that I’ve been slacking with sending updates. I really am sorry about the situation. I’ve only now been able to work out the logistics of getting everything done and sent out. She’ll be finished soon, especially the fact that she only has to get a few little things done (paws and legs). Once again, I am majorly sorry. You can expect her to be shipped out relatively soon.
Oct 26, 2020
Me: I don't know what relatively soon means here, since it's been different every time and I don't want to keep waiting an indeterminate amount of time. I just want a hard date or to have her shipped out to me as-is. I was never sent any pictures, please do.
Oct 29, 2020
Me: If you’re planning on sending her as-is, I’ll give you my new address. If not, I’m requesting a refund.
Oct 30, 2020
Elle: I’ll have her shipped out within this or next week. I’ll get you some pictures tomorrow, as well. Once again, very sorry for the wait and service. She’ll be with you in no time.
She sent me pictures on October 31st, showing that she had not done any work on her since the very first pictures she sent me back at the beginning of May. 
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On November 6th, she told me that “due to an abundance of doctor appointments and health-related matters, it will take that extra time.” 
I had been supportive and patient throughout this entire process. 2020 was a difficult year for everyone, and this is a commission I expected to take a while anyway. I am no stranger to disability or illness, physical or mental. I decided to pursue a refund with Etsy once the situation seemed beyond resolution, but since they cap their refunds at 100 days past the estimated shipping date, they were unable to provide me a refund for the near $700 I spent on this commission. Effectively, Elle had strung me along for so long without any indication of planning to send me this pelt finished or unfinished that I could no longer file for a refund with PayPal OR Etsy. This was our next correspondence: 
Nov 7, 2020
Me: Don't work on her anymore and send her as-is. This is obviously something that has been causing issues for months without any communication and I have no other frame of reference except promises falling through. I'm requesting a partial refund for unfinished work and asking that you please do not keep working on her. I just want to have the pelt at this point and to have some of my money back after waiting for so long for something that I can't even guarantee will be in my hands because I don't know if I can trust you. I can't even escalate to Etsy directly because it has been over 100 days, they don't help with orders past then, and at this point literally all I can do is beg you to respond to any of my prior requests that you haven't responded to other than with vague promises. Please send her as-is and work out with me what percentage is unfinished so that we can close this.
Nov 9, 2020
Elle: Okay. We can definitely do that. I am so sorry that this has turned out the way it has. Tomorrow I will do calculations on the refund amount. Once again, my most sincere apologies.
Me: Thank you! 
Nov 14, 2020
Me: Any updates? 
Nov 16, 2020
Me: Please get back to me. Once again I have no idea what's going on.
Elle: Hey there. I’m still working on calculation and amounts - due to the hospital fees I’m having to see the most efficient way of providing the refund. I’m going to give you money back for perhaps 2/3 of the labor (as I only had the head done) and I need to figure out amounts for shipping and such.
I then did not hear back from her for a week.
Nov 23, 2020
Me: I'm going to need the projection for the refund within 48 hours, or I'm going to have no choice at this point but to contest the charge with my bank.
My bank refused to issue a refund because the payment was through PayPal and not my actual debit card. She never responded to my message at the end of November, and I received no correspondence from her until Christmas Eve. While Etsy refused to issue me a refund, they locked her account as a seller so she could not sell the other listings she still had up until she resolved the issue with me. She sent me this.  Dec 24, 2020
Elle: This is a copy + paste message. Each individual will be spoken to after this has been sent. Hi there. I wanted to greatly apologize for my disappearance and lack of communication for the past few months. It is completely inappropriate and uncalled for. I have been struggling with my health, and as of recently my conditions have gotten much worse. I am sending full refunds to everybody as I am no longer in working conditions. I am so terribly sorry. If it’s a commission, I will give you a full refund and the pelt (no matter how far in the mount is). If it’s a trade, I am sending your part back. Regardless, you are getting what you sent to me in the first place. After this has been sent, I will answer any questions and concerns + we will work out the ins and outs of getting you your money back. Once again - I am so sorry. I had no idea things would get to this point with my personal life.
Again, I understand the money issues and stress that comes with hospital bills and life in general. I was also terrified that if I did not compromise and tell her not to worry about the money, just give me the pelt, that I would never see my pelt again. I told her to ship me the pelt, and that I did not want money.  I never heard from her again. The messages at the start of this post are the last things we ever talked about. All I want is to have my pelt back. I didn’t want to slander an up and coming taxidermist, to have to make a post like this. She has been vague, unresponsive, and has straight-up lied to me several times and taken advantage of my good faith until I could no longer pursue a refund. If anyone else has experience with Elle (it seems she has done this to several people, if her ‘copy paste’ message is any indication), or a way to contact her, please let me know. 
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19. What They Deserve
5336 Words, No triggers detected.
Previous
People loved to hear about the trials and tribulations of others. That was the core of half of the entertainment sites. Grace didn’t like to put her hurt on display, but she did want to reintroduce herself, or rather, debut the new Grace to the world and she realized that would entail people bringing up her past and/or intruding on her private life. 
For instance, people would ask her how her relationship with her parents is…
Grace’s first day out, her mother was in the car whenever she got in. They were driven, in silence back to the estate, where guards were posted for the occasion, in case someone noticed or tried to get in, as they sometimes did. Her room was still the same, but there was someone there to help her pack up her essentials and her pleasures. She was going to be moved to a secure location that people didn’t know about, because her parents didn’t want the family house to be any more of a sideshow that it had been following her institutionalization. 
Her mother still had not said anything to her and it took hours for her to go through her personals and decide what she couldn’t live without and see the things that she could live without go into a donations box or a trash bin. “Where are all of my pictures of me and Simon?” she asked, when she opened the designated box for those.
“Surely, you’re joking,” was the first thing her mother said. She tossed the box into the donations. Her father didn’t even show up during this time frame. By the time she was moved into her new home, she had only gotten one word from her mother and none from her father. So, whenever someone asked about them, she would say, “How is everybody’s relationship with their parents? It’s personal. It’s a relationship between one and one or two more people, and their dynamic and their emotions are fluid. The three of us have very different wavelengths and concerns, so my relationship with them is something between me and them and then, my relationship with you all is what’s between me and you.” She’d laugh a little, but after a few times, people got the message. 
People would ask her about her mental health - if she was better, what happened in the first place, does she think it could happen again, etc.
Hazel wound up in another facility after a few months with her new foster family (mere weeks before Grace was released). The charm bracelet was sent back to her and for several days, she didn’t know what that meant for Hazel. If she was okay, if she was hurt or worse. They had only told her that they thought that she should have it back, then failed to communicate anything else about Hazel, for legal purposes. Grace was in shambles, until FINALLY she was told that Hazel was fine, but she had a relapse and was “in turtle form” for several days, making them have to take her to a doctor and seeing her file, they committed her for 72 hours. She was fine and heading back home. 
When Grace got out and looked her up, she was no longer at the same home. She had been redirected elsewhere… They couldn’t give Grace that information at the time. She thought she would lose her mind trying to contact someone who would be willing to help her out with this information, but most of them informed her that such information was secure for the safety of the child, and she understood it and couldn’t argue with it or convince them that she was more concerned for the safety of this child than anyone. It remained at the forefront of her thoughts. 
“I went somewhere to get help. I got help. A lot of people just get bounced around in life and never truly get the help that they need or deserve. I’ve been very fortunate, so I try to focus on that. Some days, I succeed. Some days, I do not succeed. I feel good today.”
They would ask her about new music, what beauty products she used now that she was no longer associated with her old brands, and if she would be dancing again. All things that she still wasn’t completely certain of yet, but lighthearted enough that she didn’t get too stressed out about that line of questioning.
The questions that brought her the most visible displeasure and clear distress were the ones about Simon. What about your relationship with Simon Laurent? Nobody has heard your side of the story. Have you seen or talked to Simon? Are things well between you? Has he forgiven you?…
“I don’t speak about Simon. The most that I can tell you is that I hope he has what he needs and gets everything that he deserves.” They might try to make jokes to prod about what she thinks he deserves, but she generally redirected the conversation. “He deserves what he deserves, and that’s what I hope he gets.” She would smile and nod, but her eyes would be sad. Eventually, people stopped asking her about him. She began posting dance videos, remixes, and songs again. This time, being confident in herself and away from her parents. It was no longer an escape from her life, because her life was lonely, but she was happy with it. There was freedom in her world that she hadn’t imagined in the past. She had more followers than ever before. Some people still called her Apex, but she never put that into any of her bios or captions, herself. 
She had a routine that worked for her wellbeing, from the time that she spent in the center, and she still had very regular sessions with her therapist, not to mention a medication regimen that assisted in her wellness. 
Anyone who wanted to contact her did so through someone else who would be the go-between, just in case. She moved out of the house that her parents placed her in and found something more suitable for her style, and closer to Julliard, because she still wanted to try to go, if she could make it in. In the meantime, she enjoyed the music scene in New York, branched out to finding new artists that she hadn’t heard of, made a few new friends in the industry, got hired for music videos and song demos. Some days, she expected to wake up and discover that her life had all been a dream. She would wonder if she actually did spend over a year in a mental facility, if she had gotten into some trouble with Simon, if she ever actually had met Simon… He seemed so far away, so long ago and so unfamiliar sometimes. But, whenever he did come back to her, he came flooding back.
Like if somebody casually asked, “You got kids?” and she remembered that while the answer was no, she had gotten pregnant at 16 and was so stressed out, that she hadn’t noticed for several weeks that her body was behaving differently, and that she spent several more trying to figure out what she would say, what she would do, how she would handle this. “No, no kids. But, I did have to make a decision to terminate a pregnancy when I was younger.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. There’s a stigma about it, but it was something that was best for me and I don’t harbor anger or disgust with myself about it.” Then, she could remember Simon’s eyes, his hands, other parts of him, the way that he held her, the things he had said to her. She would have to try not to cry and if she did, be totally honest, “Sorry. I haven’t really thought about the guy in a while, and I’m just in my feelings, Don’t mind me.” She didn’t like to lie, if she could help it. She tried to be as honest as she could these days, without saying too much. But, she had a pretty good crew in NY. They always were understanding and if someone said something, they’d gather them up pretty quickly. Her therapist told her that friends do things like that. It made her feel bad. She thought that friends shared everything, and since she was still very closed off to these people, she didn’t really consider them to be friends of hers, just associates that she really liked.
“That can be considered friendship, too. You don’t have to tell every friend that you have your life story and every person who you share mutual connection and kindness with isn’t going to be your lifetime bestie. Just enjoy the company of people who make you feel good and let the people who you make feel good enjoy your company.” That’s what she did. 
She got into Julliard when she was 20 and she was pretty known in the music scene by the time she was 21. Grateful that she had been able to finish high school in the institution and happy that she hadn’t gotten so comfortable that she was afraid to get better and leave there. Because, she was living a life that she had always wanted, and whether or not she deserved to, she told herself that she did and she was sure to enjoy it. 
.
That bitch was trying to ruin him! Simon could hardly catch his breath as he paced outside of the hearing for his academic integrity. She’s just mad that you’ve done BETTER than she has, with her work!
It was one thing when she was taking her bitterness out on you, telling you that your weapon failed to meet the requirements of the assignment, even though it was theoretically FLAWLESS. The CIA spoke with you about your plans for this weapon! But her? She told you to stick to something that your “childlike little mind” could actually comprehend the endgame of. “How about your little robot figures?” she’d taunted. 
Other students had laughed. LAUGHED! His project was miles ahead of everyone in that class, and her tone was disrespectful and condescending! “I haven’t had a childlike thought in my mind since I was 10, you old bitch!” It just stumbled from his lips. She frowned at him and demanded an apology to her and to the rest of the class. He snatched his presentation supplies and stormed off. He’d be damned if he apologized for her antagonizing him! He heard a few more laughs and he knocked the items off of her podium on his way out. He knew that couldn’t work out well… at least in hindsight, he did. In the moment, all he knew was rage.
He even sent her an email apologizing to her and the class and offering to replace anything that he damaged in his outburst. She had only replied to him not to return to her class until further notice. But… he needed her class. It would throw off his entire educational trajectory not to be able to come to her class! Even for a few days!! He was almost ready to grovel. Almost. That would be too much like showing weakness. He apologized, what more could she want.
So, Simon filed a complaint on her, accusing her of being combative, rude, and making her classes toxic environments. Now, the Committee on Discipline was meeting to look over all of the details of her complaint. 
“I truly wanted to give young Mr. Laurent a moment to think about his actions in the classroom and to realize the err of his ways. His complaint against me during this time, being both unfounded and untrue, caused me to have to rethink my decision. I don’t think that Simon Laurent is capable of the behavioral status that we require of students here. I don’t think that he has the temperance for all of the criticisms his flights of fancy are sure to get over the course of his career. I gave him the option to try another avenue for the assignment, as his assignment, while a very significant project did. Not. meet. The. requirements. Of. the. Assignment. He needed to be able to give us a small demonstration. His project was a weapon. He could only grant me a simulation and that is not what I asked for. Telling him this incited him to rage in which he disrespected myself and his peers, disrupting the classroom with his antics. Like a child, throwing a tantrum.” 
Even then, his face was looking like all he wanted was to murder her right then and there. When the committee allowed him to speak, he changed his tune. He was calm and even voiced. “Professor Hughes made a lot of points about me and my particular struggles when it comes to being disregarded. I did respond angrily and I know that it was wrong of me to react the way that I did. That’s why I sent her an apology after I had the chance to cool down. But, she didn’t decide to turn me into the committee until after I filed a complaint on her for even bringing me to the point that I had such a meltdown in her classroom in the first place!” Amelia frowned and members of the committee shared various facial expressions.
Simon looked directly at her and said, “I’ve been a long time fan of your work and your accomplishments. I specifically fought to be in your classroom because of the way that I regard everything that you’ve done throughout your career and I just wanted the privilege to be able to learn from you. But, you’re very unkind. You make people feel bad. You don’t think about the things that you say to people and how those things might affect them. You didn’t even care about my psychological makeup until you could use it against me in these proceedings. You humiliate people in front of others and you don’t even break a sweat.”
“This is not my hearing, Mr. Laurent.”
“But, it matters to this hearing, because I never would have reacted that way if you weren’t being so abrasive.”
“That is a word that men like to use against me whenever I meet them with the very same energy that they put out. I’ve been called worse. By professors, colleagues, and for over 30 years my own psychological settings came into play whenever a discussion was to be had about me. This isn’t about your mental disposition. It’s about your behavior. Your angry and hostile behavior at any old sign of criticism!”
“Professor Hughes,” one of the committee members said. She went silent.
Simon proceeded, “I know that I’m not good at handling criticism, especially coming from a woman. My mother was… difficult to communicate with and the only other woman I was close to…” His eyes grew damp. “I’m sorry. My education means a lot to me and I’ll do anything to stay here.” He rushed out of the chambers, covering his face as he did. Amelia pulled herself up to go check on him. He was in the waiting section, in a seat in the corner with his back to the wall, still covering his crying face. She took a deep breath, grabbed a seat and sat next to him.
“There’s not a person in that room who isn’t familiar with the hardships you had to face in order to get here. We know about your family. We know about your abuse.” He wiped his face and glared at nothing in particular. “We also know how smart you are. You were able to get into this school based upon your intelligence. Nobody is doubting that you are capable of doing great work. I wasn’t even implying that I hated your work that day. But, it wasn’t the proper assignment, Simon. I needed you to give me one thing, you not only gave me another, but you refused to even consider that what you were trying to give me was impossible to meet my requirements. Then, you got angry because you had refused to listen to me in the first place. Now, I admit… I’m not the most courteous member of staff at this institute. I can be…”
“Bitchy.”
“Unapologetic.” She chuckled. “Let me tell you, I know how it is to be in a room full of people who underestimate you and make you feel like you shouldn’t be in the room. There wasn’t much respect for female engineers in my day and there’s not a proper amount even now if you ask me. Half of this staff is composed of pretentious, pompous, puffed up paragons, and it takes next to nothing for anybody outside of their ideals to be met with disdain. What you did, by reporting me was to make me a target. I disagree with your evaluation of me and I can’t tell if it came from a place of genuine thought or retaliation, but you can’t be trusted to continue your education here unless you are willing to listen to others, especially those of us who are trying to help to teach you!”
He wiped his eyes with his sleeves. “They’re gonna kick me out. It’ll look bad on me, and all of my research and work from the past two years might not even matter anymore…”
“That doesn’t have to happen, Simon. Listen… I think you’re brilliant. I am willing to vouch for you this time, under the circumstances that you see someone about getting professional help for your responses to adversity.”
“You… want me to see a shrink.?”
“I think you could benefit from getting mental healthcare and I don’t want you in any classroom of mine unless you do.”
He shivered. It wasn’t the worst thing in the world. She went back in to explain this to the committee and he went through the campus counselors, hating most of them whenever he met with them, switching every time he didn’t like something about one of them, making very little progress, but still fulfilling the deal he made with the committee, for a time. He and Professor Hughes bickered a lot, but he had kept his temper in check whenever she aggravated him, and he eventually settled on a counselor that he didn’t completely hate, too.
He’d always come in, not at all wanting to speak to them. He tossed some books on the table and said, “That’s my dream journal, my intrusive thoughts notebook, and the standard journal. Look through them and then tell me whatever you need to tell me for me to get my paperwork signed off on.”
The man pushed the books back to him and said, “I’m not going to read those, but you’re free to talk about anything that you’ve written in them to me. Let’s start there.”
Simon flopped into the seat and rolled his eyes, “There’s nothing in these that I want to talk about. That’s why I wrote them in here. You’re the brain person. The information gets to you whether you read it or I say it.”
“Okay. Well, let’s see what the first entry is in this one…” He picked up the standard journal and read out loud, “I saw that they let the void out into the world again… What’s the void, Simon?”
Simon turned red and didn’t answer. After a while, the man continued reading, “It didn’t look like Grace. It was beautiful like her, but it looked older, which makes sense, because it was gone a while, and now it’s back…” 
Simon snatched the book from his hand and stuffed it into his backpack. “This was a bad idea. I’m not here to talk about or hear about the void.”
“I don’t know what the void is, but you wrote about it, so I’m inclined to believe that you think about it.”
“I’ve seen it!” Simon snapped pounding his fist on the desk. He took a deep breath. “I had a vision, at least I thought it was a vision. Whenever I was 16, when I was with my ex… we weren’t together for a long time, not that way. We were friends, first. We were friends for a long time, but I always loved her. I loved her before she even knew herself. I loved her with all of my heart.” He picked at his forearms where his tally marks were. “She just saw me as a friend, even though it was obvious that we should be together. Maybe I pushed too hard. Should’ve just left well enough alone. I had to have her and what I got was something else. She wasn’t the same. That wasn’t the girl I loved and I didn’t know it until I saw this… vision that I call the void. It came out of her, it engulfed her and consumed her and it took her place.”
“In a dream?”
“I’m not crazy.”
“I would never use that word to describe anyone.”
“I’m not whatever word you would use for crazy people! I know that it wasn’t real. But, I saw it and I knew that it was what replaced my friend. I hated it for taking her away, and I hated her for letting it. The void was just a way of dealing with the separation. I omitted everything connected to it from my life.”
“You voided her out.”
“Yeah. The person who looks like my friend got out of a mental institution a while back. That’s what that entry was about.”
“Do you honestly feel like the person who you saw is a different person than the one that you used to love? Do you believe that this void that you saw replaced her and that the entity you refer to as the void is now existing in the form of your friend?”
“What? No. I’m not crazy!”
“I’m asking you if when you refer to your ex as The Void, is that because you don’t see them as the human that you knew or because you have purposefully reduced them to something subhuman?”
“What difference does that make?”
“One would be purposeful dehumanization of someone you didn’t like and the other would be out of your control.”
“Nothing is out of my control,” Simon said.
“Some things have to be, Simon. Like the fact that you don’t want to be here, but the school is making you in order for you to remain enrolled. You can’t control everything, not even everything in your life. But, just because you can’t control everything, that doesn’t mean that you don’t control anything. So… Did you force this dehumanized version of this girl into your mind, or was it something out of your control?”
“I… I created it. I didn’t want to see the person that I needed turn away from me, so I imagined her as something else.” The man just nodded. “But, she made me do it! She was going to…” he shook his head. He couldn’t think of what it was that Grace had done that was so wrong. He needed to think back, remember the pain she caused him. Remember the damage she was willing to inflict… but, he felt like he was grasping. There had to be some reason. He couldn’t believe that he spent close to what 4 years now hating her for something that she didn’t actually do… No! She definitely was going to hurt him more than anyone ever had. “You had to know her. You had to know who she was to know what she could do to me.”
“I looked her up. She recently gave an interview about you. I can send you the link, if you haven’t seen it and are interested.”
“Grace did an interview about me?” He shook his head, “Whatever she said, she’s lying! It didn’t happen that way!”
“Simon… why don’t you do this… See if you can handle what she has to say and we can speak about how it made you feel next time." 
Simon left pretty upset. An interview? She hadn’t had anything to say all of this time. Why now? Was this some sort of reckoning against him? He waited until he got home, glanced around him at all of the destruction he’d caused in the past but few weeks. He had been enraged so frequently that he couldn’t even see his floor. 
But, he couldn’t rush into this. First, he picked up his mess, put things away, discarded what needed to be thrown out thanks to his destructive anger, and washed up for the night. No working on any projects or hobbies. Nothing that he loved or cared about in the event that this interview pissed him off. He let his hair fall and grabbed his phone. They were easier to replace than laptops. You could STOP raging when you get mad… Yeah right. And risk doing it at school again? They’d put me out for sure. 
He opened the link and the first thing he saw was Shana’s face. "This is already a bad start." 
"Hey Shady Kindred! Welcome to Shady Shana’s Dish, where we partake of both relevant and ratchet news. I’m your host, Shady Shana and today, I have a very special guest. My… frenemy turned… friendly associate?" 
Grace laughed. It sounded like music to Simon, even though he glared at her. "Let’s.. just say associate.”
“OOF. Shade. Okay, well… classmates, former classmates, at the very least. This is Grace Monroe. I think my audience would definitely know you. From your videos and songs and stuff. But, let me dish this out, I saw homegirl perform live in NYC, and this bitch had a cello. Okay? A cello! She was singing some opera stuff.”
“I don’t sing opera!”
“She was hitting high notes, this kinda alluring witch noise… you sounded like those tuning things, but like high-pitched… you had to be there. Just… check out her page. I’ll have her links in the description. She’s working on music, putting stuff out all of the time and also attending Julliard. Many talents, very beautiful, sweet, when she wants to be… But, we’re actually here to dish about something that Girlfriend hasn’t talked to anybody about in a long time. Mr. Simon Laurent.” Shana exaggerated how French she said his name and had a look of disgust when she did. 
He rewound to see Grace’s reaction. She nodded. She had prepared herself for this. She didn’t look angry or grossed out. Faking. Lies…
“Yes. I agreed to sit down with you in your really nice little studio here and talk about how I feel about Simon.”
“And just to let you messy ones at home know, we will not be speaking about the old school stuff. Grace was nice enough to give me an exclusive about her current day, so if you came to see what she wanted to say about the old stuff, this will not be the place. What he did do, didn’t do, how he done it, naw! None of that! So, I guess, my first question about it is how would you describe your current feelings about Simon Laurent?”
Grace laughed nervously, licked her teeth, sputtered out air (Simon hadn’t heard that sound in so long), and she shook her head, “It’s a loaded question. Ummm… I can’t say that I really have feelings about Simon. I have memories. I know that we were virtually inseparable for a long time. I know in my mind who I thought he was to me when we were younger, but, none of that has had any real bearing on my life in a while.”
“You don’t think about him or nothin?" 
"I mean… I’ve thought about him, but no, not like actively. It’s not a part of my day. It’s more like an occasional experience, when something triggers it or… even sometimes, it’ll be put of nowhere, but just not often. I don’t even know what Simon looks like right now. If you were to trick me and have him backstage or whatever and he came out here right now, Girl - it might take me a moment to recognize him.” Simon felt himself trembling. She didn’t even check up on him? She didn’t want to know? Of course she didn’t! She didn’t care about him..
Shana laughed. “Well, not to be messy…” was her trademark line for when she was about to say something really messy, “Sounds like he’s basically become, what did you two used to call those mediocre types? Non-essential!” Grace’s lip dropped and she titled her head and squinched her face, “Well…” she said in a high pitch, “I… he’s not present. He isn’t part of my life. He detached himself from my life, and I had to learn to move on and now, there’s simply no attachments. Like, if I ran into him, no, I might not know him right away, but the moment I realize, I’m sure I’d be overcome with emotions. I couldn’t tell you how I’d react.”
“Would you uppercut his ass?” Grace cackled and covered her face. “I mean..  if anybody deserves it…”
“I don’t think I’d uppercut his ass, as you so eloquently put it. I think… I’d check to see how he’s feeling. How he’s doing. If he’s found his peace now that I’m not there to affect anything. If he’s better off without me, like he figured he’d be.”
“Sooo… if I can get you two in a room, you wouldn’t even lay hands on him?”
“I… remember what happened. I remember how it felt. I remember pain. But, since then, I’ve learned empathy. I’ve learned pacifism. I’ve learned healing. So, it’s not that I’ve forgotten how hard that time was, but I’ve forgiven everything and I’d just be curious if he had forgiven things too.”
“Whooooooooooo,” Shana let our a long deep breath, “You are better than me. Because if I see him, it’s hands on sight. He’d better not have his head turned. I’ll bust him right in his neck vein." 
Grace laughed and shook her head, waving her hands, "I do not share in this sentiment. If you are a Simon stan, do NOT message me. I didn’t say anything bad about this man.”
“Which surprises me, because I know YOU won’t say anything about this, but I’ll say this and I’ve said this to him, as well… I still think that a lot of the things said about you were not true and a lot of the things done to you were just something that basically the lowest form of scum would do to someone. Something a… girl, I’m reaching back for this terminology… it was some… null type shit. Somebody less than zero would do that kind of thing, to anyone, much less someone that they cared about.”
“Well… I can’t speak for him, but you know… maybe he didn’t care about me as much as he seemed to… maybe these things are things you do to people you hate and maybe that’s what it was always gonna be with us. That’s why I would ask him how he’s doing. Maybe he was tired of being stuck around somebody he resented. I don’t know. But, I’ll always value any type of growth that I have. And if nothing else, Simon was definitely a harbinger of growth in my life.”
Simon didn’t realize that he was crying. Shana and Grace wrapped up the show and it went off with some music video that they worked on with a little girl. He didn’t watch it… his vision was too blurry. But he heard the song asking “Where would you be, without me?” And he couldn’t help but feel attacked. But, he closed out the video. If she wanted to see him and ask him how he was doing, sure… he could make that happen…
Next
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mindofharry · 4 years
Text
Cherry wine.
In which Amy nearly relapses and Harry and Jeff have a decision to make.
WARNING: a sad one, full of angst, tears and life. Drugs and depression are mentioned. Please listen to cherry wine while reading this <3 thank you for your constant support with this series so far! Forever grateful! :,)
after Harry had left Amy that day she felt numb. Harry acted as if nothing happened. And Amy just couldn’t let it go. She didn’t feel warm with him anymore. She didn’t feel happy knowing he didn’t want her. She didn’t feel the joy on stage. Or the excitement playing new chords with him and Mitch. She didn’t feel happy to be alive. Or grateful to have another day left. She wanted to feel happy, or sad, or angry. She just wanted to feel something. But she couldn’t. She could feel anything.
All she could do was was write. And Amy did. She couldn’t sleep. So she wrote. And the songs she wrote were really fucking good. The pain and heartbreak was visible in the words. She named her favourite “cherry wine”
Cherry wine was hers and hers only. She would never give another song to Harry she decided. She would leave him to do this on his own. It is his career she said. Amy didn’t care about Harry anymore.
She filmed a video of her singing cherry wine with the caption. “As sweet as cherry wine”
And after she did that she broke.
She layed in the bath her mascara dripping down her face and body wrinkled from being in the cool water for too long. But she couldn’t bring herself to get out. What was the point? She asked herself. Harry doesn’t want you. Harry doesn’t want you. Harry doesn’t want you. It replayed in her head until she let out a sob. She screamed and yelled and banged her head and scraped her arms. She destroyed the bathroom naked and vulnerable. She sat on the floor her head in her hands making a humming sound.
“He’ll never want you” she said before getting off the white bathroom tiles. She looked at herself in the mirror. Still naked she walked closer to the mirror touching her face. She grabbed a piece of her cheek, then she dragging out her eyes, pouting her lips.
“You’re ugly and worthless Amy” she said as if she was talking to someone else.
She was 17 when she first had an episode. She was grounded by her brother, locked in her room with the windows closed so she couldn’t get out. She had deserved it. She was horrible to her brother, screaming nasty words that definitely weren’t true. She sat in her bedroom calm for an hour. Then she got hyper. Prouncing around her room, jumping on her bed and trying on random clothes. Then she cried, she cried and cried. She destroyed her room. Ripping down posters and throwing pictures of the ground. She broke her chest of drawers and her record player.
She was scared. So scared. She wondered why god chose her to be like this. Why why why. She couldn’t understand. No one could.
She layed in bed in her pyjamas very awake staring at her ceiling. She grabbed her phone from the bedside table. She went through her phone contacts pressing down on drew. He was the one that used to sell her the drugs. She pressed in the message. But she stared at the text. Don’t do it. Don’t do it. She threw her phone at the wall in frustration.
She screamed.
And cried.
Until she grabbed her smashed phone.
And called her brother.
“I need you. Please come. Please-“ she cut herself off with a sob.
Her brother came immediately wrapping his arms around her shaking body. He kissed her head letting out a shaky sigh. Eventually she calmed down letting him take her to her room.
He covered her up and took his shoes off laying down her bed.
“I’m so proud of you for not calling him A” he whispered running a hand through her wet messy hair. “I’m sorry this happens. I’m so sorry” he said wiping her left over tears.
Soon enough she arrived back to work with the band. She still felt numb. Like everything was a dream. Like she was walking a tightrope.
“Amy, Harry and I need to talk to you” Jeff said calling her over to a quiet spot. She didn’t respond just following him over to Harry. She didn’t look at him, she was afraid she might start crying.
“so we need to ask you something. And we need you to be completely honest” Jeff said looking at her with his arms crossed. Amy shrugged leaning back.
“Did you have an addiction to drugs?”
The question caught her off guard. Her eyes widening as she bit her lip. She hadnt told anyone about this. Only family knew. She knows she should’ve told them, but she wasn’t ready, she was barely stable. And she needed the job.
“That’s private information” she said scowling at them. Jeff sighed and Harry rubbed his hands over his cheeks. “And how the fuck do you guys know that? Hmmm? That’s my fucking business. I should’ve been able to tell you when I was ready” she said standing up.
“You should’ve fucking told us the minute you came for the interview” Harry said standing up in front of Amy. “I was fucking high when I auditioned” Amy yelled throwing her hands up.
“For gods sake” Harry said sitting back down.
“What did you want me to say? Huh? That my parents left me and my brother to fend for ourselves! That at 16 I was on drugs. I missed three years of my teenage years! Did you want me to tell you that my whole life was depending on that job! That I had just been kicked out of my home. That I had no fucking money! That I had no friends or family to help me?” She yelled with tears in her eyes.
“Fuck this” she said stomping away. Harry quickly followed her pulling her arm.
“Amy-“
“You had sex with me and said it was a mistake. I thought- I don’t know we could’ve been together. But it was stupid so fucking stupid. You don’t want me. And I don’t fucking want you. I quit” she said throwing her pass to him before walking away.
And he let her.
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delcat177 · 4 years
Photo
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Text in captions, if that won’t read on text to voice please let me know <3
This is a half-year old, but I only paid Blobs Magician to help me out once and I’m fresh out of delicately painted acorns and he gave me commission rights so I’ll be tipping him a ziploc bag of goldfish later
I feel awkward writing about all of this--there was a bit of jealousy when I got my hyst (not projecting, I was told flat by a trans friend), and I worry that I may be making other people feel alone, anxious, or less-than in their gender by talking about it.  If you feel that at all, please, stop right now.  Don’t look in the mirror, because mirrors are scary. Like, really scary, they have ghosts or stuff probably, but also in the genders sense, so instead, look in your head.   Look at your self.  It’s in there, because it is you.  What is happening to me now is a shell upgrade, a hermit crab moving domiciles.  I was a boy once, then a young man, then a oldman, and now I’m a oldman with a society man shell.  Never mistake the shell for the crab, go “hey crab, I like your shell, I hope you find the perfect shell, because you are the perfect inhabitant” and celebrate that crab.  Because we are all crabs, and we are all beautiful, and we all deserve the shells that reflect us as individuals, and anyone who says otherwise can fuck off into a spiny urchin bush and not have a shell.  Or.  Something.  Did I say I felt awkward?  I AM awkward.  But anyway, drive-in movie totals and such after cut, potential TMI, and protect yourself love yourself, you lovely crabs <333
 (with cut ‘cause longtext is looong)
(ORIGINAL POST)
Alt-text: I'm always the last one to know
so uh
I'm a blithe idiot and somehow never processed or dared to dream that this was possible
which makes the timeline look SPECTACULARLY dumb but I was going through SO MANY LIFESTYLE CHANGES
HYST DATE: SEPTEMBER 28, 2016
2017: Me: Man, living in the townhouse has really amped up my leg game, all that up and down stairs.
Me: I'm down ten pounds since the hyst! Megan: That's probably your natural weight. Me: That or getting there.  Not surprising, I'm not feeding the beast constantly.
Me: *punches Megan playfully in the arm* Megan: OW goddammit Del that hurt like SHIT! Me: oh my God I'm sorry I didn't mean to! Megan: It's okay, just be careful! Me: That's so weird I'm sorry D8
Me: man is it just me or am I good in bed lately? oh right I'm the only one here...I guess it's because I'm more confident?
Me: ghghjh my hair's thinning out at the temples, well been expecting that one for awhile, at least it waited for 30
2018:
Me: Holy shit, the stairs plus the shopping is paying off!  My thighs are HUGE!  I wonder if cracking a watermelon with these bad boys is hyperbole.  I bet I could though.  I BET.
Me: Down to 162 and holding, fuck you past doctors!  I just needed ENERGY goddammit!
Me: Wow, I've lost a lot of weight from my face especially.  That makes me super happy.  Anyway better pluck these stray hairs.  ...have I been yanking these more lately?  Getting old is weird.
Me: (struggling with shorts) Megan: Do you need a belt? Me: I'M WEARING A BELT (lifts shirt to reveal belt double wrapped around hips) Megan: Well then Me: I just need to buy new shorts, my ass is just GONE Megan: In the meantime maybe pay attention to what underwear you have on Me: yeah thank God for boxers
Me: My acne scars are heck of acting up.  I wish I hadn't picked at my face so much as a kid, I guess the pores are just kinda fucked, I've read about that happening.
2019:
Megan: New shorts look good Me: I am so bad at shopping Megan: At least you have them now Me: I'm an assless chap is all Megan: Go to bed Del Me: It's four in the afternoon
Me: My throat feels so *thick* lately.  I haven't been hitting the vape that often, why does it feel weird?  And why am I noticing my own voice more?  I NEVER notice my own voice, I make a point of it.  Am I subconsciously pitching it lower like I used to do talking on Skype because I'm more socially active?  What is my brain I'm so AWKWARD Me: UGH I'm falling back into derma habits, I haven't picked in my face in years, I think I need to change cleansers.  But...my face looks...good?  I guess I had this hiding under that baby fat all these years.  ...I guess? Me: Am I getting a hump from my bad computer posture?  Shit. Me: Oh no, it's not a hump, my shoulders are starting to put on muscle!  That's a relief.  That must be from the...laundry?  Carrying...laundry?
AUGUST 5, 2019: Me: (lying in bed) 2 + 2
Me: wait why am I putting on shoulder muscle now?  I've been doing laundry for years, and it's never done that.  And my legs didn't get this buff with a routine job where I was walking three hours a d--
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AUGUST 14, 2019:
New Endocrinologist: We'll test your levels to make sure it isn't a pituitary gland issue or (some syndrome I've already forgotten the name of), and it could be because there's some small element of testosterone in the estrogen replacement, but the brain does produce androgens.  We can definitely look into switching you to T if you want, but if it's facial hair you're worried about...well, once the follicle is there, it's there.  These are irreversible changes.
Me: No on that then but irreversible,, like,, what I have now,, is forever,,,,,,,?
New Endocrinologist: Forever, and I would expect to continue to see muscle gains if you work out.
Me:
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welcome to my second puberty please be aware it apparently involves as many mood swings as the first one but i'm tryin'
Since then, it’s been continuing confirm, confirm, confirm. 
My acne turned out to be little follicles growing in odd places--not fullblown hair, just enough to irritate the skin while it was developing. Tiny tufts of 1-3 entirely white, downy hairs have popped up in a few places on my breasts.  The real fuzz proliferation has been in the southern quarters--with all delicacy, there is no itch like the itch of hair beginning to grow anywhere sweat can proliferate, and I now understand why cis men scratch privates in public.  Having NOT gone through a unified social experience with a peer group accepting of such measures, I am sure there is footage on grocery store cams of someone with an agonized expression walking like he has a weasel down his pants and worrying that 30 is early for hemorrhoids.  Both have settled in for the most part, leaving me with a very fluffy, barely-there peach fuzz mustache that’s only noticeable in the right light, some spare hairs across my chin and neck that I keep in order, and a profound relief that I prefer boy shorts and swim trunks.
I went through a few weeks of being especially rank despite all the showering and was worried that was my new normal, but apparently T sweats be like that, and I’m back to smelling like...whatever I smell like, probably lavender with our fabric softener.  I experienced what I believed was a relapse a month later that turned out to be a false positive--specifically, our thermostat was slowly dying and frog-boiling us until it got hot enough that my sister also went “dear God it is a sauna in here”, leading to replacement of the faulty element and another notch in the “my life is dumb” bedpost.
My face bonebs, which I frankly expected the least out of (when I wasn’t expecting at all), have slowly but surely been rearranging, a visual effect doubled by the much faster redistribution of fat.  I honestly have no idea how this one works.  I know more about dead bonebs than live ones.  I would doubt it if I didn’t have pictures to back it up.  I would say it’s easier to look in the mirror now, but I already stated my opinion on mirrors, do it too much and a skeleton will pop out.  It WILL.  My brain tells me this and it is never wrong about fears and or phobias.  Don’t do it kids.
If there’s been a single most beautiful moment so far, it’s been getting back into Steven Universe after a long hiatus, opening my mouth to sing the opening like I did years ago, and realizing all at once that I was singing falsetto.  I ran it back, dropped a register, and the first names I sang became those who would believe in me most.  There were tears, and later, showing it off, there were fierce hugs.  (Yes, the first ep I watched once I realized was Stevonnie, and YES GARNET GOING “GO HAVE FUN” wah)
I can’t begin to express the validation--I am no gender essentialist’s data point, this is MY experience and no one else’s, but I keep going “my aunt had a hyst and didn’t transition and I had one and I am because my brain makes androgens my brain makes androgens MY BRAIN MAKES ANDROGENS IT HAS BEEN MAKING ANDROGENS ALL THIS TIME IT HAS BEEN TRYING” and living in that, living in “not even SCIENCE is against me”, which is a tremendous thing as a scientist.  (As a scientist, I would be a blithering dullard to claim this is the only thing that affects or proves my gender, and I do not.  Again, TERFs fuck off.  This is simply a very validating thing to me, personally, in my experience.  I’m not thrilled that I have to underline that this hard dammit internet.)
What lies ahead is...I don’t know!  I thought I was done changing, but the post I saw that nudged me to finally do this on here went “you may stop being able to cry for awhile” and this is Important because I have been trying to figure out if I have Sjogren’s but apparently I have androgens which is slightly easier to pronounce.  I’m not sure how I feel about that, because transitioning is a lot of “I’m not sure how I feel about this” and then things being okay.  I would definitely say that the more I learn, the easier it is to feel steady and normal, which is important because the mood swings have been REAL.  This is more than I asked for or bargained for, but I still only have one regret, and that’s that my hyst scars are just slightly asymmetrical and it Bothers Me, but even that is growing on me.
I don’t know how to end this post.  I love you all to death, and I hope if you’re seeking transition, you find it and twenty dollars, and if you’re not seeking transition, you still find twenty dollars.  Thank you so much for you and all you do and are.  Remember--you are great!
Unless you’re truscum.  Then this post isn’t for you (dammit Internet) and you can fall off a boardwalk onto a dead fish.  Have fun with that!
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hekk
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neperfectcom · 4 years
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Why You Should Not Go to Any Health Coach or Dietician in Your Eating Disorder Recovery
Have you ever felt like every health coach or dietician blog out there does not feel right to you? Small captions, beautiful avocado toasts with poached eggs, perfect lifestyle, and overall message: that is how you need to start living your life, and all your problems will go away.
Hmmm... Not really, and I get you. When I was struggling with an eating disorder, I could not fill my plate with vegetables, protein, and grains, and eat it. I know the problem I had was mostly with mindset, but, once I realized that my mind was torturing me, and I was ready to take control, I could not. I needed some inspiration, but there was not any in those profiles, and I did not feel related to body positivity ones either. I needed something like my blog is today: the honest and real talk. With no hiding, no inspirational quotes that you can find easily on Pinterest. I honestly still do not get why people would post something like this in the blog on Instagram.
Here I am, eleven years of struggling, hate, and hidden emotions. Yet, I haven’t recovered fully, and I guess you never can. It’s always inside you, but the difference is how you address it. You can either agree with that voice or shut it up. I still struggle with the later. This breakfast, aka late lunch, is not a picture of a perfectly balanced meal. It’s about imbalance you can see on that plate, hidden one.
One day I decided to make this meal following the suggestions of one health coach. But I wasn’t satisfied by eating this runny egg yolk, beautiful ripe avocado, and tasty portobello mushrooms. I was craving something else. Maybe even a cake. Yet that’s what I’ve eaten. I binged later just because I haven’t listened to my body in the first place, and just kept pushing it to be perfect. That’s what you call imbalance.
You know, the woman I admire, Tracy Anderson, says the same. You can’t achieve balance by following a 10-minute abs workout. You won’t build that connection with your body by doing 30 reps of the same exercises over and over again. The same, I believe, is with eating. Yes, you do need to eat healthily, but first of all, you need to reconnect to the inner little girl inside you you have been depriving for so long. Be your loving mother, not your enemy.
I hope you liked this post, but I just wanted to make it clear once again: I’m not an expert, but I’m on a journey to become one. One day I do well another day I relapse. It’s all a process, but I want to share mine with you because I know how important and helpful it can be.
If you want to work with me or just talk about your struggles with food, send me an email to [email protected]
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neo-somaliana · 6 years
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July 20,2017
Wild day. Broke my foot out talking a stroll with grandma. There was a cyclist behind us ans and I turned around to make sure grandma was out of the way, and I twisted back around like in a pirouette, at which point my left ankle bent outward and I fell on top of it. Crack. I almost fainted from the pain. The dumb cyclist just glanced at me screaming in agony on the ground and kept it moving without slowing down. First thing I did was ask grandma to hand me the phone that had dropped a few meters away. Went into fixing mode. Called dad to have someone come for grandma to take her home. Called ambulance. My grandma was shocked and couldn't believe I had actually fractured something. And although I'd never broken a bone, the fracture was unmistakable.
As I'm wheeled into a room, waiting for a help, I go through my phone and first thing I see on my IG feed is a post from Lupe Fiasco; a picture of Chester Bennington and an ambiguous caption that didn't reveal what happened but that it was very serious. And I was like no no no. I google... And yup.
Whenever someone famous that I've connected with in whatever way commits suicide, it's a major trigger. I get sucked into a Bermuda triangle of fatalism that has me wondering whether I too will eventually succumb to the ideations?
Suicidal ideations isn't a random thought. It's a mind virus. It's a cancer of the spirit and though you may be in remission in that you're currently not in that space, you're at risk of a relapse. And that's why I take living right and authentically very seriously because being at odds with myself or neglectful is breeding ground for the shadow thoughts to gather momentum. I have to be careful for the rest of my life if I want to live.
It's not something you control consciously. You have power before the storm hits, but once it does all you can do is wait it out and hope it hasn't done too much damage. Like cities in earthquake prone areas that are adapted to deal with earthquakes and fortify buildings against crumbling, I have to adapt to my sensitive nature and create my own way of life to protect myself against the toxicity in society.
I hope that one day I can write more extensively about the inner workings of a suicidal mind so that others can have an accurate glimpse and appreciation for how complex it really is. People being disconnected and not conscious enough is what reinforces the feeling of isolation and like no one will get you. That's why suicidal people don't talk about it. It's not a concept that can be intellectualized. It's something that requires empathy and that's a tall order in today's world. So I fight for not only me but to come through the other side with insight and data, a map of the belly of the beast. That's my motivation for keeping alive.
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04.10.2021
Dear G,
Its uncanny how connected we are to each other in all ways, even when it comes to things that aren’t all rosy . Yesterday as the day wore on and I started to think about how much I pushed for you to come back on a specific date that I had picked out it felt wrong and I knew it . You did too . I picked up on it . I can sense your feelings as much as you can sense mine . It didn’t feel right at all . As the night wore on i started to think about how I would tell you tomorrow that you could come back whenever you wanted to . That was your choice . Sure enough , knowing you, you had already messaged as I woke up about this . I was here and facing a choice to be accountable for my actions again . 
You are right . I was wrong to ask you to come back on a date that I wanted you to and I am sorry . When we first started talking again I said to you that I just am happy to be back in your life and I want to be here for you in whatever way that you need. Not what I need . I want to be here for you in whatever way that you want to be here . Not what I want . Its your choice and it always will be to be in my life again and to allow me to be in your life again. You set the pace and you set your boundaries. It was wrong for me to try to exert control of when and how you would come back .  Please accept my apology. I recognize that this was an unhealthy behavoir pattern once again and the I overstepped my boundaries. What do I really want here ? How does it relate to you ? How do I best express my desires and my hopes to you as well as my asking for forgiveness for my past wrongs ? Most importantly what do you want and how does it related to me ? Well for one I really just want you to be happy . I really do want you to come back when you’re ready and only for yourself. Only come back when you want to . Seriously. I will be here . I will always be here for you.i love you with all my heart and I always will . I want you to come back here for yourself and nobody else . Just like that B&W VSCO post you deleted of the airplane and the caption that was about this. I want you to do that . That way I know you are honouring yourself and being true to yourself. So how does it relate to me ? Well I’m going to simply give you the money to book the plane ticket to come back . No expectations . No anything . Just give you and money and the choice is yours. Thats as much as I should do, as much as I can do, and as much as I always should have done . I know its a continuum getting rid of these old behaviour patterns and changing and sometimes as in this case I relapse into old ways of feeling, old ways of thinking and old ways of acting. But I do see my mistakes and I recognize that I was wrong to do that yesterday . You know I love you and I miss you . I know that you love me too and you miss me too . Really that is all that matters . Beyond that I am just happy to be in your life again . All the while not talking to you I’ve been able to get a better grasp of my fear based actions and my love based actions . Wanting you back on a certain date is fear based . Fear of being alone , fear of you forgetting about me , fear or you not ever coming back . All just fear . When I self talk through this as I was doing yesterday it doesn’t make any sense at all . The fears that used to paralyze me I’m able to wrestle with now and to be able to recognize they are not useful or healthy for me . So yes my love , I’m simply giving you the money and you decide when it is right for you to come back . That is what I really want . I want to be able to continue to recognize love based actions versus fear based actions as they relate to you.  
I’m grateful for your openness with me today and as always . I really do want to be able to continue this. Its a openness I don’t think we’ve ever shared before. I’m here for it and I’m here for us. You are not being hot and cold . I never perceived it that way and I never will . You didn’t like something , it didn’t feel right, didn’t feel right to me either, and you told, then re-established you boundaries. Thats what I want for you and for me . This is a journey that I am taking and you are taking and its not a checkbox as I say now. So I am grateful that you keep me accountable . I have never been more sober than now in my life. Today when you asked me does that mean that you’ve never been sober with me i had to clarify. You know I’ve tried before at sobriety . and failed. and tried . and failed. and tried. It was all control based. I desperately wanted to be sober at times. But I also thought that I could somehow control it . Again and again . Time and time again . Control is not sobriety. That is what i meant. I’ve been sober for months, sometimes even a year. I’ve been sober with you for months at a time . I’ve desperately wanted to change before .  I just didn’t have the right mindset and I was unwilling to give up this need to control . I know now that is unhealthy . That is what i mean when I say I’ve never been more sober than now . I’m able to see beyond that now. I can see where my obsession with trying to control situations and people has led back to relapse. So I am thankful for you in keeping me accountable . I really do. 
There is so much more i want to say !!!! I will say it all too. I will keep this Tumblr up with you always . I have so many things that I can say to you and I want to say to you. There are so many conversations that i want to have with you. There are so many things that I want to share with you. There are so many ways that i can see us growing deeper in our intimacy and love through talks like this. I’m not trying to sugar coat it either. Today was difficult for you and for me . It was difficult because at the core of it . Once again it comes down to trust and it comes down to your choice on whether or not you can trust me again and whether or not you are able to forgive me and move forward . I recognize that. I am here for you and I am going to listen to everything you say to me. 
I do want you to know that this sobriety journey of mine will always be my path from now on. As painful and as scary as it is to say these words, even if for whatever reason you decide you cannot forgive me or trust me again, and decide to not be with me again, this sobriety journey will not stop and I will continue. My sobriety is not dependant on anyone . Nobody has that power of me or my sobriety nor is anyone responsible for that. You are not responsible for my feelings . You are only responsible for yours. You are not responsible for me loneliness . You are responsible for your happiness. All of these things I understand and I am here for . There is sooo much I want to always write. Never enough . But what I am saying basically is this. I am here for the healing and that includes being accountable when I’ve slipped. Accepting my mistakes and asking for forgiveness. With the little things . Day by day. This isn’t going to be an overnight thing. I will need to work on myself day by day. I will also need to earn your trust and your forgiveness day by day. I am grateful for you  and I cherish you. I will always be here for you and for us. I will take your cues and accept your boundaries because that is healthy. I want you to be healthy, happy and feel like you’re able to be yourself and be truthful to yourself at all times. I love you so much and I love you for you. Exactly you. Always have. I want you to always be you and never lose yourself in me and in us again. Every time you check me and tell me how you feel is love. I know that . I know that we are both here and we both are invested in making us work and getting to a healthy place where we share ourselves with each other with love and nothing else. I look forward to more talks and I especially look forward to couple therapy when you do come back . 
I’m always for you 
I love you
Thank you for being you
You are only responsible for you
I got me 
I love you 
There is so much more I wanna say but another day my love 
xx
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toldnews-blog · 5 years
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New Post has been published on https://toldnews.com/world/yaba-the-cheap-synthetic-drug-convulsing-a-nation/
Yaba: The cheap synthetic drug convulsing a nation
Image copyright Getty Images
Hundreds of thousands of people in Bangladesh have become hooked on yaba – a mixture of methamphetamine and caffeine sold as cheap red or pink pills. The official response has been harsh, with hundreds of people killed in alleged incidents of “crossfire”.
“I was awake for seven, eight, even 10 days at a time. I was taking yaba in the morning, the afternoon, in the evening, again late at night, and then working all night and not going to bed.”
Mohammed was an addict. After staying awake for so long, he would crash.
“I would black out. I totally went down. After two or three days I would wake, have food, and go to bed again. But if I had any yaba, I would take it – if you have a single pill left, you will take it.”
Mohammed’s yaba habit started at work in Dhaka.
“Our import business was with Japan so we had to work at night because of the time difference. One of my colleagues told me about yaba. He said that if I take it, it will help me stay awake, be more energetic and to work hard in the morning and late at night.”
At first, Mohammed experienced the benefits his colleague described. But they were short-lived. Mohammed began behaving erratically, and came close to breakdown.
“In the early stages of using yaba it has a lot of positive effects. Everything is enhanced with yaba,” says Dr Ashique Selim, a consultant psychiatrist specialising in addiction.
“You become more sociable… You enjoy music, cigarettes and sex more. In Bangladesh there’s a very unhealthy association between yaba and sex – you’re awake longer, you’ve got more energy, you feel more confident. If you stop using yaba, there are no withdrawal symptoms, it’s not like alcohol or heroin. But it’s the effects of yaba that are really addictive. It’s a very, very dangerous drug.”
Yaba first appeared in Bangladesh in 2002 and its use, and abuse, has steadily risen since then. Manufactured illicitly in industrial quantities in Myanmar, it is smuggled into Bangladesh in the far south-east of the country, where the border partly follows the River Naf.
It was across this river that hundreds of thousands of desperate Rohingya refugees fled into Bangladesh in 2017, to escape from the Burmese military. Now nearly a million destitute refugees live in makeshift camps in the region and dealers have succeeded in turning some of them into mules – often women, who smuggle packages of pills inside their vaginas.
Experts believe the dealers see an unmissable business opportunity. At a time of rapid growth – Bangladesh has one of the world’s fastest growing economies – traffickers are dumping huge quantities of yaba, and selling it cheaply to create a captive market. Anecdotally, it seems its use is becoming more prevalent among go-getters riding the economic boom.
“I was totally dependent on it,” remembers Mohammed.
His wife, Nusrat, who was caring for a new-born baby at the time, says his behaviour became more and more unpredictable.
Image caption Mohammed and his wife
“He used to come home and blame me for everything regarding food, friends, my job… This was very unusual, and it’s not actually like him,” she recalls.
After she found some yaba tablets in the house, she tackled Mohammed about them.
“He screamed at me. I tried to convince him to get some treatment, but he was still denying it. He said, ‘You don’t trust me, you want to go away with someone else, you want to be apart from me.’ I had a tough time. And at the same time I knew he could do anything – he could even kill us.”
According to Dhaka psychiatrist Ashique Selim, yaba has filled a unique role in Bangladesh, a nation where alcohol is not freely available, and drinking is often frowned upon.
“I had a gentleman who came to me who’d led a pretty straight life. His parents were very conservative. So when his friends would go out and have a few beers, he wouldn’t do that because he didn’t want to come home smelling of drink. Then in his 30s he came across yaba. So there were no visual changes in the way he looked, and there was no smell. And when he was having small doses there was no effect the day after.”
Image caption Officers stop rickshaws near Cox’s Bazar
But yaba users struggle to keep their habit purely recreational. And it is the drug’s widespread availability, and the chaos it is causing, that provoked the Bangladeshi government to ratchet up the penalties for yaba possession, and to declare “zero tolerance” – a policy that some claim involves summary execution by law enforcement agencies.
“I was coming back from the mosque, when I saw a lot of policemen in front of my gate,” remembers Abdur Rahman, who lives in Teknaf, the town at the heart of the yaba trade in the south-eastern district of Cox’s Bazar.
“They entered my house, and found my son, Abul Kalam in the bathroom. They grabbed him and handcuffed him. I said, ‘Please release him, what has he done?’ The policeman told me, ‘If you talk too much, we’re going to shoot you.'”
Abul Kalam had recently served a prison sentence for human trafficking, not drugs. He was held in the police station for five days before his father got some very bad news.
Image caption Abdur Rahman
“The police told me my son was killed in a gunfight,” he says.
Abul Kalam died on 9 January some distance from the police station in what the police said was an incident of crossfire. The media reported another man was killed alongside him, and that 20,000 yaba tablets and five guns were recovered from the scene.
One human rights organisation estimates that in 2018, in the first seven months of the government’s anti-drug operations, nearly 300 people were killed across Bangladesh. The local press often puts the word “crossfire” in inverted commas, reflecting a widespread suspicion that sometimes these shoot-outs are staged.
Find out more
Listen to Bangladesh v Yaba on Crossing Continents, on BBC Radio 4, at 11:00 on Thursday 25 April
Or catch up later online
But the Superintendent of Police for Cox’s Bazar, A B M Masud Hossain, denies there is a shoot-to-kill policy for those suspected of involvement in the yaba trade.
So how does he explain the circumstances of Abul Kalam’s death?
“Sometimes when we go for an operation, we face the yaba traders. I think that was such a type of incident,” he says.
“After arresting someone we take them to the police station. Then, after collecting information during interrogation, we go for the operation. So when you take the criminals on the operation, sometimes they fight the police with guns. So maybe he was killed at that time.”
Image caption Police superintendent A B M Masud Hossain: “I can assure you, there is no crossfire list”
And he has an explanation, too, for the fact that these deaths always seem to follow a similar pattern.
“They may be the same stories, but the incidents always occur like this. So why would I give another story?”
In February, the superintendent organised an extraordinary public event in Teknaf. In a carnival atmosphere, in front of a crowd of thousands, 102 local men – all alleged yaba dealers – surrendered to the authorities. They included relatives of the former local MP for the ruling Awami League, and of other elected representatives. Thirty firearms and packets containing 350,000 yaba tablets were laid out ceremoniously. The men who had given themselves up lined up in front of a podium decked with flowers, and each of them was presented with a single gladiolus flower by the Home Minister, Assaduzaman Khan.
“The entire country is flooded with yaba, even students in schools and colleges are dependent on it,” the minister told the assembled crowd.
Image copyright Getty Images
Image caption Carnival atmosphere: 102 men surrender themselves in Teknaf
Then he addressed the men who had turned themselves in, and who remain incarcerated today.
“Your very presence today is reassurance for all of us that we shall be able to eradicate yaba from Teknaf and the rest of the country.”
It sounded as though those alleged yaba traders came forward of their own volition. But one man claims that his brother, Shawkat Alam, surrendered because he feared for his life.
“The police made a list of all the people who had to be ‘crossfired’, something like that,” says Mohamed Alamgir. “And when my brother heard about it, he was so frightened that made him surrender.”
Police superintendent A B M Masud Hossain rejects the allegation that pressure was applied.
“I can assure you, there is no crossfire list. We always try to arrest them.”
And he says, since February’s surrender, yaba trading in the district of Cox’s Bazar has decreased by almost 70%.
Image copyright Getty Images
Image caption A border guard finds yaba in a bus near Teknaf
In 2018, Bangladeshi authorities seized 53 million yaba tablets nationally. The total value of this illicit business is estimated to be worth upwards of $1bn a year.
There are no reliable surveys of the number of drug-dependent people in Bangladesh. The Department of Narcotics Control (DNC) estimates there are four million addicts, but NGOs have put the number at nearer seven million. Of those, about a third are thought to be yaba users.
Mohammed’s yaba highs were quickly replaced by wretched lows.
“I was always confused and felt that somebody was overhearing me, somebody was looking at me.”
Paranoia is not unusual among yaba users.
As his life spiralled out of control, Mohamed was forcibly taken to a rehabilitation centre in the middle of the night by strangers employed by his family. It was traumatic, but he is grateful now. He spent four months in treatment, has been clean for more than a year, and still volunteers in the same clinic – partly to prevent his own relapse.
“Now I think he’s ready to get a job again,” says Nusrat, Mohammed’s wife. “But I never push him. And if he says he needs some help, we’re all here for him.”
Mohammed’s addiction to yaba proved a profound test to this couple’s relationship.
“But our bond has become stronger,” believes Nusrat. Mohammed agrees.
“And I have more faith in her. I know she won’t leave me!” he says.
You may also be interested in:
When soldiers went searching for militants in Myanmar’s Rakhine state last October, the result for members of the Rohingya minority was disastrous. Villages were burned, men were killed, women were sexually abused. And when one woman complained of rape, she was accused of lying by the office of the country’s leader, Aung San Suu Kyi, and hounded by vengeful soldiers.
Hounded and ridiculed for complaining of rape
Join the conversation – find us on Facebook, Instagram, YouTube and Twitter.
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letsdiscoverkitty · 7 years
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HiKitty, read your answer to an instagram Q the other day-I'm finding it so damn triggering rn. So many girls I follow are having relapses or claiming to be recovered yet only eating small child-sized portions and baby snacks and are so much thinner than me.I am now getting scared to eat due to this. I am healthy weight currently but now feel like a failure and anxious about eating again, especially certain foods and feel the urge to lose drastically again&can't ask for help as I'm 'healthy'.:(
Right, firstly anon, YOU ARE NOT A FAILURE and just because you might be a ‘healthy weight’ it does not mean that you are not allowed to ask for help/support. Your worth is NOT defined by a number on a scale; you deserve support/treatment regardless of what a stupid, inanimate object says - it can tell you nothing more than ‘the relationship between your body and the Earth’s surface due to gravity at one particular moment’. It cannot tell you anything about the person you are, the dreams that you have, your abilities/skills/interests, your worth, your generosity, your capabilities, and so much more. It can literally tell you nothing but a number. These are MENTAL ILLNESSES; and no matter what your weight you deserve help.
Secondly: LOG OUT. UNFOLLOW. GET RID OF THOSE TRIGGERS. No excuses. Continuing to follow those accounts and reading the captions is literally FEEDING your ED and making it stronger/louder. It is toying with you. It has become a game to ED and it has you in the palm of its hands whilst you stay scrolling. What good is it doing you? Triggers are hard to deal with but they can be dealt with; we can eliminate (some of) them and we can remove ourselves from the situations where they arise; life is not trigger free but with time we can learn to deal with them in ‘healthier’ ways. Thirdly: You do NOT need to compare yourself to anyone else; seriously though, what does it achieve? what purpose does it have? Comparing your journey to someone else’s is, at the end of the day, pointless. We are all individuals, we are on different journeys, in different places and even though our paths may ‘cross’ at times, we are all DIFFERENT - seriously, no two mental illnesses are the same.  What would you say to anyone else if they came to you asking this? would you tell them that they should continue to compare their suffering/worth to someone else’s? 
Okay, so I challenge you to do two things: Number one: I want you to log out of your IG account; no excuses, no dragging it out. It is not helping you right now; it is feeding into your ED, but you have the power to press the log out button and sever that tie. This is about challenging those thought patterns, and ultimately seeing what happens (good old behavioural experiments)Number two: Right, I now want you to go and find a notepad/piece of paper and I want you to ask yourself these next few questions. I want you to sit and write down whatever it is that comes to your head; see where your mind takes you. This is no ‘right’ or ‘wrong’; there is no ‘pass’ or ‘fail’; no one is judging or marking you on this, this is for YOU. Write it all out, whatever it is that comes into your head, write it and see where it takes you. You don’t need to show anyone these things; you can burn them/throw them in the bin, rip them up or keep them if you want to, however the act of challenging those negative thoughts and writing them down can really help...1. Where would relapsing get me? 2. In 5 years time, where do I want to be? what do I want to be doing with my life? Is listening to ED now going to help me get there? 3. What is comparing myself to others on IG achieving? How does it make me feel?
Now we need to do a little reflecting; we need to see the bigger picture, not just the little sparkly things that anorexia is trying to lure you with...I want you to task yourself these and answer them honestly: Was it ever ‘enough’ for ED?  Was it ever satisfied? What did listening to ED bring me? Happiness? Health? Control? (was it real control of a false sense of it?)What would going back there achieve? What would undoing all the hard work I have put in achieve? Is that what I really want? To be consumed by ED; my life made even smaller? Because the truth is that ED ALWAYS LIES. It always leaves out the details; what will restricting and relapse actually get you? One thing that I can promise is that it will not bring you all those things that ED is promising right now. It will never be enough. It will always demand more. It will make you feel worse. I know you know all of this but sometimes we need reminding of the reality. Among an endless list it will cause you to: withdraw further from life, cut off friendships, hide and lie to family members, leave you with no energy, unable to concentrate/study, no longer enjoy anything, feel cold no matter how many layers you wear, be constantly tired, and what started out as a few things being cut out here and there will lead to volume upon volume of rules being written. IT WILL NEVER BE ENOUGH. I know it might feel like it is ‘the only option’ but I promise you that it is not. You do not have to go down this path, you do not have to lose even more of your life to ED.
Please please reach out for some support/help. Are you currently seeing anyone for your MH? If not then please make an appointment to see your GP to get referred. If you are, then I urge you to be HONEST with them about how you are finding things. You do not deserve to suffer and you do not need to go through this alone. Right now you need to focus on YOURSELF (and no that is not selfish, so far from it!) your health, whether it be mental or physical COMES FIRST. One of the most important things is to reach out, let them in; talk to someone, whether it be a friend/parent/carer/partner/family member/teacher/employer, whoever it is you might feel able to talk to right now, PLEASE TALK TO THEM. They want to help and support you through this but unless you tell them how you are feeling, they can’t know/help you. I know it feels like things may never get better right now and I know it might feel like you are stuck in a whirlpool but I promise that things CAN get better. You do not need to suffer in silence and lose anymore of your life to this illness. 
I am sorry that my reply may not the most helpful, but I hope that it can help to open your mind a little/help you connect with yourself and begin to see the lies that ED is trying to feed you for what they really are. I wish I could take this away from you, I wish I had an ‘answer’...The truth is that it will never be ‘enough’ for ED, it will never be ‘satisfied’, it will never want to let you go or get better. Please know that you are not alone in your struggles, and I promise that even though it might feel like reaching out to someone is the ‘wrong’ thing to do, I promise that you will not regret it. It is for the best. Take care of yourself, I am proud of you for reaching out to me today, I am thinking of you x
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morganbelarus · 7 years
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My last night in prison? – BBC News
How do you break the cycle of offending? Pat, 52, has been in and out of prison for her entire adult life, but now she thinks she can stay out for good.
I remember the night before I left prison for the last time so clearly. I was filled with so much anxiety, fear and doubt. I remember being in that cell and not being able to sleep. I had this crazy urge to clean everything - I wanted it to be clean for the next woman that came in there, because I know how it feels to walk into a cell that's dirty and messy, feeling like doom, feeling like your life has ended. So it was really important for me to leave that room clean.
Although I was really excited and wanting to go, I was so afraid. I felt really anxious because I'd been there so many times, waiting for that door to open, waiting for them to say: "Are you ready Pat? It's time to go."
I was wondering what was going to happen to me. Where would I go? Would I stay out this time?
I'd been in and out of prison since I was 19. I've lost count of how many sentences, but it must be more than 15.
My lifestyle, being on the streets, doing drink and drugs, always led me to going back to prison - and was also the reason my kids went into adoption and foster care.
On the morning of my release I was wearing my jeans and I had put my books and stuff in a plastic bag. They came to get me at about 05:30 in the morning.
Find out more
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Media captionPat tells Woman's Hour about her last night in prison
In a new series, Woman's Hour is speaking to women about leaving prison. Reporter Milly Chowles has been speaking to female prisoners across the UK.
Listen to Sarah as she leaves prison in Durham
Listen to Jenny Earle from the Prison Reform Trust
More on the Woman's Hour website
I got to reception and was released. They gave me my bag and some money - 48. Not a lot, it's only intended to tide you over until your benefits get sorted out, and it never lasts very long. But having lived on 5.50 a week, it was like winning the lottery! I felt rich.
Luckily I wasn't using [drugs] when I left - if I was, it would have been finished in no time and I would have been back to square one.
This time, all I wanted to buy was some nice toiletries, nice creams and stuff, because I couldn't afford that while I was in prison. I just wanted to smell like a human being again.
Image caption All I wanted were some toiletries - I just wanted to smell like a human being again
I remember sitting in the waiting room, before we were taken to the gates. That was really nerve-wracking because I was in there with a lot of other women and they were talking about going to get a drink, going to see their boyfriends and having a nice time - some were talking about going to get more drugs.
I was listening, thinking: "That is not what I want. I'm going out there to fight for my life."
I was going out there to start afresh. I was scared as hell.
I knew that if there wasn't anyone waiting for me out there I'd be gone. I wouldn't have made it, I wouldn't be here today. At one point I was thinking: "This is a test - if you go out there and the people who are meant to help are not there to meet you, it's a sign that you are supposed to be an addict for the rest of your life."
Women in prison
According to the latest Ministry of Justice figures, there are close to 4,000 women in prison - a five-year high
A Prisons Inspectorate survey found that 38% of women in prison had no accommodation to go to on release
Figures for 2010 show that 45% of women leaving prison are reconvicted within one year
For women who have served more than 11 custodial sentences the reoffending rate rises to 75%
Source: Women in Prison
I had tried to get clean before, but always relapsed.
Before my last sentence in 2015 I was in supported housing, but I felt very lonely. I felt like I was in this world on my own and no-one really cared. Then I made the mistake of getting in contact with an ex-partner, which was not a good idea. Before I knew it, I was using again - crack cocaine, heroin and alcohol. I felt ashamed and I didn't want to own up to the organisation where I was living, so I stayed away.
Before I knew it I was back on the streets of Bristol as a sex worker, something I had always done to support my drug habit. One night I told another working girl that I was really cold - I didn't have many clothes. "Come to the van," she said.
Image caption Before I knew it, I was using again - crack cocaine, heroin and alcohol
The van was run by an organisation called the One25 project, who work with street sex workers.
They had a van that went around the streets, where we could just sit and feel safe for a while. We could wash, we could change our clothes. They used to give us condoms, and, in the winter, woolly hats. They'd feed us sandwiches and crisps and it's such a godsend. When you're out there at night, the little money you get is for your drink or your fix - food was the last thing on my mind, I just wanted the pain to stop.
Just to be treated like a human being - not a prostitute - overwhelmed me. They were amazing. They gave me a bit of hope. I get so emotional when I think about what they've done for me.
This time when I went to prison, thankfully, I was in Gloucester, where the One25 project comes in on a regular basis and one of the workers recognised me. She said: "Pat, is that you?" And I just started crying.
I was in such a state that I was wetting the bed and sleeping underneath it. I was in so much pain and fear and I didn't even know what I was afraid of any more. But one fear that I did recognise is that the sentence would end and I would have to go back out there. And I just couldn't face it. The thought of going back out there and standing on a street corner, I just couldn't bear it.
Thankfully the day I left prison they were there for me, and we went off for a meal, and damn, did I eat! I had chocolate cake and drinking chocolate - a fluffy drinking chocolate, mind.
Image caption The day I left prison they were there for me, and we went off for a meal - and damn, did I eat!
It was decided I would go into rehabilitation. I didn't think that I would be eligible because I'd been given that opportunity time and time and time again, and it had never worked. I didn't think the government would want to fund someone like me, at my age - I'm 52. But they did.
So after our meal they took me to a treatment centre for women who've been through traumatic experiences. I stayed there for six months and it changed my life completely. It's changed the way I think about myself and it's kind of changed my outlook of what I think people think of me.
I think the most helpful thing was having that compassion and empathy from another woman who'd had similar experiences. It helped me look in the mirror and not just see a prostitute or a drug addict but actually see a beautiful, strong black woman who's got a lot to give.
They loved me until I could love myself. That's something I had never been able to do.
Growing up, all I will say is that I was never happy. I never felt right, I always felt the odd one out, the ugly duckling. At 14 I ran away from home. The minute I climbed through that window I stopped being a little girl - I very quickly became an adult, in an adult world.
I roamed the streets from the age of 14 to 19. I remember being caught once for shoplifting and they put me in a children's home. I was there for about a week before I ran away with another girl. We roamed around Birmingham before I decided London was the place to be.
I had heard so many stories about how in London you could make money, so off I went, and - just my luck - I ran into a pimp. A guy that liked money and liked girls bringing him the money. He had me going round with him while he stole. He taught me how to pickpocket and how to forge.
I felt grown up, I felt like I'd arrived: "This is it, I've hit the big time - make money, drive big flash cars, have nice clothes, this is how it's supposed to be."
At that time I wasn't really into drugs, I was just into drinking and making money. But by 20 I'd picked up my first crack pipe and a drug addict was born.
At 21 I got my first sentence - five years, but I got parole. After that, there were only a couple of years when I wasn't in prison. When I got married I lasted three years, but when my marriage broke down I was straight back in prison.
As I got older my situation outside was getting worse. I didn't have any real friends, I never had any accommodation, nowhere stable.
Then, about 10 years ago, something changed. I saw my daughter.
I'd been using drugs and woke up quite sick. I needed some heroin and I decided to go to south London to see how much money I could make. I was at a bus stop when someone tapped me on the back. When I turned around she said she was my daughter. Although I didn't recognise her, she said she recognised me and she'd recognise me anywhere. That was hard.
The last time I'd seen my daughter she was small. The lady that tapped me on the shoulder had grown up. She was beautiful, she had her own family and I didn't recognise her.
That broke something in me, but I still couldn't stop drinking or using. People think it's easy to stop - it's not. It's a hard journey back to any form of normality.
Support for women leaving prison
One25: support for women trapped in, or vulnerable to, street sex work
The Nelson Trust: support to women who are most hard to reach - whilst in custody, 'through the gate', and into communities
Open Gate: Supporting women from custody to community
Women's Breakout: A service that provides support for vulnerable women, including those in trouble with the law
Prison Reform Trust: Advice and information service for people currently in prison, and their friends and family
I've been out of prison for two years now. I can't believe it - normally I'm back in by now. But I am out in the community, learning to live among people.
The best thing is that my kids are back in my life. That's ongoing and will take some time. They're angry, they're hurt, and that's understandable because I've never been there for them. My family have also come back into my life - my mother, my stepdad, my sister. That's something I've never had. This is the first time in 34 years that I've been able to build a relationship with them.
It's still very scary but as long as I'm not drinking and using drugs I have a chance.
I don't want to go back to prison. I wouldn't survive - it's not about being beaten up or anything like that, I would just go mad.
I would never have thought that I would be sitting down in clean clothes, clean underwear, with somewhere safe to go back to.
And I'm not in a relationship and that's a big thing for me, because I've been in and out of relationships all my life.
I just feel blessed. And I couldn't have done it without the support of all these women - and funnily enough I've always been so scared of women because I felt like such a failure - crap mum, gives up her children for drugs and alcohol, is always in and out of prison, what kind of woman is that?
Every day I get stronger. My past doesn't define who I am. I can recover from that life.
Yes, I was broken but I'm not unrepairable. With the help and support of other women I'm slowly being repaired and slowly being brought back to life.
Pat's name was changed to protect her identity
As told to Milly Chowles
Illustrations by Emma Lynch
You can hear Pat's interview about leaving prison on Woman's Hour - listen again via iplayer
See also:Dying in prison - two women's stories
More From this publisher : HERE
=> *********************************************** Article Source Here: My last night in prison? – BBC News ************************************ =>
My last night in prison? – BBC News was originally posted by 16 MP Just news
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revolefillifelover · 4 years
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What is it about me that isn’t good enough. What is it about me that’s never been good enough for anyone. A few years ago I reposted that ‘having BPD doesn’t mean all your relationship are bound to fail’ with the caption added ‘yes it does’. I was reassured many many times that it wasn’t true yet here we are. What had failed because of me. What part of me am I doing wrong. Why is it, doesn’t matter who it is, what they mean to me will always get sick of me at one point and leave me behind. It’s not easy, it never has been. I felt so complete and for once, just once in my life I thought this might be it, this is what normal feels like I feel like I have a purpose. Happier, brighter, wanting to do anything. I know I should feel free yet I still sleep dreaming we’re side by side. I wake up and just break down. I check my phone constantly, day in, day out. Take me back, please, was it something I said, something I did, something I missed, something I just couldn’t see. I wish I called more, I wish I wasn’t like I was, I wish I didn’t get caught up in stupid things. Just take me back to where it went wrong and I swear I would do anything to make it right. Maybe we’ve talked to much for it to ever go back to the way it was. Maybe I’m just wasting my time holding onto a false hope. Maybe I shouldn’t have abandoned your apologies for calling me out when I wasn’t helping. For all those things I said and promised and never took action on. I know I was told things that took years and years worth of courage to tell people, that I was just too immature to notice and actually listen to what was said. Your touch, your laugh, everything about you, I fell so hard and you were my reprieve for the path my life was heading. I changed so much and saw the better side of life, I didn’t know what I was doing. I should have told you how talented you are and proud of you I was, like you did with me, that you deserved so much more than who I was. You deserve a future that doesn’t dwell on your past. Someone who told you that even though all you see are reasons to give up on yourself, do not give up, you’ve got this. I never had bad intentions, they were only good. I saw so much more than what you saw and planned so much for what we were becoming. I guess I was just so caught up in that, that I forgot to show you basic things like just pure time and effort. I was given piece of mind, yet I let you go to sleep wishing you weren’t you, many many times. Waking up like nothing was wrong. You didn’t need to apologise for anything. I blamed so much of my mess on the way I raised myself, but at the end of the day all they were we’re just excuses. I’m sorry it became exhausting, that I left you feeling less than what you were. I’m sorry I wasn’t your protector. I’m sorry I lost appreciation. It took you so long to warm up to me, it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, yet completely unaware I was going to make you my possession. We always said how hard the distance was, even though knowing my destination was always you I think that’s where I went wrong, I knew no matter what, I was there with you and that made me happy and shut out everything else. Slowly I was mending you from being my best friend to just being my girl. I’m glad I didn’t die before I met you, but man I wish I did that way I wouldn’t have put you through all this heartache and I wouldn’t even be a blip on the minimap. You have so much heart, so much soul, so much life within you, I’ll never experience that again. I think of her and I just fall apart, tonight I’m the worst I’ve been in years, crying, on the verge of a breakdown or relapse. I’ve been home alone for weeks on end, hurt myself on numerous occasions. I’m sorry I gave you the wrong interpretation on what forever feels like. Everything was different with you. I hope you’re alright and I’m sorry I wasted your time. Every day I feel us getting further apart. We all have different ways of dealing with life. I guess I just have to keep telling myself in the mirror it’s going to be alright.
“Pain is never permanent, but tonight it’s killing me.” I miss you more than anything.
I’m sorry to my followers, this is my only vent space I have.
#vent
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