#Emdr therapist near me

[premierinsightcounseling]

EMDR Psycho Therapists in Peoria - Premier Insight Counseling

Discover professional EMDR psycho therapists in Peoria at Premier Insight Counseling. Our experts specialize in Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing (EMDR) to help individuals overcome trauma, PTSD, and anxiety.

[gec2unow]

thinking of reaching out to this one therapist but ive been to her center once before for a first session w a different therapist there and she was soooo bad i went in like "teehee im so suicidal and off the shits and i dont know what to do ive been out of therapy off my meds and sooooo unstable" and she went cool come back in a week to see someone else im going on vacation. this other one seems good but idk lol

[vdccouncelling]

Is It a Good Idea To Hire EMDR Therapist?

EMDR Therapy Arlington Va has been shown to be effective in helping individuals process and overcome traumatic experiences, negative beliefs, and other emotional disturbances. However, it is not the only effective treatment for trauma or other mental health concerns, and other therapies or treatment modalities may be more appropriate for your specific needs.

 It is important to be in a stable emotional state before beginning treatment. EMDR therapy involves actively engaging with your thoughts, emotions, and physical sensations as you recall traumatic memories or other distressing experiences. It is important to be willing to engage in the therapy process and to have access to an experienced EMDR therapist.

Before hiring Therapists Near Me Depression, research their qualifications and experience to ensure they are qualified to provide this type of therapy. If unsure if EMDR is right for you, talk with a mental health professional to make an informed decision.

[mossistyping]

nickname me Cain because-

[meganbickelcounseling]

Website: https://www.meganbickelcounseling.org/

Address: Georgetown, Texas, USA

Megan Bickel Counseling, led by Megan Bickel, offers individual, marital, and family counseling with a Christian perspective.

About Megan:

Megan, a Licensed Professional Counselor since 2004, is dedicated to supporting her clients' well-being. She facilitates emotional and relational awareness, mental healing, and peace through talk therapy. Megan works with you to identify and clarify issues, explore options, develop strategies, and increase self-awareness.

As a licensed therapist with a background in Cognitive Behavioral Therapy and EMDR therapy, Megan's role is to understand and accept every client while challenging thoughts, behaviors, and beliefs that may be hurting or hindering them. She believes that true restoration requires a heart change and spiritual health. Contact Megan to book a session and start your journey towards healing.

Megan offers the following services:

Individual Psychotherapy: Gain self-awareness and a more accurate perception of life situations to transform your outlook on yourself and others.

Family & Marital Therapy: Find a path to peace for you, your spouse, and/or your family.

Licensed Professional Counselor Supervisor: Megan, licensed for 17 years, provides supervision for novice counselors, supporting their growth in the mental health field.

Linkedin : https://www.linkedin.com/in/megan-bickel-486ab08/

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[heartsbloomtoronto]

EMDR Therapy: A Bridge to Better Relationships in Toronto

EMDR therapy, offered by experienced EMDR therapists in Toronto, serves as a bridge to better relationships by fostering emotional healing, communication, and empathy. As individuals work through their past traumas and emotional wounds, they lay the groundwork for healthier connections with loved ones. In a city where relationships may face unique challenges, EMDR therapy offers hope and transformation, paving the way for more harmonious and fulfilling relationships in Toronto. If you’re searching for “EMDR therapy near me,” consider the profound benefits it can bring to your relationships and overall well-being.

[marysfics]

Shifting Glances

Week after week, you see her in the waiting room.

Angst, Trauma, EMDR, Comfort, Fluff

Note: In this story, you'll find references to EMDR therapy. I’ve undergone EMDR therapy myself for several years, and while it has been challenging, it has also brought me relief. It's important to note that EMDR can be a unique experience for everyone. The way it's depicted here reflects my personal journey. If your experience with EMDR is different, that's completely okay. Feel free to share your thoughts, but let's all remember to approach these discussions with kindness and respect for one another's experiences.

The clinic smells of antiseptic and lavender-scented air freshener, a juxtaposition that somehow fails to be comforting. You’ve gotten used to it by now, the muted tones of the waiting room, the low hum of the fluorescent lights, and the way the receptionists’ voices hover just above a whisper. It’s always the same, except for her.

You glance up from your seat near the corner, fingers nervously playing with the hem of your shirt. She’s there again, across the room—her presence nearly impossible to ignore. She’s sitting with her head tilted down, long blonde hair cascading over her shoulder, a face mostly hidden under the bill of a cap. Still, you know. You’ve learned to spot the details by now. She’s always wearing loose sports gear, her left knee often taped in some fashion, crutches sometimes leaning against her seat.

You’re not a sports person, so at first, she was just another face, another person passing through the clinic, but then she became something more—a mystery. You’ve stolen more than a few glances during the weeks you’ve sat waiting for your turn. The routine was nearly identical: you both arrived at the same time each week, a brief flicker of acknowledgment between your eyes before you both looked away, as though there was something too dangerous in holding that gaze for too long.

Today is no different, except something feels heavier. There’s a quiet ache in your chest that refuses to leave. EMDR therapy—Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing—it’s exhausting, and today, it feels impossible.

You know you’ll be going through the usual: being asked to relive memories, to feel things you’ve spent years suppressing, and to heal what’s been fractured inside of you. It’s tiring and it leaves you feeling hollow at times, especially when you leave. The vulnerability in those sessions never fails to drain you, and you always wonder if it’s helping or just opening old wounds.

You steal another glance at her, curiosity buzzing beneath the weight of everything else. She has that same air of exhaustion, though you assume hers comes from something more physical. You don’t know her, not really. Just a face, a woman who happens to sit in the same room as you once a week.

But today, you notice something else. Her fingers fidget more than usual, her eyes flickering between her phone screen and the door. Anxiety. She’s nervous too.

The nurse calls your name, interrupting your thoughts. You stand, giving her one last glance, but this time, you don’t look away as quickly as you usually do. To your surprise, her gaze meets yours for the first time in weeks—really meets it. There’s something in her expression, something you can’t quite name. Maybe recognition. Maybe sympathy.

Your feet feel heavier than usual as you walk to the nurse, but there’s a buzzing under your skin now. Her eyes linger on you even as you turn your back, a weight you feel but don’t dare acknowledge. The conversation between the nurse and your therapist is distant, your mind still locked in that fleeting moment of connection.

Why did she look at you like that?

The door closes softly behind you, and you sit down on the familiar couch in your therapist’s office. The room is softly lit, the same as every week, but today it feels different. Or maybe you feel different. Your mind is already racing, though not about the usual memories that drag you under.

“Ready to start?” your therapist asks, her voice calm, grounding you slightly.

You nod, but your mind keeps tugging back to the waiting room, to her—what’s-her-name—sitting there with those tired eyes that somehow looked straight into you. It’s not like it was the first time you’d stolen a glance. But it is the first time she looked back.

The session moves forward in a blur. The rhythmic back-and-forth of your therapist’s fingers in front of your eyes, the instructions to focus on your memories, to feel them without being overwhelmed by them. But today, it’s harder. Harder to concentrate. Harder to dive into the past when your present is hanging on the thread of something unspoken in that waiting room.

Why did she look at me?

The therapist’s voice blends into the background as your eyes follow her hand back and forth, back and forth—trying to focus, trying to do what you’re supposed to. But the room feels wrong today. Usually, this process grounds you, pulls you deep into the recesses of your mind, where old wounds wait to be confronted. But today, your mind is somewhere else entirely.

More specifically, on her.

You’ve spent weeks perfecting the art of pretending she doesn’t exist. A stolen glance here, a quick look away there. She’s always been on the periphery, a quiet presence you’ve never acknowledged out loud. It’s become part of your routine—pretending not to notice her, letting her fade into the background like the murmur of the clinic around you.

But today, she didn’t stay in the background. Today, she noticed you. She looked at you. Not the polite, disinterested glances you’re used to exchanging with strangers in waiting rooms, but something else. Something charged.

Why did she look at me like that?

The therapist’s voice cuts through your thoughts, soft but firm. “Stay with me. What do you feel right now?”

What do you feel?

You swallow, trying to push the image of her from your mind, but it doesn’t budge. Her eyes—the way they held yours for just a second longer than necessary, how something flickered in them before she quickly looked away. Recognition? Or maybe something else? Sympathy? Sadness?

“Um, I feel… I don’t know,” you admit, shaking your head slightly, trying to focus. You’re supposed to be processing your pain, your own tangled memories, but your brain is stubbornly clinging to the way her fingers fidgeted in her lap, the way her leg bounced with impatience. The way her shoulders seemed to carry an invisible weight, just like yours.

Your therapist doesn’t push, though her eyes study you carefully. She shifts in her seat, slowly moving her hand back and forth again, drawing your focus back.

“Stay present,” she repeats gently, and you try. You really do. You close your eyes for a moment, breathing in slowly, trying to feel something other than the strange energy still buzzing under your skin.

But as soon as you open your eyes again, your mind is back in the waiting room. You can almost see her sitting there now, shoulders hunched, the corner of her lip pulled between her teeth as she stared at her phone, looking anxious—maybe even upset. Was it something on the screen that bothered her? Or was it the reason she’s here at all? The knee she cradled with unconscious care, as though even sitting still caused her discomfort?

You don’t know her story. You barely even know her name. But you can’t shake the feeling that there’s something more under the surface, something that runs deeper than just an injury or a tired glance. Something that mirrors your own pain in a way that feels unsettlingly familiar.

“Can we take a break?” you ask suddenly, your voice sounding too loud in the quiet room.

The therapist pauses, her hand still mid-movement. She lowers it slowly and nods. “Of course. Do you want to talk about what’s on your mind?”

You hesitate. Talking about what’s on your mind usually means revisiting the same memories you’ve been unpacking for months. Trauma that you’ve carried with you like a second skin, the kind that weighs you down and makes you feel like you’re suffocating in your own body. That’s what therapy is supposed to be for—that pain.

But right now, it’s not the past tugging at your mind. It’s the now. The girl sitting across from you every week, the unspoken weight of her presence lingering in your thoughts like a slow burn.

“I… I’m just distracted,” you say, your voice quieter now, unsure.

Your therapist doesn’t press, just nods in understanding. “That’s okay. Sometimes our minds drift when we’re processing a lot. We can pick up whenever you’re ready.”

You nod, grateful for the reprieve, but your mind keeps spinning. The session feels heavier today. Usually, the weight is familiar—the kind of weight you’re used to carrying alone. But now there’s something—or someone—else filling your head, making it hard to sort through your usual patterns.

Why did she look at me like that?

You replay the moment in your mind again, trying to decode it. You tell yourself it doesn’t mean anything, that you’re overanalyzing a simple glance. People look at each other all the time. She probably doesn’t even remember it now, back to whatever’s pulling at her in her own life. But still… the way her eyes lingered.

Your thoughts tumble into a messy loop of frustration and curiosity. Did she feel something too? Or was it all in your head? She’s a stranger. Just a face you’ve seen in passing. You don’t know her, not really. But somehow, that one glance has you questioning everything.

The therapist’s voice breaks through again, softer this time. “Do you want to try and continue?”

You nod, even though your mind is still miles away from where it should be. As the therapist raises her hand again, beginning the familiar motions in front of your eyes, you take a deep breath, hoping this time you can focus.

But even as your gaze follows the movement of her hand, your mind drifts back to the waiting room, back to those tired eyes and the way they seemed to see something in you. Something you’re not sure you want to face.

And for the first time in weeks, it’s not your own memories that are haunting you.

As the session drags on, the rhythm of your therapist’s hand becomes background noise to the thoughts that swirl relentlessly in your head. You try to bring yourself back to the task at hand, back to the healing process you’re supposed to be focused on, but you feel adrift, untethered.

Her eyes won’t leave your mind. That flicker of something—connection, maybe—that felt so intense in that brief glance. You can still feel it, like a pulse that’s not entirely your own.

It feels ridiculous, honestly. This isn’t supposed to happen. You’re here to heal, to peel back the layers of yourself and work through the wreckage inside your mind. You’re here to process your trauma, not to get caught up in the orbit of a stranger who happens to sit across from you once a week. A stranger you don’t even know by name.

Still, the thought of her consumes you.

Why did she look at me like that?

The question hammers in your brain, louder now that you’ve allowed yourself to acknowledge it. There’s a strange comfort in the idea that maybe she sees something in you, too. That maybe the weight she carries isn’t so different from your own. You’ve been drowning in your own pain for so long—what would it feel like to share that with someone who understands? To find recognition in someone else’s eyes?

Or is that just you, projecting?

Focus. You need to focus.

You force yourself to sit up a little straighter, your hands gripping the edge of the chair as your therapist’s voice drifts back into your awareness. You know she’s watching you carefully, noting the way you’ve been distant, distracted, ever since you walked into the room. You haven’t been present today, haven’t really felt anything but the odd, lingering sensation of her—the woman with the tired eyes and the worn knee brace.

You wonder what she’s here for, what injury brought her to this clinic. You’ve pieced together the clues over the weeks—her knee, the way she sometimes leans on crutches, the soft wince she tries to hide when she stands up. Maybe she’s an athlete, or used to be. You’ve caught glimpses of logos on her clothing that hint at something sports-related, but it’s not your world. You wouldn’t know.

Yet despite not knowing, you feel it—the heaviness in her, the same way you feel it in yourself. There’s something unspoken, something you’ve both been avoiding in your stolen glances.

The therapist’s hand passes in front of your eyes again, and you try to refocus. You try to reach for the memories she’s guiding you toward, the ones you’re supposed to be reprocessing. But the memories feel hazy today, like they’re distant and out of reach. Usually, they’re so vivid—too vivid. But now, they’re dulled by the present, by the way your mind is pulling you somewhere else entirely.

“Let’s take another pause,” your therapist suggests, her voice patient but concerned.

You exhale a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, nodding gratefully. The tension in your body eases just slightly, but your mind is still racing.

“I think…” you begin, your voice hesitant. “I’m just not all here today.”

Your therapist waits, giving you space to elaborate. You know she’s used to this. Distraction is common during these sessions, but you’ve never felt this kind of restlessness before. This kind of… preoccupation.

“There’s… someone,” you admit finally, the words slipping out before you’ve had time to really think them through. “In the waiting room. I keep getting distracted thinking about her.”

Your therapist tilts her head, curious but not judgmental. “Someone in the waiting room?”

You nod, feeling a little foolish now that you’ve said it out loud. “Yeah. I don’t even know her name, but we’re always there at the same time. We’ve never talked, but today… today she looked at me differently.”

Your therapist stays quiet, letting you find your words. Her patience helps, but it also makes you feel exposed, like you’re admitting to something fragile and uncertain.

“And it just—it’s been stuck in my head,” you continue, your voice quieter now, as if saying it louder might make it too real. “I don’t know why it’s affecting me so much. It’s just… I can’t stop thinking about it.”

You’re not sure what you want from this confession. Reassurance, maybe? Validation? Someone to tell you that you’re not losing your mind over a brief glance from a stranger?

Your therapist’s expression softens, but she doesn’t immediately dive into analysis. Instead, she asks, “What do you think it is about her that’s sticking with you? Is there something familiar, something that reminds you of yourself?”

The question lingers in the air between you, and you feel your chest tighten. It’s not something you’ve allowed yourself to fully consider. The way she looks at you. The way she seems just as weighed down by something invisible. The recognition, maybe, of pain.

“I don’t know,” you say, but the words don’t feel entirely true. “Maybe.”

Your therapist nods thoughtfully, but doesn’t press further. “It’s normal to connect with others in ways that might surprise us, especially when we’re going through difficult things ourselves. If she reminds you of something—of yourself, of a feeling—it’s okay to acknowledge that.”

You nod, but your mind is still racing. What is it that you see in her? Is it really just a reflection of your own pain, or is there something more? Something in the way she carries herself, the way her eyes met yours like she was trying to say something she couldn’t put into words.

“Do you want to explore that more?” your therapist asks gently. “Or would you rather focus on something else for now?”

You hesitate, feeling torn. Part of you wants to dig into it, to figure out why this woman has such a hold on your thoughts. But another part of you feels scared—scared of what you might find if you look too closely.

“I’m not sure,” you admit quietly. “I guess… I’m not sure if I’m ready to.”

Your therapist nods again, understanding. “That’s okay. We can take it at your pace. But if you want to talk about it more, we can always come back to it.”

You feel a strange mixture of relief and apprehension. Talking about her—about that glance, that moment—feels like opening a door you’re not sure you want to walk through. But at the same time, you know that you’ll think about it for the rest of the day. Maybe for longer than that.

As the session winds down, your mind is still preoccupied, but there’s a little more clarity now. Maybe it’s not just the glance itself that’s bothering you. Maybe it’s what that glance represents—the possibility that someone else sees you in a way you’re not used to being seen. That someone else might be carrying their own weight, just as heavy as yours.

And as you step out of the therapist’s office, back into the familiar waiting room, your eyes instinctively search for her. For the woman who has somehow taken up so much space in your mind.

But now, her seat is empty.

And suddenly, the room feels a little colder without her presence.

The week drags on in a strange, heavy haze. Every day, your mind keeps drifting back to her—back to that brief, fleeting glance that’s somehow managed to burrow deep under your skin. It’s ridiculous, you tell yourself. You’re overthinking it, turning something meaningless into something monumental. You’ve spent so long keeping people at arm’s length, hiding yourself behind carefully constructed walls, and now, one moment with a stranger has you spiraling into obsession.

You try to shake it off. You try to focus on work, on your routine, on anything but her. But it’s like a splinter in your mind. No matter how much you push it away, it’s always there, just under the surface. You catch yourself replaying the moment over and over again—the way her tired eyes locked with yours, the faintest flicker of recognition passing between you. Did she feel it too? Or are you imagining it?

On Wednesday, you find yourself walking past the clinic—deliberately, even though you don’t have an appointment. You glance through the glass door, half-expecting to see her sitting there, leg bouncing nervously, fingers fidgeting with the hem of her jacket. But the waiting room is empty, and the sight of it leaves you with a strange hollowness in your chest.

What if she doesn’t come back?

The thought gnaws at you. It’s irrational, but the possibility that you might never see her again—that this inexplicable connection could vanish as quickly as it appeared—makes you feel like something important has slipped through your fingers. Something you didn’t even realize you were missing.

Get it together. You need to move on.

But by Friday, the restlessness is back in full force. You find yourself lying awake at night, staring at the ceiling, wondering. Wondering if she’s thinking about you too. Wondering if she felt the same pull, the same strange energy lingering between you.

Maybe you’ll never know. Maybe it’s better not to know.

But as the next week rolls around, you feel a nervous anticipation building in your chest. Your next appointment is coming up, and the thought of seeing her again—of what might happen this time—has your mind racing in a way that feels almost… dangerous.

What if she’s there?

What if she’s not?

The questions twist and turn inside you, and by the time your appointment day arrives, you’re practically buzzing with a nervous energy you can’t quite contain. You tell yourself it’s stupid, that you’re being irrational. You’re supposed to be focusing on your healing, not obsessing over some stranger you’ve never even spoken to. But the truth is, you haven’t felt this alive in a long time.

When you walk into the clinic, your eyes immediately sweep the waiting room. For a moment, the space feels empty, cold. But then, there she is—sitting in the same spot as always, her knee braced, her posture tense. She’s staring at her phone again, her fingers tapping the screen, but you notice the way her leg bounces restlessly. There’s a tension in her shoulders, a tightness in the way she’s holding herself, like the weight she’s carrying is a little heavier today.

You pause just inside the door, your heart suddenly pounding in your chest. You weren’t prepared for this, not really. Seeing her again feels like stepping into a current you can’t control. You want to look away, to keep pretending she’s just another person passing through your life. But instead, you find your gaze lingering on her, the same way it did last week.

And then, just like before, she looks up.

This time, there’s no hesitation in her gaze. Her eyes meet yours, and for a moment, the room falls away. The world outside fades, and all you can feel is the intensity of her stare, the weight of something unspoken passing between you. It’s like you’re both suspended in the same moment, tethered by something invisible and undeniable.

You freeze, unsure of what to do. Should you smile? Look away? Say something? But before you can make a decision, she shifts in her seat, straightening up slightly, her gaze flickering with something you can’t quite read. There’s recognition there, yes, but also something deeper. Something like understanding. Or maybe even… curiosity?

Your throat feels tight, your pulse quickening. You don’t know what to do with this feeling, this connection that seems to be growing stronger with every second you hold her gaze.

And then, she does something you didn’t expect.

She nods.

It’s subtle, just a small dip of her head, but it feels like a monumental shift. Like she’s acknowledging you—not just as a stranger, but as someone… more. Someone she’s noticed, someone she’s maybe been thinking about too.

Your breath catches in your throat, and before you can stop yourself, you find yourself nodding back. It feels awkward, stilted, but it’s the only thing you can think to do in the moment. It’s not much, but it’s something. A bridge, maybe. A connection.

You take a seat across from her, your body tense with nervous energy. You can feel her presence, like a subtle pull in the air between you. Neither of you speaks, but the silence isn’t uncomfortable. It’s charged, filled with all the things you’re not saying, all the questions you’re not asking.

The door to your therapist’s office opens, and her familiar voice calls your name. You stand up, feeling a strange reluctance to leave the waiting room, to leave her behind. But as you turn to head toward the office, you steal one last glance at her.

She’s still watching you.

And for the first time in weeks, you don’t look away.

The session that follows is one of the hardest you’ve had in a long time. The therapist guides you through your memories with a gentle persistence, pushing you to confront parts of your past that you’ve been carefully avoiding. Today, it’s not just the weight of your own pain that feels unbearable—it’s the weight of everything you’ve been holding back for so long.

Your memories of childhood are raw, jagged, and unsettling. You find yourself reliving moments of fear and isolation, the sting of harsh words, the bruises you tried to hide. The sessions are usually a mix of distant recollections and present-day reflections, but today, the past crashes into you with a force that makes it hard to breathe. Your mother’s anger, her frustration, her harsh words—they’re all too close, too real. It’s like the boundaries between then and now have dissolved, leaving you exposed and trembling.

When the session ends, you barely manage to pull yourself together. Your eyes are red, streaked with tears, and your face feels hot and heavy with emotion. You nod to your therapist, a wordless acknowledgment of the work you’ve done. You need air—space to breathe and let the turmoil inside you settle.

You stumble out of the office, the hallway seeming longer than usual. You make your way to the clinic’s entrance, your steps unsteady, your mind still tangled in the remnants of painful memories. The cool air hits your face, and you stop just outside the door, letting it wash over you. It feels like a fleeting reprieve from the storm raging inside.

And then, you see her.

She’s standing there, just outside the door, her back to you. You recognize her immediately—Alexia. She’s wrapped in a coat, her arms crossed tightly in front of her. You can see her shoulders trembling slightly, and as you watch, she turns and looks at you. Her eyes are red and swollen, tears still glistening on her cheeks.

For a moment, neither of you says anything. The silence between you is heavy, filled with unspoken understanding. You can see the same rawness in her face that you feel in your own. It’s as if both of you are caught in the aftermath of a storm, trying to find a way to navigate the wreckage.

Alexia takes a step toward you, her gaze meeting yours with a vulnerability that makes your heart ache. “I didn’t expect to see you,” she says softly, her voice wavering. There’s a tremor in her tone, like she’s struggling to keep herself composed.

You open your mouth to respond, but no words come. The sight of her—so open, so unguarded—strikes a chord deep within you. It’s not just about the glance you shared or the way you’ve been obsessing over her. It’s something deeper, something you’ve been grappling with in your own way.

“I…” you start, but the words fail you. Instead, you take a tentative step toward her, the distance between you shrinking as you both stand in the cold air, the weight of your shared pain hanging in the space around you.

Alexia looks down, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve been coming here for a while. I didn’t think anyone noticed.” She pauses, her eyes meeting yours again, filled with a mix of sadness and curiosity. “You looked at me today like you understood something. I felt the same way.”

Her words hit you hard, echoing the thoughts that have been circling your mind all week. It’s as if she’s voicing the unspoken connection you both felt—the shared weight, the recognition of each other’s pain.

“I didn’t mean to stare,” you finally say, your voice rough from the emotions you’ve been grappling with. “I just… I saw something in you. I don’t know what it was, but it felt familiar.”

Alexia nods, a tear slipping down her cheek. “It’s strange,” she says, her voice breaking slightly. “I’ve felt like I was carrying this alone. And then you came in, and for some reason, it felt like… like maybe someone else understood.”

The shared understanding between you deepens, and you feel a flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, you’re not as alone as you’ve felt. The connection you’ve both sensed, the unspoken recognition—it’s not just in your head. It’s real, and it’s giving you both a moment of connection that you’ve been craving.

Without thinking, you reach out, offering her a small, hesitant smile. “If you want to talk… or if you just need someone to be here,” you offer, your voice steadying despite the tears still lingering in your eyes.

Alexia’s gaze softens, and she nods. “I’d like that,” she says quietly. “I think I’d like that a lot.”

Part 2

[olderthannetfic]

I'm sick and tired of people writing posts about how if you don't always support your "crisis friend," then you're a horrible piece of shit who sucks the dick of capitalism and only thinks through hyper-individualism. I'm fully convinced that these people never had to deal with a "crisis friend," and they're either surrounded by (mostly) mentally healthy people or they are the crisis friend and don't realize it.

A crisis friend sucks the life out of you, will cross all the boundaries you'll set, and then, once you tell them that you're hurt by their behavior, they'll go to other friends and act like you're a big meanie who abused them.

I recently had to close off a relationship with a crisis friend because their objective in life was to drag me down too.

I like an actor? He's surely a rapist. I post a fic and people enjoy it? I shouldn't be happy about it because the fandom is small and those are very few comments and I'm wasting my time. I find the name of an aesthetic I like? I'm not allowed to, because it reminds them of *extremely triggering memory they'll tell me about in detail when the only thing I wanted to talk about was something silly.* I wasn't allowed to discuss my employment situation because theirs is wobbly at best, and if my family gifted me something nice for whatever occasion, I had to keep it to myself because it would upset them.

Crisis friends won't bother remembering your birthday (not even the month, just to have a general idea of when they're supposed to ask you about the specific date), they won't bother remembering what you like, and they won't care about your boundaries.

I have very few "no-nos," in friendships, and one of them is that I don't want to be put anywhere near the word or concept of rape because I was sexually assaulted as a teen and it was so traumatic I had to drop out of college and go through EMDR. My crisis friend never bothered remembering that, gleefully sending me articles of celebrities who got accused of having assaulted someone.

This is not friendship, and you're not sucking capitalism's cock if you don't want to be someone's burnt-out, underpaid, and mistreated therapist, and I don't give a shit about what Wannabe Communist Tumblr Users think about it.

--

One trillion percent they are the crisis friend.

And they do realize it.

That's why they're writing guilt trip posts to try to move Tumblr's general understanding of boundaries and appropriate behavior back in a direction that favors them.

--

Your particular... uh... "friend" sounds more than usually toxic.

The more commonplace version of the crisis friend is a lot better at not sending you triggering stuff and not insulting the fuck out of your interests.

They do still want free therapy all the time and have trouble understanding why that's just not a fair burden to put on their friends and/or they do kind of know but are in too much of a crisis all the time to figure out how to stop.

[cosmicwindmillcomplex]

Do you have any advice for people who are about to start EMDR?

actually yes! And I’m so glad you asked because idk if I ever would’ve thought about making it into a post! apologies for the late response but wanted to give it a lot of thought! I’ve been doing EMDR on and off for about 3.5 years now with my therapist, as a disclaimer: I am not an expert so this would be my advice based on my personal experience with and knowledge of EMDR.

1. Make sure you trust your therapist or whoever the professional who will be guiding you through the experience is; also make sure that they are qualified with EMDR experience. They should not offer the option if they have no experience with it.

2. Make sure you are in a relatively stable enough place to go through it. Don’t lie just because you want to do it. it’s a very intense psychological experience and can be draining so just be somewhat prepared and don’t be surprised if you feel kinda worn out the rest of the day after the session. There have been times I have taken breaks from EMDR when other issues of life became problematic and as a result I was less stable. It’s not something you want to force when you’re not stable enough, for safety reasons. For me it was difficult to admit I wasn’t stable enough as I wanted to just “push through” thinking it’ll automatically heal me, but it doesn’t quite work that way.

3. My sister is also a licensed therapist and gave me this metaphor when I was struggling with EMDR, it has shifted my perspective and helped me a lot. Think of EMDR as riding a train through your subconscious/inner world (however you like to think of it). In between the bilateral stimulation parts your therapist will usually ask something such as “what are you noticing”. This is when you peek out the train window or poke your head out and see where the train has stopped. but you stay on the train and then repeat the process at the next stop. Do your very best to observe and not be “sucked in” to whatever you are noticing. What you notice could be an image your brain gives you, it could be a memory, or a physical sensation of some kind as well. It’s kind cool like your brain is communicating with you!

4. EMDR does require bringing up and having to somewhat relive your trauma in the controlled environment, which is why you want to make sure you trust your therapist and have any grounding items nearby or with you. If you go in person and drive yourself, don’t feel the need to drive away immediately. It’s okay to sit for a while until you’re ready. If you do telehealth maybe keep some grounding items near you and always be in a room/environment where you feel really safe. Allow time afterwards for some self care and taking it easy.

5. My therapist describes it as a process to try and close the trauma loop in a way that the memories don’t impact you quite as badly. Some have equated it to “exposure therapy but make it trauma”, although it’s kinda right, it’s more complex than that. Often things that come up repeatedly can be clues, like a branch of a tree, and through sessions you may find the roots deeper down. There may be root memories you’re not aware of and through EMDR you may eventually find those roots when you’re ready.

6. Be patient!!! You don’t want to overthink or over analyze it too much outside of therapy. It’s okay and natural to think of it but don’t try too hard to investigate, give your brain time and it will probably make sense later down the road when you are ready. I usually will write down something if it comes up and then try to put it out of my mind until next session. Don’t push yourself or judge too hard. It is a lot to go through and very heavy, it makes sense to feel frustrated or discouraged but you will make progress in your own time. Don’t be afraid to use a stop signal if you feel overwhelmed, you don’t always have to keep going!

7. Be honest! Do your very best to not worry about being judged or anything like that. Let your brain go where it needs to go without judgment or trying to control it. Don’t lie or try to force your session to to a certain way, all it will do is slow your progress! (Not trying to call anyone a liar intentionally, but sometimes we would try to direct or deflect certain things in session due to feeling like we needed more progress faster and fears/anxieties/doubts, as an impulse reaction almost, in this case we think about it for a while and journal on it until we have the words to talk it out and explain more in another session later on. “Lying” in this context can also just simply be telling your therapist you’re okay when you know that you are not.)

I hope this helps and makes some kind of sense! Wishing you lots of love and comfort as you start your journey with EMDR ❤️‍🩹

[system-of-a-feather]

Question for the systems that have done EMDR

But how do you balance the drastically different narratives, perspectives and internalizations of different topics into EMDR while not really breaking the usual more focused / more clearly designed for individuals with a much much more consistent narrative and feeling towards memories structure that EMDR tends to have what with revisiting the same topic again with the same kind of internalized comments?

Cause last session we kind of decided with our therapist it wasn't going anywhere cause I was a WAY too dominant part of the brain when we were previously working with a Riku-Lin dominant part of the brain which there is a HUGE difference between how we've seen things so even as a fused whole, when we are reflecting on memories, our narrative shifts DRASTICALLY based on who is near the front, and at first we were like "Yeah, XIV brain isn't productive for addressing this topic so we will just try again another day when we are in a mental space that is receptive"

But today we realized when it comes down to the topic of vulnerability and processing it, while its very important to approach the parts that have a lot more of the traditional complications with the feelings of vulnerability, it's very ridiculous to not include the part that we ALWAYS turn to whenever we feel any level of overwhelming level of vulnerability - even as a fused whole - and also the very deeply internalized "invulnerable and incapable of feeling fear and most forms of traditional intimacy with anyone other than anyone within the system" from a lot of the reprocessing

And so we are sitting here like, okay hold up, pause, fused whole break up. We have to address our feelings and views of this being an inefficient and incomplete approach for us and navigate this as parts because yes, in perspective, XIV brain ABSOLUTELY needs to be more engaged with this.

Especially since tbh if you start to ask me where my role in this comes from I authentically can't pinpoint which I think its a fucking sign I definitely need to explore some shit lmao

[premierinsightcounseling]

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[forbidden-salt]

Breaking the Silence; My Mental Health Story for Worldwide Suicide Prevention Day

By ForbiddenSalt

9/10/2024

Trigger Warning: This blog post discusses suicidal ideation, depression, and mental health struggles. If you are in a vulnerable state, please read with caution, and know that support is available through resources like 988, friends, and loved ones.

Resources and helpful tools for self and loved ones provided below the fold.

My Story:

Suicide Awareness Day holds a deeply personal meaning for me. For years, I struggled silently with suicidal thoughts, depression, and anxiety, unsure of how to ask for help or whether I deserved it. Sharing my story now is not just about raising awareness, but about offering hope to anyone who feels the same weight I once carried.

At the age of 13, I began to experience something many people are hesitant to talk about—suicidal ideation. But it wasn’t until I was in college that I truly realized how dangerous those thoughts had become.

I remember one day when I was walking across campus from class to my dorm, lost in thought, and accidentally stepped off the curb without looking. A car was coming toward me. Instinctively, I jumped back, avoiding an accident. But what happened next startled me more than the near-miss. As I stood on the sidewalk, tears welled up, not because I was relieved, not because I was scared—I was upset that my instincts had saved me. I realized I wasn’t crying because I had narrowly avoided getting hit by a car; I was crying because, in that moment, I wanted to be hit. It would have been an "accident"—a way out without me having to act intentionally.

It dawned on me that this was something much more serious than I had admitted to myself.

This wasn’t the first time I had experienced suicidal thoughts, but it was one of the most shocking moments. I knew I needed help. I sought out a counselor at the campus health center and, for a time, tried therapy. When I went home for a break, I spoke to my doctor, and she prescribed me an SSRI. I confided in my family and was met with mixed reactions—some were supportive, while others expressed concerns about the medication, urging me to stop taking it as quickly as possible. This set up an internal battle for me; I began starting and stopping my medication over the next few months, caught between fear and shame; and eventually quit all together.

Suicidal ideation lingered in the back of my mind for years. I wished for a pause button, a way to make the world stop so I could catch my breath and somehow not fall behind. I dreamed of getting hurt or sick enough to be hospitalized, just so I could take a break from life’s demands. But I never let myself act on those thoughts.

It wasn’t until my mid-20s that things got so bad I returned to therapy. This time, it was different. My new therapist helped me understand that I wasn’t “crazy”—I was carrying the weight of childhood trauma and years of struggling to survive. She diagnosed me with complex PTSD, and for the first time, I felt understood. Her support gave me the strength to make significant changes in my life, including moving to a new state.

There, I found another therapist who continued to guide me through the ups and downs. I started back on an SSRI and have stayed on it ever since. Through this process, I realized that what I had been dealing with wasn’t just emotional—it was also biological. My body wasn’t producing enough serotonin, and my chronic illnesses, were compounding these mental health struggles by denying my body the tools to make its own serotonin and through the weight of the symptoms. Especially for a while before there was any answer or treatment plan in sight.

I went through EMDR therapy, talk therapy, and put in the hard work to heal. I focused on my physical and mental health, fighting for answers and for my life. Slowly, I began to reclaim control. I started to recognize the warning signs of passive suicidal ideation and created an action plan for when those thoughts creep in. I don’t go to therapy as often now, but I still have touch-base appointments in case something changes.

Through this journey, I’ve learned so much about myself and the nature of mental illness. Depression, anxiety, and PTSD were not signs that I was lazy or difficult, though I was often labeled as such. They were symptoms of a much deeper issue. I wish people could see that depression isn’t a mindset or mood and suicidal thoughts are not selfish—they are the final, fatal symptom of a disease.

It took a long time for me to accept that what I went through wasn’t my fault. I wasn’t to blame for the trauma I endured or the way my brain and body responded to it. And if you’re reading this and find yourself in a dark place, I want you to know you are not alone. I know what it’s like to stand in the darkness for so long that it starts to feel like home. But I also know that it is possible to fight back, to heal, and to find hope again.

If you can’t fight for yourself right now, I encourage you to reach out to someone—anyone—who can sit with you in your pain. Let them help you find a therapist, a doctor, or simply help with daily tasks. It might not be the person you expect. For me, one if my company leaders had noticed my depression and helped me find a therapist. I had a best friend who sat with me over the phone while I sobbed broken hearted, encouraging me to seek help if I needed it. That going to the hospital if I needed it wasn’t shameful or weak but brave and admirable. It was my grandmother, who spoke to me daily, reminding me of my faith and offering love when I couldn’t love myself and felt those I loved most didn’t love me.

Faith also played a huge role in my healing. I’ve had my share of questions and anger, but my belief that God could handle my questions and my rage helped me through some of the darkest times. I questioned why my life was going the way it was, why I was feeling the way I did, if He knows everything before it happens, if he’s all powerful why didn’t he step in to change the course of my life away from this. My questions turned to anger and I had to keep reminding myself that God had shoulders big enough for my anger, my tears, my pain. That I could toss all of it at him and he’d still see me still, love me. I never doubted his existence, and honestly to this day I still don’t have all the answers but I’m sure one day I’ll understand and I’ve realized I was still loved even when I couldn’t see it.

My family eventually came around too. Even my dad, who I had thought didn’t believe me, recently admitted how scared he had been for me after he had kept his fears hidden for years since it had gotten bad. We were able to talk and he listened, shared his point of view, and made the effort to understand. He allowed me to assure him I was safe now, I was doing better, and it’s changed our relationship for the better. While I had found my way to stability without knowing if my family believed or supported me, learning my family did care enough to worry, cared enough to learn, and loved me enough to listen even if what I said was hard to hear meant the world to me.

If you’re struggling, know that there is help out there. Call 988 for support, reach out to friends, hug your dog or cat, cling to your faith—whatever gets you through the next moment. Each day is a step, and that’s enough. It doesn’t have to be a leap—it just has to be forward.

Resources for support below:

Here are some coping strategies:

1. Box Breathing: This simple technique can help reduce anxiety. Breathe in for four counts, hold for four, exhale for four, and pause for four. Repeat until your heart rate slows and you feel more grounded. You can do this while on a video call too just let your eyes glide along the edges of the screen while you hold and breathe.

2. Straw Breathing: Another great calming tool—take a deep breath in, and then slowly exhale like you’re blowing through a straw. It mimics the relaxing response of the parasympathetic nervous system and helps you focus.

3. Journaling: I started journaling, reminding myself it didn’t have to be perfect. It was just for me. I stopped feeling guilty if I skipped days or weeks and let the words flow when I needed them. If you struggle with journaling, try creating an anonymous blog where you can rant and vent without worrying about dates or continuity. I have a separate Tumblr just for this—a void I can yell into when I need to.

4. Bilateral Stimulation: Butterfly taps—crossing your arms and tapping on opposite shoulders—helped calm me during moments of stress. This was especially useful during EMDR therapy, which became one of my strongest tools.

5. Creating a Routine: I used to go to the gym to cope before my chronic illness made it harder, so I shifted to art as a form of expression. Creating anything—whether it’s a routine or a creative outlet—can make a difference.

6. Boundaries and Emotions: Learning boundaries and reconnecting with my emotions was vital. One book that really changed my perspective was Rage Becomes Her by Soraya Chemaly, which helped me embrace my anger as a valid emotion. Learn how to advocate for yourself and establish boundaries. This takes time, but it’s one of the most empowering things you can do for your mental health.

7. Prioritize Yourself: Make time for what you need—therapy, the gym, a bath, or a doctor’s appointment. And allow yourself to rest. Your mind and body will force you to stop if you keep ignoring the warning signs.

8. Taking Shortcuts: Too tired to make a proper meal? That’s okay. Eat food however it comes—deconstructed meals are all the rage anyway. I’ve had moments where lunch was just handfuls of cheese and lunch meat. The goal is to nourish yourself, and sometimes that means being kind to yourself about how you do it.

10. Create Safety Nets: If you're heading somewhere that could be triggering, plan for it. What’s your exit strategy? Can you bring a comfort item, like a fidget toy, a blanket, or a stuffed animal? Having a plan can give you a sense of control.

11. Redirecting Negative Thoughts: When I get caught in negative thoughts, I ask myself if these thoughts are helping me process emotions or if they're just hurting me. If I’m not ready to process them, I work on redirecting my focus to something more helpful.

13. Emotional Support Animals: If you can, get an emotional support animal. My mini schnauzer has helped me through so much, even though she doesn’t know it.

How can I help a loved one:

1. Listen First: Before jumping to solutions, take time to listen. Validate the person's feelings, and let them process before suggesting how to fix things. Most of the time, they already know the solution; they just need space to work through it.

2. Stop Shaming Mental Health: Be mindful of how you talk about mental health. I’ve overheard loved ones shaming people for being "selfish" or "foolish" for being depressed, anxious, suicidal and even those that did commit suicide not knowing how often it was on my mind. Those words made it even harder to speak up and ask for help.

3. Fear and Guilt Are Not Helpful Tools: Fear and guilt are not effective motivators when it comes to mental health. I once told someone close to me that I didn’t believe people who commit suicide go to hell. Just as someone who passes from cancer doesn’t go to hell for how they died, I believe the same for depression—it’s an illness. They responded that they hoped fear of hell would keep me from acting on those thoughts. I explained that, by the time someone is ready to act, they likely don’t care anymore. The weight of the pain is overwhelming, and fear or guilt won’t pull them back.

4. Recognize the Signs: Suicidal ideation, passive suicidal ideation, and suicidal plans are all dangerous and need treatment and support. It may begin with passive thoughts like, “I wouldn’t mind if I didn’t wake up tomorrow,” but those can shift into active planning if left unchecked. Just because someone hasn’t acted on it doesn’t mean they don’t need help. Depression doesn't always look the same for everyone. It could be messy rooms, low energy, or a lack of interest in things that once brought joy. It could also look like reckless behavior, withdrawing, or joking about death. These subtle signs shouldn’t be brushed off—they’re as important as overt cries for help and worth a check as little as “hey you keep making these jokes, I just want to make sure you really are okay?” If someone is talking about feeling hopeless, giving away possessions, withdrawing from loved ones, or engaging in risky behavior, these are red flags.

5. Offer practical support: Whether it’s helping with daily tasks, providing a ride to a therapy appointment, or just sitting quietly with them, practical support can be a lifeline.

6: Encourage professional help: Gently suggest therapy, medical care, or other professional help if the person hasn’t already sought it. Be patient and compassionate, understanding that reaching out can be terrifying for them.

7. Be present: Sometimes the best thing you can do is just be there. Your physical and emotional presence can provide comfort, even when there are no words.

If you have a loved one who you worry is going through something, or has confided in you and you are worried for them. Don’t wait. Speak to them. Ask them how you can help, what’s going on, listen. If you’re afraid for them, even after they have gotten to the other side, don’t let your fears tear at you for months, tell them then listen and trust that when they say they are good, have come out the other side have an action plan for when they notice the signs - belive them. If you can’t let it go still, seek your own support. The fear of loosing someone you care about is worthy of attention. If you’re reading this because someone you love is struggling with suicidal thoughts, thank you for caring. Supporting someone with suicidal ideation can be incredibly difficult, but your presence matters more than you might realize.

If you or someone you love is struggling, find Resources for Support:

1. National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: Dial 988 for immediate help in the U.S. Available 24/7.

2. Crisis Text Line: Text HOME to 741741 to connect with a trained crisis counselor.

3. The Trevor Project: Focused on supporting LGBTQ+ youth, The Trevor Project offers crisis intervention and suicide prevention services. Text START to 678678 or visit their website.

4. NAMI (National Alliance on Mental Illness): NAMI provides free, confidential support for mental health concerns. Call the NAMI Helpline at 1-800-950-NAMI or text NAMI to 741741.

5. The Jed Foundation: Focused on mental health support for teens and young adults, the Jed Foundation works to protect emotional health and prevent suicide. Visit jedfoundation.org for more information.

6. The Veterans Crisis Line: Veterans and their loved ones can call 988 and press 1 or text 838255 for confidential support. Available 24/7.

Suggestions for Keeping Yourself Safe:

1. Create a safety plan: Write down a plan for when suicidal thoughts occur. This could include calling a trusted friend, therapist, family, distracting yourself with an activity you enjoy, or going to a safe place where you can feel grounded and making an appointment with your doctor.

2. Reach out to a support network: Whether it’s friends, family, or a therapist, let someone know how you’re feeling. It’s important not to isolate yourself when you’re struggling.

3. Remove means: If you’re feeling unsafe, remove items that could be harmful or ask someone you trust to hold onto them temporarily. There is no shame in this ever.

4. Practice grounding techniques: When suicidal thoughts take over, try grounding yourself with techniques like deep breathing, focusing on your senses, or engaging in mindfulness exercises. These can help bring you back to the present moment. Call on your faith if you need to to get by, play with your pet anything to help you get grounded and move through the feeling

5. Remember that feelings pass: In the heat of the moment, it can feel like the pain will last forever. But emotions are temporary, and feelings—even the darkest ones—eventually pass. That feelings are normal and natural and have no moral judgement, feel it, acknowledge it, and let it move through knowing another feeling will come your way take its place.

Recovery isn’t pretty, and life isn’t perfect; but you are worth fighting for.

[aether-amalgam-system]

Btw, as someone in therapy for DID with a therapist trained to work with DID, the best way to “deal with” alters dubbed as persecutors/perpetrators/abuser introjects/etc is to recognize that they’re not there for no reason or for a bad reason.

In psychology and in really really advanced forms of PTSD, trauma responses go far beyond fight/flight/freeze. In more advanced forms of PTSD, there is also “submit” and “identify”. They are both ways to minimize trauma sustained from abusers. Submit is basically just doing as you’re told to avoid getting in more trouble/danger. Identify is when you begin to identify yourself with your abuser/s, telling yourself that they’re right, you ARE bad, you deserve it etc etc etc.

And that’s what persecutors (which is the term I’m gonna use in this post, but please know I mean abuser introjects/perpetrators as well when I say this) are there to do, a good deal of the time. They’re there to identify with the system’s abuser/s to keep the system from being abused further. If you obey, do as you’re told, believe the lies, then you’re more likely to be treated “better” in many abuse situations. (This is why submit and identify are present in more advanced cases of PTSD, as well as fight/flight/freeze).

So how does this information help us as systems?

Well, step one is to realize NO PART is there for NO REASON! Every part has a role and a part to play, even if they don’t “seem” to have one.

Step two is to realize that persecutor parts are using skills that USED TO keep you safe/safer in the past, but are damaging you now. A lot of the time, there is a scared, damaged, traumatized child underneath the big bad wolf.

Step three is to just talk to them. Why do you do this? How is this helping you/us? What purpose did these behaviors serve and what are they doing now? And then, bear with me here, tell them thank you. Compassion and kindness are KEY to healing any type of trauma, with or without a dissociative disorder. And that means compassion with EVERY PART OF SELF, including the “difficult” ones.

And then step four is to strive for safety. Safety isn’t always possible immediately or even in the near future, but you CANNOT heal if you remain in an abusive or unsafe environment. Sometimes you need to make very difficult or scary decisions to achieve safety, which is the only place parts/alters can heal.

If you’re safe, compassionate, and open with your parts, things WILL become better. I promise you that. I’ve only just started my healing journey and I’ve been in EMDR therapy for over a year now and it’s JUST BEGINNING! It takes a lot of time and healing isn’t a straight line either, so there will be relapses and downward slopes, but you can NEVER go back to square one because you’ve already left that station. You can have the worst episode of your life and you will STILL not be back to square one, because of the information and wisdom and tools you have gathered and learned from your healing journey. And every upswing will be faster and stronger than the last.

Anyway, I can already smell the people obsessed with abusing their persecutors/other peoples persecutors, so imma give you my source for this information.

Read the book Finding Solid Ground or get the Finding Solid Ground workbook, by Hugo J. Schielke, Bethany L. Brand, and Ruth A. Lanius. My therapy group is working through this book and so far it’s been extremely helpful and enlightening. My therapist likes to tell me “if it doesn’t serve you, leave it behind” and by that I mean: if something in the book is unhelpful to you or if you’re recommended a coping skill that you find unhelpful after trying it a couple times, then just leave it behind. If it doesn’t work for you, then it doesn’t work. And that’s ok!

This book isn’t necessarily just for people with dissociative disorders, it’s geared towards all people with trauma and ptsd, but any type of PTSD recovery is going to help people with dissociative disorders heal because that’s the basis for the disorder!

Anyway, long post over. This is just a bit that I’ve learned from my therapist and the group that I’ve been attending for over a year now. It’s amazing, but you do have to BUY the book, I don’t know if you can find it online… I had to buy it because it was for the group so. It’s a little steep, but if you can get your hands on it, I would recommend it immensely!

❤️‍🩹 (he/it)

[maaikeatthefullmoon]

Holy crap you guys (gn as always).

I never really expected a single penny towards this goal, because a tattoo isn’t exactly a vital essential, but to have been helped 35% along the way has been astounding!

A little background perhaps…

I had EMDR trauma therapy in 2023. It changed my life. The therapist suggested two things, near the end, based on what she’d gotten to know about me.

The first was to start writing. And, when I felt ready, to start writing my own trauma. I’ve written part of it in Free on AO3. There’s much deeper trauma which I dealt with with her (the stuff from Free isn’t what I saw her for) which I now consider 'dealt with' and is NOT suitable for fanfic. And despite what she said, no one wants a biography of a nobody!

The second was a tattoo. She probably meant something small, but I do BIG. The piece I’m getting is a full chest piece based on the ‘two for joy’ part of the magpie rhyme. I’ve designed it myself and I have an amazing tattoo artist who I know will make it look SPECTACULAR. It’s got layers & layers of meaning and I’ve put hours upon hours of thought into it. It’ll be another step in the processing of a lifetime of trauma.

Thank you to everyone who’s helped me. Not just by donating, but also by talking, by sharing a post, reading my work, by being there. You’re all amazing and I have love for you all.

This is the donation link.