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thenexusofsouls · 17 days ago

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Congratulations! YOU have been selected to ramble about RAIDEN!

Please insert meta here:

{i am the caretaker of souls} Hahaha, omg you are too funny. Okay, here we go, then! I'm gonna rant about the quotes in the short video I linked to in this post, because I love the psychology surrounding why he believes in those sentiments at those points in his life. Also because I realize I posted that video and those who aren't familiar with Raiden or MGS4/MGR:R probably are kindof lost watching it, heh. So let me explain a bit, because I find it all so extremely interesting. Deep-analysis of a character's psychology is my jam, so... *cracks knuckles*... let's do this. XD

Raiden’s psychological evolution has always fascinated me, because it’s not what one might expect from a man who has endured as much as Raiden or been made to feel as discarded and unappreciated as he has. Despite all that he’s suffered, Raiden evolves from impulsive, naïve, young rookie… to seasoned, wise, measured, but self-sacrificial samurai… and finally to a more hardened and practical freelance mercenary. Through it all, however, Raiden maintains and, if anything, strengthens his desire to protect the innocent and punish those who revel in the destruction of innocent lives.

Up until he lost his body to torture and forced cyborg augmentation, Raiden used a healthy mix of swords, guns, knives, and explosives to get the job done when on missions. He was young, impulsive, sometimes had an explosive temper, and didn’t take well to criticism. After losing Rose and their child to miscarriage (as far as he was told) and ending up in enemy hands, costing him 90% of his human body, Raiden’s personality completely changes. Instead of the cocky and aggressive upstart he was before, Raiden becomes quieter, darker, sadder, but also wiser. He leans hard into samurai practices and psychology, letting it shape his philosophy and fighting style for a number of years. From that time on, he used only blades, most notably high-frequency swords, instead of guns.

This philosophy he adopts is the concept of katsujinken, or the “living” or “life-giving” sword, in contrast to setsunintou, the “murder” or “life-taking” sword. Basically, a sword’s purpose is to would and kill, that’s what it’s made for. It’s an object without heart or mind. What gives it purpose and/or morality is the person who wields it, the actions they take, and the reasoning behind those actions. One can use a sword to take innocent lives or to take life for the wrong reasons, or one can take lives in order to protect innocent ones. The latter concept is katsujinken, which becomes the philosophy by which Raiden lives his life and conducts himself as a soldier/mercenary.

I’ve often wondered why Raiden turned to the ways of the samurai and a code like katsujinken, and I think the reasons are both inspirational and heartbreaking. I think, after losing his girlfriend, his unborn child, his body, and his reputation, Raiden was searching for identity, purpose, and meaning, both in life in general and as an individual person. Losing his body, everything that made him physically male, his ability to father children, all of that really dealt a hard blow to Raiden’s self-esteem, self-worth, and desire to go on living. So I think he was searching for a meaning to it all, a reason for his suffering, a reason to keep going, and something that could make him feel like himself again.

That’s the heartbreaking part, but the inspirational part is that what made him feel like himself again… was protecting innocent people. He could have become so angry, bitter, apathetic, and/or cruel after everything that was done to him and taken from him, and instead he leaned hard by the time of MGS4 into being a human shield, someone who protects the innocent and enables other soldiers to do what they need to do, often at the expense of his mental or physical health. He becomes downright self-sacrificial, suffering debilitating injuries and body malfunctions, limb loss, mental strain, and even almost death in order to protect and assist the innocent and well-meaning soldiers around him.

But going back to the heartbreaking aspect again, as admirable as all of this is, the root of it is that Raiden has stopped caring about him almost entirely. He conducts himself as though he feels he has no worth as a person except as a weapon, a tool, or a means to an end for others. This is why he says things like he did in this short such as “I just don’t fear death.” For those unfamiliar with what’s going on in that short clip, Raiden is fighting someone named Vamp (named as much for his flamboyant bisexuality as for his “immortal” status, like a vampire, which is granted him by his participation in nanomachine research).

Vamp was someone Raiden encountered years before when he was still in possession of his human body. During MGS2, Raiden was traumatized by a young girl, named Emma, losing her life at Vamp’s hands because he wasn’t able to kill him quickly enough. Raiden blamed himself for Emma’s death, and from that point onward, Vamp was someone who both traumatized and motivated Raiden, because he wanted to eventually avenge Emma.

Fast forward a number of years to when that clip was taking place… Raiden is facing off against Vamp once more, and Vamp is winning. With the help of a few Gekkos (mass-produced weapons of war that are essentially large guns mounted on living, muscular legs, the result of both cyborg and genetic experimentation… they’re made using both frog and cow DNA, hence the legs and their ability to jump but also their tendency to make mooing noises, which you can hear in the clip, heh), Vamp is able to immobilize Raiden temporarily. When he does this, he simply walks up and stabs Raiden in the chest, dragging the knife a little, trying to kill him. When Raiden doesn’t die, Vamp asks, “You, too… immortal?” to which Raiden replies, “No… I just don’t fear death.”

There’s a lot to unpack in that statement. First of all, Raiden is absolutely not immortal or invincible. He can die very easily. Despite having a cyborg body, the various temperature, chemical “blood,” mechanical, and nutrient systems that are keeping him alive are very easily disrupted by simply cutting a few wires, tubes, essential parts, etc. Vamp stabbing Raiden in the chest later results in him going into his own cyborg form of sepsis, in which his blood pressure drops to a near-fatal level and his blood becomes contaminated. He requires dialysis and repairs to rectify this, performed later by Sunny, a child genius who invented the dialysis machine specially for Raiden, but I digress, heh.

The point is, Raiden can die, very easily. But when Vamp stabs him, he barely reacts. Vamp mistakes this lack of reaction on Raiden’s part for confidence, thinking he’s cool and collected because he can’t die. Raiden replies that it’s just that he doesn’t fear death. He’s been through so much that honestly, death isn’t the worth thing in the world to him. So what’s to fear? Death can’t be any worse than what he’s already endured. That’s… such a sad concept. Also, at this point in his life, Raiden just doesn’t care about his own life. He believes he’s very much alone in life, unloved, unwanted, and without worth except as a weapon or a shield. So what’s to fear from death? If anything, it would be an end to his lonely and painful existence. Again… very sad. MGS4 was Raiden at his lowest, mentally, but his height as far as heroism.

Now, fast forward to MGR:R, Raiden’s latest and last game (so far… maybe someday I’ll get lucky and someone will pick him up again, heh), which is the other half of the short video. “One sword keeps another in the sheath,” is Raiden’s philosophy at the beginning of the game. So he’s evolved a bit from using his blade (or himself) as a way to keep innocent lives safe, to now he doesn’t even want to necessarily have to kill at all if he doesn’t have to. Just threatening violence sometimes is enough.

At this point in his life, despite all the good he’s done, Raiden is beginning to feel like a bit of a monster. He’s never been able to forgive himself for Emma, nor has he been able to outrun his past as a child soldier, during which he took countless lives. He feels like he can never do enough to redeem himself, and that guilt has him pulling back from even wanting to use violence on enemies. It’s almost as if he laments that he was never able to just be a pacifist, or that he wishes he could somehow erase all the unjust murders he committed with lives he saves now, whether good ones or bad ones. It’s another sad aspect of Raiden’s psychology because, although he has killed many people who did not deserve it, that was during a time in which he was manipulated, brainwashed, and conditioned through abuse as a young child.

The guilt he carries is a lot like that of Bucky from the MCU, in that everyone keeps telling him it wasn’t his fault, or he wasn’t in control, or he did it while he wasn’t in his right mind… but all Raiden feels is that he was the one who did it, regardless of the circumstances. It was his arm, his weapon, his mind that committed those murders, and therefore it is absolutely his fault. The truth is somewhere in between, but Raiden’s guilt really starts to interfere with his ability to be an effective soldier/mercenary by the time of MGR:R.

I won’t go into Jetstream Sam’s whole deal or how his psychological torture of Raiden brought out the “Ripper” personality, because that’s enough for a whole ‘nother meta itself, haha. I do love Sam, though, even though he messed with my boy, because he was his own level of sacrificing oneself to make sure the ultimate goal was met and the greater good was looked after. I loved the way we all thought Sam was just another villain through MGR:R and then his DLC totally flipped the script on what we thought we knew about him. It was great, heh. As a writer, I really respect stories that can cement my opinion of someone and make me hate them, only to then completely break it down and make me feel the opposite way. But again, that’s way too much to get into here, and this is about Raiden, so let’s move on, heh.

After the emergence of the Jack the Ripper protective alter that helped Raiden overcome his fear/guilt of being a monster and become comfortable with killing when necessary again, it’s almost like Raiden comes back around to katsujinken, but now he’s got a much less idealistic and romanticized notion of it. Now he’s more realistic and practical, having no illusions in his mind that he is still killing, causing harm, causing pain, etc. even if it’s for a good cause or to protect innocent people. In MGS4, I feel like he was coming at it from a very idealistic standpoint of… well it makes it less evil or less cruel or maybe less despicable of him to kill if it’s for a good cause. He was rationalizing his behavior by saying that it becomes a good thing because it’s for a good cause.

After MGR:R and the whole experience with Sam, and through the process of first suffering at the mercy of and then learning to control the Ripper side of himself, Raiden learns that killing is killing. Period, the end. It’s always killing, it always causes harm, pain, suffering, etc. But what people like Raiden with extreme capabilities can choose to do is take on that sin, I guess, heh… that immorality or shame or guilt or dishonor, even… so that others don’t have to, and so that the greater good or innocence can be preserved.

So there’s still that element in his thinking of the end goal of protecting innocent people, but now he’s not running from the fact that he is a killer, sometimes he even enjoys killing if he really hates the people he’s doing it to, and he’s good at it. He’s not running from the guilt and shame of that anymore, he’s just accepting it as part of what he’s agreeing to do in life to do his part to protect the innocents of the world.

And there you have it, my brain unloading all its thoughts about how Raiden’s psychology at the various stages of his life influenced not only his philosophy on life in general, but his own perception of himself. I will never stop being interested in and fascinated by Raiden’s overall story and psychology. He’s such a deep, complex, and multi-dimensional character, one of my all-time favorite characters I’ve ever encountered in any book, movie, or video game throughout my life, if I’m being honest. I know I’m on the wrong side of a good portion of the fandom by saying I love this character or that he’s my favorite in the franchise, because poor Raiden gets… an unbelievable amount of hate in the MGS fandom, but… that’s not gonna stop me from wanting to write my moody metal boy. XD

#{ i am the caretaker of souls } ᵒᵒᶜ #{ meta }#{ headcanons }

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hologramcowboy · 1 year ago

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At the recent convention Jensen was supposed to sing at the Saturday night concert but unexpectedly didn’t.

People are joking that it’s because people make fun of his ‘pornstash’ and he was annoyed, but I’ve just been listening to the recent Kings of Con podcast called ‘Beef’.

Rob mentions in detail a chat thread where he maybe upset Jensen as he said no to Jensen’s suggestion for a medley, as Rob didn’t want to learn too many new songs, as was already struggling. (I have a friend who also suffered a stroke who finds this kind of thing difficult and so think this could be a real challenge for Rob now).

Rich was joking that he had offended Jensen. And then Jensen didn’t actually sing at the event for some reason. It all sounded kind of petty if that was the case and I’d like to think that wasn’t the reason.

If you have chance to listen to it I’d be interested what you think.

I personally think it’s wise to protect Jensen from singing at the moment as he seems drunk, can’t remember the words, sometimes sings badly when I know he can sing well, and wanders off when he feels like it. I could never ever cast someone like that in a performance after seeing that and worry how it looks to others.

There are also some details about Cliff not letting other cast members into J2’s private green room at times that do make it seem that they were maybe as close to the cast as I thought.

I want to believe the best, but these stories make me wonder.

That stache or whatever he wants to call it just gave him the creepiest vibes. As an actor you need a thick skin. People might not like your outfit, words, make-up, etc etc but that should never affect your professionalism and, if it does, then please find another career. You clearly are not in it for the craft.

I am going to be bluntly honest, I am super happy Jensen did not take the stage because, and I cannot stress thiss enough, unless you are putting high quality performances out there please don't put out any at all or you risk burning your image and career. Jensen has done enough drunken, mindless performances where he sang off key and was clearly in a highly altered state. My guess is his team probably advised him to take it easy. I do think he was probably too wasted to perform, let's face it he's proven time and time again he cannot seem to get through a con without altering his state and that is such a terrible example for his fans. I adore his voice but it's been years now that he's been delivering extremely low quality performances in an altered state and that does not honor his career, fans nor talent.

As for Rob, I can't even remotely imagine why watching out for his health would be offensive to Jensen. So I am going to withhold commenting on that and just say that I hope Rob chooses health over those who gaslight him. Health is everything.

I don't get the fans that feel happy in a room where Jensen is wasted out of his mind and screaming off key instead of singing. It's like going to the zoo and watching your favorite animal walk in circles due to being driven crazy by the small cage they are kept in and being happy about it, not even caring about animal mistreatment. What's worse is that they sexualize those peformances during which he is clearly self destructing.

If any of you are singers or performers on every level please choose to believe in yourself and train rather than using alcohol to numb yourself. Don't kill your talents, nurture them, they are a gift you can share with the world. 🧡

#jensen critical

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alexissara · 1 year ago

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Thoughts On Leaving Texas Before I Leave Texas

I'm moving, I've lived in Texas since I was 5 years old, for almost my whole living memory I called Texas my home, a few different cities but I've been in Texas for a long time, 26 years. There is a lot of things I really liked about living in Texas but now it's time to go. Money wise it's gonna be rough but for my health, for my fiancé's health, for our future we have to leave. My Fiancé got a job up north and so we're going in December or November and leaving behind our long time home.

Texas has become an increasingly terrible place to live, before we even talk about like the direct political threat to my life we need to talk about the threat to everyone's life that is Climate Change and Texas's shit energy grid. Every single winter we have to worry if we'll lose energy for days maybe weeks and if people will literally die freezing due to the failing of Texas thanks to attempts at further privatization they had done. This is getting to the point that things are getting too hot too and the energy grid is under threat now like half the year where people are asking to conserve energy lest we all literally die if the power grid broke down. I hate having to worry that I might get my power shut down random for a few hours or worse case a few days. It is not good for my little neurodiverse brain to have something like that looming over my day as I get yet another warning about conserving energy or just see that the weather is getting to the

Now we can talk about the threats to mine and my loved ones life currently ongoing in Texas. The lack of abortion rights is an active health risk for my family. The constant threat of removing HRT from people is a threat not just to me but to my Fiancé who was considering starting T for a long time now. The removal of queer books and trans women from public spaces doubly effect me as a trans woman and writer removing spaces where I could potentially do public appearances and places I could share my work inside my own community. Not to mention it also just sucks that all the cool public resources, aka libraries could be stripped of queer books, many of which my Fiancé was an active part in getting into the system when they worked there. I pass really well, literally haven't been misgendered in years but a bathroom ban still raises threats to me. Generally the public environment while not as bad in this city always has to have me at least a little bit on guard for fear for my life for being trans but also for being in a queer relationship openly and publicly.

So ya, I feel like I have to go, I do want to go but I wanted to go at my own pace, like I wanted to take the time to wait until we got the right job in the right city, till we were sure we could be living somewhere we could put roots in but that's not what we're doing, we are leaving because we need to be somewhere safer and somewhere better even if it isn't our first choice.

I am excited to move, stressed about the money and about actually moving and I suffer from really bad separation anxiety and get attached to places so I know I will probably spend the week we move balling my eyes out even if I am otherwise emotionally okay but I am excited. The era isn't too far from some friends and since I moved to a new city in Texas I haven't really had any friends who weren't like my Fiancé's friend that I was hanging out with also. Being in a more queer community should be nice and I should be close to some nice spots living more directly in the city. I think I will love a lot of it but also that I will utterly hate the colder months because I like it warm and I hate it cold but to be fair Texas has got a ton colder and our homes aren't built for the cold so I don't actually imagine days in will feel much different.

I mostly feel really positive about everything but from now till I move I am gonna try and hustle and see if I can't get some more gigs or something to take the load of expense off our savings. If you enjoy my work let me know and let other people know you do and that is a great way to help me make more cash money. Thank you for raeding.

#Texas #Moving #Personal #Queer #Fleeing

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askpokeeosin · 2 years ago

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What inspired you to start this blog?

As previously mentioned, I was in a bit of a mental funk and I hadn't been keeping up with a lot of my hobbies, art included. The idea of starting a pony ask blog was one that I had for nearly five years before. It wasn't until my Holiday Break that I decided to pull the trigger on it. It's actually been pretty good for my mental health drawing and updating the blog during the semester! As for subject wise, I have to admit that I didn't go into this with a set plan. Maybe a little bit of ramblings, a little bit of educational stuff about how the (human. I am studying human medicine after all lmao) body/medicine works, and sort of slice of life stuff was the general idea for the blog. For the one year anniversary, I'll likely give a full story about the birth of this blog. It's going to be quite long, though.

Quite a lot, actually. There's a story very early in the blog about how I found out I got accepted into medical school that is basically what actually happened to me. Yes, the trauma surgeon really did "welcome me to the suffering" lol. The stuff the other throwaway doctors said was also stuff that was said when I told them. I have quite a few stories from my time in medical school so far and from before that I will absolutely be doing stories for. Some of them will be funny, others are probably going to be really depressing, so fair warning about the latter.

#pony ask blog #ask pony blog #ask blog #askpokeeosin #airport musings

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agirldying · 2 years ago

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👁️ anon

tw// kind of religious thinking? In like, "My soul" stuff and mention of angels. Abuse ment, abusers ment and general childhood abuse ment.

To the person that said that usually abused children develop this thinking of being special, and adding on a bit onto what you said of seeing abusers as some kind of omnipresent being who haunts us through realities just to torment us, I used to see it that way too without realizing it.

I remember, as a confused and angry teenager that just discovered that what I was going through was abuse, feeling like this was maybe something that would led me to be The Great Pioneer in Child's Mental Health and Better Parenting (it's not a big subject in my country, all types of abuse are really normalized), and that all of what I was suffering was for a greater good. Unconsciously, I started looking at my abusers as the executors of my innocous, naive, mediocre being, that needed to be executed so I could become the wise, learned-from-pain, destined for big things person. Like they were the people asigned by some kind of natural order responsible of turning my life to shreds just so my soul could fly free, like a dove bearer of better and greater news, asigned to be the hero of the story.

In the end, the whole "I am destined to be big, so that's why I suffered" narrative withered away and left me with the hollow feeling that, no. Two of them, my mother and my dad, are just, at best, very incapable parents, at worst, cruel and just abusive for the sake of it (I would say a bit of both). The next three, responsible for the abuse mentioned in earlier asks, were just children abused themselves that put me through traumatizing situations for the sake of relieving their pain, and two very disgusting adults who predated children in social media while I happened to be a vulnerable child at the same time. Not greater plans for it, no greater force, not natural scheme. Just traumatizing things that happened and that I will have to deal with in therapy. Helping others with my experience can be something that I do in the future, but it's not something that was planned from the start that I needed to be hurt for. It would be because I wanted to help others, not because my abusers gave me something valuable with their abuse. They didn't.

Hey 👁️,

You're entirely right. I especially resonate with "I started looking at my abusers as the executors of my innocous, naive, mediocre being, that needed to be executed so I could become the wise, learned-from-pain, destined for big things person."

But you're also right that there is no greater reason, people abuse merely because they choose to do so. You didn't deserve what happened. Nobody deserves to be abused. I try to see it as, this world has a lot of unnecessary problems but at least I can do my part to battle them by spreading love and kindness. It's probably naive of me, but I just think that this world makes no sense in so many ways and we should never normalize the horrible things that we do. I personally believe that this life, or at least my life, is about trying to right wrongs. Righteousness.

I'd also like to cite the part in my expose where I answer the question "Is there anything about you're trauma that you're thankful for?" because I think the response is relevant here:

"I think oftentimes it’s unwise to suggest someone is stronger because of their trauma because that is to imply it was a good thing, which it isn’t. But there’s so much I would’ve never explored or things I would’ve never gotten the opportunity to do if none of those things happened to me. I wouldn’t have become as involved in politics. I wouldn’t have created Love Doesn’t Shove. I would’ve probably remained an allosexual cisgender girl and would’ve never explored the vastness of human expression. I would’ve never created a blog that helps hundreds upon hundreds of trauma survivors. I never would’ve written the poems that have since been published. I probably wouldn’t have majored in Creative Writing. I certainly wouldn’t have written this book. I would’ve never truly appreciated the privilege it is to be able to express myself, speak my mind, write, disagree, and own my body. I would’ve never donated to those domestic violence shelters.

I would’ve still been in my own blissful imagination of the reality around me, and that’s honestly not something I want for myself. I want to know, even if knowing hurts.

I almost want to say my life would’ve been boring without the trauma [my abuser] gave me, that [my abuser] has given my life value. But it’s not that he gave my life value by giving me appreciation for all I had taken for granted. I gave it to myself for realizing what I’m worth."

#text #asks #👁️ anon #trauma #vent #trauma vent #abusers #ptsd #cptsd

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triumphantfury · 7 months ago

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so I just read "TSaW " and I immediately loved the setting. now; I have a bad habit of finding great fanfictions, but all abandoned, I wondered if you had any plans in mind or if you had already made some kind of decision. and if you decide to stop with a story, if you would publish a chapter in which it is confirmed (I would like other authors to do the same).

Thanks for reaching out, and I’m so glad to hear that you are enjoying my work thus far. As for your question, I definitely have plans in mind — for TSaW as well as all the other WIPs I’m currently neglecting. Life has been really busy with a blend of family health issues (my mom has suffered 2 strokes in the last 3 years) and just general life stress, I’ve hard a tough time motivating myself to do much of anything ‘creative-wise’. I am finally starting to get back into it now, and there will be updates on everything. Just probably not at the pace my readers would prefer.

If I ever decide to give up on a story, I would undoubtedly make an official post or update stating such. I would also likely ‘orphan’ it in the hopes that maybe someone else would come along and finish what I started. Not that I am even close to that with my current stories, but you never know.

Still, I am always keen to hear ideas that any of my readers have. I also love hearing wishes for works they’d like to see happen in future. In fact, I currently have a dorky little httyd one shot ready which I am in love with and it came from straight from a random conversation with a mutual. Now I just need to find the time to post it. That said, if there’s anywhere you’d like to see TSaW go, feel free to drop me a dm and I’ll see what I can do 😁

#no wip left behind!#😂#To Suffer a Witch - WiP #httyd fanfiction #ao3 author #fanfic.net #wattpad #fanfic readers are the best #i love asks!

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violetskies65 · 2 years ago

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My Abuser.

Honestly, it has taken me too long to write this. I have a lot going on in my life, and it really saddens me that I lost four months of my life away to a narcissistic drain. Looking back, that is exactly how I see my ex. A drain, or some type of large black hole, that sucked away pieces of my soul, and my spirit. I know my spirit was draining, and I simply was not "me".

It did not take long for my friends to notice my weird behavior. They were of course worried about me, but in their defense, they did not care to poke or prod into my situation, as I would always shut them down. "I'm just tired" I would say, while knowing I was sinking back into that place I so desperately fought to get out of when I was between the ages of 17 and 18. At that time, the current social climate, rise of COVID-19 cases, and my father's death is what put me in that "dark place". Now, it was one person, one person I so desperately craved to get away from at all costs, even to the point where I was joking about faking my own death to my mother. She probably brushed it off as my dark sense of humor, but even then, and somewhat now, I have hidden nearly all of the abuse I suffered from November 2022, to March 2023.

I see myself as a girl who wants to date for marriage, and fun. I have been busy a bit, and chose to work on myself, and perceived flaws. I was in a pretty shifty relationship for too long in 2021, and while I am friends with this ex now, with him begging to rekindle our relationship at some points, this man broke my heart in the midst of August. Looking back, it was honestly for the best. I needed to learn to not be codependent, and work on myself. This time period brought a lot of blessings for me growth and personality wise, and for the first time in forever, I felt free and happy. I had contracted COVID-19 in August, and was also busy babysitting my now homeless coworker/friends small children. These events allowed me to come out of my depressed shell, but also take time to recuperate on myself. Many men came my way, and were rejected, I simply was not ready to exactly date yet, so why I made that mistake in October, I will never know.

Picture it, October of 2022! I was definitely feeling myself. I have dealt with weight and body image issues for the past year, which were further amplified by my choice of attire as Catwoman, but I decided to just be myself. I was invited to a friend's (now ex friend) halloween party. Looking back, this was all a simple ploy or "set up" to set me up with the person who would become my abuser, worsen my anxiety, and cause me to worry for my safety over the period of several months.

We really liked each-other's "vibe" at the party, and simply began talking. Honestly, there seemed to be an abundance of red flags everywhere, the first being is, he simply didn't have a drivers license. I'm just going to state it here right now, I like and prefer to date older men, for multiple reasons, none of which really being me playing into the "gold-digger" stereotype. He was 21, no license, but he had a job. The light at the end of the tunnel right? He was actually employed, and would walk approximately two miles back and forth to his place of employment every night. I felt sorry for him, and saw him as just a goofy guy, who had been put down by women for not being good enough, with the stories he told me and the way he expressed himself, I believed him. In a way, I believe it to be a somewhat empathetic connect. In the way he constantly put himself down as "not good enough", I related, as I felt I was not good enough because of my current self esteem.

On the flipside of the coin, I deal with mental health issues myself, but I often internalize them. I am still so angry at myself, as I feel I came so far as a person, only to waste it, on this piece of shit. We continued talking, and did not engage in "full intercourse" for about a month, possibly even longer. I didn't exactly know what we were, I just know we liked each other, and I did not wish to rush anything. Our official anniversary date was November 13th, a date I felt guilty about, as it was my father's birthday. I really did not wish to share such a sad and special date to myself with him, but I was afraid to tell him that, because he was quickly wanting to make it "official". I now realize his reasoning for this was to prove something. He wanted to prove to his exes, and other "nay-sayers" that he could in fact OBTAIN a new girlfriend, he simply is not the issue, and they are. Of course this is all a blatant trait of his long-standing narcissistic traits.

I just began a new job, and I had too much going on, but I still seemingly did everything to keep him happy. When we met, and around the time we began dating, he had an ex, I'll call her Gaz for privacy reasons. From the outside looking in, it truly did appear to me that Gaz was the one doing the harassing. I really wish I listened to what she said, or prodded more into it.

My abuser simply stated to me that Gaz, had left him, yet continued to harass him for months. I would later discover this to not be true in the slightest, but I did not discover or realize this soon enough. She posted across various social media platforms about how much he hurt her, how bad he treated her and how his behavior was deplorable, and the most obvious, about him being a narcissist. The funny thing is, I actually went to high school with Gaz, and she was a year younger than me. I knew of her, but I really did not know her. I heard about some drama and scandals she was in, but just always assumed she never liked me, but I simply went on with my life. She was, and still clearly is on a separate path from me. I would like to believe everyone progresses in life at different rates, and I truly wish the best for everyone, but it is now so clear that my abuser was holding her back, which honestly, makes me fear the now scrapped future I may have been stuck in with him.

Gaz was an intelligent and talented young woman who came from a more privileged background than myself. She is tall and skinny, and was pursuing a degree at the college I practically just gave up on because of depression and financial related issues. These were all my first surface level assumptions of her. I knew she was in some drama in high school, but I never really hated or cared about her, she was friends with a good friend of mine from back in the day, so I assumed she had matured and pursuing good goals for herself. I saw some of her memes and artwork on instagram, and thought they were neat. Besides all of that, I never really paid her any mind, until she broke up with my abuser.

Gaz dated my abuser for nearly two years, and broke up with him in August (Key Date: A day before I was dumped by my ex). I was friends with my abuser on facebook a bit after this happened, and saw him posting sad and depressing posts, and although I did not know him, I knew he was the brother of she-demons brother. I felt it was my duty to help uplift someone's spirit after I was in such a dark place myself. I seemingly put two and two together, and from seeing his posts, her posts, and her continuing to post after we made our relationship public, and assumed she was a terrible person who just wanted to see the person I then loved and cared for so deeply suffer. Why will she just not let it go? I thought to myself everyday. I wanted to confront her so badly, and probably say some not so nice words. On twitter, she began posting about me, just some snarky comments. My abuser always reprimanded me, and sent his mother after her, but I was never ever allowed to say or confront Gaz about anything. I simply let it die. I trusted my abuser also, because I thought his other ex, we will call her Jade, was on just great terms with him, they were friends, and they left the past in the past. I would later come to find out that that wasn't true either, and he has quite the extensive track record in regards to abuse.

From the moment we began dating, my abuser was initially so focused on moving in together. This is not something I looked forward to, and stated many times I was looking forward to paying off my debt in the New Year before I ever made such a commitment. I had no issue with living with my mother, and I still don't. It can be rough at times, but there are really no combative issues, or any issues nearly akin to what I went through when I lived with my abuser. This should have been the most blatant red flag, but do not think I did not voice my concerns about this bizarre arrangement.

I would wait to get off work and take my abuser to his job, where he would make a whopping $11-20 dollars a night, if even that. I have done DoorDash and made double that in just an hour or two. I had a thirty minute commute home, but sometimes, he would guilt-trip me into staying up and staying in the city late, so I could take him home too. I cared about him, but these events were very tiring to me, and would wear me down. Even then, I felt like I was walking on eggshells, and that I couldn't just simply tell him "no". This would obviously become a more prominent issue later into our relationship. issues regarding sex, drugs and alcohol, finances, and more, all were rooted in this way of life. I was simply scared to stand up from myself from almost the beginning, I put him on a pedestal, and he really seemed to enjoy that. Before things got deeper into the relationship, I thought to myself, how could this goofball be so abusive, and that Gaz was a psycho and jealous liar. Ironically, this seems to be a trend with my abuser.

My abuser dated Jade before Gaz. Jade was described to me as very sexually confident, yet she had an insatiable appetite for attention, she was described to me as needy, someone needing to be loved. At first, in regards to the details my abuser laid out in his long and overtold stories about her, I related. I really just wanted to be her friend. Early on in my relationship with my abuser, she happened to send me a friend request. I accepted it, but was initially weirded out. My abuser made me go back into a cycle of being unfriendly and untrustworthy with people, ESPECIALLY other women. I simply asked him why she had added me, which led to him spilling into his now standing friendship with her, and later on comparing her to Jade, which also helped further the process with my brainwashing by him.

Jade is just so much more mature than Gaz, was the rhetoric repeated by my abuser most often. "I'm so glad we are friends" he stated, multiple times. For some reason, these instances did not make me really insecure. I was actually happy he seemed to be on good terms with atleast one of his exes, which to me, proved the point the Gaz was nothing but a hateful liar. Really, that wasn't the case. Jade is a very forgiving person who has certainly been through a lot. She simply thought forgiving my abuser (OUR abuser) for what he did would be just enough for her to move on with her life, and process her trauma, but when I came forward about my abuse, it seemed to open up a door for so much more information that would make my stomach churn, and in turn, make me feel like the world's biggest idiot, and a loser.

My abuser talked about Jade a lot. Gaz was a forbidden topic, at least to me. Whenever Gaz was mentioned, it was followed by something negatively that she had done to him. These instances carried on for two months of our relationship. My abuser seems to piggy back off a lot of his issues, and as most narcissists do, he uses it as a defense mechanism. He would repeatedly talk about Gaz, and how she tricked him, lied to him, and later on, how SHE was the one who cheated. It honestly hurt me, this fixation he had on this girl I felt I was nothing like. I was nothing like Jade either, but I feel we could relate in some ways. Our socioeconomic background was slightly similar, we had some similar interests, and we both adored cats. Still, she was different from me in a lot of ways, and I was reminded of that too.

I am just going to say, I am very confident in myself, at least before this relationship took a toll on me, but repeated stories about Gaz and Jade was something that really started to piss me off. After listening to his virginity story, and about all these women he has "scored" i began to drift off, and tell my own stories, my exes (which I do not have a lot!) and how we are all cool, or on some set of good terms. I bragged and gloated about how men usually come back to me, because they do. I just wanted to gain strength in my own sexuality again, and my appearance. I am bigger, and I gained weight in this relationship. I was on the way to dieting, before my abuser ruined it by practically forcing me to smoke marijuana and live off fast food for months, to the point where my gall bladder hurts.

Alongside the repeated lies and stories in regards to Gaz, his hatred for her was so strong I was deprived of finding joy in any similar way or interest that was akin to her. Even where I lived, was VERY much an issue for my abuser. Throughout the course of our short lived relationship, my abuser only spoke to my mom maybe like three times. She was very polite each time, but even then, I was so terrified she was going to say something to set him off. We basically began dating before the holidays, and he would not meet my family. He would not budge, and would always give a sob story to how he could not, and would not meet my family for the holidays. Everything was about his family, and how he felt.

I spent thanksgiving alone for a bit, after a long day of hard work at my Grandmothers until my family came. At this point, I was just extremely upset and questioning the entire complexity of my relationship. I could not find the words to tell my family, and my poor confused mother of all people just exactly why my new prince charming would not be attending dinner with us, atleast for a little bit, or the simple fact that he was refusing to meet them. His infatuation with Gaz still continues to this day, as if Fall Out Boy came on the radio, I was surely getting the silent treatment for atleast fifteen minutes.

Christmas rolls around, and we are honestly having more good days in our relationship than bad. I truly loved my abuser, and for a while, my doubts began to fade. I traveled to his mother's house in a city three hours away around christmas time, and then again near new years. Near Christmas, I truly did not feel like going, but I was excited to get out. At first, I was nervous, and a bit sad. My ex was from a town near this area, and I had a great friend who lived up here whom I missed, so I was a bit melancholy. This was obviously an issue for my abuser. "Why can't you just be happy", is a statement he would constantly speak, whenever my emotions were not the exact same as his.

I hated going to his mothers house. I did not feel comfortable, and the steps were ridiculous. There was no heat in the dead of winter, but they were struggling. In my head and in my heart, I was already thinking of ways I could help them, as I felt so bad. I always wanted to get toys for his two young brothers, which ended up with him scolding me and storming off in the middle of Walmart, because I accidentally interrupted him holding up a Spider man figure, asking if his brothers would like it. The house was always filthy and dirty, but I was under the guise they were getting their life together, so I tried not to be too judgemental. I felt so cramped and boring, and I was the new girl, so of course a conversation piece.

My abuser found a box that had some of Gaz's things in them. Instead of throwing them out or allowing me to rethrift them, he sulked, and gave me the silent treatment, somehow everything was my fault, once again. He was full of anger and rage, he held so much hate in his heart for Gaz.

The first time, we had to sleep on an air mattress that kept deflating on the floor, which left me with a very sore hip. This did not matter though, as my abuser then decided it was the perfect room to have sex in. I was not sober, but I will say, I fully consented to intercourse that night, it was fast, as it always was with him. I knew it would be over soon, leaving me unsatisfied, but honestly I was just tired. I figured we would wake up and leave in the morning, only to realize, I was trapped in a city three hours away for the next half of the day. I woke up that morning freezing, tired, and feeling gross. I got up and used the bathroom, came back, and fell asleep. This led to my abuser berating me for falling back asleep, with no regards to my quality of sleep, and with him begging to have sex again. I am not going to deny, I am a sexual person. Sex is fun to me, as I'm sure it is to a lot of people. I am also a very hygienic person, and sometimes, the act is not very hygienic. He pleaded and begged for 15 minutes to have unprotected sex with me, when I was so tired.

During the argument, I could hear his uncle across us in the hallway, and his brothers running outside. To top it all off, the sun was coming up. I finally just gave into missionary sex as I said "okay, I'll let you, but I won't be actively participating", because I knew in my heart, he would be complaining the entire day and about how I ruined our chance to have sex, which is something he did often. I spent half of our relationship feeling like a teenager, as sex was common but almost always uncomfortable, and he acted like a naive boy on prom night.

January came and went, and honestly, will probably go down as one of the worst months of my life. I had to be at work super early on New Years Day, so even though we spent some time together, we did not get to spend the night together, or even share a New Year's kiss. My night ended with me dropping him off at work, and me going home, and going to sleep, feeling so frustrated.

My frustrations would continue into the next day as I woke up to find him to be at his exes' home approximately a few minutes from where I lived. It was Jade. "Hey" he texted me, with me ignoring it, unintentionally, as I clocked out from work around 2. "I'm in *insert town name* at Jade and her boyfriend's house, they invited me over for New Years." I read the message, and shut down. This was the first moment in our relationship I was full of anger. Not sadness, not numbness, and not confusion, pure raw anger. I felt betrayed, and maybe even a little jealous. Two confusing and unusual emotions to me, as I am not the jealous or protective type even after what I have been through, but my abuser honestly really pushed my limits. I was so hurt by this, I just wanted to end it. How could he ignore my family, berate me for where I live, and swear to never come to my area again over Gaz, but was there in a heartbeat for Jade. To clarify, I do not think either cheated, obviously, but this showed me where his priorities where. It really bothered me, but I could not voice my frustrations to him, because he slowly started to become more and more vocal with his anger and frustrations.

My abuser was still so keen to me moving in with him, to the point where he tricked me into touring an apartment with him. I did not want to move here, and voiced my concern with him about this horrible idea. and stated multiple times, that I did not have the 1500 deposit the landlord requested. Finally, I just gave up and gave in. I thought moving to a new place would be a good start for me, something I needed, and it was much much closer to my job. This is when the cracks started to really show.

The day we signed the lease, I voiced my concern about payment, which led to him throwing the pen in my car floor board, followed by his phone, and proceeded to stomp it. I was so horrified by his behavior, and yet, I somehow internalized it towards me. This was the first time I ever saw him so angry and upset, so again, I went along with whatever to make him happy, I mean, I was supposed to love and support him right? I paid the full 1000 down, which twisted our next two months rent to be 1000, to help cover the initial deposit that was agreed upon. We had no furniture, no food, and I had such a busy work schedule, but I just wanted to get it set up. My abuser started his new apartment journey by sleeping on the floor. A week later, he yelled at me for buying "nine dollar sushi" at the grocery store across the street, because I had used the wrong card and asked him to go ahead and pay for it and I would find the correct card and pay for his. He continued this argument, and I just became numb for three days because of it. He tried to make me feel bad at every opportunity he could.

I was honestly so sick and in pain around the time of us moving in. He just kept bragging about "his" first apartment. I paid the full deposit, yet everything was just still about him. I was hoping things would cool down after the phone stomping incident, but he began berating me and calling ME ungrateful because I felt sickly and did not want to take a photo with him. This sounds incredibly bitchy, but this was practically the only time he wanted to be the one taking a photo of us, and I simply said no. This led to a buildup of intense anger, to the point where I was shaking. I then agreed to take the photo with him, and I did not look happy at all. My crumbling smile and intense dark circles practically said it all. When it came to moving furniture in, it was never easy. We had no bed, and I really did not feel like moving my huge bed over there. I knew it was going to take a village to do so, and unlike his generationally impoverished family, all of my family members have jobs, and are constantly occupied.

Due to me switching and going off birth control, along with other birth control methods, I have presumed fertility issues, but only due to an irregular cycle pattern. My cycle patterns with my abuser seemed to stay consistent, but I can tell you, I was not looking to become pregnant. I really hate exposing myself in such a long & detailed post, but I do have a breeding kink, along with some other sexual interests he berated me for, comparing me to his ex, Gaz, who I presumed was asexual or sex repulsed. In all honesty, I did not care what her sexual interests or libido was like, but my abuser made sure to make it a conversation topic almost always, especially when intoxicated, which he frequently was. My cycle was finally straightened out, but I still had ovulation or PMS related pains. One day, it was extremely severe, I could not walk at work, which is basically all my job consisted of. My abuser demanded I call him by a certain time, on my lunch, which I did. I repeatedly called him, and did not understand why he was not picking up, and I became increasingly frustrated due to my prolonging uterine pain and my time being wasted. I was also starving myself at this time, ignoring my hormonal cravings due to my weight gain and poor body image. I became incredibly ill after New Years, possibly due to eating Sheetz food after I starved at his mother's home for two days. I'd honestly say I lost about five to ten pounds during this time. My abuser did not care. He was happy I was not eating, I assume because he can only be attracted to pre-pubescent bodies.

He always went out of his way to mention my fertility,

I told him I had to go, and my lunch was almost over and I was in pain. He proceeded to pelt me with these texts.

At this point, I knew I made a mistake. It was too late to fix it, but I should have just gave up and ghosted right there. That is an act I hate to do, but it would have saved me so much trouble, and a lot of trauma. He continued this pointless argument for over two days, even after he apologized. It only continued to get worse, with him picking apart every little thing I was saying. I feel like everybody hated me in our area, and in turn, I turned on hating them. Even two girls I went to school with, and was friends/acquaintances with for years. He was always more worried about his commute to work a 2 hour a night job then my sleep schedule, as me having to go in at 5am simply inconvenienced him.

Besides us sadly sharing a lease together, (I use that term lightly, seeing as I paid for everything) the fact I was friends with his family and we basically shared somewhat of a social circle is what tied us together the most. I had my own friends from my area, and I had been casual friends with them. I say casual, as I always felt like an outcast, and I grew older, I was surely tied of their ways, and the drama. These issues would come full circle as all his family did was fight. I now realize my abuser honestly had no true friends like I did, nobody close. This in turn, made him incredibly jealous and hostile towards my friends, and even towards my family. So he is all I felt I had. I felt bad for turning my back on everyone, I kept casual contact with him, but after a while. I quit responding, and everyone knew something was up. It was depression. I've been through very short and sporadic depression spouts before, but this was a prolonged period, because of him. I was unhappy at work, I was unhappy being at "home". That apartment never felt like home, even after my bed was finally moved there. I started to feel less and less loved, and move used every single day. My self esteem plummeted immensely.

It was not long before he took hostage of my playstation, and spent money on a membership as he continued to not help with food or rent, and even power. I would have to come home on my lunch break everyday, and quickly consume a cup of ramen, courtesy of his mom, a month ago, who bought our only groceries most of which he ate in a day.

Everything in his world revolved around marijuana, cigarettes, or alcohol. Things really started to get worse between us in late January and February. Money was running low, and he became increasingly angry and frustrated with me everyday. I came home to him, my abuser, and the source of all my sadness. I felt like a prisoner, a prisoner who was stuck in immense debt in regards to rent. Around this time, a friend started to come over frequently, we will call him Clingy.

Clingy was over when we picked my abuser up. My abuser was heated because I posted an ad-like Facebook post looking for someone to go to a Valentines dinner with, as he refused. He was constantly texting me, but I was on the phone, with my ex. I am aware of how bad this makes me sound, but I was reaching out to him for at least some happiness, but mostly advice on how to get out and get away from my abuser quickly and safely, without losing people I thought were my friends. I now realize I should have ditched not only my abuser, but his associates and "mutual" friends a long time ago. It would have made my life so much easier. My abuser then began to punch my bathroom door repeatedly, and throw things. Out of embarrassment and holding back tears and not wanting to spend another night with him, I packed my filthy jansport bag and left, quickly. Clingy then relayed this information to my abuser's brother and girlfriend, when they caught news of me refusing to leave him, they "cut me off". I felt so controlled and alone, and they simply did not understand, I could not leave my abuser, because I was scared of him. If I was going to leave him, it would have to be in a rush. I would simply have to go no contact, or I knew he would begin to tarnish my reputation and try to ruin my life.

Things became really bad when I had to buy his secret santa gift for a girl at his job, I virtually had no money left. I took him to the fancy hotel for his dinner, only for him to berate me for cleaning the house. While cleaning, I found a large butcher knife in my side of the closet. It was sticking out at a weird angle. I questioned him about this, half jokingly, because I thought it was funny, but I was still scared. Around this time, I could feel my brain "splitting" like I was transforming into somebody else. I simply was not myself and my friends recognized that too. They only lived 30 minutes way but I missed them so much.

My abuser was yet to actually invite his family over, including his brother and our mutual friend, his girlfriend, to the apartment. The first person he invited over was his ex, Jade. He invited her over multiple times, and always had some excuse for her to be over. I was never at the apartment during these times, but I was told "Jade and her Partner" came over. As me and Jade would go on to later connect, I discovered this was a lie. I had no issues with Jade coming over believe it or not, but if he did not have any nefarious purpose or reasoning for her being over, why did he blatantly lie to me several times about the time she was over and if her partner accompanied her or not. I surely heard about this from his (sadly) soon to be sister in law at my job, and she was a tad heated (but seriously, when wasn't she? I get tired of being around miserable and angry people). So I told my abuser this. Little did I know, his father, who was our neighbor, was acquiring the landlord to obtain two trespassing warrants, one against my abuser's mother, and another one against my abuser's older brother, who is of course from a different father, in regards to some drama that occurred on Facebook. Instead of being honest, he told me and Clingy this information, but would not reveal it to his family. My abuser told them I was "talking shit" about them and saying they all hated him, instead of simply telling them the truth, which of course brought me into it. He even crafted a lie that Clingy was the one telling me that his brother had an issue with him. I never said that, as Clingy did not rely any information like that to me. This caused a huge fight, and ended up with us fighting, due to something he started. I called his mom, talked stuff out with her, she made me feel loved and safe. I felt like I could trust her, and I told her that her son never hit me or laid a hand on me, but that we were just not getting along. She gave me the advice to take a break and work. it out. He complained to me that Jade said our ceilings were too low. I grasped him and said "why do you give a fuck what they think", and went in for a hug, he shoved me up against the wall and asked me why I had to be such a bitch all the time, even though he knew I meant what I said in an endearing way. At this point, I started to loathe Jade and her presumed snooty comments.

I came home, to him seething. We fought, and it ended up with me crying and trying to make it work. Looking back, I simply feel like such a fool. I truly loved this person and was fighting to make it work, but everything I said, he rerooted back into an argument about how I was a piece of shit. He called me a sociopath, and talked about how I was fake crying and turning my emotions on and off, when that really was not the case. Talk about self projection.

I suddenly quit caring. I was ready for a break, a vacation. We came to a mutual agreement that it was best for me to take a break. I remember I did shut off the "water-works" as he called them instantly, when I realized, I did not love this person anymore. I mentally clocked out. I began packing my stuff, and he berated me for packing too much. I ran away to my cousins house. When my abuser got this news, he was upset. He inquired why and how I could spend time with my cousin, and possibly drink, and not him, in regards to me not liking alcohol. I simply stated "Because he is my cousin, and I trust him".

No drinking was done that night, I sat on my cousins couch trying to feel like myself again, holding back tears, feeling like the world's biggest idiot for continuing to let these things happen to me. My abuser began texting me, as he obviously did not understand the entire concept of a break. My mothers car broke down, and whether my abuser liked it or not, she as now my main priority. Her car breaking down seemed to be a blessing in disguise however, as I now had a reason to live back with her and share a car, even then, I still planned to pay rent or half rent for the month of March. Like an idiot I went back, the next day. Even that 12-18 hours of freedom I had away from him was simply amazing. Not only was I no longer in love with this monster anymore, I had completely mentally clocked out. It simply felt like we were stuck in a difficult marital arrangement, one I desperately craved to escape from. I came home, he apologized, even tried to hug me, and complimented me on my looks. Two weeks prior, he did not want to have sex and complained about me being "hypersexual", I never once forced sex on him. From the first day of our first break, I was no longer sexually interested in my abuser at all. He made me feel gross, and it honestly disgusted me how I slept with someone who seemed to be horrible and abusive in anyway, he still tried to flirt and fondle me. but it was awful. It came to the point where I dreaded going back to that apartment to spend any amount of time with him, and it became increasingly difficult to do so due to my current vehicle arrangement.

We made up, and everything was okay, but I simply was not in love with him anymore, and was ultimately terrified of leaving. I came home from work once, and felt that disgusting familiar feeling. I felt like I was walking on eggshells, and trying to hide in the other room from him was like playing "the world's most dangerous game". Earlier in the day, while I was at work, he dropped a small cup of Marijuana into the toilet. That was his first complaint when I came home. I assured him it wasn't his fault, which led to him snapping at me. "Just because it isn't my fault, does not mean my weed is going to magically reappear" he stated in his evil snarky tone. I had made plans earlier to bring my childhood best friend over, who lived near my residence, but my abuser was really cramping that, and taking out his drug (nicotene, marijuana) related frustrations out on me. To this day, I still have never been around someone who relied on marijuana THIS badly. I ignored his mean comments and agreed to get him a THC pen, although it was late. I will never forget the stress and anxiety this night put me through. As we were driving to the shop, I had a bad gut feeling, I could feel my insides churning, I was on the verge of crying and I wanted to throw up. It was pure silence, until he stated "you do know these cost $40 right?". I knew exactly how much the pens cost, but at this point I did not care. I knew I had no money left after paying that month's rent. I let out a mousy "yea, I know", which ended with him yelling at me loudly and accusing me of making him feel bad purposely. We pulled into the shop, I gave him MY card, and watched him go up to the door. They were closed, but I was praying. In my head, I was praying, I was back to the little naive six year old church girl I once was, who prayed. I am a spiritual person, but not that spiritual or religious. Tears started streaming down my face, but I had to choke on my own saliva and quit crying quickly, or I would face his wrath. I offered to take him back to the apartment so he would not have to go into my area, because it bothered him so much because of Gaz. In my heart, I really just wanted to get rid of him and spend time with my childhood best friend. We will refer to that friend as Zed. We picked Zed up, who was happy. He knew something was off though, as I was not my usual happy self, and was acting very anxious, as I also kept begging him to find some of his Delta 8 gummies to give to crybaby so he would stop his tyrannical and abusive behavior. It was an awkward car ride back home, with my friend zed updating me on his health status and his seizure disorder. My abuser followed this up with a dead Cameron Boyce joke, and Zed was not happy.

At the apartment, Zed felt immensely uncomfortable. He is not really the type to feel insecure or uncomfortable, perhaps a little anxious maybe, but he knew something was off. I was scared to tell him, and I was even scared to whisper to him what exactly was going on. I put up such a front that I was happy, but I was not. My abuser grew increasingly annoyed with me and Zed telling childhood stories and events, and talking about old high school memories. Around this time, I even started to crack a smile, and for the first time in a month, I legitimately felt happy. My abuser quickly got up and went to leave the room, but at this point I did not care. I was no longer scared. Zed is 6'4, and I am not going to describe their weight in this context, but they are certainly not someone to mess with, but I have always seen them as a goofy gentle giant, and I feel my abuser was intimidated by his stance. My abuser walked back into the room, and accidentally knocked over his projector in the living room. He then threw his phone down and started swearing again, I was no longer calm and relaxed, and was anxious again, anxious of what was to come. He then pouted in our bedroom. I mouthed the words to Zed "Gaz was right he is CRAZY"! Zed used the bathroom and begged me to take him back home, upon entering the bathroom, he noticed our piss stained toilet and mocked my abuser's ability to aim. The bathroom and overall apartment only got worse when I wasn't there, and my abuser would constantly piss on the rim with the toilet seat up, at this point, I completely lost my voice and was scared to say anything. This fear would continue, I always made sure to call a male friend or family member (namely my cousin) on the phone when I entered and exited the apartment. At this point, I was paying for a vacation or getaway location, I was barely there, and only went there so my abuser would stop consistently accusing me of cheating on him. Zed and I rode around our county for what felt like hours, and even though I was exhausted, I did NOT want to go back to what I dare called home, I wanted to stop at my mother's and spend the night, but all of my belongings were at the apartment. When I came home, my abuser lightly accused me of cheating on him, and was sitting up wide awake seething, and at this point, he truly scared me. I did not end up sleeping good that night.

Our relationship got worse, at least for me. I assume I was just really good at faking it. I came home to him installing LED lights in our room, and he made them flash. It hurt my eyes, and he got mad I stated it. He stated "you see these lights, well they are staying on during sex". When he said that, I felt my stomach churn. How could someone who treated me so horribly and acted like I was such a terrible sight to look at, and a sex crazed monster even though he initiated nearly all of our sexual encounters, even think about or mention sex?" I thought. There was no way in hell I would ever be intimate with him again, I was still mentally clocked out by this point. I still truly felt trapped, we had more frequent "breaks", and everytime I was away from him, I felt happy. During these points in the break, I even considered cheating. I was going to get out of this relationship one way or another, and I even joked about faking my death to my mom.

I left my abuser on February 13th. We were officially split. I thought the split was amicable, but every time I tried to have an amicable split, he thought I would take him back. I left him after he became increasingly more rude to a Walmart cashier over a mistake he kept making. This was NOT the person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. Before that, he rushed me around the store, and became increasingly frustrated with me because I ran into my female childhood best friend's current partner. We were catching up. She was pregnant at this time, so of course I wanted to see how my friend was doing. He did not like this. I will be elaborating further in a seperate post.

#abuse #relationshipabuse #long reads #toxic relationship #toxic behavior #domesticviolence #hurt #anxiety

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mental-health-advice · 2 years ago

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I've struggled with mental health my whole life and I was seeing a therapist and was on meds at some point too. I've been feeling bad again for the last couple of months, but then I was also thinking about my "symptoms" a lot and. The only thing they mentioned in therapy in the past was depression/anxiety/panic attacks, but I feel like there might be more? Like adhd or borderline? And I want to get a diagnosis so bad, just to know that I'm not making stuff up. But then I think like wow those are serious things - I probably AM making some stuff up, telling myself something's wrong because I WANT something to be wrong, because if there's not, then that means I'm just a shitty person. Idk. I'm scared to go to a psychiatrist because what if they tell me I'm actually mentally okay, more or less? It's like I NEED a serious diagnosis. I just want my life to make sense, and I don't want the reason to be that I suck as a person.

Hey there,

I am so sorry that you are starting to feel badly once again. Sometimes with mental health, it can fluctuate, meaning that we may seem stable and OK for a period of time and then out of nowhere we may begin to fall a bit in terms of our mental health and our overall feelings becoming worse once more.

It makes sense to want answers, to want to know exactly what is going on for you mental health wise, being able to put a name to our symptoms. And whilst I completely understand you being hesitant in seeing a psychiatrist or another mental health professional who can diagnose in case there is no extra diagnosis’ you may be suffering from. If this is the case though, it does not make you a shitty or a bad person at all. It just means that you are going through a lot and are really struggling right now in life and whatever may be going on for you right now. With all this being said, I would encourage you to seek mental health professional advice because regardless of the outcome at least then you will have answers and will no longer be pondering over all of the possibilities and consequently it may help to lighten your mood a bit.

You mentioned that in the past you have been in therapy and at one point was even on medication, are you still seeing someone and on medication? If not then I would gently encourage you to seek some additional help and support right now as doing these things again may be enough to help you feel a bit better and more in control of life. Just something to think about.

I really hope that this has helped a bit and please do let us know if we can help to support you in any other way!

I’m thinking of you and hope that you are going OK!

Take care,

Lauren

#mha-lauren #advice #advice blog #mental health advice #anonymous #worsening mental health #wanting a diagnosis #seeking help and support #seeing a mental health professional #medication #getting help

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blessed-velleity · 7 months ago

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now that i have this blog i can finally talk about my writing/thought process without yapping in the tags of the original post!! yipee!!!

first: timeline-wise, we should remember that this is right after the end of book 5, and before the styx incident occurs. i specifically mentioned that this is the day after vil’s overblot/the day after the canon scene where grim goes to get a little snack out of the blot crystal. when i refer to yu “blacking out”, this drabble is what i mean

second: in tgtwst that. also happens to be the day after santiago enters his brief coma and yu sort of bribes the nurse (fic here). it’s not mentioned but those circumstances are a factor in chrysos’ behavior—he’s stressed, his best friend is currently out of commission bc of deadly magic, his other halfway decent friend is also constantly doing things that are extremely inadvisable for both his physical and mental health, and on top of that, this halfway decent friend has a compulsive tendency to lie straight to his face under pressure.

third: yes, this is just a few mere weeks after this fic where chrysos and yu are bonding. birds of a feather flock together, but they also know exactly where to strike each other. and yes the way that chrysos gradually uses more informal forms of yu’s name? intentional. plus, the fic was actually going to end in further violence—chrysos would have had to be dragged away by someone—but i made it end the way it did because the worst thing to yu is watching his friendships/connections fall apart in real time (even though he did it to himself lol). there’s also another reason but that’s for later

fourth: if you are genuinely wondering how chrysos figured out all of (gestures) this, because even i’ve barely mentioned yu collecting the blot stones; although it was implied to have happened in If The Shoe Doesn’t Fit:

Yu holds his breath a little longer, and then starts coughing, surrounded entirely by gaseous blot. God, fucking… Why had he decided to do this again? Why did he think hoarding seven blot stones was a noble, reasonable idea? Why was he suffering for the sake of students who would be better off if he’d never showed up?

—well, bear in mind that chrysos is by far and away my most observant oc, he will absolutely take note of the smallest things—and even in the aftermath of something as devastating as an overblot, it’s not hard for someone like him to notice when yu takes advantage of peoples’ backs being turned to do something (especially given that, you know, chrysos was there for two overblots)

fifth: another full disclaimer that i absolutely do not support these two’s coping mechanisms/anger outlets as healthy ones. they are fucked up teenagers. better argument resolution methods exist but these two are not acknowledging them at all by the end

sixth: they’ll. resolve their tensions only after book 6’s big events lol. in this fic it’s just: Chrysos “I care more about my close friends and loved ones than the collective good, but I can’t communicate it to save my life” Pendentif versus Yuhua “I am selfish but I feel obligated towards the greater good to my own detriment” Wei and erm they will probably have to acknowledge that AFTER yu gets involved in even more dangerous affairs

finally: yu doesn’t learn his lesson 💀 in case you couldn’t tell from the fact that he overblots like 2 books later

"hypocrite"

Summary: Sometimes, people who are too similar will also clash. Word count: 2.2k+ Warnings: violence A/N: Wheeew. Chrysos and Yu hours again. I'm not going to comment on the quality of this one for reasons, but I'll just post it anyway. Here you guys go. (I'll also reblog this on my sideblog so you guys can see some additional thoughts and such.)

Dammit. Where did it all go wrong?

Yu doesn’t necessarily storm out of the infirmary, but it’s something close to it.

With the longest, swiftest strides he can muster, he intends to head back to Ramshackle—to rest, to collect his thoughts, and to figure out where the hell Vil’s blot stone went.

It hadn’t been anywhere in the infirmary or on his person, even though it was right in his palm when he passed out the night before. He didn’t have any memory of waking up another time between blacking out and ending up in the infirmary, either.

But if either the nurse or Crewel or Crowley had confiscated it, then they hadn’t addressed the issue at all when they had every reason to as highly-qualified staff members collectively responsible for the school’s safety.

So somehow, it disappeared right out of his hands. Somehow, a very potent crystallization of dangerous magical waste has disappeared and Yu needs to find it.

Maybe, just maybe, it ended up somewhere where no one will find it before me—

“There you are, Wei.”

It’s a gentle but accusatory voice.

Yu blinks and stops, emerging from his thoughts. Thanks to the fair, the hallway is empty except for him—him and a certain Octavinelle student.

“Chrysos,” Yu says pleasantly, waving to him. Speaking as if nothing out of the usual had happened at all, as if he isn’t high-strung with nerves. “Headed somewhere?”

“I meant to visit the infirmary to find you,” admits Chrysos, “but… it looks like you’ve already been discharged.”

Yu’s mouth curves into a small smile, a mask of politeness, since he doesn’t really feel like smiling. “Yeah. It was probably a cause for concern for some, but I’m fine. An overnight stay in the nurse’s office was treatment enough.”

“Oh?” Chrysos tilts his head. “That’s fast. If I might ask… what were you in there for, then?”

The inevitable question, of course. Thankfully, he’d prepared for this.

“Stress-induced sickness, I guess? It got to the point where I fainted.” Yu laughs softly. Habitually, he adds in a dash of something pitiable: “I’m about as weak as people expect me to be.”

Chrysos narrows his eyes ever so slightly, lashes dipping—as if the half-lie about the fainting spell is a dried-out organism he’s about to viciously dissect.

“I see,” he replies after a moment, instead of the expected accusations. “You’re sure you feel fine now, then?”

“Yep. Thanks for being worried, though.” Yu doesn’t mention that he pretty much blackmailed the nurse into letting him out, the second time in less than 24 hours. After all, it was better if no one noticed and questioned his abrupt admittance to the infirmary from last night…

…Yu frowns.

“Wait a minute—” he starts quietly, at the same time Chrysos says, “That’s good to hear.”

They look at each other, only one of them stunned into silence; and it isn’t Chrysos, who—ever composed—wordlessly and expectantly gestures for Yu to speak.

“How…” Yu hesitates, and then cautiously continues, “How did you even know I was in the infirmary?” After all, no one—absolutely no one besides the staff—should have been aware. It was far too early in the day for them to have told anyone…

Chrysos crosses his arms, an unreadable look in his eyes. “Do you want to take a guess?”

“No. Just tell me outright, please.”

“In that case…”

Almost innocently, Chrysos gives a slight sideways incline of his head again.

“I was the one who brought you to the infirmary to begin with.”

As if he hadn’t just dropped a bombshell of a realization on Yu, the ever-polite and ever-observant freshman waits for a reaction with a perfectly neutral expression. Or, Yu reflects, maybe it’s because he understands the significance that he watches so calmly.

It wouldn’t be surprising in the least.

Of course, still, Yu is filled to bursting with questions; opening his mouth to ask after a moment’s delay—then, what about the blot stone? Why were you out there in the dead of night like I was? Why did no one mention you to me? Why, and how—only to realize he can’t ask any of them. He can’t without giving up the little lie he’d made up for this conversation.

Even Chrysos, composed and paradoxically reckless Chrysos, can’t be told the truth lest he try to stop Yu.

So Yu closes his mouth and then puts on another smile, a soft laugh. “Seriously? Well… Thank you a lot, then. I owe you one.”

And, then—

“But I’m kind of in a hurry, so maybe we can talk about that later.”

Yu turns his back, then, and starts walking off in his original direction at what he hopes seems like a normal pace. It’s rude, and he knows it, but he doesn’t have any alternatives that will end well for him. Or, rather, he simply just doesn’t want to consider or choose those alternatives.

He doesn’t get to go very far before he’s stopped.

“Yuhua.” His given name sounds strange coming from Chrysos’ mouth. “Do you know what I’d appreciate in exchange? An explanation.”

“For what?” he asks, turning around again but refusing to meet Chrysos’ eyes.

“You know what I’m talking about.”

Yu’s mouth feels so, so dry. Still, he musters all the false sincerity he can, letting it bleed deep into his voice as he replies, “No, I don’t. I’m sorry.”

The heels of Chrysos’ shoes click, clack against the floor with startling emphasis. “I don’t appreciate you continuing to lie to my face,” he says, voice dangerously soft. “I found you unconscious at the Purple Stage last night, holding onto something you shouldn’t have looked for. Do you want to deny it any further?”

Holding onto something I shouldn’t have looked for? That’s rich.

“Maybe I should ask what you were doing there,” Yu deflects. “Isn’t your convenient presence equally as suspicious?”

“The Film Research Club was debriefing late into the night. You can ask anyone about it.” Chrysos narrows his eyes further. “That’s when I saw you. To be frank, it’s more of an alibi than yours.”

“Well—”

“And,” Chrysos interrupts, now that he’s found a weak point, “that’s not all. Don’t think I don’t know about the other blot stones you’ve been hiding.”

Yu freezes, struck with the overwhelming feeling of he definitely shouldn’t know that. That this has gone very, very wrong—or that this conversation wasn’t really within his control from the very beginning.

Of course, it isn’t that he hid those dangerous crystals for malicious purposes—just that someone has to do something about them, but now he has no idea what would happen if everyone found out.

And at this point, he’s already too far in over his head to stop.

“...How do you know that?” he asks, trying to school his expression back into place.

Chrysos basically scoffs. “It doesn’t take a genius to connect the dots. You’re lucky I’m the only one who’s noticed.”

Yu is and he knows it. That doesn’t mean he likes it at all.

“You—” Yu shuts his mouth, and feels his nails digging into the palm of his fists. “Thanks for your concern, but seriously, this isn’t any of your business. I don’t need any help.”

“Actually, I feel a little inclined to intervene. Do you even know what effects continuous blot exposure has on a normal human?” asks Chrysos incredulously.

“Does it matter if I’m just keeping them safely locked up?”

“Contrary to what you might think, you’re not invincible.”

What a disgustingly know-it-all response, one that he would have given himself if their roles were reversed.

It’s unbearable.

“I can’t believe you’re telling me this. Remember when you almost Overblotted because you overused your signature spell?”

“And so I’ve stopped using it.” Chrysos looks at Yu with what seems to be disdain. “Can you say the same for yourself?”

“What am I supposed to do? Leave the stones somewhere and hope they’ll just despawn without affecting anyone?!” Yu throws up his hands in exasperation. “Seven, I wish it was that easy.”

“Did you consider your other options?” wonders Chrysos. He lays the facts in a sickeningly rational manner: “You could have told someone. Anyone. Maybe not us students, but I’m genuinely surprised you didn’t at the very least call on one of the teachers or the headmage to safely dispose of it.”

The possibility had crossed Yu’s mind at some point. But Crowley had always been too irresponsible, and as awful as it feels to admit it, Yu doesn’t truly trust any of the adults at Night Raven College. He doesn’t trust a lot of people, come to think of it.

“It’s because I thought about it that I came to the conclusion I should just handle it myself. Are you going to stop being a hypocrite now? I mean, having other options never kept you from going off on your own—like with the anemones.”

That seems to be the spark that makes Chrysos bristle, shaking his scathingly polite Octavinelle exterior. “If you must know—”

“I’m dying to hear your excuses,” Yu drawls, “because the last I remember, you would go off and pursue debt-evading or rebellious students on your own—you would go off and ‘handle’ them yourself.”

His mouth is running faster than his mind now, but he can’t be bothered to stop it.

“Don’t you remember that, too? I’m sure it must have been so satisfying in the moment when you were beating Ace up—him, magicless and defenseless, and you with all the power, feeling like you were in the right because no one else was there to govern your actions—”

“Yu.” Something has snapped. Chrysos’ voice is low and deadly, now brimming with palpable anger. “Are you willing to shut your mouth, or should I shut it for you?”

Yu lets himself laugh cynically. “Funny, because I’ve been wanting to ask you the same thing. Can’t take what you dish out either, huh—”

——?!

He almost falls backwards from the force of being struck. Pain erupts on his left cheek and under the hand he instinctively brings up to feel at it.

It hurts, but one look at the almost feral anger in Chrysos’ eyes and a sick part of Yu feels satisfied, like he’s in control again.

Still, Yu knows he’s going to regret this later. They probably both will.

Not that it makes a difference.

When Chrysos aggressively grabs him by the front of his shirt, Yu can’t help but smirk, even when disoriented from being punched in the face. He reaches a hand up to dig his nails into the flesh of Chrysos’ arm. “Resorting to violence because you have no other arguments?”

“Resorting to deflection because you’re obviously in the wrong?” Chrysos retorts, bearing the expression of one who knows he’s being provoked but still wants to give in to it. As a matter of fact, he probably has the strength to kill Yu right here and now. His unwavering death grip is proof enough of that.

But Yu pays it little mind, refusing to give in to his fear, swallowing it down—he’s been at other people’s mercy in this world since the start, it’s nothing new. “Like that’s your place to decide?”

A derisive scoff escapes him.

“Why don’t you keep doing what you do for everyone else, and mind your own damn business?”

He shifts his weight and kicks Chrysos’ shin as hard as he can, not above targeting a merman’s weakness.

Chrysos grimaces, stumbling, and his grip lessens. Yu takes advantage of it to try and thrash out of his hold, but Chrysos’ reaction time is far faster: he reaches to grab fistfuls of Yu’s shirt again, making sure the TA can’t run away like he planned.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Chrysos hisses, everything about him in disarray: strands of hair falling out of their perfect arrangement, polite diction discarded. “You can get what I’m saying through your head, but you keep choosing not to.”

“And?—”

There’s another cruel, quick response right on the tip of Yu’s tongue, but it never leaves his mouth. He stays defiantly silent, watching Chrysos’ shoulders shakily rise and fall with simmering anger. Watching Chrysos inhale sharply and draw back his fist—

The next thing Yu knows, he’s on his side, an inelegant heap on the floor. The same part of his face aches, a burst of pain that makes it hard to see.

As he sits up, Chrysos approaches him.

“You—... I—...”

For a few seconds, Chrysos starts and stops, trying to find something to say amid the obviously enraged haze of his mind.

“...Sometimes, I can’t believe you,” he finally says, letting a resigned venom seep into his words. “Preaching all these things and never putting them into practice with yourself.”

Yu waits—for him to say something else, to do something else—but nothing comes.

Chrysos just walks away, and then there’s no one else left in the hallway. It’s an anticlimactic ending, if he could even call it that. A fight that fizzled into nothing but dead silence.

…Only then, once left to his own devices again, does the bitter adrenaline wear off; and Yu shamefully concedes to no one but himself—

Maybe, just maybe, there was more validity to Chrysos’ words than he was willing to admit.

#;speaking #;reblog #;tgtwst #;wei yuhua #;chrysos pendentif

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prof-peach · 3 years ago

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I am looking into getting a rowlet, but I want to check with an expert. Is rowlet a poor indoor pokemon? Would a ninetales with drought help?

Very poor indoor pokemon. Without access to a good amount of actual sun, fresh air, and plenty of vigorous outdoor time, at night more so than in the day, they'll start to suffer heavily. Muscle growth will be poor with an indoor life, they will probably start to stress out and shed a load, and eventually go downhill health wise, to the point where a professional will have to intervene. Drought will also hinder their lifestyle, so....all in all bad plan. Maybe try for a cacnea or something instead. Cacturne are a great evolution too. Nocternal, fine in dry air as many houses have, need sunshine from a bright window, but otherwise tolerant of a lot of more parched conditions.

#glad you asked first #that poor pokemon would have hellish conditions to try to handle #prof.peach #pokemon

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cowboyjen68 · 4 years ago

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Recently I’ve been debating getting top surgery. I know that some butches get top surgery and seem happy with the results but I’ve also met some who grew out of their discomfort with time. So I guess I’m debating if I should wait to see if maybe the discomfort around my chest will ease with age or if I should look into getting top surgery. The ones I’ve talked to also had this discomfort about their breast growing during puberty but they said after some time it decreased but for mines it seems like a problem that hasn’t gone away.

I am so sorry for the delay, seems work and side gigs are taking up a lot of my time lately.

I can only speak from my experience with my body and from other lesbians I talk to... and I talk to a lot. I have many friends across generations. Many of my younger friends are butch but not all. My older friends are a myriad of types of lesbians and as diverse as the greater population. This weekend now that we are all vaccinated we had a campfire with 12 lesbian, 5 butches present. We have definitely had discussions about our breasts, discomfort, and the mourning over loosing breasts to cancer (or the danger of cancer). Most of my buddies, from 19 to 68 share similar stories about learning to be at least “okay” with their bodies in a world where our physical attributes are often used to define our personality, and our worth.

One thing we ALL share, as women, not just lesbians, is that we were at best dissatisfied that we have breasts starting as soon as they begin to form. I was 7 when mom told me I had to wear a shirt outside. Wow was I pissed. AND as a 7 years old I knew it had nothing to do with me but everyone seemed just fine with the fact that men were the issue but since we can’t change them we must change our own behavior.

I remember thinking “how is me not wearing a shirt a problem”. Breasts had been neutral for me at that point. Just another part of my body. Once I realized “they” made me different, more vulnerable, more controlled, less “human” than those around me without breasts I turned my hate on my body instead of the people who really were to blame. Just like I was taught, I can’t control the men but I perhaps I could control my body.

I have raised at least 10 teenage daughters (2 are lesbians now) my youngest adopted is 15 and when her other mom told her to put on a shirt in the summer of her 8th birthday, even in our rural yard she looked at me dead in the eye and said “why haven’t you fixed this yet?” (meaning women’s bodies being subject to the eyes and opinions of men). I wonder.. why haven’t we? She is the youngest, but all the others grew from hating their breasts to at least neutral, some really love their bodies and that is lovely.

Lesbians are unique in our dealings of men’s opinions because we never need or want the approval of men in relation to our bodies. The opposite in fact.. we would prefer they see us void of anything they find sexual. Many women, straight, bi, lesbian eventually either learn to give no shits about the opinions of men or they learn to work around that feeling.

Ok.. all that being said, my story. My breasts are B cups, perhaps C’s when I was a bit heavier weight wise. I wore regular bras WITH padding and always as tight as a could to make them less noticeable. When I came out i switched to sports bras because i was embracing being butch and no longer wanted to play the game of wearing “pretty bra” . I never wore tight shirts, always baggy. I wore the tightest bra I could wear to keep my breasts smaller, less visible. FOR YEARS.

Going to a women’s festival opened my eyes to the many ways bodies can be. The many ways BUTCH bodies can exist. Women went topless and NO one sexualized them. (except when appropriate-- like while flirting etc when it was welcomed). Thousands of people, many topless and no one, not one person was oogled, cat called, teased, or otherwise treated as different than someone wearing a shirt. What did they all share? Why was it different than in other places? Women. All women and mostly lesbians. However that did not automatically translate to “I am going back to the real world and giving no fucks about the reality of existing with breasts in our world”. It took time.

I no longer wear a bra just an undershirt. BUT I am in control of where I go, who I interact with most of the time. If I was still at my retail job, I’d probably still wear a bra. I no longer dislike my breasts. I love them. They bring me pleasure, they bring my girlfriend pleasure. They are a lovely part of me BUT that does not mean I am not very aware in public of my nipples being visible or of people noticing I am braless. And I imagine it is harder for women with larger breasts.

Had binders been a “thing”, had I had access to a double mastectomy, or the idea of it i cannot say that would have pursued either. The pattern suggests I would have. But again., neither were on my radar, not options presented to me or encouraged as a way to solve my discomfort.

I have three friends who have had elective double mastectomies. And many who had one to prevent or remove cancer. Several of them suffer consistent and painful nerve damage that is not treatable, is quite common, is unpredictable (they can’t know who will have it) and possibly life long. Of the three who were trying to alleviate the distress of dysphoria, all three regret the decision and none of them are over 30 yet. These women are all lesbians. Those who had the surgery because of cancer are thrilled to be happy and alive with less worry, although they do deal with nerve issues and mourn the loss of a part of their body.

I have a few trans men friends, although we are not close. A couple of them have had double mastectomies but their thoughts or feelings have not come up, we are just not close enough for such a personal discussion and none have had the surgery for more than 2 years. I have had lots of older lesbians friends (and a few younger) who did get breast reduction surgery and their health and mental health were both improved. Their backs are better, their clothes fit better and they feel more active, less self conscious with out the physical risks of a full mastectomy.

The easy answer and what I WANT to say, is be patient, find lots of older lesbians friends to show you your body is neutral, men are the problem. Give yourself time to understand that your breasts are as butch as the rest of you. They are a natural part of your body and how you are meant to be. Also, I know there is not an easy answer. Men will continue to exist. They will continue to sexualize lesbians (with or without breasts). I didn’t outgrow wishing my breasts could just disappear(in public settings) until my 40′s but it got easier and easier to sort of “live with it”. I am many times over grateful for my healthy breasts now.

Seek therapy.. and not someone who will just go along with what ever you say. My therapists works me hard. She makes me answer the hard questions. She has me vocalize things that I don’t even want to admit in my head let alone out loud. Find one like that. Find one who is willing to explore all the reasons your breasts cause you distress. Then, if you decide to proceed, you can do so knowing you were worth the hard work and you can feel more confident in making an informed decision. Don’t make any decisions based on the opinions of men. Your body. YOUR decision. Write that down on a post it and keep it somewhere you will see it.

If you would like to speak to some others who are struggling with how you feel or want to talk to lesbians who can tell you about their double mastectomies, DM me, perhaps I can connect you.

If anyone wants to add their experience in the notes please be kind. No judgement for anyone making such a difficult decision.

One last thing to this long post. From one butch to another. I care about you and I am saddened and angry at bull shit you have to wade through in this world. I get it. You are not alone.

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