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kabretoss · 21 hours

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I've been trying really hard over the last couple of years or so to branch out and make new friends, especially online, after spending several years ollied out of any sort of group online experience, and I had forgotten how gotdang hard it is to find a comfortable shared online space.

I know what happens: it's a familiar pattern! It's happened almost every time I've tried to join a new group! But I haven't yet found a way around it.

In the interests of dissecting the pattern and taking away some of its power, I'm going to sit here and have a little think about it. Navel-gazing behind the cut.

The cycle usually goes:

Find cool new online space

Join up and lurk for a while

Once I've parsed the group language and behaviour norms, get more comfortable participating

(if it goes well) Honeymoon period where I'm having fun and it feels like I'm making connections

Bump in the road (usually RL stuff interfering, but sometimes community drama, or some social faux pas on my part)

Either I withdraw a little to recoup or other people withdraw from me or both

Death spiral of decreasing engagement and feeling left out.

This comes with all sorts of brainworms ("wow I guess I never really fit in if it matters this little that I'm not there", "it was foolish to try because I'm always going to be faking being a Real Person, so this stacks", etc). It's always stuff I recognize as catastrophization, as unfair to others and therefore business for me and my therapist and no one else.

But it does end up feeding the death spiral, because I think when you can't be chill about being in a space, other people can smell it, and the last thing I ever want to do is bring that stink. That's what the death spiral's made of: staying away from a space when that space or the content in it is the subject of considerable distress, which leads to disconnection from what's going on in that space, which leads to further distress, which etc. This is a part I'm not sure what to do about or with.

Overall, though, there's usually two approaches: Stick it out and hope for things to get better, or call it and move on. This is not intended to be a maudlin statement, just one of fact: sticking it out has never once worked for me.

Sometimes coming back to a space a couple years later, with distance and perspective, works; it's part of why I cycle through a few online spaces periodically.

(Some of that, too, though, is the mixed fear/desire to get close to people. This is the autism brain at work: I have had too many "friendships" over time that I realized were one-sided, and the really sad thing is sometimes they were one-sided in that they thought they were friends with me and I saw them as an aquaintance. Not as often as the other way around, but still! I don't want to hurt people and I recognize that that hurts! But I'm also human: I crave human connection. I crave friends that care and with whom I can relate, and I deeply crave feeling as if I am permitted to care about other people. Which for some reason I usually feel that I'm not permitted to do. That's another one for my therapist, lol.)

A lot of my problem is that fitting in in a space is usually an effort of masking. I know people who are incredible at masking to fit a space; I am mid. I can pull it off to an extent but there's a point at which I don't make the grade. (I think of this like the fitting-in eerie-valley: even if other people can't tell me what's off, something's off enough about the masking that it just makes them uncomfortable.)

Again, this isn't meant to be maudlin: this decades of trial and error. I would love to unmask in a space and just make friends with who vibes with me-as-I-am, but I've seen how people like me get treated when they just act like themselves. Even by other ND people. It's rough out there, yo.

(One of the things a lifetime of masking's taught me is how to love and appreciate people who communicate differently than I do: the thing is, I don't find that grace is often extended to me. It's something you have to learn to do and a lot of people just don't have motivation or incident to pick up the skill.)

I do think the worst part of this pattern is the repeated lesson of alienation.

It becomes erosive, over time; the thing is, it's not the fault of the space, or the people in it, or even (I'm telling myself) my own fault, beyond however much my autistic and social deficits are my "fault". But it IS alienating, and I'm closer to forty than thirty, and I'm not sure at this point if I'll ever get the knack. (Just to be clear, that part is maudlin and I'm going to just roll with it, because I am feeling sad just now.)

I'm sure there are people that have gotten through or past it or around it, and I'm going to keep trying, because the alternative is giving up, but... I'm tired, and I'm sad, and honestly I'm kind of lonely for a particular type of friend-connection I keep hearing about other people having, and not finding myself.

Maybe the trick is to try and find the silver linings.

The one or two people you come out the other end with as friendships that have a chance to persist outside the space.

The friendly acquaintences who will greet you cheerfully in the future in some other shared space you both find yourself in.

You never know when a friendship is going to bud up out of the mycelium of people you've met, like a mushroom that just needed the right conditions. The thing is, I almost never fade out of a community because I dislike the people there; if I've spent the time to get invested, it's probably chock-full of people I admire and adore.

#and #you know what #I don't know if I want this in the main post because the tags are the place to be maudlin on main #but the other trick is letting yourself mourn #if you tried something and it didn't work out #it can really hurt #so fuck it #cry a little (or a lot!)#what I *don't* know how to do is counter the feeling of worthlessness #I can wrestle with dragons of jealousy and resentment and win #I can sail the seas of sorrow #but the thing that stings me from within my self-worth is something I've never won against #and every time this happens it gets a little stronger

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hopepaigeturner · 23 hours

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Learning Lessons

CONTEXT

Between Ep 4 flashbacks we see Sophie getting ensconced in Bridgerton family life. Sophie utterly able to stand up to Eloise as shown when she accompanies Eloise through Bloomsbury and through the whole: “Eloise as a maid” saga.

However, we do see Sophie being ostracised by the servants. I explain more here. In particular, the Queen Bee Helene. Helene is jealous that Sophie does not want to be her friend, is getting ‘special treatment’ from the Bridgertons by sitting with them at tea.

Furthermore, we also see that the Bridgerton brain cell does not reside in Benedict’s brain as he constantly harries Sophie with flirtations. E.g. turning up on the servant stairs, flirting at tea, leaving flowers etc. He is utterly ignorant of how his actions are further fuelling Sophie’s ostracization.

✨Flashback ✨

It is an afternoon where the Bridgertons are out. The ladies at some luncheon/garden party, the boys getting ready to go to Mondrich’s. Sophie is walking down a corridor.

“Sophie!”

“Yes?” Sophie walks along and finds Helene with her head in a cupboard. Another maid is next to her.

“Mrs Wilson says that there is some spare thread in this cupboard, but I cannot find it anywhere.” Helen turns to her with a sweet smile, “Do you mind having a look?”

Sophie, with a sceptic look, peers into the cupboard and searches.

“Helene, this is a linen cupboard—”

Helene shoves Sophie into the cupboard.

Sophie is plunged into darkness with a click of a lock.

“Helene?” she calls, turning to the door and testing the hinges. All she hears are giggles. “Helene, can you let me out?”

“Oh, so sorry Sophie, I am ever so busy…I might be able to spare a second before supper!” Helene calls before laughing and walking off with her accomplice.

*~*~*~*~*~*~**

“Benedict, are you coming?” Michael Stirling calls.

“I, uh…” Benedict looks up at the stairs. “I shall be with you anon,” he calls over his shoulder, “I just want to check something.”

“Alright, but do not tally too long—otherwise you shall miss all the fun!”

“Of course!” Benedict calls back again, but still wholly focused on the staircase. “I just feel…” his face turns grave, “I feel that something is wrong,” he whispers.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Sophie steps back and takes a deep breath.

“It shall be fine. It is just a cupboard,” she says to herself in a measured tone. “It is just a cupboard.” Her hand returns to the doorknob twisting it with a little more force. “You can get out….you will get out…” she rattles the door harder, breaths escalating, “It is fine,” her voice squeaks slightly, “You are not trapped, you are not—” her voice breaks off.

“Helene?” Sophie’s voice strains. “Helene? Are you there?”

Her voice sounds heartbreakingly childish. Upon hearing no return, she snaps.

“Helene!” She bagns her fists on the door, rattling the doorknob, shaking the door on its hinges. “Open the door! Please, please, open the door!”

Her cries escalate, movements becoming frantic, sobs choking her throat as she becomes hysterical. The camerawork is chaotic, cutting between different close-up angles, juxtaposed with shots of Benedict rushing along the corridors as if something within him senses her distress.

“Please let me out! Please!”

The chaotic camerawork adds a third element; sounds of historic slamming doors, a woman’s voice

“You shall stay here until you learn your lesson…”

An image of a grown Sophie bloodied and bleeding as the light is extinguished from the shutting of a cellar door.

Sophie closes her eyes as her fists pummel the door—another memory ripping forth.

“Please Araminta, please let me out, I am sorry!” cries 10-year-old Sophie, still in the threadbare coat we saw in the prior flashback with Posy. Sophie is curled in a ball, the only light in the dark cellar being the light from the door, blocked by a shadowy figure. “I was only defending Posy,” she sobs.

“Posy is in her room in tears after what you did.” The figure looms in the doorway. “You have made her miserable, as you make all of us miserable. So, you shall stay here until you learn your lesson.”

The doors starts to close as little Sophie sobs,

“No! No! Please, I am sorry, please do not leave me, please—”

“—let me out!” a grown Sophie screams against the cupboard door. Her frame shudders, legs buckling. “Let me…let me…” her breaths stutter, the panic attack winning over. “Please—Ben—Ben—"

The camera cuts to Benedict, running down corridors, propelled by the sickening sensation in his stomach.

Sophie is sliding down the door as the panic attack takes hold.

“Ben…Ben…” her voice mere puffs of air.

Benedict turns down one corridor.

Sophie is almost on the floor, her throat choked, fingers clawing at the door—

Benedict turns a corner, reaching out—

Suddenly light floods into the cupboard and Sophie collapses into a pair of arms.

She is cradled to the floor, back against the wall. Her saviour’s voice is muffled, but commands her through the 5,4,3,2,1 technique.

Once her breaths steady out, she breaks into tears and clings to the figure’s waistcoat.

“Oh Benedict, it was so horrible—so, so horrible. It was as if I was—I was—back—back there—I do not know…I do not know—oh Benedict!”

“Err, Sophie?”

Sophie looks up, horrified.

The camera shifts. The audience find Benedict hovering around the corner, breaths still panting, the straining of his heart clear on his face as he watches the scene…

Benedict watches footman John comfort Sophie.

“Oh god, oh no, no, no.” Benedict hears Sophie say, her panic escalating again, breathing laboured with tears in her eyes. Benedict’s fist clenches as John takes her into his arms and soothes her hair.

The camera changes focus back to John and Sophie.

“John, I—I did not—"

“Hey, hey, it is alright,” John replies, hushing her and resting her back on the wall. “Just breathe deeply for me. In, out.”

Sophie follows his commands, but her eyes still tremble.

“John—”

“Apologies for not being the knight in shining armour you wished for,” John replies with a playful grin. Sophie huffs with a small smile. “Atleast now we are even.”

“Even?”

“You know…at the carriage…” he trails off, referring to earlier in the episode when, on her first escapade with Eloise, she had spotted his intimacy with a printer’s boy.

“Oh,” she replies softly, lowering her voice. “I do not think it is my business to decree whether someone’s affections are worthy. Love is love.” She smiles reassuringly. “Regardless, I would never have held that over you.”

“Yes, I should have expected that, but still…” he gives her a friendly smile. “Your secret is safe with me.”

“Thank you. Although there is not much to tell.”

“You know I can understand the appeal.”

“Hmm?”

“You have no idea the fantasies I have had about the Bridgerton brothers since working for them. Just wait until they start fencing.”

Sophie bursts out laughing, clapping her hand over her mouth to muffle the sound.

Benedict, far enough to see but not close enough to hear, looks pained.

“I guess you must have seen a lot since you started in this household,” Sophie replies with a smile.

“Indeed, if you think Eloise’s excursions are chaotic you have merely scratched the surface.”

“Truly?”

“Truly.”

“They are a peculiar family…”

“They are kind, and they mean well. Although sometimes they can be a bit naive.”

They both know John is referring to her invites to tea.

“Uggh,” Sophie put her head in her hands. “Yes, that same naivety prompting this whole debacle.” She lifts her head up, eyes distant “Ofcourse being invited to tea is…nice…very nice—but problematic.” She turns back to John, “Thank you, for saving me. I did not think I had many friends.”

John shrugs.

“It is nothing. I overheard Helene giggling about something and knew it could be nothing but nefarious.”

“She is intolerable.”

“Indeed, although do not on any account tell her I said so.”

“My lips are sealed.” Sophie imitates locking her lips together.

“Indeed. But this is passes the line, we should tell Mrs Wilson—”

“No.” John startles. Sophie draws herself up. “I will not give Helene the satisfaction of knowing she unsettled me.” She holds out her hands and John helps her stand. “Petty jealousy will not silence me.”

Benedict, still hidden, grins.

“Further, I have faced far worse at much harsher hands.”

Benedict’s grin drops.

“Yes, it seems you have.” John’s eyes drift from Sophie to the cupboard. Sophie swallows thickly.

“Thank you, once more.”

“Ofcourse, and do not worry—my lips are sealed.” He imitates the same locking motion that Sophie had. Sophie nods, quietening slightly.

“I can assure you there is nothing, that is, nothing untoward occurred between—”

“You do not need to explain.” John smiles. “We might wipe their floors, but that does not mean we do not have the same capacity of emotion than they. Also, you are not the first maid who has been pestered by men hovering around the servant’s staircase.”

Sophie groans.

“He does not listen. And even though he does not mean to, he makes it so much worse.”

Benedict, flinches back, pressing himself against the wall.

“You never know I could put a discreet word with Mrs Wilson.”

“No, no. That would just make it more obvious.” Sophie sighs. “Sometimes I think I should have stayed in the country.”

“And abandon me to manage Eloise Bridgerton’s reckless behaviour alone?” John tuts. “Come Sophie, I thought you were not so cruel.”

Sophie chuckles.

“Well, I suppose for your sanity I should stay.”

“Indeed, come on,” John offers her arm. “In ten minutes, the cook brings out the biscuits for tea and you can usually grab a couple straight from the oven.”

Sophie smiles and accepts his arm. The pair walk off, in the opposite direction than Benedict.

Benedict is left on the wall, his eyes a little hollow, as if his thoughts are elsewhere. He looks over in the direction of Sophie and John’s retreating backs. He turns back, face contemplative, but brow furrowed with conviction.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

This flashback is supposed to hint at some of the destructive messages Sophie has faced that resurface.

This scene also teaches Benedict that ‘no means no’ and shifts his ‘wooing’ of Sophie as I describe here to be more respectful, considerate and focused on her wellbeing.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Masterlist

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As always I’d love to hear your ideas/corrections/opinions and always open to chat or requests!

So, check out the list here, for more of my ideas.

Or check out the general arcs of my prospective S4 here.

#sophie's flashbacks #an offer from an avid reader #sophie beckett #deserves a hug and a cup of tea #and #benedict bridgerton #will need a kick in the head #an offer from a gentleman #benophie

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