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tsukarysgrimoire · 2 months

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Ranting of the day

Beware loooong rant ahead.

There are many things I can't understand, not because I'm stupid, far from it, but simply because I don't think like most people.

All my life I've felt strange, isolated, as if I didn't belong in the world around me. I still do, but at least now I know why, and that's been a great relief. I remember the first time I went to see my psychiatrist, I said to him 'Doctor, I'm not normal' and he replied 'What's normal?', which is a good question, because thanks to him I understood that there isn't a right way of thinking and a wrong way of thinking. We can't control how our brain, our mind, reacts and works. After more than fifteen years of therapy, I have an explanation for why I feel out of step, why I don't think like other people. It's called HPI, which, I've learnt from a little research, doesn't mean that I'm more intelligent than others, but that I'm intelligent in a different way. That my way of thinking doesn't follow the same path as 'normal' people. If a 'normal' person's way of thinking is a highway, then mine is a country road, slowly winding, with many stops to admire the landscape, the trees, the fields… And a lot of junctions leading to other places, other things.

Add to that the fact that I might also be borderline Asperger's and you can see why I'm not cut out to understand things like most people. I react differently to many things. For example, a situation that would move most people can leave me indifferent, and conversely, a situation that most people would ignore can send me into a state of incredible depression or distress. When I was little, my mother used to say to me, 'You'd cry over a dead leaf'!

Probably because of all this, or the fact that I was bullied throughout my schooling for being different, I've also become a hard person who doesn't forgive easily, either myself or others. Loyal to the bone, I can't stand betrayal, or at least what I perceive to be betrayal. And like many people in my situation, I can't stand injustice, or what I perceive to be injustice.

Of course, it's not just about my everyday life, but also about how I perceive the media.

That includes, of course, the show we all love, The Bad Batch.

When they first appeared in The Clones Wars, I can't say I was impressed. Their team was so full of clichés that it was a clichés in itself: the cheap Rambo, the nerdy guy with glasses, the big bully with big arms and a big heart and… the lone sniper. While I was indifferent to the first three, I was drawn to Crosshair, his design, his character, his outspokenness and the fact that he was a sniper. The world saw him as a selfish, proud, indifferent prick, but I saw someone who dared to speak the naked truth, the truth that no one wants to admit, but which is very real. I've read a lot of reactions applauding the fact that Rex punched Crosshair in the face for being so insensitive. But as I see it, it's not Crosshair's fault that Rex is so weak-minded that he can't handle the truth as it is. What Crosshair says may be brutal, but it's the truth.

Crosshair isn't a perfect character, far from it, and that's why I loved him. I'm bored with nice, fearless heroes who can do no wrong. … Even when I was a kid, I liked the 'bad guys' more than the 'good guys'. I seem to particularly like the dark characters, the ones who aren't afraid to do what needs to be done, even if you end up hating them for it.

I hated the first two seasons of the show for that reason. The good heroes running away from the evil empire for no real reason and thinking they're better than they are because they didn't fall into the trap… lol.

Not to mention that I had absolutely no interest in the kid they picked up along the way. She was just an extra we could have done without.

The only reason I watched the show was Crosshair. And I was very disappointed, not only by the show, but also by people's reactions. Of course, everyone's entitled to their opinion, as I am. I'm certainly not going to apologise for it. I'm certainly not going to apologise for thinking differently to the masses, and I'm not going to apologise for making my point like everyone else; the only thing I want to apologise for is arguing about it with other users of the site.

Here's a non-exhaustive list of opinions that annoy me and how I see things.

1- Crosshair's betrayal: Is that so? That's probably the thing I find most pathetic and laughable at the same time. The big bad Crosshair who betrayed his good brothers for an evil Empire…

I don't even know where to start.

If there are traitors in this mess, it's the Batch and Hunter in particular. They're the ones who chose to run off and leave Crosshair behind, they're the ones who decided to ‘forget all about’ Crosshair, thank you Echo, another point that pisses me off, but we'll come back to it later.

Oh yes, ‘but Crosshair was shooting at them’! They're soldiers, it's not the first time they've been shot at, it's their life. I can understand the surprise of seeing their brother turn on them, but I can't understand why they decided to abandon him like a dog. Tech can pride himself on being supra intelligent, he couldn't even realise that Crosshair's actions weren't normal. Like, he's been a pain up until now, true, but he was not dangerous. The empire takes him aside and half an hour later, he's turned against us… No, nothing, it's completely normal, it's part of his severe and unyielding nature…

And if it stopped there…

Nothing, and I mean NOTHING, is done to find Crosshair and help him. In fact, they get to Ord Mantel and it's as if Crosshair never existed. They start their mediocre little lives as errand boys for the lizard and are content with that. They don't even talk about making a plan to save Crosshair, which is strange since they have 99 plans up their sleeves.

In fact, they loved Crosshair so much that just days after abandoning him to his fate without looking back, they gave his comlink to his replacement, and if that's not a sign that they had no intention of saving him, then what is? …

'Yeah, but they don't know where he is'… they didn't know where Tantiss was either, but that didn't stop them wasting 6 months looking for Omega. Whereas for Crosshair… NOTHING! Not even for a second!

'They didn't know about the chips', at least not at first, because once they found out and saw what it was like … well, NOTHING, again. Crosshair was a prisoner of his own mind, and no one cared.

Speaking of the chip, they forgave Wrecker for trying to kill them and their precious Omega, while Crosshair had to prove time and again that he was indeed on their side. 'Yeah, but Wrecker apologised!' … Seriously, you kick your brother out of the house because he didn't apologise for making a mistake? … I don't know what world you live in, but it's definitely not mine.

And speaking of that, Hunter and the Batch never apologized either for abandoning Crosshair and leaving him to fend for himself in enemy territory.

'They had to protect Omega" Oh, really? And how did they do that? By dragging her along on their pointless missions? By exposing her to human traffickers, slavers, murderers, bounty hunters… If they'd really wanted to protect Omega, they'd have left her with Cut and Sue. Not to mention the fact that they put themselves and the girl in danger to save complete strangers who meant absolutely nothing to them, while their own brother… guess what… oh yeah, NOTHING!

2- Tech death is Crosshair's fault. Oh? And how? He was imprisoned and tortured on Tantis while his 'nice' brothers were having a good time on Pabu.

Crosshair risked his life to send his brothers orders to hide and lay low, and what do they do? They go to a council of Empire bigwigs and get caught like rookies.

But of course it's Crosshair's fault.

On the other hand, it's strange that I haven't seen anyone pointing the finger at Guerrera. After all, he's the one who rigged the place with explosives, the one who refused to back down because the lives of a handful of clones were less important than his own personal vendetta.

It's true that Guerrera is a good hero, fighting against the evil empire no matter how many hundreds of innocents he kills in his war.

3- Echo is such a good brother and a mother hen. Are you sure we watched the same show? Because Echo doesn't seem like that to me. He's a bitter, tired man who only stays with the Batch because he has nowhere else to go and feels it's his duty, but as soon as he finds somewhere else and a duty he feels is more important, oof! He's gone without a second thought.

Echo, like Omega, is the odd man out in the Batch, but unlike Omega, he gives no indication that he's really trying to fit in. He's just there, and on several occasions he gives the impression of bitterly regretting it.

Of course, he comes back to lend a hand, no pun intended, when the Batch needs it, but I don't think it's as a sign of brotherhood or belonging, he does it because he feels it's his duty, nothing more. If he really felt part of the Batch, he probably wouldn't have told the others to forget about Crosshair without thinking it through. He who was a prisoner and used against his will to kill his own brothers didn't even have the decency to insist on saving one of his rescuers when Crosshair found himself in the same situation. He didn't give a damn. His interactions with Crosshair are close to absolute zero and as warm and welcoming as the Barton 4 climate!

It takes a lot more than that for me to consider him a 'good brother'…

4- Crosshair is a murderer. I have to admit that this one makes me laugh.

Crosshair is a soldier, a sniper, trained to kill on command. How many soldiers do you know who have never killed? You make me laugh with your reductive value judgements. The Batch was an elite commando unit designed for secret missions that no one else could carry out. Do you really think they never killed? Hell, the first thing we learn about them in the Clone Wars is that they killed a Yalbec queen for a 'minor uprising'… That alone proves they've got blood on their hands, all of them.

Crosshair does bad things, I'm well aware of that. Inexcusable, perhaps. But who do you think is the killer? The one who gives the order, or the weapon that carries it out? Because that's all Crosshair is to the Empire. A weapon.

He orders his men to shoot innocent people in Guererra's camp, that's right, and kills one of his men for refusing. At this point, he's still under the influence of the chip, a good little soldier, loyal to the death. And yes, he kills that separatist woman, but what do you think would have happened if he hadn't? He and Cody and every clone in their unit would have been executed for treason. Not to mention, if that woman hadn't been killed, there's a good chance the Empire would have wiped out the entire planet. Is sacrificing one life to save millions of others such a bad choice?

He kills Nolan in cold blood. So? Don't tell me you don't die for it too.

He kills his unit on Kamino. If he hadn't, what do you think would have happened? Crosshair didn't want to kill his brothers, he wanted them to join him, and that wouldn't have been possible if the Imperials had stayed alive. Granted, it wasn't the best method, but it was his way of showing that he didn't give a damn about those men and only wanted his brothers.

For all the good it did him.

5- The Kamino Fiasco. While we're on the subject…

Again, I have so much to say about this that one post wouldn't be enough.

Yet another moment that many have summarised as 'Crosshair's Betrayal'. Once again, it makes me laugh out loud. For an entire season, the Batch ignored Crosshair, except when he was right under their noses. Kamino is the height of their stupidity. Not only did they never do anything to help Crosshair out of the mess they left him in, but now they're rushing to save poor little Hunter from the great danger of his traitorous brother… What do you think went through Crosshair's mind at that moment? When he realised that he wasn't even worth saving, but the whole gang was rushing to Hunter's rescue? That complete strangers who meant absolutely nothing to the Batch were more worth saving than he was?

I, too, would have taken it badly, and I, too, would have let my anger show.

Especially as the Batch's behaviour was far from stellar. They spend literally two whole episodes blaming Crosshair for everything, insulting him, showing him how much they despise him, how happy they are without him with his replacement, how useless he is to them.

"If you had come back to us, we would have taken you back" … yes, and how? when he was being watched day and night by Rampart and his gang. When the chip was still there to distort his thinking. How? When the first thing you do when you see him is point your guns at him?

The Batch treated Crosshair worse than a dog. That moment when he and Omega were freed from the flooded room and I-don't-know-who rushed in to hug Omega as Hunter stopped Crosshair's slide with a kick is still stuck in my throat. Is that how good brothers are? … Well, with a family like that, there's no need for enemies!

And when he saves the little princess from drowning and is thanked by having three blasters aimed at his back, that's family?

The Batch treated Crosshair so well, they were so understanding, so welcoming, so forgiving, that Crosshair had no choice but to stay with the Empire. Not because he wanted to - his reaction to the Marauder's departure proves he's disappointed in his so-called family - but because it's the only place he has left. I remain convinced that if those fools had done otherwise, Crosshair would have gone with them. But alas…

I too would have chosen the Empire in those circumstances.

By the way, I don't know if you noticed, but the ONLY time Hunter and the Batch take Crosshair at his word is when he claims he doesn't have his chip. It's the ONLY time nobody asks any questions or Hunter believes what Crosshair says and takes it at face value. No one is even suggesting that the Empire can lie, not even the ultra-intelligent Tech. No, they just take his word for it, and that's the end of it. They don't even try to see if it's true...

6- Hunter. I didn't like Hunter in The Clone Wars, he was too much of a caricature, but in The Bad Batch I really hated him.

Don't be fooled, Hunter and the Batch are not nice little heroes because they ran away from the big bad Empire. Their decision was stupid and nothing could support it. Tarkin sent them to destroy a rebel camp and instead they came across refugees. SO? Does that prove the Empire is evil? No, it just proves that Tarkin had access to bad information, and I'm sure that happened a lot during the war. Especially if you're a secret squad and you're probably doing illegal things in the name of the Republic, like the rebellion on Yalbec!

Crosshair's reaction, even though influenced by the chip, is the most normal in my opinion. At the stage where Hunter and his gang are running away like cowards, there's still no incontrovertible proof that the Empire is evil, and no proof that the Jedi are innocent. From the clones' point of view, of course. To conclude that the Empire is evil after a single mission that could have just been bad intelligence is unjustified. Sure, we know what it is, but the clones and the galaxy do NOT. At least not yet. It would have seemed a lot less artificial, a lot less "scenarium", if the Batch had stayed around for a while, maybe all the way to Kamino, until they realised the truth and then thought, "OK, that's it, we're out of here". But for them to decide on their own that the Empire is evil after only three days… No, that's just stupid.

Hunter acting like a complete idiot at the beginning of the third season sums up what's been going on all along. You can make excuses for his behaviour, he has none for me. He betrayed his brother, never did anything to save him, as the Kamino episodes prove. As long as Hunter is there, no one moves, but as soon as Hunter is gone, a rescue team is launched, not for Crosshair, but for the Great Leader himself. If that isn't proof that it was Hunter who prevented any rescue attempts…

Not only has he behaved like an idiot throughout the series, but he's got the nerve to ask for explanations… Crosshairs owes him nothing, and certainly no explanations. He did nothing, nothing, he just went with the flow, because with the Republic gone and no one to give him orders, poor little Hunter was so lost he didn't even know how to be a soldier anymore.

Hunter is a hypocrite, he claims he didn't want to put his team in danger from Crosshair, but he doesn't mind putting them in danger from everything else. If I had a sharp tongue, I'd say that Hunter was glad to get rid of Crosshair because he was the only one who dared to open his mouth and tell Hunter what he thought. The rest are just well-trained dogs.

He leaves Crosshair to his fate, just as he leaves the Regs to theirs. Basically, he's a free man and doesn't give a damn about the rest.

It's also funny to note that once Omega is with them, the Batch becomes almost useless. Gone is the 100% success rate, they no longer know how to fight, how to strategise, how to be soldiers.

And his favouritism towards Omega is just sickening. She's the little darling, she comes before everyone and everything, to the point where on several occasions she's the one giving the orders and Hunter follows them without batting an eyelid. Hunter does for Omega what he refused to do for Crosshair and many others. After Tech, the main instigator of a reaction in Crosshair's favour, is dead, Hunter spends SIX LONG MONTHS looking everywhere for his beloved Omega, but for Crosshair nothing, not even a minute of his precious time. He didn't look for him when he fled the Empire, and he doesn't look for him after Eriadu. All he cares about is Omega, the rest of the universe can die for all he cares.

Maybe that's normal for you, but not for me.

I don't expect you to share my opinion, far from it, and you can call me crazy or stupid, it doesn't matter. I'm not saying it is THE truth, but it is MY truth. Since everyone is so open with their opinions, I've decided to be too. I'm biased, I know that and I don't care. You may not like it, you may hate me for the way I see things, it's your opinion.

If you feel like arguing, know that you won't change my mind, just as my post probably hasn't changed yours.

#the bad batch crosshair #the bad batch #ranting

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meredoubt · 10 months

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Another decade of therapy just got added to Dirge's bills after Auntie Ethel! Oh boy!

Like he's a dreadful, morally pupating little man, right. Repugnant. A whole villain. When I logged off last night, it was after his Drow ass blustered at a goblin child who caught him stealing that, and I quote, "nothing is yours." Like, sir? I'm playing it, I get it, but role-playing means I'm picking the option that sounds closest to him, and sometimes it's just so damn mean. His takeaway from any moral uncomfortableness there would be that next time he just needs to not get caught, clearly. It is his fault he's feeling something, so he needs to get better, skillwise. No growing!!! Change will be under extreme duress!

Anyway. Auntie Ethel just did some damage.

So when he met her, she was very caring, right, and he was so startled (much like Astarion flirting, lmao) that he just let it happen. Psychopath goes very deer in headlights.

It was...nice, to let this old woman fuss over him. To tell her about his homicidal tendencies while she puttered around making potions. And she invited him to tea, and calls him Petal, and it's just been a very stressful few days for our little amnesiac murderous bard. He liked the attention. He's very fond of her, and he doesn't know what to do with it. This grown man probably starts daydreaming of going to live with Auntie Ethel or something, her petting his hair, maybe killing her when she's getting too old and feeling pain, because he loves her, whatever. You know. Normal thoughts.

So imagine his surprise when, down the disgustingly idyllic road to her teahouse, he sees it transform into a foreboding swamp (he likes that better, and is tickled by the redcaps, thats just charming and funny). This only serves to make him like her more, but then...she lies, right to his face. He doesn't care about Mayrina's brothers, he barely perceives them. But he doesn't like catching her lying to him. He doesn't like being tricked. So he calls her out archly, and she teleports off in a huff. And he stalks to her house.

He does half apologize, and she accepts, and they have their tea. Keep in mind, this freak drank out of the well, he knows what water she'd be using.

And, this is what sets what happens next: she reveals that she knows about the tadpoles. Offers to take his eye. He's startled, but considers it. If anyone could, maybe her, he could let her get that close.

But he pauses. He needs his eyes. His senses are what allowed him to catch her in the first place. So, a little sadly, he declines. They have a nice lunch.

Just deranged, the two, but they part friendly.

But again, now he's in full suspicion. It bothers him. So he sneaks down to see Mayrina. Because he's curious. And he tries to tell her to run away, because he doesn't want to actively help her escape Ethel. He's trying to have his cake and eat it, too, because Wyll's there, damn him. Ravengard's got his bard head all twisted up and making him think stupid thoughts about stories. His friends are ruining him.

So, obviously Ethel catches him. A fight breaks out. And he's panicking, because of course he doesn't want to kill her yet. He's not ready. Everything's getting mucked up. Damn it all!

Anand then this new mother figure scathingly hits him with, "Kneel, boy. Just like the matriarchs taught you to."

!!!

Like, we're in full psychological crisis mode. He hates this and doesn't want to be here. He doesn't remember any matriarchs but she clearly kept his background in mind when she was manipulating him. He's like, on the verge of full on grown man crying and it makes him so angry. He's livid.

He almost turns down her bargain, he wants her dead so badly, but he blinks through it furiously and thinks. She's right, she'll assuredly be back. And for once, he'd rather leave someone alive to remember what he took. So he threatens and roars and takes it all: the girl, Ethel's hair, everything not nailed down. He gives Mayrina her corpse husband not because he cares, but because he wants Ethel to have nothing. He would drink the corpse well dry if he could. Dirge smiles, wishes his auntie well with two sharp eyes.

Ethel seethes, bleading from her wounded head. And says she'll see him soon.

He lunges for the hag, right as she teleports away, intent on taking an eye. He wonders if she knows. He's certain she does.

She knows him.

#dirge of the dark urge #baldur's gate 3 #i know that this is just the quest written out but i had to get out the context!!! it was sitting there in my head lmao

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theoculus124 · 1 year

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Okay since you offered here are some questions I have...

1. What specific challenges do you face and how do you change things about your day to day life to deal with them?

2. How many times have you heard the 'its not that bad' or 'everyones a little ADHD' cause I wanna know how uneducated people are?

3. What help did you get/are you getting in a school/work environment?

I'm wanting to go into...like brain stuff, psychology, mental health and neuro divergency, so your offer of answering questions is really appreciated....

If answer to no. 3 is an unsatisfactory amount, then that will become something I will try my hardest to one day change, so people like yourself can have equal opportunities and a little limitations as possible. x

I struggle with ADHD paralysis, in short form it's when you get so overwhelmed you can't do anything so like for example I feel so overwhelmed in the morning by what I need to do throughout the day I stay in bed for a long period of time. Some people may think that's me being "lazy" or me just wanting to stay in bed like anyone else but the truth is is that I feel like I'm stuck to the bed because of how debilitating and stressful the rest of the day might be for me so I stay stuck. For now normally I don't really have alot of ways for dealing with it, so it just sort of happens and I get perceived as lazy and people will get upset with me and I just sort of take it? There's also RSD (rejection sensitivity dysphoria) which I also struggle with alot, it can be simple things like maybe my friend hasn't texted me for a while or maybe I'm trying to give someone a hug and they push me away cause they're busy or when I was younger I typically only had 1 friend that I would cling to and so when they got other friends I felt like they would hate me and want to cut me off. That manifested in A) alot of self hated B) toxic behaviours like cutting people off randomly because in my head if I do it first they won't be able to do it to me C) crying for hours on end D) avoidance tendencies especially if there's conflict. Again, it's a difficult one to deal with, I've learnt now that cutting people off is obviously a very hurtful thing to do and it can cause alot of pain unnecessarily and the best thing is to communicate to the other people. However I can't say that I still don't struggle with the fact that the little things/body language gets to me and I think really therapy will be my best bet (if I get one) -- that's a long para so I'll stop it there but I hope that helps x

ALL THE DAMN TIME! Even with autism (I have ASD and ADHD) and people will tell me "everyone's on the spectrum" and I think especially cause ADHD traits do overlap with anxiety and depression whenever I'd complain they would be like "it's just anxiety/depression" (obviously that's also downplaying the effects anxiety/depression has on people which is also a huge problem) so yh it's very annoying and such a prevalent message and I hate it so much because it downplays issues ND people face daily and almost seems like an excuse not to give someone help -- Also I can rant about the whole "high functioning" labels but that would take 3 blog posts those labels suck so much

currently for exams I get extra time, rest breaks, and I do my exams in a separate environment so I don't get stressed out by the huge crowd. However, for my day to day help isn't really prevalent and I think that's mainly cause of the fact that despite there being a department at my schl for people with disabilities the staff there aren't trained (not saying they're bad/not nice) so it's a bit extra awkward to try open up about ND struggles and there's limited help they can give us

There's obviously more and my experience is probably alot different to others but I'm so happy that you want to make a change in this field and I really appreciate you asking questions and being interested you're going to be awesome in your career <3

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nerdynatreads · 2 years

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book review || ARC Reading Vlog -- Something Wild & Wonderful by Anita Kelly & The Plus One by Mazey Eddings

~Thanks to Netgalley for providing a digital ARC of The Plus One in exchange for an honest review. ~

wow, okay, I see you Mazey Eddings, starting this book off with a bang when Indira walks in on her boyfriend with another woman.

I knew this was fake dating, which dissipated pretty quickly, and a smidge of enemies to lovers, but was not aware that Jude was Indira’s older brother’s best friend, and I think that’s really the main trope this book should be sold as. It doesn’t feel like they hate each other, just that they bicker a lot. We see their relationship improving as they begin to react more maturely toward one another pretty early on. Indira can tell something is off with Jude and is doing her best to be there for him in difficult times without pressing, which leads to some very sweet and intimate moments between them— cuddling and handholding. Though sexual tension has also taken a jump after Jude ends up walking in on Indira after a shower. And holy shit, when they finally collide, it’s hot and heavy, only for things to become that much more entertaining when they remember this is supposed to be a fake relationship. It just gets better when we finally reach the smut. It’s spicy but also has some fantastic lines around Jude’s mental health. And the smut just gets spicier!

There are a ton of therapy positive discussions since Indira is a therapist and also is working through her own therapy as well. She’s trying to process her abandonment issues as well as her struggles with working as a therapist when she doesn’t feel qualified due to her own issues not being resolved. I’m definitely feeling like Jude could probably benefit from some therapy as well. His POV is a lot more difficult to read, as he constantly feels on the edge of a panic attack and is suffering from PTSD due to his work in active war zones and dealing with the loss of patients while working as a surgeon. I love that Indira tries so very hard to be there for Jude, but doesn’t want to be his therapist, she just wants to be somebody he trusts enough to talk with. She stands up for him when he folds because he doesn’t want to be perceived as not normal, which nearly made me cry at one point, I won’t lie.

I did realize that part of why I enjoy Jude’s personality so much is because he reminds me of Josh, but he’s also just so smitten with Indira, and every time we see more of that, I just swoon harder. However, it did feel like we lost that personality in the latter half of the book. His chapters were completely revolving around his PTSD, making him feel more one-note. Truly, what has me so obsessed with these two though, is the emotional intimacy and tenderness they show toward one another. The way each of them is there for the other at some deeply personal and emotional moments is so sweet, making their romance feel so authentic that I didn’t bat an eye at an “I love you,” when they’d only been dating a month.

I would like a little more from Collin, Indira’s brother, and Jude’s best friend, but what we’ve seen so far of him is cute and funny, plus I actually believe these three must have grown up together. Eddings was smart enough to include little moments here and there to reinforce these three’s previous relationship, but also some adorable bigger moments, like when Indira collects her things from her ex’s apartment and Indira and Jude look through some of her childhood diaries where she complains about him, thus bringing up sweet memories. However, there is this ongoing tense discussion between Collin and Indira when it comes to their father which did grind my gears but also feels like it’ll have a pretty predictable resolution once we arrive at the official wedding.

The ending… was fine? It’s as though Eddings realized she’d set up all these additional side plot elements that she forgot would need wrapping up after the wedding ended. So the last three chapters were really odd in terms of pacing, with multiple time skips and quick wrap-ups, that just felt really rushed and weren’t given the time for me to really enjoy them. Especially in regard to the epilogue. We see a little bit more of the friend group this series has followed, but it just wasn’t a satisfying send-off, unfortunately.

#book review #the plus one #the plus one by mazey eddings #a brush with love series #romance books #romance book recs #romance book recommendations #new romance books #booklr #bookblr #book tumblr #booktube #booktuber #book youtube #studyblr

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floralparanormal · 2 years

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i'm tired

Life’s been a bit of a struggle lately and my partner is really the only one who knows because he sees it. I hate to be an inconvenience or make people worried. The last month has felt hopeless and I’m frankly burnt out.

I had a scary break down yesterday over something that wasn’t a *huge* deal because I really hit my wits end. I genuinely lost my sanity for an hour(?) and I remember it as being trapped in my brain with coherent thoughts but all I could do is laugh manically, cry, and make incoherent noises.

I probably should have booked an emergency therapy session, but I’m doing this instead :0)

My anxiety has been through the roof about basically any and everything. Things I said that maybe I offended someone with even though I have no proof of it. How I’m perceived, especially as I’ve been extra faking that I’m okay. I’ve been overanalyzing every conversation and social interaction, some to the point of obsession.

On Monday I got news that my pap-smear came back with irregular cells. Along with some elevated blood test levels. They seemed more worried about the blood. Naturally, I automatically think it’s the worst scenario.

Work has been draining. I don’t regret taking a promotion but I’m involved in more things which means I have less time to do my actual job and it’s taking a toll. There are a lot of changes to come which I think will be good long term but right now it’s all up in the air and I don’t like the insecurity. I’m also a manager now which feels like a joke but someone believes in me I guess. I haven’t had the time/energy to work on fic or really be involved in any fandom stuff. I’ve always been very creative and my career is on the business side so being able to write in fun way is one of the few things that bring me joy and I just *can’t*. My interest in most things have gone out the window and I watch people shoot out work and I’m envious. I watch people have fun and I’m envious. Now that life is getting back to “””””normal””””” I’m doing more things and that also takes away from my creative time.

This was helpful. I’ll be okay. My friend is coming to visit soon and I’ll have some time off to recharge. I think I’ll feel better then. Until then I’ll try to be kind and patient with myself. It’s just. Hard.

#personal #rant

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yungcrybby-anonymousbosch666 · 2 years

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Rating myself

All of my clothes are workout clothes. I don't even wear jeans anymore. Never wore anything other than tshirts.

I don't do my hair like most other black girls. I just pull it back and go. I'm conscious of how this makes me different so now I have a desire to do things with my hair but I don't have the money and don't know how to cornrow or flat twist.

you may consider me eccentric. it is sometimes reflected in how i dress.

i do appear youthful to young people, most people can pick up on the fact that i am old but are put off by my youthful manner of dress, tastes, and behavior.

i have no sense of identity.

i enjoy make-believe. books, films and history are my refuge.

i am a control freak who is happiest at home.

I was "gifted" as a child but cannot handle anything even remotely related to math.

Studying Japanese for no reason other than I like it. Majoring in History because I like it. No career aspirations.

I did teach myself to read. My mother wasn't going to do it.

I avoided college, in part, because of the social aspect.

I was super passionate about massage therapy but dropped it like a hot potato.

Finding employment is daunting for me. Holding onto it is even worse.

I'm having cognitive difficulties right now and skipping class because of it.

I have to write down everything I hear or else I won't learn it.

My obsessions are unusual for my gender and race.

I am emotionally immature and very sensitive.

Anxiety and fear are all I know.

Extremely open to discussing feelings even if I don't understand them at all.

I hate going out because everything is just so much.

Moody and prone to bouts of depression.

When I was a teenager and young adult, I was prone to crying meltdowns but culturally, because I am black I could never express myself.

Being misunderstood really, really, really, really bothers me. Dramatic irony gives me stomach butterflies, I can't watch shows or movies that use this as a plot point.

I can go almost a week without talking to anyone but because my family has such a negative reaction to it, I make myself talk.

Because I am super shy and reserved people perceive me to be cold or stuck up. I'm just very, very nervous.

We all know I am outspoken.

People... counselors and therapists think I am good at social situations but I am not. I took theater all 4 years of highschool to teach myself to "act" normal. And also because I love make-believe, playing pretending and attention.

No close friends since ever. Not interested in traditional "girly" or "womanly" days out. Never occurred to me that I could get my nails done until I turned 30 and noted how different I was from other women my age. Now I'm fixated on trying to be like them.

I don't go out at all and prefer my pets.

I now understand just enough about societal gender roles to know I don't want any part of them. But I used to fixate on boys when I was in middle school. Seemed like the right thing to do. Part of that is probably due to comp het.

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symptoms-syndrome · 3 years

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Family talk. Therapy talk. Childhood talk. Trigger warnings probably apply but I can't think of which ones, I feel like it's probably predictable given the previous sentences. Proceed with caution.

A few times in therapy my therapist has brought up the idea of bringing in my birth parents (one at a time) as ways of corroborating/helping piece together the childhood I 100% do not remember.

I honestly don't even remember anything before 18. I can tell you the name of the schools I went to, some of the classes I took. But I don't remember anything of substance. I don't remember who my friends were or much of what I was like, apart from a few memories of people telling me things.

I have a somewhat minimal contact relationship with both my birth parents right now. Enough to keep them happy with me so I can spend time with my birth sister, but I don't go out of my way. It's mostly a relationship of convenience, on my end.

When my therapist asked what I would want out of them (therapist) meeting them (parents,) there was a lot. I want to know their perception of me. Who do they think I am. I remember saying something like asking them "what their 22 year old is doing still in therapy." I also of course want them to fill in blanks about what I was like as a kid, but I know both of them won't tell the whole truth. I'm hoping that between the two of them, I can piece together what they both say into some version that might be close.

I also guess I worry about what they're going to tell my therapist. I know my birth dad will have a lot to say about me, what he thinks needs fixing. My therapist when I was in HS was working really damn hard to do something by my birth dad's request, I have no idea what it was but it was something. It sure wasn't addressing my trauma. He agreed with my birth dad on everything, always defended him when I tried opening up about his behavior and how it effected me.

I know my birth dad thought I was some sort of delinquent or something when I was younger. Or I think he did. I had a lot of "behavioral issues." I know he'll come in with a list, present it confidently as he always does. Probably talk about how I smoked cigarettes, maybe talk about how I asked a lot of things about sex, maybe talk about how I went to absolutely desperate measures to stay connected to my online friends when I was younger, probably talk about how I lied to them about him. Maybe mention I've been in therapy since I was 6 and SpEd since I was 12. Probably talk about how I'm a bright kid with a lot of potential if only I got my act together. How much of that is true I'm not entirely sure. That's just what I've gathered from sporadic memories written in my log by myself and other parts, and incomplete documentation of my previous psychological testing.

What I do remember is that he didn't know I was into Pokemon and Sonic until around 8th grade, even though I centered almost my whole life around them since I was little little. Pokemon and Sonic shirts and hats and talk and games. I know there was a time when I said "yo" to someone and he was taken aback, even though that's been part of my natural vocabulary for a long time. He doesn't know who I am at all. I don't know how much of that is my doing and how much is him just not caring or paying attention. I pretended to enjoy football and Star Wars to try and bond with him, according to log entries. I vaguely remember some of that, but only in the factual sense, not real memories. Just knowledge.

I don't know what my birth mom will say. She might cry about how she feels like a bad mother. She might bring up the SpEd and previous therapy. I have less of an idea what she thinks about me, most of my conversations with her about me ended up orbiting her feelings. She hates when I have a strong startle response because it scares her. She felt like a bad mother when I had to go to partials and inpatients. One of my earliest memories is her saying she's allergic to crying and she'll die if I cry too much, when I was very very young. So I don't know what she'll say. Hopefully she'll be able to provide some sort of objective timeline of my life.

I guess there's also some part of me that believes that if I knew how they perceived me, maybe the way they treated me would make more sense. But I don't think that's true. I don't think it'll ever make sense. Even if I had the worst ever kid that acted out all the time I don't think I'd do what they did.

Of course it's hard, with DID, because I don't think I acted out in the ways they said I did, but I can't be sure. Maybe I did and didn't remember.

On the more positive end, when they asked if I wanted to bring in my adoptive family still, which is something I floated before, I don't think I need to. I initially wanted to bring them in to just. Bring up that me being part of their family might be difficult. I wanted to maybe express what extra supports I might need. But I guess the last time I visited I noticed that those supports are already there. My family is starting to feel comfortable, easy even. I was able to make myself food without asking and able to state my needs and what I wanted. I even asked for something, I asked them to play a game with me.

Most of the things I wanted to ask my adoptive family to provide were basic needs, I realized. Things that families normally provide without question, automatically. I need to be reassured I'm loved, I need to know I have access to food and privacy, I need to know I have a place to go I can rely on, I need to know that they won't abandon me for saying something out of turn. They already provided those. There isn't a lot more they can do, it's just up to me to recognize they're providing it, which I am now.

#vent #pls no rebl0ggy

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grievingchild · 4 years

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you know those movies or shows like stepford wives or get out or black mirror where there is some theme throughout where the main character enters some realm where everything upon initial rendering is idyllic and unnaturally perfect but some realization hits where the main character realizes that the side characters are being brainwashed or under some illusion and everything is actually in ruins and the false imagery is ripped away to reveal the desolation or fake happiness that’s how i feel when I forget to take my medication for over four days or run out or consciously self sabotage like the idiot i am because i am convinced that i am Now Healed and continuously forget that no, you are Functioning Normally Because of The Medication which is such a difficult concept very stereotypically for god knows whatever fucking reason for me to accept and then the shield is stripped away and i am back in the brain that i lived in for 18 years ages 7-25 and it is unbearable and i convince myself that the medication self is an illusion and i don’t recognize myself and the multitudes of being terrify me and i disassociate and i don’t know what Is Me and what Isn’t and i can’t believe that i used to live like this regularly, wanting to die every single day every single day for over 15 years and then i tried and i am crushed by the weight and reality that so many of my closest friends the loves of my life are still living like this no therapy no medication because they can’t afford it or can’t get medication or don’t believe in it and I don’t realize how much has changed for me until i am feeling like this and like a mantra i have to repeat This Is Temporary and you will Be Okay Again once you get a refill and intentionally triggering mania because you miss it is not worth it i don’t understand how every time i conveniently (so i think) allow myself to forget that every SINGLE time after the mania the soul crushing low hits without fail and it’s fucked up feeling like i have to ration it occasionally and everything makes me want to cry and nothing is rational no emotional response makes sense but i feel Most Alive like this and i don’t know who i am without the sadness and i can’t create without the Sadness i haven’t wrote a poem in a year this is the longest i’ve ever taken my medication regularly and feeling like i need to warn my family that i’m without before it gets bad again this will be the longest i’ve ever been without since i tried to ~die~ because i’m an idiot and missed my appointment and didn’t realize i was going to run out before the next one but not wanting to tell them to watch out because i am tired of worrying them everything has been so good and i am tired of my identity only being the Sad Girl the Girl who Never Changes the girl who’s going to act crazy again and destroy everything in sight so i can’t message my friends because i only talk to them when i’m Like This and then the crippling fear of losing everything i lost once is so heavy that I lose it anyways because i am paralyzed so i don’t speak at all, an ouroboros of fear i just want to wake up but i want to wake up forever i just want to make peace with my chemical imbalances but I’m not i don’t understand the duality of the narrative of my identity being depressed and hating it vs feeling like a fraud without it always waiting for goodness to destruct while simultaneously wanting nothing then to be normal for the sake of everyone i have ever loved. i just want to love without fearing it. depression guilt and fear haunt me like demons resting until i stupidly summon them. always waiting. i always have to keep one on call and i wonder if i consciously make that the reality by being so vividly afraid to trust success, normalcy, stability i am both the main character and the side characters constantly watching myself in 3rd person afraid to exist fully i am separated into a hundred different selves but aren’t we all? i hope one day i can make peace with that presentation haunts me being perceived haunts me

#me #oops #will definitely probably regret and or delete this #bipolar #borderline personality disorder #ptsd #grief #cptsd #trauma #anxiety #I am both the main character and the side characters #gay #queer #wlw

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sunsetcurbed · 4 years

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you showed me faith is not blind (miracles happen)

Pairing: Alex/Willie Words: 6,242 Rating: T Chapter Warnings: panic attack, later on a character expresses past worries about being followed Chapter: 7/11 read on AO3

Chapter Summary: The stares don't start until a couple hours in the next day. Everyone is too tired in the morning to be paying attention in the hallways. On the way to econ though, after meeting up with Luke and Flynn, he can see people stop and double take when he walks past, he can feel the eyes on him, hear the whispers.

(*)

The stares don't start until a couple hours in the next day. Everyone is too tired in the morning to be paying attention in the hallways. On the way to econ though, after meeting up with Luke and Flynn, he can see people stop and double take when he walks past, he can feel the eyes on him, hear the whispers. A pressure starts building in the middle of his forehead and there's acid in his throat. Luke and Flynn notice when he starts to lag behind them, his eyes focused on the floor, even though they're not really focused on the floor because everything is kind of… blurred and hazy. He thinks he's stopped walking by this point. He can still feel the eyes on him.

"Heeey," Luke's voice sings, coming up on Alex's right. "Hey, buddy, I'm gonna grab your arm so I can take you over to the wall, okay?" Alex thinks he nods. He still feels the eyes on him. Luke gets him to the wall and presses his back against it and tells him to sit down. Alex slides down until his butt hits the ground then closes his eyes. He draws his knees up to his chest and even though he can't feel the eyes anymore, he can remember the whispers over the rushing of the blood in his head. His throat burns. "Hey, Alex," Luke says, close to Alex's ear. "I'm gonna count for you, and I need you to breathe with the numbers, okay?" He then starts in on one of Alex's breathing exercises, and Alex goes with it, even if he can't quite make it to eight on the exhale because he doesn't have enough breath and his chest burns with the lack of air. Oh, god. He doesn't have enough breath. He draws in a deep, gasping breath to fill his lungs but it doesn't feel like enough. He can't get enough—it's not enough—there's not enough—

He doesn't remember going under water, but he's drowning now. He doesn't know when he got here. He doesn't know how he got here. He doesn't know where the surface is and how to swim up to it. He feels weighted down. His limbs are heavy and—and he can't even feel his fingers. Oh, god. He can't feel his fingers. He tries wiggling them but nothing happens—nothing except an increase of noise under the water. He vaguely registers his heart beating in overtime, trying to keep up with his body. His body is trembling, of that much he's sure, but it's not disturbing the water around him, because there are no ripples, there are no waves. He's shaking but everything around him is calm.

"Alex, can you hear me?" Alex lifts his head and opens his eyes—the water got into his eyes. Either that or he's crying—to see two people in front of him. One is crouching beside him and one is standing in front of him and holding her backpack on the side that the other isn't on, blocking him from sight of anyone who might pass. Alex draws in another breath, filling his lungs as full as they'll go. "Can you hear me, Alex?" Alex looks at him. Luke. He looks up at the girl. Flynn. He nods. "Sweet. Can you tell me five things you can see?" Backpack, board, locker, garbage, orange. "Orange? Wh—oh, my hoodie, yeah. All right, four things you can feel?" Dirt on floor, wall against back, rings on fingers—didn't he not have fingers?—, shoes against toes. "Three things you can hear?" Luke's voice, desks moving around, and the front office phones ringing. "Two things you can smell?" The chemicals from the bathroom right behind them, his Old Spice deodorant. "And what about taste?"

Alex sits up straighter. "I'm good now," he says.

"Uh-uh," Luke shakes his head. "You've got one more. You're finishing this, come on. Please."

"Mint, from my gum earlier."

"Good, buddy," Luke praises. "How you feeling?"

"Like shit," he admits.

"Do you want to go to the nurse?" Flynn asks.

"No. No. He can't do anything. All he ever does is has me sit there for a few minutes and then sends me back to class anyways."

"We could go to the front office instead then," she tries. "They could call your mom or dad—"

"No," Alex shakes his head. "I don't—I don't. I don't want to bother them. I'll be fine."

"They're your parents," Flynn frowns. "You wouldn't be bothering them."

"We can just skip econ," Luke says. "Go hang out in the music room, Mrs. Harrison would let us. We've already missed the first fifteen minutes. And Mrs. Lewis would understand why we skipped too, she's chill."

"I… I couldn't…"

"Yes you could," Flynn says, "and you are. You need a break, Alex. If you won't go to the nurse and won't go to the front office, then we're doing this."

Flynn and Luke drag him across the school to the music room where Mrs. Harrison is setting up for the lesson. When Flynn explains what happened, Mrs. Harrison offers to email Mrs. Lewis and explain the situation, so Alex relaxes. She gives the three of them free reign and Alex makes his way immediately to the drums. He's exhausted, but the drums are his happy place. The drums will rejuvenate him. He starts out with a steady beat, trying to give his heart something to follow, and then starts to add on to it. Luke joins in on the guitar and then Flynn on the trumpet, and they have a small jam session, just the three of them. It almost makes him completely forget that he'd just been drowning for the better part of fifteen minutes.

He manages to make it the rest of the day without another panic attack despite all the eyes on him. His friends all walk him to class, even though he doesn't have public speaking or biology with any of them, and he's grateful for that. But by the time he makes it to the consulate that afternoon, he's still mentally and physically exhausted. It's Tuesday, so his first thing to do is therapy, and he's… not exactly looking forward to that. He is planning to ask about how to overcome his anxiety so he has a chance at being prince if he decides, but after today, he's not sure if that's even possible. But, according to his therapist it is.

"Right, we'll get to that, but you told me the other day that you think your friend Julie had a good point about your social anxiety, can you remind me what that was?" his therapist, Tessa, asks.

"Uh—she thinks, when people are looking at me with the band, or with other people, I don't get anxious, or as anxious, because I think people are perceiving me in relation to the people I'm with, and I think they're seeing me as I see the people I'm with. But when people are looking at me as me, they're looking at me how I look at myself."

"And how do you look at yourself?"

Alex snorts. "Badly?"

"What do you mean by 'badly'?"

"Just… I'm anxious, I worry about things that normal people don't worry about and I have fears that normal people don't fear and I'm wired really tight. And I'm boring—I feel like I'm not interesting and all I talk about is music, and now Beasiga, and sometimes school, and the books I'm reading which are someone else's thoughts, not mine. I have weird thoughts, like those weird fears I mentioned and just… weird things running through my head that I wouldn't want to tell other people and I constantly worry that I'm accidentally going to say one of those weird things but I also feel like people somehow know what I'm thinking anyways like they can read my mind? And then I can be mean to good people, like when I met my grandma I just… I ran out on her and I didn't even give her a chance, y'know? And I make snarky comments at my friends sometimes that sometimes can cross a line and I don't mean to, I just… I don't have as much patience as I feel like everyone else has? And I'm gay, which isn't… that's not bad but some people think it is so sometimes I hate that I am, especially because my parents aren't okay with it. I say things that sometimes make me sound stupid or just… absolutely wild, and I always feel out of place, like everyone else belongs and I just don't have a reason to be there. … And my friends are such better people than me that I'm not sure how I ended up being friends with them," he says, the words tumbling from his mouth with barely any thought.

Tessa nods, and Alex wants to laugh. Anyone else that he unloaded that on would have stared at him with concern and maybe asked if he was okay, but she just. She just nods. "So you value your friends very much?"

"Very much."

"And their opinions?"

"Yes."

"And yet you question their choice to have you as a friend?"

Alex frowns. "Not… not exactly? I just… More like I don't know how I got so lucky."

"But you value their opinions."

"Yes," he says, cautious now.

"So if your friends have chosen to be friends with you, they must see something in you, much like you see something in them, meaning they think very highly of you as well. And if you value their opinion, then… perhaps you should ask their opinion on you, and put some stock in that," she suggests. "Perhaps start viewing yourself as they see you instead of… badly."

Alex frowns. All the negative thoughts about his friendships creep into his brain at her suggestion: what if they're just friends with him because they don't know how to break it off? What if they lie to him? What if they're only friends with him to use him for the band? What if they're just genuinely too nice of people that they let him stick around?

He shakes his head.

If there's one thing he knows, it's that his friends love him. For fuck's sake, Willie and him just started dating, and Willie easily could have just turned him down or walked away instead of kissing Alex. It's cruel of Alex to think so negatively of his friends, and his stomach twists with the thought of them ever finding out. They'd be hurt at his lack of trust, which is that last thing he wants.

"And what, it's that simple?" Alex asks her. "I ask my friends how they see me and then I stop having panic attacks when people look at me?"

"No, not even close," Tessa says. "That's just a starting point. No, you have to learn to recognize what's happening, realize why it's happening, and then find the coping mechanisms to reevaluate the situation in real time." Alex stares at her and tilts his head. "Take today for example," she says. "If you had these skills you would have been able to recognize you were panicking because of the staring and whispering, realize it was because you thought people were looking at you critically, and then reevaluate—tell yourself that people were looking at you because of the news articles and their stares were out of curiosity rather than judgment."

"That… makes sense," Alex says.

"Another skill would be exposure therapy, which I think you're going to be getting whether you like it or not, even if it's not exactly… monitored or traditional. But a lot of eyes are going to be on you, and while it's going to die off soon enough—they're high schoolers, they lose interest quick—, use it to your advantage. When you start to feel overwhelmed, recognize what is going on, realize why, and reevaluate the situation that you're in. And don't get frustrated if it doesn't work the first time, or even the first few times. It's a learning process, and it will take time."

He surprises himself the next day when he stops a panic attack in its tracks, needing no help from his friends. His anxiety is still there, but even when he sees a girl point and her three friends turn around and look at him, it remains only anxiety. Once that anxiety does happen to pass, it leaves him on a high, so high that he looks at Willie at lunch and asks, "you're out to the entire school, right?" and when Willie says yes, Alex kisses him. When he pulls away, Willie is absolutely fucking beaming. They kiss a few more times throughout lunch, and then in the hallway after lunch, and people are staring at Alex again but Alex thinks: people aren't staring at him to judge him, they're staring at him because he kissed Willie. And isn't that awesome? He'd stare at whoever was kissing Willie, too.

The next two school days pass uneventfully, despite all the eyes on him. He has a few close calls with anxiety attacks, but no panic attacks, and either his friends or his new coping methods are always there to keep him breathing steady. The only other noteworthy thing that happens is that his dad has actually starts speaking to him again by Thursday—no mention of Alex's coming out on Monday, though. Alex thinks he expected this, to be honest. See, his mom thinks that because she's not calling him every slur in the book or kicking him out that she's not being homophobic. She thinks that she's being supportive. She had said the other day "just because I support you doesn't mean I have to be okay with your choice" even though she… clearly did not support him. Still, she still loved him even if she didn't support him, and that's more than a lot of kids who came out to their parents got, so Alex… he dealt with it. But… his dad.

Alex knows Mike, and he knows that he's going to ignore it, and then maybe find a girl to set Alex up with. The subtle 'I'm telling myself I've forgotten about this but I haven't actually at all, I'm just pretending it never happened' classic Mike move. He's done it before, and Alex knew he'd try it in this case if given the chance, so he is hoping to get the chance to introduce him to Willie sooner rather than later. Chances are he'll stop talking to Alex again, but at least Alex will be able to be with his boyfriend without the looming threat of being set up with a girl. (He's not sure when he stopped caring about having the man he viewed as his dad in his life, but he's pretty sure it probably started the night he walked away from Alex's coming out without a word.)

When seven pm comes around Friday night and it's time for Alex and Willie's date, their first date where Alex will actually be able to kiss Willie, Alex is all too eager to hurry out the consulate's front door to Willie's Honda as it pulls up and jump in the front seat. Just—he's a little confused this time, because as he puts his bag at his feet, he notices Willie turning the keys and pulling them out of the ignition. Alex looks over at Willie.

Willie sighs. "Can we go talk to your grandma?"

Alex doesn't know how to reply, so he's left stammering out, "uh, y-yeah. Yeah! C'mon."

They both get out of the car and Alex leads him to the door. Alex watches as Willie gets patted down by security and waved through, and then grabs his hand to take him back to the library where he had just been with his grandmother. He hopes she's still there.

Thankfully, she is, and when they reach the library, she looks up from her book. Her eyes widen. "Alexander! I thought you'd left. And who is this?"

"I'm Willie, ma'am—er, Your Majesty," Willie greets, stepping forward without thought. Only Alex's hold on his hand keeps Willie from going any further ahead.

His grandmother gets up and walks over to them. "Oh, you're Alexander's friend—" she dips her eyes down to their hands "—boyfriend?" Willie nods. "No need for the formalities, dear. Louisa is fine. William, you said your name was?"

"Uh, Willie."

"Willie," she repeats back. "I'm thankful to meet you."

"Me too," Willie nods. "But there's, uh, there's actually a reason?" Alex tightens his grip on Willie's hand. Willie squeeze's back and Alex isn't sure if it's reassurance or if it's grounding Willie.

"Oh?"

"Yeah," Willie nods. "I wanted to talk to you and Alex both at the same time. I might have just had Alex tell you about it, but I wanted your opinion too, so, I just—I'm sorry, can we sit?"

"Of course," she says, and motions over to the couches in the corner. "Sit wherever you'd like." The three of them migrate over and take their seats, and then his grandmother returns her attention to Willie. "You were saying?"

"I was in Hollywood this afternoon running an errand for my mom and a man approached me. He didn't approach me like a stranger though, he knew my name. Or, he said, 'Willie, right?' I didn't know him. I still don't, but—I didn't really know how to get away. I couldn't just tell him to uh… uh… go away. I didn't want to be rude. And we were in public, so I wasn't in danger," Willie says this with a squeeze of his hand, and Alex knows it's for him. The more Willie has been talking about the situation, the more anxious Alex has been getting. Willie clears his throat and continues. "But he started asking me some stuff about Alex, like personal stuff about who he was as a person and his family life… And then some stuff about Alex and Beasiga. He started getting… really specific about Beasiga too—like stuff that I only know because Alex has told me. I was as vague as I could be, I didn't even answer most of them, I promise. But, he was really pushy. He wanted to know, really bad, to the point where he was nearly bribing me? Something about skating the streets of Hollywood? Which, yeah he might have just said because I was literally skating the streets of Hollywood, but… It… I know there are obsessive people out there, I do, but what I don't know is how to handle them. Especially not when it comes to someone else. I know because I'm connected to Alex the things I do could be connected back to him, so I can't just… be rude to people. I mean, not that I would want to be. But, I don't know what to do in these situations."

"I'm so sorry," Alex murmurs, turning to face Willie and putting his free hand on Willie's knee.

Willie turns to look at him. "No—don't be. It's not your fault, okay?"

"Yes it is—"

Willie lifts his hand to Alex's face and brushes his thumb along his cheekbone. "No. It's not. Now be quiet. I'm here to speak with Louisa." He drops his hand and turns back to Alex's grandmother. "Do you have any… advice? on how to deal with this in the future?"

"Yes, I do," she says, "but first, was the man who approached you in a suit?"

Willie nods. "Yeah."

"Did he have a rather extravagant jacket? With crystals embedded in it?"

Again, Willie nods, this time with narrowed eyes. "Yes…"

"That was Mr. Covington, I'm afraid." Alex feels his hand clench reflexively around Willie's. Willie whips his head around to look at Alex, but Alex is focused on his grandmother. His grandmother stands up and walks over to a shelf on the far side of the library. She pulls a book off the shelf and makes her way back. "Alexander, we haven't covered the Covingtons yet, but they're a grand family, and an important family in our country's history. Beyond the Mercers, the Covingtons are one of the most respected families in Beasigan history. Thomas Covington was the main author of our Constitution."

"My mom mentioned Covington," Alex says.

His grandmother sighs. "I supposed she might."

Willie looks between them. "Okay, his family is important, but who is he?"

"Caleb Covington is next in line for the Beasigan throne should Alexander decline," his grandmother says.

"W-wait. That guy?" Willie asks. "That guy will be running the country if Alex chooses not to?"

"And he wants to," Alex mutters.

"Oh, he really wants to," his grandmother huffs, pacing back and forth in front of the coffee table. Alex would drop his jaw, but he thinks he's too shocked to even move the muscles to do that. He's never seen his grandmother lose her composure, has never even dreamed of it happening. "He wouldn't stop pestering me for weeks about it. He threatened me that he was going to contact you if I didn't do it myself. It was either force a sixteen year old boy into a role that he didn't want to be ready for, or end up having that sixteen year old boy hate me for the rest of my life because a loathsome man told him about me and didn't give me a chance to explain myself." She stops her pacing and puts her hands to her forehead. She shakes her head. She looks up at Willie through her hands. "I'm truly sorry he approached you Willia—Willie. Clearly, not only does the man lack manners, but also discretion."

"Don't be sorry," Willie says. "It's not your fault."

"Nevertheless," she sighs. She looks at Alex. "I doubt he would dare to think to approach you, but I'll gather a picture of him and have John send it to you so you can be aware of who he is. You can also send it to your other friends so they can seek to avoid him as well. Do warn them not to let him know they know who he is, though. You either, Willie. If he knows you know, he won't have any reason to refrain himself from pressing even further. That being said, you don't have anything to fear from him other than persistence. He'd never risk his standing in Beasiga—he still holds a high title even if he does not become king and he will not readily give that up. He may crave power but he already holds power and he's not a stupid man."

"You… really don't like this guy," Alex says.

His grandmother looks at him and laughs a small laugh. "Was I being obvious?"

"A bit," he smiles. "But it was good for me. Really humanized you."

"Was I not human before?"

"No, not really," he admits. "You're like, perfect."

"Oh, Alexander, I'm far from perfect," she shakes her head. "Remind me to tell you some stories about my early days of royalty with my husband sometime. Those will humanize me."

He grins. "Looking forward to it."

"Well," she says, clasping her hands together, "I don't want to keep you two here all night. Unless… is there anything else you need or want to discuss, Willie?"

"No, I'm good. Thank you so much for listening and figuring that out. It was really freaking me out, so…"

"But of course," she says, waving him off. "It's no worry at all. I'm only sorry you had to go through that. And I do hope I'll see you around more? Please feel free to stop by to say hello, or even join some of Alexander's lessons if you have the time and feel like it."

"I'll take you up on that offer, definitely," Willie says, standing from the couch. Alex gets up as well. "It was really, really nice to meet you, Louisa. Again, thank you, so much. We'll leave you to your reading now though. We'll see you around."

"Bye, Grandma," Alex says, and then tugs Willie out from the space between the couch and the coffee table. His grandmother calls out a goodbye after them and they send waves over their backs.

They're quiet on their walk through the consulate and out to the car. It still remains silent as Willie turns on the car and they get strapped in and Willie puts the car in drive, but as soon as he goes to pull into the street, Alex feels himself break.

"Why didn't you call me?" he demands.

"I knew you'd freak out," Willie says, shooting him an apologetic look. "Besides, I called my mom after, so I could talk to someone because I thought—kidnappers don't take people on phones, right?"

"You were worried about being kidnapped?!"

"Not—not really?" he shrugs. "I was more worried he was going to stalk me to get to you. So I've been pretty hyper vigilant all day. I drove twenty extra minutes before I came to pick you up today just to make sure no one was following me. No one even was following me. But… just in case."

Alex blinks. On one hand, after Willie's experience today, that's a completely understandable reaction. On the other… "I think, like, by dating me, you're getting some of my anxiety." Willie leans his head back and laughs. "No, I think it's a thing. Like, every time we kiss, a little bit of anxiety leaves me and goes into you. It's why I've been doing better lately."

Willie reaches over and puts his hand on Alex's thigh. "You've been doing better lately because you're doing better. Not because of some magic kisses."

"You saying our kisses aren't magic?"

Willie squeezes Alex's thigh, hard, and when Alex looks over, he can see Willie's cheeks darkening a shade. "I'm—I'm saying, I'm proud of you, you know that, right?"

"Oh." Alex blinks. "Hang on, how did we go from you worrying you were going to get kidnapped to you being proud of me? How is that a logical progression?"

Willie laughs again, and Alex falls back into his seat, helpless.

They end up at Chipotle, sitting in a back corner booth on the same side of the table, thighs pressed flush together, shoulders brushing as they eat their bowls and watch YouTube videos on Willie's phone. They overstay their welcome, but no one kicks them out. It's just… they're just not sure where else to go. With Alex's lessons not ending until seven and the sun setting far before then, there's not too much to do on their Fridays besides sit and talk and goof around somewhere. But then Willie has an idea and pulls Alex out to his car.

"I don't know why I'm only thinking of this now," he says as he's driving down a residential street. "It feels like the obvious answer for a Friday night hang out," he says, right as he turns into a driveway. Willie shuts off the engine and gets out of the car and Alex follows, slower.

He's never been here before, but he's pretty sure this is Willie's house. If he's right, and he realizes he is as Willie unlocks the door, then that means Willie's family is inside, or at least some of them… probably. Alex has met Willie's older sister Taylor, since she was a senior when Alex was a freshman in high school. She had driven Willie home the day they had met at the beach. After that, sometimes at lunch she'd come bug her little brother and steal a chip from him and give him trouble and she always said hello to Alex and the others. But Taylor was off at NYU now. Willie's little sister Jamie doesn't go to Los Feliz High School since she isn't in performing arts but Alex has met her in passing. Willie would drive her places when he was meeting the group, and then she'd go her own way, and they'd go theirs. But Willie's parents? Alex has never met them, not once. And now, with no preparation, he thinks he's about to.

He follows Willie inside and looks around. It's definitely Willie's house—there are pictures of him and Taylor and Jamie dotted all around what Alex assumes to be the living room. He tries not to let his eyes linger on any of them too long, not wanting to intrude on any of their family memories (though, he supposes they're displayed for a reason). Willie slips his shoes off so Alex does too, and he follows him through the house.

They slow down when they pass an archway, and Alex looks in to see a sewing machine set up, fabric flowing out of it as it hums violently. There's a woman sitting behind it, staring down at what she's working on with intense concentration. On the other side of the room is a man sat behind a computer with a gaming headset on, leaning into the computer with focus.

"Hey," Willie says casually, and the noise of the sewing machine stops. Both the man and the woman look over and smile.

"Hey," the woman greets. "You're home early. How was your day?"

"Good. Alex and I ran out of places to go, so I brought him back with me," Willie explains, throwing a thumb over his shoulder to point at Alex. The woman's eyes flick to Alex. "We're gonna go watch a movie or something."

"All right," she says. "Let us know if you need anything. Alex, it's nice to meet you."

"Uh, it's nice to meet you too," he says. And, well. Huh. That wasn't bad at all. What was scary about that?

He follows Willie again until they're into what Alex assumes is Willie's room. As soon as Alex closes the door behind him, before he even has the chance to look around, Willie is dropping his backpack on the floor and walking towards Alex. "Hey," he says, putting his hands on Alex's hips and walking Alex back until Alex's hips and back are pressed against the door.

"Hey," Alex says back. He's surprised at how cool his voice sounds when in reality his heart is trembling.

"Wanna watch a movie?"

"… not really."

"Huh," Willie huffs. He leans forward, resting all of his weight on Alex. Alex's heart isn't just trembling anymore—his insides are completely rattled. "Well what are we supposed to do, then?"

"I dunno," Alex mumbles. This time there's a waver in his voice, but his tone is still strong, his voice is still confident. He traces a hand up Willie's side and around his back. His hand comes to fall on Willie's shoulder blade, his fingers reaching to brush the area in the middle of his back. His eyes flick from Willie's eyes to his lips and then back again. "Guess we'll have to figure it out, huh?"

"I think I have monopoly around here somewhere," Willie suggests, bringing his hand up to curl around Alex's neck. Alex feels a shock go through his body. The hand slips around so Willie's got a hold on the back of Alex's neck rather than the side of it, and Willie's eyes turn dark. He uses his hand to bring Alex forward a bit, but because of their position—Willie's body pressing his to the door—it ends up just tilting Alex's head back. Willie nudges Alex's chin with his nose and grins.

"Too boring with two players," Alex says, straightening his head again and tilting it down so the few inches he has on Willie stop feeling like a barrier. It's just… he doesn't lose himself with Willie, he just… feels vulnerable, feels like he's being taken apart piece by piece only to be put back together in an even more beautiful, sensible way. He shifts his weight on his feet, moving their entire position against the door, and then slips his hand that's still by his side beneath Willie's shirt and strokes his side. He feels Willie shiver lightly beneath his fingers. "What about scrabble?"

"You're much better with words than I am, not a fair game," Willie hums, and grabs Alex's wrist to stop him from caressing his side. Alex pushes down a feeling of smug satisfaction of finally getting through to his boyfriend. Willie presses Alex's wrist against the door and pushes their foreheads together, shutting his eyes as he does so. Alex lets his fall shut as well. "How about… tic-tac-toe?"

"Hmm… no, too predictable. What about hangman?" he asks, then, limited in his options with one hand pinned to the door, curls the fingers he has resting on Willie's upper back, digging his fingers in as deeply as he can. He's not expecting that to be what makes Willie break, but it does. As soon as his fingers press into Willie's back, the other boy is diving into Alex, connecting their mouths for a frantic kiss. Alex isn't prepared for it, had been expecting Willie to come back with another suggestion, so he gasps into the kiss. Willie mimics him, parting his lips as well, and then Alex can feel Willie, taste Willie. Alex's heart pounds in his chest and his blood rushes through his veins and the symptoms of… this are so similar to the start of a panic attack but during a panic attack Alex feels like he's drowning and now… now he feels like he's flying.

Willie uses the hand behind Alex's neck to pull him away from the door as he steps backwards, knowing the layout of his room so well that even while his attention is focused entirely on Alex, he can lead Alex slowly while walking backwards until they reach the bed. At that point, Willie breaks the kiss and hops on to the bed, looking at Alex with a clear invitation, but there's also uncertainty, as if moving to a bed is somehow a huge step. And Alex supposes in a way it is. They've only ever managed kissing in a vertical position and in public, which in turn, has kept all of their kissing more… tame. Simple. Mellow. They've never gotten to be a teenage couple and just… make out. Still, it's cute that Willie has had this pause, is so obviously waiting for Alex to make the next move. So Alex does.

He climbs on the side of the bed, staring at Willie, and knee walks over to him until he has one knee on either side of Willie's hips so he's straddling him. Willie stares up at him, hair fanned along his pillows, and his face is several shades darker than usual. Alex bites his lip to stop himself from grinning, and instead leans down to bump their noses together, careful to keep their lips separated even as Willie tries to kiss him. "I like your room."

"You haven't even seen my room," Willie says, eyes flickering between Alex's eyes and his lips.

"Sure I have." He flicks his eyes to the side. "You've got blue bedding. And monopoly, somewhere."

Willie groans, scrunching his nose. "Are we really doing this again?"

"I don't know," Alex hums. "I like affecting you."

"You always do," Willie tells him. He slips a hand up and cups Alex's jaw. "Always have."

"I like being able to see it," Alex admits. "I feel like I'm always the one giving in to you. Half the time you kiss me out of nowhere and I just—I don't know how to react after. You make me stupid."

Willie grins and huffs out a laugh. Alex is so close he can feel Willie's breath wash over his face. "Half the time I kiss you out of nowhere because I'm gone on you, dude. Most of the time, me kissing you is me being affected. You probably just did something hella cute."

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh," Willie says. "Like, god, like right fucking now. 'Oh,'" he repeats with a roll of his eyes, and then surges up, locking their lips together. This time, Alex is at least a bit more prepared. He kisses back immediately and tries to take control this time. It takes Willie a minute to notice Alex's goal, so there's a bit of a battle between them—Willie leading subconsciously and Alex trying to sway it into his favor, until suddenly Willie realizes and backs down without any more of a fight. Willie relaxes back into his pillow, his hand drifts from Alex's jaw to his hip, and he brings his other hand up to slide beneath Alex's shirt to just rest on his stomach. Meanwhile Alex cards his fingers through Willie's hair, using his hold to gently guide Willie's head to where he wants it to be. He's propped up by his elbow on one side of Willie's head, so he uses that hand to play with strands of Willie's hair mindlessly. And slowly, his lips work against Willie's, and Alex wants this moment to last forever, wants to live in this feeling of being loved, being wanted, being held, being desired, being Willie's. Realistically he knows it won't last forever.

For right now, tonight's enough.

#willex #willex fic #willex fanfic #jatp fic #jatp fanfic #ysmfinb #my writing

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cqcandchill · 3 years

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trauma talk below, lads

discovered that my indian status will cover 22 hours of therapy in a 12 month period sooo i. think i’m gonna try again bc i’m really at my limit with myself + being perpetually stuck in a loop of going forward/backing up. i’m tired of running away from my own success and being scared of being perceived and self-sabotaging every good fucking thing that happens bc it’s easier to reject people/myself first than wait for the other shoe to drop. i’m constantly avoiding serious things that ruin my reputation and set me backwards, then torturing myself with the anxiety of my own fucking avoidance. or ruining friendships bc i get triggered by something and then immediately run. i can’t do it anymore.

and i hate that it’s taken me this long to realize how very serious it all is. like i’m not just posting “lol childhood trauma” memes bc they vaguely resemble mild feelings - there is something Very Seriously Wrong with me and i can’t fix it by myself just by reading every psychology today article. and it’s like… wildly validating! to comprehend i’m not faking CPTSD, but i also think i’ve been in a state of grief for the last 8 years, and i’ve been deeply retraumatized by multiple fucked up events in my life, so. idk lol. i am coming to terms with a lot of the things i’ve been made to carry as an indigenous child of an indigenous single mom, and all the trauma i’ve had to witness as a young person in my family. this is all very difficult for me to admit and accept, as a person who learned to keep myself under lock and key in order to feel safe. i thought knowing the root of the problem would give me the means to fix it, bc i learned i was the only person i could rely on to fix my problems - but even digging so much in search of an independent answer/solution is a trauma response. this isn’t something that i can do by myself and it’s like… really really scary to approach, bc my default state is “people = untrustworthy = they will hurt you if given the chance” which is not a healthy coping mechanism, and certainly something that’s kept me from seeking help i really need through connections.

and i’ve just always known Intellectually™️ that i have trauma, that something is wrong, but i’ve never confronted it emotionally. there’s always been a detachment there for me. and i think today is the first time i’ve ever… had an emotional realization/acceptance about how serious my CPTSD symptoms are.

like wow this is really something i have to deal with huh! it’s really bad! and it’s not normal! and it’s not my fault! but i still have to live with and deal with it, and also endure the additional trauma of having my experiences and my identity invalidated because i’m not visibly indigenous.

i’m having a hard time. i smudged today while crying my fucking eyes out and i think this is the answer i was given to the prayer i made. so i have to do something with that bc i think if i go another year like this i really might actually kms. and also it would be kind of rude to pray to spirit and then reject what spirit gives me.

anyway sorry for treating this like a public diary i just have to get this out there and it’s easier to type it up on the void of tumblr dot com than speak to another human being in real time but uhh. one step at a time

#my trauma is literally like “i think i will cause problems on purpose”

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coleyholts · 3 years

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Trigger Warning: Depression **I AM NOT A SELF-HARM RISK**

I have become two people.

That’s kind of a weird concept to fully grasp. What do you mean two people? This post is dedicated to my damaged self, who needs to realize that becoming one with my rational self is a goal we can all look forward to achieving. Also, to the people that love me, here’s a look into where I’m at right now with guilt.

Here’s the thing. RATIONAL SELF

I’m a smart, experienced woman with years of childcare under my belt. I am completely confident in my marriage, knowing loyalty, fidelity, and support will never be an issue. I actually enjoy my job and being around my coworkers. I have the greatest friends anyone could ever ask for that have stuck by my side for decades. My parents adore me and want me to be happy. My siblings and in-laws are my best friends that always make me proud. I love spending my time doing art. I’m social, approachable, and confident. I am a great mother. Oh, and I’m HILARIOUS.

But here’s the OTHER thing. DAMAGED SELF

I’m depressed and feeling guilty and so much regret. I want to stay in my house and do nothing because it doesn’t really make a difference if I attend events. No one misses me at stuff like that. Asking for help is a huge inconvenience to the others. Asking for alone time makes me feel guilty, so I tend to never ask. I’m scared something is going to happen to my baby as a result of the accident-something that creeps up out of nowhere like some random, preventable hemorrhage or something. I don’t deserve Natasha. I had my chance and failed. Daniel should resent me.

As an intro to this elaboration here, I want to just briefly touch on the fact that PTSD, depression, and like conditions will all bring on good days and bad days. What I am describing are short spans of time (minutes, usually) where my “two selves” are arguing over how shitty I am. This is not a bad day. This is just any day, anytime, anywhere.

I left work early on Friday. My back has been out all of August and I have some nerve damage, which I will end up writing about eventually, that tends to make my healing process suuuuper slow. Even more challenging, I have a 20+ pound baby beauty that loves seeing how fast she can crawl towards things she shouldn’t. SPOILER ALERT: ...it’s pretty fast. *eye roll*

I was about five minutes from home when I just had this random, hateful thought.

I hurt my own feelings. I made myself sad.

I have been pushing it off when people I trust have asked me (very lovingly and at appropriate times) if I was sure I wasn’t feeling guilty. And, I was sure. My “normal” self, the one that presents to people when I am not a pot of anxiety or in physical pain is RATIONAL.

So RATIONAL Nicole (hereon referred to as “I/me”) knows that statistically speaking, most babies are going to fall off of something at some point before they reach the 12-month milestone, whether it be the couch, out of a swing, out of bed, etc. They are resilient. They experience injury and they learn. I denied the feelings of guilt because I was able to suppress them with knowledge of anything and everything I could find relating to what took place that day; anything I could store in my brain that would serve as concrete evidence that this wasn’t my fault and that I can forgive myself.

DAMAGED Nicole (hereon referred to as “the voice”) is a paranoid jerk with no faith in me. This in-house antagonist decides to remind me of what happened, quite often focusing on the fact that I caused it. I put her on the bed. I laid with her. I let her rest beside me instead of in my arms because she was a little sweaty. I fell asleep. She rolled across and over onto the floor, while in MY care. I had one job: Keep her alive and healthy... The voice will not let me forget it.

I am not hearing the stereotypical, personality disorder kind of voices. This is my conscience, a one on one with myself. This is how trauma has made me perceive myself, and when I make progress, that voice, MY voice, is telling me everything on a list, thought up by ME of “Reasons as to Why I Still Hate Myself.” **Note for emphasis: I DO NOT WANT TO DIE. THIS IS NOT A CRY FOR HELP. JUST LISTEN <3 **

It’s when the silent back and forth begins between the voice and I that I’m transported back to a swampy wasteland of sorrow over the fact that I “just should’ve put her in her crib.” The air is thick there, and has a flavor of burnt. Taking it in is what one would imagine inhaling flavorless, vapory gravy mixed with a heap of soot feels like. It feels dry and my throat burns. There is a heaviness in my lungs and chest as my heartrate increases. I try to keep my breathing steady, reminding myself, “it’s just one of these.” But then the voice hits me with a reaaaaaally low blow.

“You killed your baby.”

...Listen to me when I tell you it made me SICK to hear those words together, directed at me, formulated in my own damn mind. My therapist says to try to remember to counter thoughts like these with realistic affirmations about myself, Natasha’s full recovery, the strength my marriage has gained... But the voice is mean.

The reason I have not been able to let go of the guilt is because my rational mind doesn’t argue after enough of a beatdown that I run out of answers.

Why couldn’t they find her heatbeat? Because she was bleeding in her skull. Why was she bleeding? She fell off of the bed. Why did she fall off of the bed? Well....

Thinking with only your rational mind is like a math problem: a= Natasha sleeping b= me putting her in her crib c= me bringing her into my bed d= Natasha falling.

a+b=a & a+c=d.

What was the difference? ME. Situation-me=happy, rested baby.

MY choice is what physically put her in a place where she could fall. This is so hard for people to understand. “Well, she's okay now” truly is not enough. With all of the support I have been experiencing, I’ve been served my fair share of phrases like that, and I want to be pissed, but I’m just thankful that none of the people I love have the frame of reference to fully get it.

I don’t want you to know this pain. I want you to help me through it.

So to wrap it up, I am living my life with little battles in my head all day. In therapy, I am working on getting these two sides of myself better acquainted, hoping the bravery I have gained from all of the crap my family and I have been through together can be worth something.

I deserve my baby. I’m a great mother. I am her calm, and she is safe with me.

I will get through this. 100%.

Just wish it wasn’t going to take so long.

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amorrdemiel · 5 years

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Rewatching the L word.

I remember the first time I saw this show, I would watch it secretly on YouTube when my parents were asleep and I would stay up so so late just learning more. I was fascinated. I’m sometimes still confused about my sexuality. But then, I felt I knew this was me. This is what I was. (Similar to the time that I watched greys anatomy and there was a character that slept with Cass and she said it felt like she could finally see) I AM attracted to masculinity, but I’m also not sexually attracted to men, but also I love big arms, I always have, and I like masculine looking people. But I also like feminine masculine energy? And I like feminine women, and I’m attracted them, but I think my desire to be close to my dad, brought on a lot of misguided affection, and also I’m generally into gender bending sort of things. I think it’s attractive when a woman looks very man-like. I just do. But I also can’t discount the way society and especially a machista Mexican culture has instilled in me an idea that I MUST be the woman and have woman like roles and my partner MUST be a man, and have man like roles. As much as I love classic Hollywood films, sometimes I wish five year old me had never witnessed and absorbed what was going on, because I remember being ten and seeing the manliest guy in a show, looking Mexican, and thinking “oh, I have to like him” like when I saw Shark Boy. I thought I had to like violent, aggressive, Latino men. But also mostly all the men I’ve dated or had huge crushes on, were gay or perceived as feminine. And I felt most comfortable with my last SO who even my sister said had a very feminine aura. Sexuality is confusing when you overthink the way I do. Because I don’t just follow my body, I don’t listen to it. Like even these days, I remember having sex with Liza and it was my first sexual experience with a woman (besides that one girl I slept with in Corpus, but she was very aggressive and I faked an orgasm bc I didn’t know how to tell her it hurt like hell the way she was fingering me lmao) but when I slept with Liza, it wasn’t love but it was so...sensual and normal and I remember thinking wow. So you DON’T have to feel like sex is a burden? You don’t have to feel an ounce of disgust? You don’t have to make it kinky? You don’t have to close your eyes and avoid all eye contact with him or god forbid his dick? Or just wait for it to be over? It felt like the most normal sex ever and that in and of itself was a liberating experience because all the sex I had had with all of my prior boyfriends despite feeling the truest love of who they were as people, still didn’t feel as normal as what I experienced with Liza, whom I didn’t even love. The only awkward thing about Liza was my own failure to be vulnerable with another human being. And when I tried to be present and vulnerable and really really there with my last dude, Jordan, even though I really liked him, I was drawn to him for some reason (ironically, all his exes turned out to leave him for a woman and many people mistakingly thought he was gay) I loved watching him at work and hearing him speak and interact. And even then, having sex with him, even as present as I was, looking him in the eye, I GOT PNUEMONIA. In JULY. And it FELT like my SOUL had traveled so god damn FAR from my body, it hurt so much. Even my sister felt like I had left me. I had abandoned me. I had betrayed me. so SEXUALITY IS CONFUSING WHEN YOU OVERTHINK. And I guess you could say I’m being challenged to be in my own body but what if being on your body SUCKS. and I guess I’m saying that from a very unmindful space. I reblog all those beautiful quotes about being here. Being present. Today exists, you exist. Live in it. Love in it. And I feel that, but sometimes I get so stuck in my head, it’s a sickness. I get so stuck in my head and I tend to want to stay there because it hurts to be in my body. I feel anxious and terrible. And it’s hard to be here and receive, when you’re so god damn scared of your own life and your own power and the power of others and the life of others.

You’re so god damn terrified to look anyone in the eye, even yourself.

I’ve been having a lot of nostalgia. Listening to The Adults are Talking by The Strokes, laying in my room (my pug just had surgery so I have to stay here quarantined with her) looking at my lights, and my tapestry, and my crystals and my piano, watching the l word, remembering high school. The way I would come home and lay down and listen to music and just stare at my surroundings. The way I would feel, the way I thought life would be. How it felt being so sad and introspective and so full of art and music. So quiet. So shameful. So pained, so much tearing to be free. So confused. So in my head. So in my head. So in my head. And I feel in my head because it hurts to be here in my body. And before it hurt because of pain. I sat and I felt that pain, I sat for a whole summer, last summer. I worked only five hours a week, I saw a therapist twice a week, I woke up every morning and sat naked in my one room apartment and would rewatch mister Rogers and just cry and cry and sob and sob and curse my past and my feelings. And I cried all summer until I stopped crying and I felt love. And I felt so much happiness and freedom this past year. The rivers even spoke to me. They gifted me wisdom, and advice. They told me “run the only way you know how to run.” But

It’s so different

When you’re doing it all, in real time.

Sitting with past pain is one thing. I was so grateful I got to pause my life, that my ex supported me, that my sister was there to text, that I got therapy from a wonderful man, that I had my own self to hold. But to be here, awake.

Jesus fucking Christ that’s hard and scary

And that brings me to the stupid Wikipedia quote. She is so consumed in her own self loathing. She has no other energy to put outwards. Misery is her mirror and she is forever gazing in it. I feel like that has been me. I wonder if that is me now. Everyone hated Jenny, but I adored her! I wanted to be like her. Now I see her more clearly but watching it again, remembering the nostalgia, I feel a lot like her sometimes. Which is Terrible. I wanted to imitate her before because I thought she was beautiful and soft and light. And I thought that’s what women should be. Wrong. Some women are like this. Some women aren’t and neither is wrong or right it just is. But I read this quote and I think.

Is this my life? Do I want misery to be my mirror?

And it’s funny that this quote particularly stands out to me because it’s so similar to one of my absolute favorite quotes from my favorite book the prophet. I want to gaze into the mirror of beauty, of life. Of me.

I want to make eye contact with me

I don’t want to be no face.

I feel so strange. Always. All the time.

I know this has all been a huge rant. And I am doing it on here because I can’t write in my journal without my pug attacking my own.

I know I’ll feel my body, and I’ll be here, right now. I know the universe will guide me back to me again, and again, and again.

Just like any river, no matter what mountain it comes from, no matter how high it begins, finds itself at the mouth of the sea, swallowing it into wholeness.

I know everything will be okay.

#personal #my biggest rant yet #the l word #the prophet

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devinetheory-2 · 5 years

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Why Do Narcissists and Borderlines Lie So Much?

Many things can destroy trust and intimacy between partners when one is a high conflict person, often someone with borderline or narcissistic personality disorder. But one of the top ones is lying--especially when it is about extramarital contact. A disclaimer: not all people with BPD or knowingly NPD lie. It's just that those who do lie so thoroughly and often that they spoil it for those who do not.

Just What Is a Lie?

First, let's define what a lie is, because what constitutes a lie and the truth is a gray area. The book Lying, Cheating, and Carrying On (edited by Salman Akhtar and Henri Parens) contains several essays about lying. In the essay "Lies, Liars, and Lying: An Introductory Overview," Salman Akhtar, M.D. lists several types of lies that are conscious lies, i.e., those that Pinocchio knows are false.

Here are examples that a 17-year-old girl might tell to parents who went on an overnight trip and left her at home "alone."

1. Lies of omission: telling the truth but not the whole truth in a way designed to mislead ("While you were gone I watched a DVD"--not mentioning the five people who were also over and who drank beer).

2. Not speaking up when asked a direct question: (Silence when asked, "What did you do when we were gone?")

3. Making up facts that are not true: ("I did my homework while you were gone").

4. Embellishing the truth is a way that misleads: ("I took care of the cat"--meaning she petted it a few times but forgot to feed him on time or change the litter box).

5. Insisting that a truth known to someone is a falsehood: ("I did not have friends over!").

6. Gaslighting: an attempt to erode another's reality by denying their experience ("No, the house looks exactly like it did when you left. Is there something wrong with your vision?"). One woman in therapy once said that nearly all the quarrels in her family was about whose reality would be dubbed the "right" one.

7. Acknowledging the truth but assigning motives that were never there to make yourself look better: ("Yes, I had people here but only because I was so lonely without you that I was getting very depressed and started crying").

8. Keeping secrets for the wrong reasons: (One of the friends stole the mother's expensive earrings).

Unconscious Lies

Now let's look at unconscious lies, or untruths that the teller believes on a conscious level. Being truthful takes the ability to be honest with one's own self, because if you're not honest with yourself, you won't be honest with others. For example:

1) When a narcissist says that everyone loves and respects her when it's obvious to others it's not true, that's an unconscious lie. Les Carter explains this well in his book, Why Is It Always About You?: The Seven Deadly Sins of Narcissism. He writes (p 17):

In a sense, narcissists are out of touch with reality. They are not mentally ill, like a psychotic; they are just unwilling to acknowledge truth that doesn't match their preferences. While normal people can weigh events rationally and draw fair conclusions about themselves, narcissists do not. They lack the objectivity to live with reasonable insight because their need for self exaltation does not allow them to accept that their perceptions might not be the ultimate truth. Their idealized view of themselves blinds them as they try to make sense of life, particularly the elements in themselves that might be imperfect or that might require adjustments (and they never want to make adjustments).

2) When a borderline's intense emotions lead him to use projection or emotional reasoning ("feelings equal facts"), that's an unconscious lie. When we are gripped by a strong emotion that doesn't fit the circumstances, we interpret what is happening in a way that fits with the emotions we are feeling instead of the facts presented to us. In other words, we seek to confirm what we already feel and ignore new evidence that does not fit, maintain or justify the emotion. We all do it, but people people with BPD (who see things in black and white and have unstable, intense emotions) do it to a greater degree.

And as if that weren't enough, lingering negative feelings about other issues make one more likely to see negative intent. People with BPD tend to remember every hurt "done to them" as though it happened yesterday. Their false conclusions lead to problematic decisions and behaviors since they're always assuming the worst. They also project their own feelings onto others, so their "You hate me," means "I hate myself." These are untruths, but not really overt lies (as damaging as they may be).

It's hard to tell the difference between a conscious lie and a conscious one. A man says, "It is like we both walk into the same movie theater. I thought that we entered into see the same movie. We sit together. We enter and leave at the same time. But afterwards, I learned that what she saw was entirely different from me, even though we sat and watched the same movie. Her version is no where even close to mine."

What Clinicians Say About Lying and BPD

In the essay "Lies and Their Deception" in the same book, Lying, Cheating, and Carrying On, Clarence Watson, JD, MD pulls no punches when he says, (p. 98):

Given that a BPD hallmark is interpersonal relationships that alternate between idealization and devaluation, the person with BPD may distort facts aimed at the person with whom they desire a personal relationship.

Whether through attempts to draw persons into [intense and rocky interpersonal] relationships or viscously attack another during episodes of the extreme rage associated with perceived abandonment-the borderline personality may use lies and deceitfulness to accomplish these objectives.

Impulsivity and poor impulse control, he writes, means they may not consider the impact of their words before they speak. "In the moment, their desired objective, whatever that may be, takes such precedence over speaking the truth or behaving honestly that the potential consequences of their conduct are reduced to shadowy details."

Other reasons for lack of truth-telling

Some statements may start out as deliberate lies; over time, they become real (the old saying, "Tell a lie often enough and it becomes the truth"). Some statements may be exaggerations, such as a woman accusing her husband of "strangling her" when he touched her neck. People with BPD--especially the conventional type--may judge themselves harshly and expect others to do the same. Lying serves to deflect shame when something might make them look bad, thereby maintaining whatever self-esteem they have on a temporary basis.

This backfires on those people with BPD who then feel worse for having lied (or at least being found out).We all have things about ourselves we would prefer others not know. But we see the good and the bad and hope others do, too. With their black and white world and rejection sensitivity, people with BPD believe that anything "bad" would make others reject them.

Lies may create drama and gain attention. One woman lied that she had been raped to get her boyfriend's attention when he had not been paying enough attention to her.Lies may mask real feelings and put up an impressive façade; this is especially common with invisible BPs.Lies may help make sense of why things happen to them in their mixed-up identity.

Narcissistic Personality Disorder

Some lies maintain the facade of the False Self: the perfect, superior self the narcissist thinks she is or pretends to be. On a more conscious level, lies are central to:

* Staying in power and keeping things under control

* Keeping the flow of narcissistic supply (adulation by others, which are like ambrosia to the NP)

* Satisfying the grandiose, entitled self

* Avoiding any shame if their status is not as high in reality as they think it should be

* Minimizing the onerous possibility of having to concern himself with your needs.

A Few Examples from Partners

* "He lied consistently about his earnings even in the face of documentary evidence."

"* She told me she had cancer when she didn't."

* "He lied consistently for at least a decade regarding fidelity. He used gaslighting techniques to convince me that I was imagining 'missing' condoms from packs in our bedroom."

* "She denied verbal abuse, telling me that, 'I never called you names when anyone else was listening.'"

* "He refused to say where he was going, where he had been, or when he intended to return home--even when doing so was simply to facilitate normal family life-mealtimes, etc. His most oft-used sentence was 'That'll never be known.'"

* "He lied about his history of dyslexia, even when it would have helped our sons with the same problem."

* "She said she had a night class when she went to a hotel weekly with another man."

So how can someone consciously lie like this? NPs have no empathy. They require narcissistic supply--what's a little lie when your very survival, is at stake? And besides, they think, rules apply to other people. Under these circumstances, telling falsehoods is probably uncomplicated and effortless. Watson says, "Overall, their frank manipulation of others may be part of a 'by hook or by crook; mentality to accomplish their goals."

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