#AND MY MOM DIDN'T CHECK MY COMMUNICATIONS GRADE

[koka-mi]

IT'S THE WEEKEND LET'S GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

[beemovieerotica]

hey can you tell me how you got tested for OCD and/or started to think you had it?

yeeeess so it was literally 2018 when i was like "hm maybe i have OCD" to my therapist (who was not specialized in this) and she did not disagree with me and everything kind of clicked in that session between us when we both simultaneously realized a lot of my behaviors could be explained that way.

the hardest thing was that i'd already been diagnosed with generalized anxiety so like. "yes i obsess over conversations i've had or will have and repeat things over and over in my head" "yes i constantly check to make sure things are okay" "yes i hyperanalyze and hypercriticize myself" all got wrapped up in that.

i think the behavior that i actually brought up with that therapist that precipitated the realization was i started vacuuming a corner of my room repeatedly like over the course of several weeks, every day. just obsessively vacuuming this corner because i kept finding tiny cat litter crystals there from a previous tenant. i'd be literally picking it out of the carpet with my fingers with my head parallel to the floor just staring and trying to find these things for like an hour at a time. colossal waste of time. but it was "important." and i was finally like...THIS is excessive, right?

but i do a lot of things that are the opposite of "classic" OCD which confused me for YEARS - like i genuinely have such poor food hygiene and don't care about bodily fluids, i love touching sticky things, my personal things are poorly organized, my room was always a mess, etc etc.

i got officially evaluated when i went in for the psilocybin study (beginning of this year) where i met an OCD specialist for the first time who did this complete battery of questions with me. there were things i never realized were OCD for me:

very obsessed with parasitic insects and constantly checking for bedbugs and fleas even when i have no reason to suspect these things

constantly re-reading everything i write. 5x. 10x. saying whole sentences over and over in my head. the sentence is fine, i didn't make a mistake, but i just have to keep reading it to be 1000% sure.

rubbing my scalp a lot and pulling out random hairs on my legs, eyebrows, eyelashes

over-explaining so fucking much to be absolutely sure i'm not misunderstood or that someone can read bad intentions into what i'm saying. "predicting" conversations and anticipating entire lines of questioning and how i would defend myself. lol.

intrusive horror film-esque thoughts

being terrified as a child that i would be possessed by a demon if i yawned too wide - i had other extremely irrational superstitions that i would force on myself and try to live by for no reason, these started at like age 10

obsessions around my health (orthorexia, i've ping-ponged between various diets like vegan / gluten-free / vegetarian thinking that it would help me)

only ever felt normal when drinking. like i could just let go of the compulsions and anxiety while drunk.

it was really hard to even parse a lot of this out being 1) already anxious, 2) raised very religious, and 3) BOTH my parents and my older sister have OCD, so all this was just normal!! my mom also pulled out her hair. my mom and my sister also had eating disorders and very weird attitudes around medicine. superstitions and moral scrupulosity were encouraged in our community. i had no reason to think that any of this could all be linked back to an actual disorder.

i really wish i'd had intervention at least a decade or more earlier. this started when i was in grade school at least. it sucks. so much of the public perception of OCD is centered on the classic symmetry / cleanliness / hand-washing shit. it did not help that my family loved watching Monk when i was growing up so i was like "oh, i'm not like THAT" and never questioned it.

i think(?) i might go to the big OCD conference happening in the states next year, not sure, but i really want to talk to people about psilocybin. idk let me know if you have any other questions, i'm still processing a lot of this.

[halimpark7]

I want to touch you

Hold your sweet face

Let you rest your eyelids

Lightly kiss them.

Pet your beard.

With my cheeks.

Slow dance with you.

Rest my head

On your chest.

---------

Will you help me heal

Everything I've been through?

---------

When I was 12

I went to April's house

And her brother 19

He would wrestle with me.

----------

He would open my legs

Press his body

Into me.

And shove his fist

And blade of his hand

Into my jeans.

Pushing up into me.

----------

Grind me into the ground

Into submission

Wrestling.

And his sister

Would watch us

Talk to us. Watching.

as he would dry rub

Grinding

manhandling

me.

-----------

I would get

So aroused.

-----------

This happened for 1 month?

I don't remember.

I just was so horny.

From all the

Pressure.

---------

I wanted to know

How to get more.

---------

This feeling has to go

Somewhere

Better. How do I do it?

---------

April was in 8th grade

I was in 7th.

We were in the same youth group

My father changed churches and communities often.

Running away from fucking his best friend's wife

Running away from breaking up a marriage. Korean people don't divorce. They just suffer.

So like a town change, I was in a new church.

---------

April and I were fast friends.

---------

We would go to the mall, to look around and meet hot guys.

We would find the them. 17year old what's his name in a new Jaguar.

Hot guys.

Hanging out at the corners. Standing out

But blending in.

---------

We were lucky one weekend

and we found best friends.

---------

I was fooling around at church on the weekends, too. My dad wasn't the only one. I was 11 turning 12. I spent every chance I could with a boy, Kevin. Korean Colorado family summer retreat giving handjobs and blow jobs in the back of the van to and from Iowa, while everyone was sleeping. On the way to Colorado and on the way back to Iowa.

I saw my first exorcism during that retreat. My mom followed me around taking me away from my friends. We went white water rafting. I don't remember anything but the exorcism and the boys I was flirting with.

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

Kevin let me touch his dick. I thought I could massage it by squeezing it up and down like it was a massage... It was big in my hands.

My dad's eyes silently, angrily watching from the driver's rearview. Everyone else was sleeping.

We would find each other at our makeshift church. An apartment complex seeking to raise funds to rent a building. I would take all the money I had and donate 10% every week, from my savings, all in cash. I didn't understand you just donated 10% from your earnings, not continuously from what you currently had... My dad just let me. While he took my money folded it up and put it in the pastor's pockets.

The same pastor that thought I was spoiled. Who didn't care my father was abusive to his family. The children were the problem.

---------

My dad and other high donaters got their checks held up and congratulated by the pastor and congregation, checks held up. One by one, they all got a very loud "A-Men" and small applause.

But I gave my cash to my father as he was the youth minister. And he just gave it to the pockets of the "church" no glory for his baby girlfriend.

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

Looking back I wish I wasn't so horny.

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

Everyone at church thought I was the problem, they didn't care my father was beating me. Stealing from me. The money I had to manipulate out of my parents stingy fists and fingers.

I was just "spoiled". The slutty girl who wore too much eyeliner

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

TBC.

Support me!

Cashap-halimpark7 venmo HaLim-Park PayPal hapark7

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

[fiveraccoonsinatrenchcoat]

Vincent Van Babe-Magnet

Eddie Munson x f!reader

Description: You run into an old childhood crush, and Eddie befriends a family of very dapper rodents.

Warnings: None! Other than the fact that this is very silly.

Word Count: 1956

My Masterlist!

"Why does it feel like this is going to be way harder than we thought?" Staring at the giant canvas drop stretched across Stage B in the Hawkins Community Theater building, you sighed.

Though you never would have believed it possible, it seemed as though Eddie's deep rooted nerd nature had extended to Dustin even more so than it already had: he convinced the kid to go do tech for the theater's spring musical, a production of Sweeney Todd. 'Just check it out, see if you like it,' Eddie had said.

Turns out, Eddie had been correct in thinking Dustin would like it.

How that somehow meant you two had to get roped into it too is beyond you, but nevertheless, there you stood on this Saturday afternoon in your nicest-worst overalls, eyes scanning across the project in front of you. Eddie seemed ecstatic; he had been in the school's musicals as a freshman and sophomore, until his grades started to slip and the school stopped letting him audition. You, on the other hand, thought the idea of performing on stage in front of the entire school and everyone's grandma (so, really, half of the whole town) seemed downright horrifying.

"Guys! Hey!" you heard Dustin call from behind you. "Thanks for doing this, seriously. We are, like, majorly short-handed right now."

"No worries, dude," Eddie assured him. "It'll be fun!"

You nodded with enthusiasm,. though the very large and nearly blank canvas in front of you had you worrying. Dustin and Eddie started on one of their many semi-nonsense sounding conversations as you turned away to look for someone who seemed like they might be in charge. You quickly spotted a familiar face (or rather, familiar back-of-head), which alleviated some of your nervousness.

"Mr. Jesperson," you greeted as you walked up behind the currently crouched over a small mountain of paint buckets. "I didn't know you'd be here!"

"Oh! Hey," he responded. He pushed himself off of the ground and was about to shake your hand, before he realized he had planted it right into a puddle of mucus green paint and pulled it back to wipe it across his jeans. They looked like they could be their own art piece, with how many paint smears and splatters littered the acid washed fabric. "Haven't seen ya in ages. Wouldn't'a pegged you as the performance arts type."

"I'm not, really. Eddie, he wanted to help, but I was coerced," you clarified and gestured to your boyfriend behind you, who seemed to have gotten into some kind of very dramatic debate with Dustin and another boy you hadn't met before. "Dustin said you guys really needed it."

"Yeah, that kid can be very persuasive," Mr. Jesperson said with a laugh.

"I'd say more like 'unendingly stubborn and mildly vindictive,' but yeah, persuasive works too."

Mr. Jesperson was one of the art teachers at Hawkins High. He'd only started during your sophomore year, but he quickly became a favorite among the student population. He was one of the youngest faculty members, he wasn't evil like his predecessor had been, and he was an out-of-towner. He had moved to Hawkins from Chicago to take care of his grandmother after his mom passed away unexpectedly, which meant he hadn't fallen prey to all of the gossip that spread through this town like wildfire: I.E. he never had it out for Eddie. In fact, he quite liked having your boyfriend in class, and Eddie actually liked being in them. He was, by far, the best teacher he had ever had.

Eddie and Dustin were done with their debate, and Eddie sidled up to you. He tossed an arm around your shoulders before pointing his attention towards your former teacher.

"Jesperson!" he exclaimed. He had a tendency to forget how loud he could be. "Dustin said you might be here."

"It's good to see ya, Eddie," Mr. Jesperson said with a nod. "How's the band going? Haven't heard anything bout you guys in a while."

"Jeff moved for school." Eddie said morosely. "Tried to figure it out, but it's looking pretty dead in the water."

"Aw, man. Sorry to hear that," Mr. Jespersen said as he crouched back down onto the black stage floor. "I'm sure you'll find something else, though. You've got more musical talent in your pinky than I have in my whole body."

"Eh, we'll see," Eddie did his best to deflect the compliment, but you could practically feel the blush inching its way towards his cheeks. You leaned just a little bit closer into him as you opened your mouth to ask how the two of you could help, before a crash in the wings interrupted you. Mr. Jesperson let out a sigh and brought a hand to the bridge of his nose. It left a little pink fingerprint right between his eyebrows.

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” he murmured. “Let me go make sure no one died. Or destroyed any more of my props.”

“Any more?” you prodded.

“Yeah, you can ask your friend over there about that,” Mr. Jesperson stood back up again and shot a glance towards Dustin, who was paying zero attention to what was happening and seemed much more interested in the gadgets he was messing around with. You and Eddie shared a look and tried to stifle your giggles. “You guys get started on this. Everything’s already drawn, all you gotta do is fill in the colors.”

“What colors do you want?”

“All the sketches are over here, you can follow the ones on those if you want to, but they’re not set in stone or anything. I trust you two.” Mr. Jesperson turned away from you two in a rush, and you heard him call as he walked away, “Matthew, I swear to god, if I have to fix that chest again, I’m locking you in it overnight!”

You and Eddie weren’t able to contain your laughter much longer after that. 

“I’m finding Dustin after this and making him tell me what he broke,” you stated as you sifted through Mr. Jesperson’s sketches. “I bet it was something expensive.”

“Should I be worried about him?” Eddie asked with a smug grin. You met his gaze with confusion. 

“About Dustin?” you questioned. “What do you mean? Kid’s having the time of his life over there.”

“No, not Dustin,” he clarified. “About Mr. Dreamboat.”

“Oh, God,” you groaned with an eye roll. “I really wish I hadn’t told you about that!”

“You’re the one who's in love with him!” Eddie teased. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I get it, I really do, but I feel like I might need to be a little bit concerned!”

“I am not in love with him!” you defended yourself, the sinking weight of embarrassment settling itself in your gut.

“Tell that to 15 year old you,” he said with a laugh. “I bet you she’s in there somewhere, probably drooling over his paint stained clothes and muscley arms.”

“I’m going to actually kill you,” you said, wielding a paint brush as if it were a knife. 

“Nah, you won’t, you like me too much.” Eddie grabbed a paint tray and a few brushes, and planted himself at the bottom left corner of the canvas. He was quiet for a moment as he started spreading brown paint within the outline of a small family of rats tucked into the corner of the scene. “Not as much as you like Vincent Van Babe-Magnet, though.” 

You let out a groan, but joined him by his side with your own paint and brushes anyway. You knew he was just teasing you, that any jealousy you might pick up from him is all fabricated. Besides, you knew for a fact that he had been head over heels for his freshman English teacher in ninth grade. 

The pair of you worked on your own little sections in relative silence, eventually sharing your paint trays with each other and occasionally asking for the other’s input on the shading or details of whatever it was you were focused on. While you were making a pretty solid amount of progress, Eddie had been pouring all of his attention of the last hour into the rat family, which now all had little eighteenth century outfits, complete with tiny silk tophats and lace parasols. 

“Eddie, I don’t think the rats in seventeen-eighty-whatever London were going to the tailor,” you said to him. You had now moved a few feet down the canvas, but you still had a good view of Eddie’s rodent noblemen. 

“You don’t think they're handsome?” he asked you, feigning offense. 

“They’re a very stylish family of rats, I’m just not sure if they really fit into the story all that well.”

Eddie let out a dramatic gasp and clutched a hand to his chest. He leaned down closer to the canvas, speaking to the painted rodents as if they were real and also understood English. 

“Don’t listen to her, guys. You belong wherever you wanna be!” he less-than-quietly whispered into the still wet paint. He turned back to you with that mischievous glint in his eyes that you didn’t think you could ever stop adoring. “Apologize. Right now.”

“Eddie.” Any other day you would have absolutely played along, but it was starting to get late and your back was aching from being crouched down on the ground.

“Not to me,” Eddie said. “Apologize to Ralexander.”

“Ralexander?”

“Yeah, and his wife MargaRat, and their children Ratbitha and SebRatstian.”

“Oh, my god.”

“Ralexander is a member of Parliament.”

“Ralexander, I am truly sorry,” you said, though you could barely keep a straight face while you did. “MargaRat, may I say, you look beautiful tonight.”

Eddie brought his ear to the canvas and nodded along to the imaginary rats’ words.

“MargaRat says thank you, but Ralexander feels as though you’re trying to make a pass at his wife.”

“Eddie, I love you, but can we please go home?” you asked. Eddie stood up and stretched with a face splitting yawn. the tiniest sliver of his tummy peeked through the gap left between his waistband and ripped up t-shirt.

“Yeah, I think I’m starting to go a little bit insane,” Eddie said.

“Starting?”

“Ha, ha.”

You helped clean up and said a few goodbyes (turns out Dustin knocked over and shattered a lamp on the second day he was there), including a very awkward interaction with Mr. Jesperson in which Eddie kept hinting towards you childhood crush, though thankfully it seemed as though your former teacher remained oblivious. 

 The pair of you were just five or so minutes into the drive back to your shared apartment when you started to nod off in the passenger seat. You were trying as hard as you could to keep your attention to what Eddie was saying, but it was late and you could feel the exhaustion slowly overtaking you.

“Dustin said they’re gonna do Rocky Horror for Halloween,” Eddie told you. You were much too sleepy to respond beyond a hum. “I kinda wanna audition.”

“You should,” you mumbled.

“I bet ya if we moved to L.A. I would make a great movie star,” Eddie stated.

“We’re not moving to L.A.,” you grumbled. “We don’t have any money and L.A. is expensive.”

“Well, my mad acting skills and rugged good looks would make up for our lack of funds,” he explained, as if it would be that simple. “I’d star in some blockbuster action-horror flick and make us millions.”

You were barely awake when you mumbled out an agreement, almost drowned out by the hum of the van's engine and the quiet music playing through the speakers.

“Yeah, you would."

[sunny6677]

KIND OF A RAMBLE ABOUT MY EPIC S/I??? MORE LIKE A FUN FACTS KINDA THING.

General facts about the S/I in this:

- She was trying to sleep one night after a long stressful argument with her mom and her half sisters father—and was just generally stressed because of her grades and her conflicted self image. That was at least until she heard a strange noise coming from outside. And saw a flashing orb of light. She decided to tell her mom, who went to take a look—but the next thing Sunny knew, there was suddenly the sound of her mom yelling and a bright flash of light that sounded as if it were bursting into the house. She went to go check on her mom—only for a portal to suddenly appear and casually suck her in. Which is how she ends up in the past, and on Odysseus' ship.

- When she first appears, I imagine the crew either finds her because they heard a loud noise on the ship, or Eurylochus (accompanied by Odysseus) ends up finding her inside of the ship somewhere. But the thing is they speak Ancient Greek, so neither of them understand what she's saying (then again she's just kind of quiet in general to the point where they almost think she's mute at first), and she doesn't understand a word they're saying either. But they do kinda find a way to communicate by just making gestures at her and stuff, and she eventually (and slowly) learns Greek from being around them for so long.

- Sunnys design changes over the course of the series—mainly from different injuries or different gifts certain deities give to her (Hermes mainly, but Calypso also gives her something because she forcibly adopts Sunny as her and Odys daughter—that is at least if Sunny ends up meeting her, but either way I can imagine Hermes straight up takes her away from the Island at some point and causes her to 'mysteriously' go missing).

- Sunny kind of did know who Hermes was in a way, but she didn't realize what Hellenism was in this universe and thought the deities were just her 'imagination'. Which is why she doesn't recognize Hermes when she first meets him, but does have the odd feeling he looks strangely familiar.

- None of the deities are trying to kill Sunny or anything, but they have legimately no idea how she got here at first, so the story consists of Zeus and Poseidon all trying to take her so they can give her to Hades and have him figure out what to do since she's not even supposed to be alive yet. While Hermes is actively and continously trying to take her with him because.. welllll I mean one of his worshippers is here and it's one who he literally sees as his daughter, and he doesn't want bad things happening to her, so that's why he keeps trying to take her. But he does agree to stop after a while since she needs to get home and he can wait another century if needed because he's a God and time doesn't go as slowly for him as it would a regular mortal.

- Aphrodite and Apollo also know who she is because she worships them too—and they are happy that she's here, but Aphrodite is of the opinion that she should get back home and Apollo kinda doesn't care either way since he's just happy that she's here. And she also worships Zeus in the future but he's STERNLY determined that she should get back home and kinda chases her around for the whole story.

- Odysseus, Eurlyochus, Polites and all the other members of the crew are very nice to her since she's just a young girl and they all try to take care of her the best they can. But they legimately have no idea why she's here and think she must have been from where they fought their war and just happened to sneak on to avoid being hurt. Which they obviously don't decide to hurt her despite thinking she's from where they just fought since she's just a child and had nothing to do with what happened. And they also don't know why she's dressed up like that because this is in older times and rarely anyone in Greece dressed like that. But they end up realizing what actually happened when Zeus goes to confront them and tries to take Sunny during Thunder Bringer, only for her to somehow end up falling from his grasp again and end up washing up on Calypsos Isle with Odysseus for a bit. But I can't decide if she does that or if she should be taken by Zeus only for Hermes to show up and take her.

- Polites was the best with Sunny when he was still alive and often tried to make her happy despite their circumstances.

- Circe does probably know who she is because of Hermes?? It's more probable that she doesn't know though since she hasn't spoken to Hermes in a bit most likely. But either way she likely doesn't hurt Sunny directly since thats a child and she probably just makes the nymphs take her away. Or just straight up kicks Sunny out.

- Maybe Aphrodite and Apollo would also try to help Sunny?? Unsure.

Hermes' and Sunny's relationship:

- If their first direct encounter is during the Circe Saga for this AU, I imagine Sunny is possibly left on her own or just with Odysseus at some point. But I think maybe Odysseus should just go to get something while Eurlyochus is off with the other men—only for Hermes to suddenly show up after giggling and making her confused as fuck as to where he is. And after finally appearing to her, she doesn't know how to react because he seems oddly familiar in a way, only for him to softly greet her after giggling and possibly pulling her into a hug. He's incredibly friendly toward her the entire time and is.. strangely gentle despite his normally cheeky nature??? He's still kinda playful but he's very obviously just happy to see her.

- I can't decide if Hermes should literally just start following Sunny everywhere after the Circe Saga and be basically present for everything she encounters. Or if he should just only appear sometimes. Or if he should technically be following her the entire time but she can't tell that he's there and only knows of his presence when he makes himself visible.

- Hermes has a shadow cast over his eyes like most designs, but with Sunny, he'll sometimes reveal what his eyes actually look like—mainly when he's being more genuine with her or if he's trying to comfort her in some way.

- I imagine Odysseus at least somehow finds out about Hermes and Sunnys whole dynamic.

- Whenever Sunny is upset, Hermes typically appears to comfort her, and it usually works since he's very soft with her especially.

- Hermes is so affectionate with Sunny to the point of practically hugging her anytime he sees her, patting her head, giving her little platonic pecks on the face, holding her hand sometimes if she needs it, sometimes letting her sit in his lap and even cuddling her. And he also treats her like she's younger than she actually is sometimes (in a good way of course since he's just trying to be gentle/lh).

- Hermes calls her 'Sun' 'Sweetie' 'Darling' 'Dear' 'Dearie' 'Little Messenger' 'Little Thief' 'Little Writer' 'Honey' all as nicknames hrhdhs. And I imagine maybe when Sunny becomes more comfortable she treats him like he's her dad lol.

- I imagine Hermes also maybe sometimes shows up just to distract her or maybe just do something with her (like play a game or smth/lh).

[crvstybowlofcereal]

(hey moots, this one's gonna get a little personal about me, avert your eyeballs)

Dear 13 year olds (and surrounding ages, ie 12-15 or whatever)

Being your age IS hard, and I'm so sorry people try to brush it off and say you "don't know anything about adult problems and stress"

They just Forgot what it's like to be your age.

12-15 was the Worst time in my life, and no one took me seriously.

From 11-14 I was bullied and I couldn't even figure out why. It was like the entire school (minus like a handful of people) were out to get me and my friends.

When I was 13 I was being cyberstalked by pedophiles.

When I was 13/14 one of my friends tried to pressure me into dating him (despite knowing I'm gay), he told many many lies, and even tried to threaten suicide.

I had friends going in and out of the mental hospital during middle school, and we didn't have reliable communication so they would just be gone from school and I didn't know if they were okay.

Puberty caused me a lot of problems, including but not limited to gender dysphoria, body dysmorphia, and my sensory disorder severely worsening (I couldn't make it through the day without a meltdown, and God forbid you melt down in front of middle schoolers, so i would hold it in all day and go home and SOB)

I had my heart broken at 12, but who takes it serious when you're that young?

My grades fell from As for the first time ever when I got to middle school, and my parents got mad at me for it (today they would deny that statement, but I carried it with me)

From 12-16 I was in the depths of an eating disorder

I had so many loved ones in my life passing away, and no one really checked up on me.

The one opportunity I had to see a therapist, my mom wanted us to talk about my "anger issues"

Your peers expect you to have independence and expensive things like clothes (at least mine did) while you have no license and no job. God forbid you grow up poor I guess.

You're becoming aware of the world for the first time, the social and political climate, the push to be perfect in every way, and you really become aware of all the ways you don't fit in, or aren't "good enough"

At this age especially they want you to act like an adult while being treated like a child.

So I am so sorry you're having to deal with so much and people think it's funny when you say so. You are always welcome to vent to me if you need a shoulder to cry on. Because i Remember being your age. You are not alone.

[catrakomtrikru]

You know, since I'm on the topic of personal trauma and music saving me have another post. This is going to be a long one.

When I was in my mid 20s my mom got sick and went to the hospital. She almost died. And it might not be shocking after my last post but dad and his side of the family were no help. They didn't even want to take me and my brother to see her. I wasn't working yet and couldn't drive. And my brother has some mental health problems that make it hard for him to do either.

Well fast forward and she comes home but we ended up moving to a cheaper place because now money is tight. One night I'm at work, I was doing security at some apartments and I get a call. It's mom saying she got thrown in jail because the tags on the car were out. We end getting the bail money a few days later but now we have no car. Which makes it harder for me and mom to get to work. We mostly ate of my brother's ssi money. And guess what? We end up losing the house too.

So now we're staying with this other family in a falling apart house that smells like dog shit. We knew them because I went to first grade with the older daughter and mom and her mom stayed friends. While there we had no privacy, people were having sex where everyone could see and one night the mom's boyfriend attacked me.

The next day my older brother and his family drive three hours to come get us. This was in 2020. I'm still living with them, and I don't plan on moving. I did end up going through a shitty break up and I git sexually and otherwise harassed by a coworker. And after everything that happened it was a lot on my mental health. I felt like I'd never get better.

So to help with the feelings one day I'm just on YouTube listening to music and this cover of misery business shows up. I check it out and it's really good. I took up the singer and it turned out she was in a band, and they're local.

So April of 2023 I go see this band play at pop punk nite and I get to meet the girl, her name is Chaney. She was so sweet and she's still sweet to me now. We stayed in touch over Instagram and have seen each other several times since meeting last year.

Through her I've made sooo many other amazing friends too. I'm pretty much friends with all the local bands in the scene now, they all hug me and sometimes give me free staff. I had one guy message me asking for the videos I took at his show the other night and posted one on Instagram. And they always dm me asking me to go to shows.

The first House parties, Chaney's band went on tour I went when they had their hometown show and she literally ran to me, jumped on me, and threw her arms around my neck. I caught her and hugged her back. She also recommended the shop I got my most recent tattoo at.

But yeah, this community saved me and gave me a family I needed. I love them ❤️

Here's some pics of me and some of my favorite people.

Photo credits in case you want to check the bands out.

1. Me and Chaney from House parties

2. Me, Jarrett and Zak from offended by everything.

3. Me and Colton from waiting 4 April

(I'll check for typos tomorrow)

[novadreii]

How did you *know* you were definitely done, like what is the exact cut off point? Is it just when you recognize prior patterns of abuse? I struggle so hard with this because I want to believe that people are capable of change. And I myself have struggled with my own baggage and abusive behaviour, so I want to give people the benefit of the doubt that I wish for. Hope this isn't weird to ask.

hey, not weird at all.

primarily, i felt like they employed certain tactics to punish me when i wasn't "behaving" the way they wanted me to. they usually liked to stonewall, gaslight, ignore me, invalidate me, and straight up play dumb whenever i tried to voice any kind of emotional distress. my mom would do all of these + rage and hit me, so it took me a while to make the connection between my ex and my mom just because he didn't physically abuse me. but they are both deeply emotionally childish and have narcissistic tendencies.

there was simply no love, guidance or tenderness emanating from him anymore, where those things once flowed from him in spades. it was very clear that he didn't deem me worthy of any basic respect once i lost romantic value to him.

i was ultimately done when:

i realized he had zero intention of changing of fixing anything because he refused to communicate a specific plan to do so. he would claim he loved me (words) but fail to back it up with action. so it wasn't just a temporary problem that he was trying in good faith to fix like i was doing with my issues. he was just LIKE this and it was understood i would have to deal with it.

i realized he had never issued me any kind of remorseful apology and didn't intend to. he hated accountability and apologies with a fucking vengeance. i've never seen anyone besides my mother so averse to apologizing. red fucking flag. this man watched me suffer at his hands for months, knew i was suffering from immense and debilitating anxiety that i was doing everything in my power to control, offered NO assistance, curiosity or care (didn't ask me ONCE in the last few months of our relationship a simple "how are you?"), and never sincerely apologized for it. i actually did get one written peudo-apology ("IF you feel i have wronged you, then i am sorry" everyone learned in the 5th grade that qualifiers have no place in a true apology) and one verbal one ("okay, i'm sorry!" in the exact tone that a petulant teenager uses when not having done his homework and he is not sorry one little bit for it) and they obviously did not count at all. there was no feeling behind it. no empathy. no remorse. just...annoyance? like ugh, this needy bitch demanding that i coddle her again, gross. let me shut her up.

subsequent to the above point, he felt JUSTIFIED in his treatment of me and would never truly feel sorry because of that. he was very performatively moral - this is a guy who goes to a climate rally once every few years and thinks he is the reincarnation of christ striking down capitalism with the radical left because of it. he sees himself as the quintessential Good GuyTM, always TALKS about how good and nice he is, and i came to realize that this identity is rock solid in his eyes---he believes so resolutely in his innate goodness that i know he will never be able to truly introspect and realize that actually, he is capable of harm. we ALL are. we all possess light and dark and it's our responsibility to keep the dark in check, not just try to convince people we are all light. but he cannot and will not conceive of himself as capable of hurting others, so he will continue to do so.

we tried to be friends after breaking up, but he actually continued treating me with the same disdain afterwards. especially with the use of ignoring and talking down to me like i was a fucking child when he didn't like something i said or did, instead of just like. communicating. like an adult. he continued just evading and shutting me down instead of giving me any kind of explanation or closure that i felt i was reasonably due after wasting nearly 3 years of my life and moving to the other side of the country for him.

SO. i actually pulled a rather brilliant manipulation tactic on him towards the end that i don't think he was even cognizant of. he always considered himself rather superior to others and like a chess wizard moving the people in his life around like pawns on a board, which was a huge ick to me lol, but i took a leaf out of his book for once.

i explained to him that in order to be friends, i needed him to really, properly apologize to me, something i was 99.999999% he would never ever do even if he lived to be 1000 years old. if he didn't, we couldn't be friends. this had a 3-fold purpose:

for me, getting an apology is not about my ego. i couldn't care less about being groveled to. it's a test of someone's character. my abusive mother never ONCE apologized for her abuse of our entire family; she hated apologies just as much as he did. apologies demonstrate to me 4 vital traits that i consider to be MUSTS for anyone in my inner circle: maturity, humility, bravery, and integrity. apologies are humbling and hard and they feel like shit especially when you know you are fucking wrong. but truly decent people with backbones know when they are in the wrong, they know the value in making reparations, and they aren't scared to do so. their moral compass exceeds their cowardice.

i was pretty confident that the person he'd revealed himself to be didn't truly posses any of the above 4 traits. but i wasn't sure. i had seen him be so kind and decent on so many occasions that my judgment felt clouded. if he didn't have those traits, then his pride/ego/cowardice would never let him actually apologize, and i would be absolved of having someone like that in my life because he did me a favour and removed himself from it.

BUT on the chance that i was wrong about him and he DID sincerely apologize and make things right, then i would know i had judged him too harshly, or maybe he'd gone to therapy and did some DEEP inner work on himself. this is the only point at which i would be comfortable calling this person a friend.

i consider this brilliant because it ultimately left the decision regarding the nature of our relationship in his hands. friends or strangers? i was so tired of trying to ascertain for myself what kind of person he was and getting mixed signals because of how hot and cold he ran all the time (one of his manipulations). i left it completely in his hands because i was just exhausted. i didn't want the cold, indifferent, aloof version of him in my life. i wanted the soft, kind, vulnerable, brave version that i honestly don't think was ever more than a facade at this point. if it was a facade, then he would never try to make amends. the person i thought i knew would make this right.

i know what you mean. we want to treat others like we want to be treated. all i know is i know my own heart and intention better than anyone. i was also problematic and at times abusive during our relationship. i have PLENTY of my own issues. BUT i never dodged accountability, i apologized sincerely more times than i can count. i FELT deeply terrible. hurting someone i love feels like i'm skinning myself alive, tbh. i went--am still going--to therapy. i know in my heart i genuinely and in good faith did everything i believe was right even when it was hard, even when the shame felt like it would swallow me whole. i sincerely wasn't trying to evade working on my issues like i had in the past. i wanted to do right by this person, and make things right, and this was not reciprocated in the slightest. he was only concerned with himself and what felt good to him, which seemed to include punishing me often.

so no, i don't feel bad, because i gave him every opportunity to self-reflect, go to therapy, and improve things on his end like i was doing on mine. i hung in there way past the point that was healthy for me; i was a pile of shot nerves by the end. but i couldn't carry it for both of us. it was too heavy, and i shouldn't have to. you can give the benefit of the doubt, but when it becomes clear the person is not treating you with equity, respect or good faith, and doesn't ever intend to again, you must believe them.

you cannot suffer indefinitely (or under the illusion that the suffering will be indefinite) for anybody. nobody is perfect, this is what my ex failed to understand. i didn't judge him for being shitty or having trauma or problems. what i couldn't abide was the unwillingness to introspect, take accountability, and grow. that is the only thing that separates "safe" and "unsafe" people to me. the willingness to heal. i have boatloads of trauma myself. but the difference between him and i is that i really want to change in ways that FEEL deeply unsafe and uncomfortable (but are ultimately important) so that i don't hurt people. i know i am capable of being and have been a shitty human and i really don't want to be anymore. i want to do the right thing even when it's hard and doesn't come easily, not just in performative showy ways that don't take much effort.

my ex, who is so entrenched in his copium identity of being someone who is Good and can never do any wrong, just sees me, all of his exes and any friend he's ever lost as The Problem. i remember foolishly believing him, believing that he just had terrrrrrible luck with people! it's easier for him to think this way, because if he was able to actually introspect, think critically about himself and come to terms with the downright dehumanizing ways he has treated others throughout his life, he would feel some icky feelings he doesn't want to feel. he would realize it plays some major part into why he cannot maintain any long-term connections romantic OR platonic, in the loneliness he feels. it's funny because one of his most cherished values is critical thinking; he just prefers to apply it to political analysis (the external) instead of himself (the internal).

to heal, we all have to confront the parts of ourselves we are deeply ashamed of. it feels like ass! and he just isn't ready to do that the way i am. so our paths must diverge, and it was ultimately his decision. my decision was finally enacting a standard for how i will let him--anyone--treat me.

i am sad somtimes, i do miss this person on occasion (or rather, who he led me to believe he was) and i cherish the good memories we had together the best i can. but i know i can no longer withstand neglect, disrespect and cruelty from people close to me anymore. my mind can withstand it more easily than my body can. i feel like i've aged 20 years in this relationship. i feared for my health and had to realize that while i cannot force anyone to change how they treat me, i can remove myself now. i am not a powerless child the way i was with my mother.

it's weird, because i initially started therapy to save my relationship, but therapy is what armed me with the self-love and self-respect to leave it. this irony will never be lost on me.

[brain-damage-culture]

So, this. I was homeschooled, and I will say. I did meet people who had legitimate reasons that homeschooling was better for them. Many had been in public school and were severely bullied, most due to disabilities. I myself was bullied relentlessly and my mom cites that as her reason for pulling me and my siblings out of school. (She was also enamored with the idea of downsizing into a trailer and traveling the country. Yes, with a newborn baby, two audhd kids, a dog, and her crumbling marriage) Here's how that went:

The thing is, I didn't stop being bullied when I was pulled out, I just didn't have any escape from the bullying happening in my home. I went from having a small group of friends and acquaintances and teachers to talk with to only my abusive mother, absent father, struggling little brother, and the baby I was raising in place of my mom. (She slept in the same bed as me for the first 6 years, I fed, bathed, changed, and entertained her)

Occasionally, we would fall in with homeschooling co-ops, but inevitably, drama would happen, and I learned not to get attached. I don't think I could name one single person I met during that time period if you held a gun to my head. The whole traveling the country thing didn't work out, and we went from having a house to camping or renting in small spaces. I was 12 when I started homeschooling, and I stayed at a 5th grade education level for the most part until I was 16. My mom soon stopped having any interest or ability to teach me, so I mostly just read and fucked around all day. It was boring and frustrating, I didn't have consistent access to the internet, and I fought with my family all the time.

My state doesn't require homeschoolers to submit a report card or have the children see a counselor once a year, or really anything. In 2015, my mom gave up on educating me and put me in a dual enrollment program at a community college for high schoolers, and that was what got me finally to something approaching my peers on an education level. It also finally put me in contact with adults who cared about me and wanted me to succeed, professors who checked on my progress and listened to my concerns. A library with an internet connection and nobody watching what books I was reading.

That school saved my life, and I don't say that lightly.

In 2017, a fellow homeschooler in my state was not so lucky. Matthew Tirado was a 17 year old nonverbal autistic kid who was enrolled in public school. His parents were repeatedly reported for child abuse, especially by his sister, until they took his sister out of school completely. Two months later, Matthew died. His sister didn't have any way of contacting outside help anymore, and her brother died because their parents knew that nobody could speak up for him any more.

I remember everyone else's horror, and outrage, and I remember my mom. The woman who had abused me when she knew I had nobody to go. She was scared. Because she still had my younger siblings, and she did not want to face consequences. So many homeschooling parents in my state did the same, and they fought hard to defend their right to abuse their kids. And they won.

To this day, in my state 36% of parents who pulled their child from public school in order to homeschool them did so *after* a Department of Child and Family Services (DCF) investigation revealed that they were abusing their children. That's more than one fourth. Once a child is pulled out of school in my state, there are no requirements accommodations, no therapy, no supports, and no accountability. Homeschool parents willfully practice 'unschooling' or buy curriculums from shady organizations that purport to provide an education that will turn their children into whatever parents want them to be.

Public schools aren't great. We all know this. Neither are private schools, in a different, equally fucked way. But homeschooling with no checks or balances, nobody even making sure the kids are still alive after they're out of the system? It's a level of nightmare I dearly wish nobody had to experience. And I got off so lightly.

Anyway enough lame gifted kid discourse we are in our 20s. Let's talk about how homeschooling in america should be fucking illegal it's insane lol

[shazuiashan]

Hi everyone! My name is Shanly Rose Tiro Casuna; call me "Shan" for short. I am 18 years old. I live in Purok Beauty in the Sky, Timpolok Babag 2, and Lapu-Lapu City. Do you want to know what my life is like? (Chismosa! Char!)) 

So here's the story of my life! Throwback: When I was 6 months old, my papa died because he had leukemia stage 4. He never told anyone that he was sick, not until he always felt that his head was always aching and that all of his body had a lot of black dots, and that was the symptom of his illness. All of my uncle's brothers rushed him to the hospital. When they arrived at the hospital, the doctor checked him and found out that my father has leukemia cancer stage 4, and it is too late to make him heal because it is already stage 4 cancer. All of my uncle's and mama's children cried because of my father's situation. After a week, my father decides to go home because he doesn't want to die at the hospital because there's no chance to live long, he said.

My grandma didn't agree with my father's decisions, but that's what he wanted. My grandma told the doctor that they wanted to go home, and when they got home, my mama always cried because she didn't want to see that my father was suffering. My father loses hope because he says that he will no longer live. My father's situations became more difficult, and he said he wanted to rest because he was tired, but before he died, he told my mom and my uncle's to take care of me, never let anyone hurt me, and love me like their own daughter. After my father said that, he had already closed his eyes. Everyone is crying except me because I don't even know what's happening because I'm just a 6-month-old baby.

Fast forward: after 3 years, my mother found another guy, who is my mother's husband right now. When my mama and her husband lived together in the same house, my life became miserable. My mother's attention was always on her husband. Her husband doesn't want my mother to take care of me; he always says that my tita will take care of me because he wants my mother's attention.

When my mama's husband went abroad, I was very happy because my mama's attention was all mine, but I was wrong. Every time they always do "facetime," my mother's attention is always on her laptop, and mine? I'm just nothing. I always cry when mama and his husband are on "facetime." Every time my mama picks me up, his husband always says, "Put her down." My tita is always there for me, and she is very angry at my mother's new husband. Even though I'm just 3 years old, I already understand the situation.

When I was 6 years old, her husband got home from abroad on vacation for one month. My mama got pregnant for their first son, who is 15 years old now. When I was in 5th grade, I felt something wrong about my mother's husband—the way he stared at me—something was wrong, but I didn't mind it. Until I was in 6th grade, he harassed me. I've had trauma until now; anxiety has always attacked me. I don't want to communicate with others because I'm scared. I'm no longer going to explain this more because it's too complicated.

My childhood is not good; I don't have a lot of good memories of my childhood because I'm always at home, always do the housework, and at a very young age, a 5-year-old Shanly always does the dishes and cleans the house. They don't let me play outside if I can't finish the chores. I always think that it is unfair for me because other kids are playing outside while I'm just at the house. I don't have a lot of toys because they don't want to buy them for me, even Barbie. I always wanted to have a Barbie, but they always say that it's just a waste of money. They can afford to buy some remote controls and robots for my brother, but when it comes to me, it's just a waste of money.

Every time I see a kid like me who has a Barbie doll, I become jealous. How can they have a Barbie doll while I can't? How unfair is that? They have a lot of toys and can play outside, but I can't. But I always tell myself that it's okay; I can play with myself and make my own toys.

Now, I have two brothers, one 15 years old and one 7 years old. I am very grateful that I have them. And I am thankful that they never experienced what I did when I was a kid. Well, we all know that life is hard and challenging. Just always put your trust in Jesus Christ; everything will be alright, and everything will be fine in His name. He will always guide us.

Thank you for reading...

[ohtoburden]

thinking about my dad breaking down crying in the car while driving me to school when he and my mom were separated, and how he said he still loved her.

like, did he?

wouldn't he have listened to her when she talked about how his family was treating her badly? wouldn't he have stepped in? wouldn't he have taken her side in enforcing punishment for us kids when we did something wrong? being the sole bread winner, when you agreed to that dynamic before marriage, isn't enough.

mom had the qualifications to work, she could have done it. she wanted to do it but she thought that if it was with dad, she'd be happy to have kids and be a stay at home parent.

and she cheated on him, because she felt he wasn't there for her emotionally, after all those years. it's it cheating if you don't feel like the relationship is real anymore? if you feel abandoned in it?

i mean personally yeah, it's cheating. have it out with the man and leave him, christ. but also i sort of understand her.

i don't know what kind of love has you so absent from your relationship, so unable to communicate or change or compromise or discuss when possible are first brought up, but then somehow has you break down to your kid about years later.

also man, i don't know what an appropriate relationship with your parents is supposed to be like, but that moment was so baffling. i always thought my parents were ill-matched. that they got into fights all the time. i didn't understand why they'd married. and i was a teenager dealing with so many issues, it just felt so stupid.

like, why are you breaking down to me, 16, currently suicidal, traumatised by your and mom's parenting, engaging in self destruction behind closed bathroom and bedroom doors. what on earth are you doing. what was i supposed to do with that? what was i supposed to do about it? we were on the way to school, for christ's sake. i had just a normal full day of classes ahead. i was 16. what the hell.

and now later as an adult. after my parents finally fully separated. before my dad found someone new to see. him coming to my room at 3 in the morning to check on me, but i'm always awake at those hours, so we end up talking. and we talk about his life and mine but in such a way that i am somehow basically a therapist.

who opens up to their 23 year old about being bullied in grade school, and that they've never told literally anyone else. not his parents, not his siblings, not his friends. how am i the first person you tell about this? that's so sad for him, that it took me for him to finally find someone to open up to. it took me being me, but also him not having a Wife he could pretend everything was ok with. that his lofe was exactly where he wanted it to he.

because as soon as he started seeing his new partner the pseudo therapy sessions with me stopped, of course. as soon as he started seeing her he was fine! i can't remember if i told him about the issues he gave me before or after he started seeing her, but that talk was in the daytime. you know, like a normal conversation. jesus christ.

[hyenadon]

Sometimes I think "hmn, am I autistic or am I just fucking weird?" bc autism explains away a bunch of weird behaviors in my life. But also I just don't fit a lot of diagnostic criteria. In any case though I just remembered a couple cases of me being a Fucking Weird Kid

this is just a personal vent post idk

When I was a very young child (5-6, maybe 7) one of my favorite things to do was organize my family's book collection/library by my own personal like. Organization system. Which has been updated frequently to this day and I think about constantly. When I was v young it was just alphabetical by authors last name. Whatever subject it was, no matter, alphabetical by last name. I distinctly remember crying when family members would put things back on the bookshelf in the wrong place

Over the years this organization system HAS shifted into something more reasonable so when I was living w my parents again I reorganized their bookshelves (they have so many books. They have read 1/3 of them. I dream of that life) and my system was: Classics/books they will never read is top shelf alphabetical by last name. After that it's fiction alphabetical last name. Bottom shelves are reference books: one bookcase is cooking/food/wine, other one is home/garden/repair.

If I ever go home to my parents again I will immediately check those fucking bookcases bc they never put their books back where they goddamn belong. THERES A SYSTEM, GODDAMNIT

I have a very specific system I follow for my own personal library and it's not at all alphabetical by author but it's like. It's. There is a System. Okay. It's a system.

Another game I played was Dictionary. It was a game where I read the dictionary. I was very invested in this. I actually thought it was a fun game and not just me sitting in the corner reading the dictionary aloud to my parents. I loved the dictionary game. If I had a physical dictionary with me right now, I'd still love dictionary game. Maybe this is why I still sometimes read wikipedia articles to fall asleep? Mm, dictionary. My favorite of the A words was Abdicate.

not a childhood thing but when I started having friends that were openly autistic, about 6-7 years ago, I was open w my parents about it and described these friends struggles w communication, eye contact, etc, and my parents were like "...so that sounds a lot like you....do you think.......maybe....you might be autistic????"

oh brian oh sheila. I still have no idea if i am autistic but there is somethin fucked in my brain that shoulda been diagnosed when I was like, ten, at most. It's depression or adhd or autism or somethin the fuck else. But y'all. You missed out on your kid having some serious mental issues. The kind that cannot be fixed with a hug. The brain is broken the brain has been broken since I was a wee little lad.

this isn't a weird kid thing but just like something i'm still mad about after all these years:

When I was little I was hyperliterate. Not even a brag just a fact. I mean I can exemplify this in a few ways but like. I was definitelt hyperliterate. But I wasn't like. Smart smart? if ya know what I mean? Being good at reading and writing doesn't mean you're good at analytical thinking or math or science. But my mom thought that bc I was good at reading/writing I should be in the advanced program at my school. So I tested into the program multiple times and failed multiple times. I think I switched into the gifted program around 2nd grade?

And y'all? I was the worst student in that program. Consistently. I was awful at it. I cried in math class. I was constantly embarassed because everyone around me was smarter and better than me. I wanted to drop out of school, be homeschooled. I have had really bad self esteem issues bc of school since I was so so little.

And when I was like 17 I was going through my old report cards for like. research on a poem I was writing. And I found out I didn't even pass the test to get INTO giftie program. I never passed the test, my mom just called in a favor to someone who worked in admin at the school.

Wouldn't it have just been easier for like....everyone involved? to write up an IEP? I could have been very very happy if I struggled a normal amount in math science etc and just got shifted to another class for reading/writing. I think I would be in a better mental place if that happened, I think I would have learned earlier that like. I don't have to be good at everything.

anyway whatever I should have been asleep two hours ago. gonna make myself some toast and sleep

[andswarwrites]

Day 1

So you want to know what a thousand words looks like and how long it takes to write it?  Read on. 

I remember hearing the groans when our English teacher in Grade 7 told us he wanted us to write a hundred words.  He then wrote out a paragraph on the board and told us: that’s a hundred words.  Up until that point I had counted pages, but he taught us to look at the words, because you can change the font size and make it seem like you have a lot of writing with pages, but numbers don’t lie when you’re counting words.

I've had six English teachers in my life.  Four of them were awesome, and two of them were not.  I have fond memories of English class.  I was taught at home from grades one to six, so my first English teacher was my mom.  She and my dad would bring me to a library that allowed children an unlimited pile of books, and I would take advantage of that.  From the age of three I was an avid reader.  I would come to the check out desk with a pile of books over my head, and the librarians would ask me if I really was going to read all of these books?!

To be honest, I would read about four or five of those books on the trip home.  If I was misbehaving, my mother would threaten me that if I didn't stop, I wouldn't be allowed to read.  There was a series of stories about a community of all sorts of different animals, and it was beautifully illustrated.  This series inspired me to create my own books.  My dad would bring home large sheets of paper from work, which I would fold in two and staple into a book, and then I would make my own illustrations and spin a tale.

When I was old enough to appreciate Otherwise Known as Sheila the Great by Judy Blume, I got inspired to write my own chapter book.  It was thirty-five pages, and I painstakingly colored the pictures.  At age twelve I read my first historical romance: it was Friday's Child by Georgette Heyer.  My mom had a whole shelf full, along with books by Nevil Shute and D. E. Stevenson.  Around that time I fell in love with Anne of Green Gables, as well.  Anne was just as talkative as me.

Of course, my love for historical fiction made me want to write a novel of my own, so that was my one hundred page summer project, which I showed to my English teacher.  The computer on which I wrote that book has long since perished, and I lost my one printed copy, which is just as well, because I am sure it would make me cringe to re-read it.  In my late teens I got an idea for a science fiction novel.  I worked on it but never completed it.  And by Grade 10 my English teacher was once again my mom, and she gave me a project.

Mom told me that I had to write a novel using the old adage to "write what you know".  Up until that point, from the books about animals, to the story of a little sister I wished I'd had, to the romance and the science fiction, my projects had been heavily laced with imagination.  I didn't really want to "write what I knew" at first, because I felt like what I knew was pretty boring and uneventful.  I did have a friend who lived close by, and she and I would hang out a lot.  We had a circle of friends.  I used this as a basis to write a story about friendship.

In my early twenties I hit a rut.  I wanted an original idea, and every time I sat down to write, nothing came to me.  Events were unfolding, however that would lead to my first success with Nanowrimo.  It took three attempts.  I was at home with my six month old baby, and while she would sleep I would write.  Completing that project gave me the confidence I needed to tackle a single sheet of loose leaf I had filled in pencil nearly a decade prior.  It was just the intro to a story, but I couldn't think of how to continue for all that time.

Here's the thing about Nanowrimo: once you figure out how to write a 50K novel in thirty days, it's somehow easier and easier each year you attempt it.  You figure out your own way of doing it.  But in 2021 I decided that in 2022 I would write 365K words in a year: an average of a thousand words a day.  They wouldn't have to be all fiction, but I would also try to write a novel.  This year, I'm writing a thousand words a day, but I'm keeping the fiction goals down to short stories when I feel like writing them.

I do have another idea for a novel.  It seems as though every time I write one, an idea for another takes its place.  It's just that I'm waiting for the idea to fully form in my mind.  You have to be patient with stories.  Sometimes you start one and you have no idea where you are going with it, and you're just along for the ride.  Other times, you've got a few pieces of an idea, and you have to wait to get more pieces to really get a clear picture of what the story will be.

I'm also watching my daughter become a writer in her own right.  She has tons of ideas for stories, she just has to choose one to stick to and complete.  I'm encouraging her to work on one this year, and write it until she reaches the end.  I've also got an idea for a story that we can collaborate on.  My mother is a writer, so my daughter is a third generation writer too.  She's currently reading that novel I wrote in Grade 10, and she likes it.  So, this was a thousand words, and it took me about two hours to write, with a lot of pauses to do other things.  I can’t think of anything else to say for now, so I'll stop here.

[cinefairy]

Y'ALLL!!! when people say that self concept is key they mean: IT. IS. THE. KEY!

here's my success story from focusing on my self concept for a week! just a single week, i am in tears!!

so before, i used to brush off self concept and think that i'll work on it/get a got sc when i get my other desires, which is all wrong. i am so thankful that i let go of the old story, i used to limit myself and wasn't even aware. self concept can easily show you all your desires in the 3d, and then some!! the realisation made my life a 1000x easier.

then i read some posts and success stories that came about all thanks to self concept and i said to myself: that can be me, it is time to stop perceiving myself as a victim/bad manifestor, and i should just start focusing on my self concept! it is time to change the story.

so i started vaunting and ranting and affirming how my self concept is amazing, through the roof, wonderful, perfect, never fails me... you get the story. i didn't even visualize, didn't go into the void, didn't script. i was vaunting in front of the mirror, looking at myself and sometimes pretending i was talking to someone. i repeated that for a week, and almost every day i got some of my desires !!!

now, onto what i manifested:

1. An adorable kitten! my parents never would have gotten me a cat, no matter how much i asked them to, so i just relaxed myself and stepped into the mindset that no matter what anyone in my reality does or says, my desires are here and nothing can stop them. on the second day of the week, my parents asked me if i wanted a cat because my grandparents' cat just gave birth to three cutest kittens.

2. Perfect vision! i am someone who has been wearing glasses my entire life, my sight was deteriorated at birth due to some complications during labor, and my optician told me some years ago that there was no chance for me to be fully recovered (i had a couple of surgeries so far, and constant check-ups, it was so nagging and uncomfortable). she also told me a month ago that i should not use my phone, but nothing can stand between me and my screen time so i just decided to manifest my bad eyesight away! and i did it, but it's weird without my glasses lmao.

3. A new friend group! my old friends were closed-minded people, i am talking unsuportive, bashing on other people, but 'kind' only to others in the friend group, full of negativity and hate. i just needed a fresh friend group, so i manifested one! one of my friends now goes to the same uni as me, we start in october and it's so exciting heheh

4. Fluent in French language! i just wanted to be fluent in a language that wasn't my first language or english, and i had been studying french in elementary school so that seemed like the best option for me.

5. Money! i manifested the amount of my scholarship to double in my bank account and for no one to bat an eye at that, and for a certain amount of money to appear in my wallet daily (yes, spawning thing is so simple with the right mindset!!!), and for my parents to be rich because they deserve it.

6. A perfect dorm room! the dorm rooms my sister had been living in were just not it, so i needed to take thing in my own hands and manifest a two-bed bedroom with it's own bathroom (no communal bathrooms for me pls) in a dorm not far away from college which i share with another friend.

7. Desired body! my figure now is slim, i have 6-line abs odbwkdbajwhj i could only dream of that a month ago, everything on this list makes me so happy!! i went shopping with my mom yesterday and every pair of heans i tried actually fit me which is a big deal for me lol

8. Lenient parents! as i mentioned, my parents were not the ones to let me get a pet, and they also were very strict with my school grades in the past, and with my going out and hanging out with friends. but now, i have a great relationship with them, they are relaxed and they don't forbid me from doing anything (i literally am going on a staycation with a friend this weekend).

9. New clothes! yesterday during shopping, i found so many amazing sweatshirts, even one that is croptopped which i never used to wear, but got the courage to because who else would wear it if not a bad bitch?? i got a denim jacket, some jeans, sneakers... all i need at a discount!!

self concept makes life easy!! asf!! just stay focused on your new reality and there is nothing you can't get! have fun manifesting, and thank you cinefairy for opening my eyes <333

LETS GOOOOO THIS IS SO AMAZING ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ SO PROUD OF YOU ANON WOOW. all these achievements just from affirming how amazing you are.

[to-be-a-rose]

Age 4 (?): I can't read yet but I make a book out of paper and tell my mom what to write on the pages. It's about the tooth fairy or something. When people talk about their relationship with writing they always reference childhood stories like these, and they usually say they "started writing as soon as they could hold a pen," or they "picked up a pen one day and never put it down again," something like that, it always involves a pen, and a precocious vocation for storytelling. I was never too impressed because every kid has the instinct to make up stories, it doesn't mean you're a born writer. (But secretly I think yeah well, I started writing BEFORE I could hold a pen. The pen didn't factor into it at all actually.)

Age 8: I enter a writing contest where the prize is getting your story made into a real book. I wrote a story about a sentient flower in a pot because I had never read a story from the point of view of a flower. I don't win.

Age 10: I love reading even more after I get diagnosed with clinical depression, which feels like when your grandpa died and for the first time you fathom the foreverness of death while standing beside his casket, only all the time. I don't really understand why my brain broke but I do know if I'm reading then it's like it's fixed, as long as I get really sucked into the book. I decide I'll cure myself by reading every single moment I'm awake. It works!

Age 12: Another writing contest, this time everyone in the sixth grade is required to enter. We have to write a short piece (300 words) encouraging people to join the priesthood or be a nun or something (Catholic school). Every middle school in the Archdioceses enters, and I win first prize and have to read my entry in front of all-school mass. I'm given a plaque and a check. My essay goes pretty hard even though I hate church and religion. I wonder if anyone joined the priesthood because of what I wrote, about vocations, a word I only just learned. That would be hilarious.

Age 16: I'm in highschool and writing is my "thing." Everyone pays me to write papers and book reports for them, about $20 a pop depending on the length and subject matter. My motto is "at least a B or your money back!" I brag a lot because I don't have to read the book to do a decent book report. I'm in college level English and French but I'm not getting college credit because I can't pay the fee, so I'm just in there writing people's papers. I love that people think I'm deep and smart because I can write (this is what I think they think of me) even though I don't really read as much as I used to.

Age 20: It turns out I'm a terrible student. Putting words in an attractive sequence isn't so impressive; everyone knows how to do it now. Writing nice papers might help me if I wrote the papers, and went to class. So I'm on academic probation for like five years and trying not to lose my student aid. As soon as I arrived at college the fear of God went through me and I abandoned all notions of being an author. I need to do like, business. Marketing. I'm not going to be one of those chumps with an English degree, no. I'm going to get a degree in Communication! Communication is kind of like writing. It's really broad, I tell everyone, so it applies to lots of fields. They say, what do you want to do with it? I say that's the beauty of it, I can do anything. Marketing. Business. Public Relations. They say, but like what job? What job do you want? I say oh man, the sky's the limit. The future is bright. I'm gonna have my pick of jobs, you'll see.

Age 21: I get it in my head that I want to be a literary sort of writer. Confessional, feminist, slam poetry style writing is very en vogue, especially on Tumblr, so I imitate that. You do a lot of writing in second person perspective because it's provocative. It's all about dragging out my traumas for everyone to consume and it's all a claustrophobic examination of myself. I am the most fascinating person in the world. Nevermind that I never, ever edit anything I write. Nevermind that I don't spend any time reading or examining my craft, because I don't even know what that means. People are gonna read about how I did weight watchers when I was twelve and they're going to love it! I'm basically Lena Dunham but all of the cringe and none of the talent.

Age 22: I have an online job ghostwriting blog posts for law firms, a job I didn't even know existed, and that I don't think does anymore. It's just a side gig really, I'm assigned a few blogs per week for several different law firms, about 500 words, and $8 per blog. They give me topics like Divorce Law and Carseat Recalls and I churn out content. Boring as hell but a pretty sweet gig, and not unlike what I did in highschool. I got the job by submitting a writing sample, an essay I wrote about a Frida Kahlo's Henry Ford Hospital, a painting where she is laying naked in a bloody bed contemplating her miscarriage. My employer said of the writing sample, "the content you write for us will be...different."

Everything is all wrong. I'm very concerned with Being a Writer and not at all concerned about writing. I submit writing to magazines because I desperately want to be published but I never edit any piece, I never try to become better at writing, because I think it's a born-in thing and I was born with it, baby. I never like anything I write. I don't even know what I write about; confessional think pieces that hit all the beats they should but don't actually say anything. I'm putting words in an order I think people will like. I want to be published, I want to be a writer, I want the cool girls in the English department who work at the lit mag and go to poetry readings at the book shop to think I'm cool, too. (There's a huge poetry phase in here too, good God, the poetry. I do a lot of comparing men to cigarettes.)

Age 25: I live at my mom's and I quit my job at the vintage store where I've been working for three years. I took a break from school and haven't graduated. I got a job at the hockey stadium and I quit after two days. I got a job at a bakery and I quit after one. I break down crying to my mom that I just turned 25, I have no job, no degree, and I've done nothing. Something was supposed to happen by this point. Everyone thought I was so smart.

Age 26: I wonder when writing became synonymous with literary and memoir, for me. I wonder when I decided I couldn't be an author anymore. I didn't even try. I never even fucking tried, and I never asked myself what I wanted to write. And I never asked WHY I wanted to write. It's very exciting to realize this. I admit that I fucking hate writing about myself, and about the real world, and all the other imitation vagina monologues schlock I was half heartedly writing.

I dive into my interests and it's an exciting time. I'm going to write a book. As soon as I decide I'm going to be a fantasy author everything makes sense again, it all feels right and momentous. I'm fine, mom, sorry about crying earlier, I was so young then. I get on Tumblr which I abandoned a couple years ago and find a whole new community called writeblr. I start to amass writing friends and pictures of castles and writing tips and advice. I draft a YA fantasy novel about a girl who goes to a boarding school that has been infiltrated by faeries.

Age 27: I've written a book. I scrapped the YA somewhere in the first edit but I'm impressed I even did that; wrote it, and then contentedly put it away. I worked so hard for 120k word that I would never show to anyone, and I was happy because it made me a better writer. A year's worth of craft work. I think it's the first time I've ever worked hard on something, and I wish I was kidding. And it was fun. But I scrap it because I am possessed by a second idea, an adult fantasy novel. Oh yeah, and I go back to school and finish my degree. School doesn't seem as hard now that I found out how to work at something. I get my degree in Communication even though by now I know that I'd rather die than work in public or human relations, or business, or marketing. But the great thing is I get a job at the library and when I'm not showing old people how to use the computer, I read and brainstorm my novel all day long.

Age 28: I've written the adult novel, and rewritten it. I'm basically writing the same book over and over again nearly from scratch. It doesn't seem like this is how I'm supposed to do it but I can't fathom a better way. Now I've definitely worked harder than I've ever worked in my life. I've never been so certain that my writing is dogshit, and trying to make it not dogshit is so fun its like being high. At least half of the time I want to tear my hair out and sob but I'm almost certain that it's going to pay off, and pay off soon.

Age 29: Holy shit, I'm still going. Every time I think it can't get any better, it does, and every time I think it might be kinda good, I blink, and it's shit again. I've written the same book over and over, but now I'm at the point where I'm not rewriting, I'm keeping most of it and editing on the micro level. I say cool shit now like "micro level." Sometimes I get so frustrated I cry, but I'm starting to kind of love my writing.

Age 30: On Thanksgiving day, 2022 I turn 30 years old. It's a big thing, a big birthday, the big three-oh. I have a really magnanimous feeling like I need to reflect and commemorate and mourn my twenties. I figure since it's my writing blog I should do that through the lens of writing, which has been a presence in my life the whole time, some might say, since before I picked up a pen. And I figure it's my blog and big birthday, so why shouldn't I make a long self-mythologizing post in the style of how I wrote in my twenties?

My adult fantasy novel is just about done, and I'm going to give it to someone to read, and then I'll query it. Four years ago if you would have told me I would write intensively for four years to get one functional novel I wouldn't have believed that was a good thing, but now I'm just proud that I'm mature enough to try and hone the craft before rushing to get recognition for it. I do want the validation of publishing, and I want the paycheck even more, but I had no idea it was possible to feel so content in a process. Just looking inward and fucking with something until it makes you happy (that's writing in it's bare bones, fucking with it until it makes you happy.) Writing is continually becoming; when you force your life into a narrative you start saying shit like that so it all seems so prescient and profound, and then the essay can end. I don't think I can get there. There's something in there about vocations and pens that I should use to put a neat bow on this but I can't. I'm just excited. I think I'm going to be okay.

[faghubby]

Beth and I (Andy) had dated all thru high school, we had met in 9th grade on the first day of school and had been together ever since. We had never been apart more then 10 days. When her family had gone on vacation are junior year. That was also the year Beth lost her virginity but not to me. We had gone to a party, I had drank too much and passed out. While Dan, a star basketball player seduced herin one of the bedrooms. I forgave her instantly. Although she thought we should wait until we where married.

"At least one of us will be pure" She cried. I agreed. Over the years I had gotten a few handjobs on special occasions. Beth would let me kiss and fondle her breast and eventually go down on her. Licking her to orgasms. She thought blowjobs degrading and gross.

Now at 22 years old I saved all my money and bought her a ring, as she was graduating from Community College. She had gone out and partied that night with out me.

"Its a school friend thing, you understand don't you?" Shs had told me.

So the next day I could not wait and rushed to her house to ask her.

"Of course I could never see you not in my life" She told me. When we told her parents they where not surprised. Her mom was excited to plan the wedding. Beth could careless about any of it.

"Do whatever mom" She told her. And walked off.

"Andy, you have to talk to her about this" he mom Clair pleaded

"Of course she is just nervous" I told her. And went to find Beth in the barn.

"Aren't you excited to plan the wedding?" I asked her as she fed her horse an apple

"No, you want all that crap so bad you plan it" She told me.

"Beth what is it?" I asked reaching for her.

"Nothing" She sighed. "Really if you want a big wedding like my mom help her with it. I think it will help you to bond" She kissed me on the cheek. The next day Clair called

"Beth has made it clear that she would like you to help me plan this wedding" She stated

"Yeah that's what she told me as well" I told her

"I will pick you up in an hour, I want to show you some locations" She told me. We spent all day checking out venues and went to a nice lunch at the club. We had a great time. When we got back I found Beth sitting on her porch.

"Did you have a nice time with mom?" She asked

"Yes, it was alot of fun. I never realized how funny she is." I told her. Beth hand slid up my leg.

"I am so glad, you enjoyed yourself" She kissed me as her hand slid inside my pants. She stroked me.

"Your so excited. Just looking at venues imagine what flowers will do" she giggled. She didn't finish just teased me. Until later that night alone in the barn. After that everytime I spent time with her mom planning the wedding she would jerk me off after. I always looked forward to wedding plans. One night we sat on my bed.

"Beth you have to go pick out a dress" I told her.

"Why don't you pick it out" She asked

"You have to try it on at least" I begged.

"Take off your pants" She told me. I jumped up and stripped naked.

She took off her boots and jeans and stood before me in a pink thong and a tee shirt. She slid them off. And used them to jerk me off slowly.

"You get so excited about all this wedding stuff, it's like your the girl." She pinched my nipples ever so softly.

"My virgin bride" She teased. "I have to confess" She told me. I just moaned.

"Its been more then Dan" She stated.

"Its OK, I love you and forgive you" I moaned. She slid down and put her panties around my ankles and pulled them up. I even lifted my butt letting her.

"You look so hot in my panties" She told me rubbing me thru them

"You really forgive me?" She asked

"Yes, I love you no matter what" I told her. Just then I came in her panties.

"Well I can't wear them home" She laughed. She snuggled with me I sat wearing her panties. As she snuggled in only a tee shirt. For over an hour.

"Your perfect" She told me getting and sliding on her jeans commando. "Any other man would have taken advantage of me in this position. You where happy to wear my panties" She teased.

"Keep them, where them tomarrow when mom takes you wedding shopping" She rubbed my nipples. And left she sent me two text the next morning reminding me to wear her panties.

Clair and I went to taste cakes. Then had a late lunch.

"Andy, I don't mean to pry, but why are you wearing panties?" Clair asked when we got In the car. "I noticed when you tied your shoe" She added.

"Beth, asked me to" I stated bluntly.

"Oh, and do you like to wear them?" She asked her curiosity taking over.

"I, well " I tried to find words. Clair pulled over.

"Andy, I didn't mean to get you upset, it's really none of my business" She stated taking my hand.

"Clair, it's alright I was just caught off guard" I explained

"Yes, I find it exciting" I told her. She pulled back on the road and found a quiet lot to park.

"I have so many questions?" She blurted out. "And I feel we have gotten close these past few weeks" She told me.

"Claire what would you like to know?" I said

"So do you wear them while you too have sex?" She asked

"Oh, um we don't have sex. Well we haven't had sex. We have done stuff" I told her.

"Never, so your both virgins?" She stated

"No, Beth cheated on me." I told her

"But you stay true" She sighed. "And you wear her panties" She commented. "Ever worn anything else?" I explained how Beth had teased me about being her virgin bride. It was good to talk to someone about all this. We sat for over an hour and just talked.

When we got back, Beth wasn't home.

"Go up to her room and find a sexy pair of panties to wear for her. Just throw those dirty ones I the hamper" Claire told me.

"I can't do that" I told her.

"Sure you can, would you forgive her if she was out with a man right now?" Claire asked. After the talk we had it kind of excited me that I had waited even if Beth had not. So I went upstairs and was surprised at the sexy panties Beth owned. I found a white satin thong with kisses all over them. And slid them on. I got hard. I liked wearing them or was it just that I shouldn't. I went back downstairs to find Claire. I helped her prepare dinner. She tied a floral print apron with frills around me so I would get dirty. When Beth got back she looked a mess.

"It looks like Beth had a good time" Claire teased me. I felt myself grow in her panties.

"Oh sweety, I was over at Mckinney the horses got out" She blurted out surprised to see me.

"That's OK, your mom and I are making your favorite" I yelled as she ran upstairs and showered.

"Go tell her you understand, sweety" Claire told me. "That she needs a man" I opened her door as she was drying herself. She covered herself quickly

"Andy! Don't you knock" She shouted.

"Sorry, Beth" She dropped the towel thinking it silly.

"Beth, I want you to know that I understand." I told her.

"What are you talking about?"

"I had a long talk with your mom, and understand that you need a man. She explained how a woman needs sex" I told her.

"You, talked with my mom?" She looked confused.

"Its OK, I know you need someone to give you pleasure. I not asking you to stop or even mad about it" I explained

"This is what you and mom talk about?" She was still shocked

"I also did something naughty?" I told her

"You didn't sleep with my mom?" Her eyes shot up

"No" I lowered my pants to show her the panties. She approached me still naked and grabbed my balls.

"I was with Bradley" She stated. My dick was rock hard. "I have had dozens of lovers since are junior year." She told me.

"I understand, you needed sex. As long as you love me" I told her.

"More then ever" she kissed me. "Do you want me?" She asked offering me what I have wanted for so long.

"Yes, but I will wait like we agreed" I told her

"You will wait and wear my panties" She teased jerking me off.

"I love the apron too" She laughed.

"Did, Bradley satisfy you?" I asked.

"Do you really want to know?" Beth looked in my eyes, "Yes he did, he always does. He has a nice big cock. Twice as big as this" She squeezed me. And I flooded her panties.

"Do you want a clean pair?" She asked. I nodded.

"Go ahead pick one out" I found a neon green thong and slid it on. I went to put my jeans back on.

"No, here" Beth handed me a pair of her cut off shorts. I put them on an went back to help Claire. The shorts where very tight. And rode up. If I bent over you could of known the color of my panties.

Claire had put dinner in the oven. She took one look at me and smiled. Beth teased me the rest of the evening. When we went to check on the horses in the barn. I figured she would give me a handjob.

"You like wearing my things" she stated. "You look so hot" She pushed me against a stall and kissed me. "You asked if Brad satisfied me? What where you going to do if he hadn't?" She asked " not fucked me with your little pee pee"

"I could have orally pleased you" I whispered

"Eat my dirty used cunt? Nasty boy" She grabbed my ass. "You can go ho,home, and play with yourself thinking about that" She teased. I didn't make it home instead I jerked off in my car at the end of her driveway. Beth had a job interview the next day. But Claire called me to come over.

"Andy, I did some homework. And figure you are a sissy cuckold" She told me when I got there. She showed me all kinds of information on the internet.

"I think you should shave" She told me.

"I don't think I could do some of that" I pointed at the pages I had read.

"Don't have to do it all silly" She told me but I feel Beth would appreciate some. So I went to shave. It took a long time. Soaking in the master tub. That Beth had filled with all sorts of perfumed bath salts. I thought about what Beth had said about eating her after Bradley. I had read about that as well. Did Beth let men cum inside her?. A knock on the door

"I laid out some clothes for you on my bed" Claire called through the door. I finished up and towels off I felt different. Much more venerable. On the bed I found. A full set of lingerie. Panties and a bra. Pantyhose and a dress. I put on the panties and grabbed a robe and went to find Claire.

"Trouble sweety?" She asked.

"I can't wear" She took my hand and led me back upstairs.

"Its OK, drop the robe." She stated. She ignored my hard dick and helped me put on the bra. The panties where not as tight as the others I had worn. I thought to myself. She showed me how to ball up the pantyhose and put them on. Then the simple sun dress.

"How do you feel" She asked

"Very sexy" I told her.

"Good, I have a question, how do you feel about you wearing the wedding dress?" She asked.

"I don't know, what would Beth say?" I asked

"We can ask her" She told me.

"Do you want some alone time?" She looked down at my little bulge in the dress.

"Beth says I should ask her before I do that" I told her.

"Then we better do something to take your mind off it" She grabbed my hand. Again I was given an apron and set about cleaning the house.

"Beth is going to want a clean house when she comes home everyday" Claire told me. She showed me how to do laundry and clean up. When Beth got home I met her at the door.

"Omg, look at you" She was stunned. Claire explained that I was a sissy cuckold. And that I would love to wear the wedding dress.

"By all means, I will find a tux" She told me. "I am going out to celebrate getting the job" She told me. "With some of the girls.......

No that's not true, Brad is taking me to dinner then back to his house" She confessed. Why don't you stay here and help mommy" She patted me on the cheek.

It was Claire that pushed forward with my feminization. She had me style my hair and do my make up. Got my eared pieced.

I made her my maid of honor. Brad was best man. I wore a princess style wedding dress. And took on all the brides roles. Finally are wedding night came. And Beth laid me down in bed. And had me orally please her. Then she pulled out a strap on and after some convincing I agreed to let her try. She fucked me. It hurt but I enjoyed it. I had cum all over my belly. She then slipped cage over my penis and locked it.

"You are my chaste bride. I never want you to know the feeling of fucking. Just being fucked." Everyday of the trip she fucked me. Two or three times. In every position she could think of. She also taught me how to suck her new cock.

When we returned home, all my things where at Claire's my family having disowned me after the wedding. The first night Beth spent the night At Brad's. I became the sweet daughter Claire had always wished for. I took care of all the house chores and cooking. She never had to raise a finger. And twice a week she spent the night in real man's bed. Claire would take me shopping, or get my nails done. While Beth made sure to keep my ass well used.