#I have a therapy appointment on Monday with someone to talk that part of myself through.

[coderzxd]

I watched the movie twice. I came into the theater thinking I would watch it, enjoy it, and write about my feelings here. I don't have a particularly good relationship with my emotions, so it's difficult to express how I feel. But, the movie touched me. In leu of sounding cliche, the first watch was absolutely magical. So, I bought another ticket and watched it again. The second viewing felt real. It made it to my "shows that mean a crap ton to me" list immediately. The plan is to go to the library tomorrow and find that book it was based on. The trailer does not do it justice.

[anotherwvba]

Learning on the Job pt. 7

Mid-morning Friday found Jon Adamski making his way to the least favorite part of his daily routine. Since arriving at the WVBA Campus on Monday, Jon had spent an hour every morning with Dr. Yukiko Mera. She was the head of the Mental Wellness Center, part of the extensive medical program the WVBA offered to boxers and staff. If it wasn’t for his promise to the Frenchman, to Gabby Jay, he wouldn’t have bothered.

But, Jon was a man of his word and Dr. Mera hadn’t mistreated him. It was just a waste of time, at least as far as he was concerned. It’s not that Jon has a problem with controlling his anger. It’s more that others have a problem with the way he chooses to control it, usually with a physical, and typically violent, outlet.

“Yo, Jonny!” As Jon was walking toward Dr. Mera’s office, Disco Kid called out to him. Disco was another regular patient of the Doctor’s. Didn’t know they could treat annoying optimism, Jon thought as he nodded to Disco in greeting.

Disco smiled, “Hey, man, we gonna see you in the gym later? Cutie saw this new footwork drill she’s been dyin’’ to share.”

He wanted to snap back. Or maybe a swift kick in the… “Maybe,” Jon answered, struggling to keep himself in check against Disco’s incessant positivity.

“My man!” Disco held his hand up for a high five, but Jon just kept walking. Disco shook his head and smiled, but continued about his own day.

Jon, on the other hand, trudged on his way toward his appointment, muttering a litany of grievances in Polish under his breath. The day, his apartment, breakfast, therapy, life in general. It didn’t matter. None of it was really to his liking.

Finally making it down the long corridor, Jon opened the door to the Mental Wellness Center and found himself nearly immediately speechless. Dr. Mera’s nurse, it wasn’t worth remembering her name, sat behind her desk, as usual, but there was no Dr. Mera. Instead, there was a uniquely beautiful young woman, late 20’s maybe?

She was sharply dressed, very professional, in dark tones of gray and purple. Jet black bangs and a ponytail contrasted against not just her rather pale complexion, but the buzzed short sides and top of her head. And her glasses drew Jon’s attention to her eyes, cold and piercing. Without meaning to, Jon found himself staring.

“May I help you?” The woman’s voice broke Jon out of his stupor. Her tone was crisp, damn near cold. The same was true of her posture, proper and practiced.

“Uh, umm, yeah, sorry,” Jon, someone who performed on stage for, what some would call, a living, struggled to find words. “Jon Adamski, uh, 10 o’clock…”

The nurse handed the stranger a file folder, “Jon is Dr. Mera’s daily 10 a.m.”

“Ah,” the woman said plainly as she looked over the file. “Dr. Mera is out of the office today. Psychological conference in Athens. I’m handling her appointments today. If you’ll step…”

“Poczekaj cholerną chwilę!” Jon was immediately angered, looks be damned. “Who the hell are you? Are you qualified? Why wasn’t I told before…”

The woman held up a hand with an air of authority that, for some reason, silenced Jon. It was obvious that she expected to be listened to whenever she spoke.

“Apologies,” the woman looked up from the file and looked Jon in the eyes, unfazed and unflinching. No fear whatsoever. That’s different, Jon thought as the woman continued.

“Dr. Mera’s trip was a last minute opportunity, but you should have been informed.” She was direct, no sign of patronizing or pity. “As for myself, I am Miss Evelyn White. I am Dr. Mera’s intern. I have Bachelors Degrees in both Behavioral Psychology and Mental Health Counseling from UCLA and Ohio State, respectively, and am currently top of my class in the Master’s program at Duke. Does that satisfy your question of my qualifications?”

This wasn’t what Jon had come to expect from people. She wasn’t treating him like some volatile mental case to tiptoed around. She was treating him as an equal, a man to be talked to like any other adult. That hadn’t happened in a long time.

Evelyn stepped closer, Jon instinctively backing a step, blushing. If Evelyn noticed, she didn’t show it. “I understand this is highly unusual,” she lowered her voice to speak only to Jon in the moment, “and might be uncomfortable, but I assure you, Mr. Adamski, I am fully qualified to see you.”

As Jon fought to compose himself, at least mentally, Evelyn continued. Her voice was firm, but not unkind, “I’m not Dr. Mera. She has a very maternal approach, which works wonders, and yes, she is a truly amazing therapist. I am fortunate to study under her. However, I have a different approach. I am straightforward, and I don’t sugarcoat. I'm not here to befriend my patients, but to help them."

Trying to force his typical defiance and bluster, Jon asked bluntly, “Who are you to say I am your patient?”

With a nod, Evelyn conceded, “Quite right. You are not my patient, not unless you choose to be.” Her voice picked up a slight edge of resolve as she continued, “but if you allow me, you’ll find me honest, and I’ll respect you enough never to undermine your intelligence with platitudes."

There was something about this woman. Jon held her gaze for a moment before nodding slightly, “For today.”

The briefest flicker of a smile flashed across Evelyn’s face as she gestured once again to Dr. Mera’s office, “Then best not to waste time, Mr. Adamski. The clock is ticking.”

Jon Adamski & Evelyn White are an OCs belonging to @punchout-ispunched and are used with permission.

[jawritter]

Story time?

You guys know when I have a tough time dealing with things, certain things going on in my life, I write about it to vent it, and it works for me. Well, I need to vent for a minute. I’m not looking for sympathy or anything like that, I just need to get this out on paper to work through it. So, here I go. 

When I turned 18 years old, I went to school to get my CNA, and then immediately started working as a homebound caregiver, or as we call it down here in the south, a sitter, for the disabled and elderly. Basically, I come in and sit with them during the day and help them feed themselves, clean themselves, clean their homes for them… basically I do for them during the day what normal people would have done for themselves if they were able. I even go shopping for them/with them, if need be, and take them to doctor’s appointments as long as they are able to move around some on their own, and are not on hospice, (end of life ‘comfort’ care). 

When I got pregnant with my first child, I decided not to do it anymore, and just stay home with the kids until they were old enough to go to school instead of paying for childcare while my husband and I both work. Financially it just makes more sense for me to stay home. Also, while this job is not a nursing or doctor’s position, it’s stressful and emotionally taxing. When you sit with someone day in and day out, whether you want to or not, you get attached to these people, and when their lives are over, and they are no longer here, sometimes it seriously feels like you're losing your own family. 

Recently, and some of you may remember me talking about it a little, I started up again when both my girls went back to school. I like to take care of people, it’s just my calling, it’s what I do; no matter how hard it is. My first patient that I was sitting with made their transition from this life to the life here after (whatever that might be), and I took a few weeks break before I allowed myself to be assigned with another patient. 

This is where the part I’m struggling with comes in, so here we go…

Yesterday, I met my next patient. 

They told me his name was Austin. That he’d been disabled after an accident offshore, and that he now needed a sitter, seeing as he was a single male, who was currently unable to walk and take care of himself. (I’m paraphrasing obviously for privacy reasons and to make this understandable for people that do not work in this line of work.)

I’ve taken care of men before, that’s not something that’s bother me and never will. Still, there’s one thing that got to me when I read it in his chart, it’s the fact that he is only 43 years old. 

I’ve never had to take care of someone that young. Most of the time, when we step in, the patient is in the twilight stages of life so to speak. This guy, well, they warned me when they gave me the file, might be a patient of mine for a LONG time to come. 

The accident only happened less than three months ago, and he’s in physical therapy currently, (which is something I will have to take him to). But he can’t bathe, cook, or clean for himself at all currently. He only is mobile, basically above the waist for the time being, and with no immediate family that lives close by, if he wants to stay in his home, this is his only option. 

I met him for the first time yesterday. I go in today when the transport drops him back at his home from the nursing home (that’s where they had him for the beginning of his physical therapy after leaving the hospital), and that’s when my work begins. I sit with him Monday - Friday, 6:30 AM to 7 PM in the evenings. (Another CNA is scheduled for his night shifts and weekends unless we need to swap up for some personal reason). 

He’s so handsome, and young, and it’s not fair that his life has suddenly come to a screaming halt. It’s just not fair.

He’s still learning to cope with it too. He’s not really opened up to me yet, and that’s gonna be a challenge. He’s not happy with the situation he’s found himself in. (Who would be?) This might be the toughest thing I’ve worked on to date. 

I’m still gonna write, I’m still gonna be on here updating as much as I can. But please understand if updates come a little slowly at first, or if it takes me a little while to answer ask or something back. I’m not ignoring you, I’m just working, and I’ll be on as soon as I can. 

Okay, I’ll get off my pity party and get ready to go to work now, and if you made it this far in his too long vent session, thank you, you’re awesome! 

--Jen

[missrenge]

Bit of personal rambling. Putting it under a "Read More" as I talk about my physical and mental health-

For as long as I can remember, I've struggled with mental health. Depression, anxiety, the whole nine yards. I've been on and off medications. I've done (and am currently doing) talk therapy and seen various doctors over the years. Only recently did I find out I was on the autism spectrum (level one).

The last few weeks and months though have been especially bad. I don't know if it's because I'm starting to go through menopause (which brings its own issues) or if it's because of stress from work or if it's something else entirely. I'm sure all of these things have at least a small part in what I've been going through. I do know that these last few weeks I've been the lowest I've been in some time.

Last week I took a few days off from work and went to see my primary physician. I've been seeing this particular doctor for close to 30 years, starting when I was in high school. He's seen me at my absolute lowest and he's helped me immensely over the years. I talked to him of my struggles and how since coming off the Paxil/Deplin combo I was on, I wasn't doing the best. We agreed that I probably need something different and that I would try Lexapro. According to my doctor, the majority of people responded well to it even at a very low dose. I would start on the lowest dose and we'd meet again in 6 weeks.

I didn't make it over a week before my depressive thoughts came back but this time SO MUCH WORSE. I haven't had thoughts like these in ages. I was considering hurting myself again. Something I haven't done in years. I was having thoughts of running my car off the road, either into a tree or a ditch. I hurt mentally so much and I wanted to stop the pain. I couldn't stop crying and I would cry myself to exhaustion before sleeping, waking, and doing it all over again. It scared me.

I reached out to my GP, my therapist, and my boss and came up with a game plan. I've taken this last week off of work and I'll be seeing my GP on Monday. I'm coming off the Lexapro by taking half doses and will eventually stop. I'm resting, both mentally and physically.

Work seems to be my one major stressor. In not thinking about it, in not caring about it, it feels like a major weight has been lifted. I have my phone on Do Not Disturb so if anyone tries to call it goes straight to voicemail. I have notifications turned to silent so I don't hear it if I get a text or other message. I still check my phone but I'm not attached to it.

Part of me wonders what would happen if I decided to leave my current job. Not to the place itself, it'll continue on whether or not I'm there. Someone will be found to take my place eventually. No, I wonder what will happen to me. I have enough saved that I could coast for a while. I live with my parents so I don't have to worry about rent and with my car paid off and very little in credit card debt, I would be okay. I could become the full-time caretaker of the house, something my sister and I already share responsibility for as our parents are both in their 70's. It wouldn't be too difficult as they're both still fairly independent. With someone around every day, I feel like it would be easier when it comes to doctor's appointments, grocery shopping, and other general chores. Things like these could be spread out through the week instead of trying to cram every appointment into one day like we do currently.

Tomorrow is Sunday and is my sister's day off (and mine too technically). I think she and I will have a sit down discussion. I see my GP on Monday and I'll be talking to him too.

I think I need someone outside of myself to give me permission to leave my stressful job. I need someone else to tell me I'm going to be okay.

On top of all these mental issues, I've likely started going through menopause. Not surprising since I'm 47. Mom was this age when she went through The Change. My periods have been quite regular up until this last year when things started to go sideways. I brought my issues up to my GP at my visit 2 weeks ago and he wanted me to come in to do bloodwork to check my hormone levels. I scheduled myself to come in right before my period was scheduled to start, which was to be this Monday. To my utter surprise and dismay, I started my period today (Saturday), almost a full week early. This is yet one more thing to discuss with my GP when I see him.

I'm trying to keep a positive outlook and tell myself that whatever I decide to do, it will all work out. Will it be a struggle? Of course it will.

[keefwho]

March 04 - 2024 Monday

11:15pm

1.5/10

Today started okay. I vacuumed and picked up some. I took my shower and made oatmeal, spam, and cheese with crackers for breakfast. I had been planning on doing my workout today but there is still a little ankle pain. Ill try on Wednesday no matter what.

I did work okay. Warmed up with a couple color studies. While eating breakfast I had watched a video covering games that take place in dying worlds, its a unique and intriguing vibe. So I tried painting a scene like that out of nothing. I made good progress on today's commission which I thought would be very hard but just took time, as usual.

After lunch I read the chapter on self in my ACT book again and made a plan for exercises to try this week. For lunch I made some decent rice a roni given I had a weird selection of vegetables. I took a little time but did today's request while hanging out with Bramble and her friends. I liked the request because the person's girlfriend is a big fan and the OC looked good. I worked on a drawing of Adora next since its the 1 day a week I spend on friend art and I have no one else to draw for other than someone that won't get back to me.

I did my therapy appointment where the guy helped go over what self as context means and confirmed I had a decent plan ahead to follow. Unfortunately the next appoint will have to wait until the 25th which sucks. I feel like I'm gonna need an appointment before then so I might request one anyways.

I finished my afternoon worked and joined Samuel for a game of Helldivers before Daisy became available. When she did, we did our puzzles before getting in VR to talk. The talk was very important, we basically determined that we need to step our feelings back a bit and just focus on being friends. Its a big mental shift for me, and something I needed to talk about with someone else a little bit.

Before bed I took some me time to distract me a little bit and now Im up late nibbling on dinner before bed.

~~~

Im dealing with a lot right now. What happened earlier is really just starting to hit me and I'm overwhelmed. I might have my dad take me to the store tomorrow for groceries like he offered instead of streaming. Or I'll stream afterwards. I don't know. I'm only just now starting to cry about everything. I know it's for the best, I stick with the decision. But some part of me is hurting for how I wanted things to go even if it isn't smart.

Its going to be very hard not to slip into my thoughts, I know I will falter and will have to pick myself up. I feel like I have to let go and just take it tonight. Get it all out.

Life in general gets so fucking hard. In the least suicidal way possible, I wish I could end it all sometimes. Just for a break.

[joshslater]

Appointments

Similar stories and bonus material on my Patreon.

I can understand why they don't trust people here, a lot of them are real criminals after all, but it still feels a bit humiliating to down the crushed pill and empty the entire glass of water while the nurse is watching. I have to show up fifteen minutes before the scheduled appointment to take the first drug, whatever it is, and then sit down and wait for it to take effect. The fifteen minutes doesn't even count towards the reserved time. It's three times a week, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, up to three hours each, for four months. That's the sentence to stay out of jail. Miss an appointment, straight to jail. Don't comply with the treatment, straight to jail. Still a pretty good deal. Nine hours per week I don't have any control over, or ten hours if you count this sitting and waiting bullshit, compared to all hours all the time in jail.

I have no idea what the pill is for. Some sort of sedative I'm sure, because I always feel a bit dull and agreeable after. I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have followed all the doctor's instructions so readily if I wasn't drugged somehow, at least not the first few times. Now it is kind of a routine.

I show up, take the drug, and wait a bit. Then she shows up and asks me to join her in one of the procedure rooms. She tells me to remove my shoes, jeans, and underwear and place myself on the chair. It's not really a chair. It's like a Z-shaped thing where you place your legs on the padded lower bars so you are kneeling, and then bend forward so your upper body is flat with the top with your head looking down on the floor past the edge of the padded top surface.

She walks behind me and asks if I'm comfortable. Not really. It's demeaning to sit there and expose my ass to her, legs apart, but I guess that is the point of this therapy. How it will address my supposed anger issues is beyond me. Better than jail though. When I tell her I am she secures my hands down by my hip with straps and then proceeds to strap my legs in place by securing my ankles. She says it is for my own safety, so I don't fall off. It's probably bullshit, but she is right in it's not very secure, but tricky enough to wiggle out of. Not that I have tried. She then tips the entire thing forwards. I had a bit of a scare the first time and audibly gasped as I thought I was about to crash face first into the floor with arms and legs tied. Turned out it's just a secondary position of the thing, positioning my ass up in the air.

"Are you comfortable?" she asks again, every time. Again I say I am, strapped to chair, face almost touching the floor, my naked ass high and exposed. She then slowly inserts something into my asshole. It doesn't go that far in, but feels heavy and has some wires or tubes going to it that I can feel draping my leg. It enters easily. I don't know if it is the same device as the first time, but I wouldn't be surprised if they have been scaling up the size slowly. All I can do is look down the floor while she sets me up and then starts the machine.

Just before leaving the room there is a little pinch in the ass as she injects something in my butt cheek. Then she leaves, promising to be back once it has run its program, never explaining what "it" or "the program" is. The first minutes I feel nothing. Then there is movement, though different between appointments. It can expand in width, it can penetrate deeper, it can vibrate, it can rotate, it can change temperature. It often runs through a series of configurations.

I don't know which of the drugs, if any of them, is making me horny but it doesn't take long until I can hear the soft tapping of precum dripping into the metal tray at the bottom of the chair. It's pointless to try to stay alert. You're stuck in the chair for hours with nothing else than looking at the floor and listening to the hum of the machine and the drip of body fluids. You can just as well close your eyes and let yourself drift away in machine-induced bliss.

It's affecting me for sure. The Monday session is the one I'm craving the most. I start getting anxious already Sunday afternoon, feeling like something is missing. So far I've resisted the temptation to buy a vibrator and explore my ass on my own time, but there is little else I can think of on Mondays before the appointment.

It always feels like no time at all has passed, certainly like too little time has passed, when she comes back into the room and gloves up. I'm just zoned out like a stoner and sometimes don't notice her until she removes the thing from my ass. She then proceeds to unlock the dick cage from my dick and balls. Given my horny bliss the dick will shoot up like a bamboo rod. She has some sort of wand that feels pretty thin that she then puts into the ass right up to the prostate. It never takes many seconds of vibrations for me to shoot a load. It feels like they are bigger than ever before. I'm certainly pulsing more times than before, like 6-10 ropes.

She then washes my butt, dick, and balls, and massage them with some sort of cream. Perhaps different ones. Then she picks up a new, probably sterilized, dick cage and locks everything up. She tilts the chair back up again and asks if everything is OK before undoing the straps holding me in place. I answer that everything is OK, but that really undersells it. I'm like a stoner in a post-orgasm haze for at least ten minutes. Then she reminds me to put on my underwear, pants, and shoes before leaving and reminds me of the next appointment two or three days later.

"You're next," she tells me from the other side of the waiting room, interrupting my read of top sexiest men on Love Island list from Cosmopolitan. The selection of magazines is rather limited. "Afternoon," I reply, putting away the magazines and walking towards the door.

"How was the weekend?" "Hot, as you well know. I didn't do much." I don't tell her I was spending all of Sunday considering pushing blunt objects up my ass to relieve myself. "It doesn't invite to activities, does it? Go ahead and make yourself comfortable."

In a now well-practiced routine I kick off my shoes, take off my jeans, fold them and place them on the chair just inside the door, remove my boxers, and put them on top of the jeans. Then I kneel in place on the procedure chair and give my dick cage a quick jiggle. Nothing worse than being strapped to some medical equipment and having your scrotum pinched. Then I bend forward over the shelf, and position my arms back, along the sides of my body.

As always before the doctor secures my arms and legs, and tips the entire contraption forward.

"Are you comfortable like this?" "Yes."

She then deviates from normal procedure by wiping down my ass with some sort of wet wipes and then inserts the automatic douche. I can feel liquid being pushed in and sucked out of my ass a few times, after which she removes the equipment and leaves the room. I'm starting to become anxious. This is the longest I've been in two months without anything vibrating in my ass. I try to flex my butt cheeks to no success.

After way too long someone enters the room again. "Good afternoon, I'm James." I can only move my head a little and can't see much more than a pair of sneakers and the lower part of sweatpants.

"Hi."

He rifles through some papers.

"I understand you've been under this treatment for two months now, correct?" "Yes." The whole thing feels absurd. Whoever this dude is, he's talking to my exposed ass. "So you now have a fully developed prostate massage addiction?" "What? No!" "No? So, you would prefer to be released and go home now?"

No, I need my treatment, but that is totally different.

"No. You have to do what you normally do." "You want me to massage your prostate?" "Yes! Or whatever is normally done."

I can hear the snap of a rubber glove and within seconds a finger is with ease pushing into my ass. He is probing around carefully and deliberately. I want to move my butt to get it deeper, to have it flick across my prostate, but I'm too tied down. He fumbles around like that for minutes.

"You need to get in deeper," I say almost desperately. "I'm sorry my fingers are only so long," he says, continuing with his ineffectual rummaging. And after a few seconds, like he was carefully considering it, "My dick is longer, though. I can use that if you like." "Funny," I say, dismissing his joke.

While he continues doing what I must now assume to be deliberately the wrong thing, the thought continues to linger in my mind. Would it really be a big difference between having another man's fingers or his dick up my ass. Yes! Yes, I decide. But why? This is covered by patient confidentiality, right? HIPPA or HIIPA or HIPAA or whatever. No one has to know.

"What if you did?" "What if I did what?" He was forcing me to say it. "What if you did use your dick instead?" "Would you like me to?"

He must be right. I must be addicted to prostate massage. Why the fuck that happened is a later question. I feel like a soda bottle being lazily shaken by someone. I need to be unscrewed.

"Yes. Yes!"

He pulls out his finger and I can hear the sound of latex, him fiddling with his pants, and then without warning feel something thick and warm moving up inside me. I have a slight shiver as it moves past my prostate and further in. It sure is longer than his fingers all right. I can feel the warmth of his body as it touches against my butt cheeks when he finally gets balls deep. He stops there, leans over me, and asks "Are you comfortable like this?"

"Yes," I say automatically before realizing I really am.

[atlafan]

Take it Slow - Part Sixty-Four

a/n: okay this is my first shot at a harry:y/n fic, and it will be multiple parts. y/n had a bad experience with an ex over a year ago, and finally accepts her coworker and good friend Niall’s invitation to go on a blind date with his friend Harry.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, and the start of smut...

a/n: okay this is short only because the angst made me tired, and it’s late, and I wanna deliver on the smut so....that’s that on that. 

Masterpost (all previous parts can be found in the masterpost)

“Holy shit! Someone got some sun!” Niall says as you get into his car Monday morning. He squints at your neck. “He knows it’s not really scarf weather anymore, right?”

“I’ve lost the energy to care or fight with him about it. Besides, I’m sure it’ll go right up Mark’s ass. What a nice treat for me.” You laugh. “How was it last week, anyways?”

“Good! The three of ‘em actually kept to themselves which was nice. You gave him plenty of work to do.”

“Oh good.”

“How was Harry, happy to see yeh?”

“Of course he was.” You furrow your brows at him. “Is there something you’d like to say to me?”

“I’m not the one who got into a fight.”

“Niall.” You sigh.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry about all of it. It was stupid, and primitive.”

“I appreciate you both looking out for me, but I wish you wouldn’t be angry for me. I feel like I’m really moving on, and it’s hard to do that when the two of you can’t keep your cool.”

“I know, I really am sorry.” He gives your hand a squeeze and you smile at him.

“It’s okay. Wait! How was yours and Sarah’s six month? I haven’t had a chance to ask her yet?” Niall nearly stops short on the drive.

“Um, it was good, really good. I got her a new anklet, and she really liked it. We had a nice dinner out too.”

“Oh that’s great!” He parks the car and you both get out. “Hope you enjoyed what she got for you.” You wink at him and head inside.

“We’re not talkin’ about it!”

“Oh, I’m sorry, have we reached a point where we can’t talk about sex anymore?” You ask facetiously. Niall’s face was beat red.

“Don’t play with me. I know you two went shoppin’ together.”

“She wanted a second opinion.” You shrug.

“Wasn’t it weird for you to go shoppin’ with her?”

“Not really. They went shopping with me earlier in the day to get something for Harry. We’re all very close.”

“What else did you get for him?”

“What do you mean what else?” You cross your arms.

Just as he’s about to speak you both are greeted by Trish.

“We’ll talk later.” He says and you nod as you both go to your separate offices.

You had a meeting right away with Mark that you were dreading. He was waiting for you outside your office.

“Welcome back.” He says with a smile. “See you got some sun.”

“Thanks, and yeah I did.” You unlock your office door and he follows you in. “I just need a minute to get settled.”

“Take your time.” He says sitting down.

You plug your laptop into the docking station and get logged on. You start looking over some of the things Mark worked on, and you actually weren't disappointed.

“Took some time to watch some of those videos on the Adobe site, turns out you were right, it’s not that difficult to learn.

“I’m actually kind of impressed, Mark.” You smile at him.

“Thanks.” He smiles back. He notices your neck, but doesn’t say anything. You’re actually being nice to him and he doesn’t want to ruin it. “So, boss, what do you need me to work on this week?” You smirk at him.

“Well, I’ll have to go over all this and get back to you. Is that alright?”

“Course, I’ll just be with the others in the conference room.”

You weren’t sure what it was, but Mark seemed to have a serious attitude adjustment, and you liked it. Maybe the rest of the time he’d be working with you wouldn’t be so bad. You look over everything, and make up a list of what you’ll need from him. You go into the conference room right before you leave to meet Harry for lunch, it was Monday after all.

“Hey Mark, here’s what I’ll need from you this week.”

“Thanks. We’re all going down the street for lunch, do you wanna join?”

“Can’t, sorry, I go to Harry’s studio on Mondays.” You walk out, and go down to Niall’s office. “Need your keys to meet Harry.” He tosses them to you. “Thanks! Have a good lunch.” You smile.

“You too!”

//

Harry was having the day from hell. Somehow word got out that Harry and Mariah had become chummy outside of work, and that he set her up with Rachel. Someone must’ve seen a picture of them hanging out last week on Instagram.

“Harry?” Julia asks, coming into his office.

“Yeah?”

“This is sort of non work related, but I was wondering if you could help me with a school thing…”

“I thought you weren’t in any classes this semester.”

“I’m not, but we have a faculty member we’re supposed to pass things in to for the internship to prove that we’re actually doing stuff. I’ve never really put a portfolio together, and I was wondering if you could help me now that I’ve written a few things.”

“Oh…um…”

“I’d ask Myk, but I want it to look really nice and you’re so creative.” If Harry had any faults, it would be that he could be sweet-talked into just about anything.

“Sure, yeah, I’d be happy to help. I’d have to help you at the end of the day though when I have more time.”

“Really?! Thank you so much! Would tomorrow after work be alright?” You had your therapy appointment tomorrow, so it wasn’t like Harry would be missing precious time with you at home.

“Yeah, that works.”

“Thank you Harry, this’ll be such a big help!” Harry turns and sees you walking in.

“No problem, run along now, my lady’s here.” He nods towards you and she walked out of his office. You brush by her as you walk in. “Hey you.” He stands up to hug you, and squish his nose to yours. “Have I told you how happy I am that you’re back?”

“Maybe just a couple times.” You kiss him quick. “It’s nice out, wanna eat outside?”

“Sure.” He grabs his things and heads out with you.

“So, what did Julia want?”

“Oh, she wants me to help her put a portfolio together for school. I’m gonna help her tomorrow while you’re with Dr. Mara, is that alright?”

“Yeah.” You shrug. “Why would I care?”

“You don’t exactly like her.”

“Neither do you.”

“True.” You both chuckle.

//

Julia purposefully wears a tight dress to work Tuesday. She couldn’t wait to spend time with just Harry in the office alone. She wouldn’t make the same mistake she did last time. She needed to be less obvious, and she genuinely needed his help with her portfolio.

You: babe, want me to bring you dinner after my appointment? Can meet u at the studio

Harry: that’d be great! Pick up whatever u want <3

Julia comes into Harry’s office with her laptop at the end of the day. Everyone slowly starts to leave. He grabs a chair for her so they can both sit at his desk.

“So, I have these pieces that I’ve done, and I really have no idea how to organize any of them. I wanna give my instructor a virtual experience you know? But I don’t wanna just use prezi or screen record.” Harry hums along in understanding.

“With my photos, I’ve sort created these, like, virtual booklets almost. There’s this program, hold on, let me email you.”

Harry sends her the info so she can set up an account.

“I think your prof will be impressed that you’re putting in so much effort.” He smiles.

“It’s not every day we get to basically take a semester off from classes, so I just wanna prove to her, and to all my friends that think I’m not doing anything that I’m actually working really hard.”

“You shouldn’t care what other people think of you, but I get where you’re coming from. Alright, pull up all your articles and I’ll show you how to add them into the program.”

He leans in close and points to where she can drag and drop things. She tries her absolute best to not get distracted by the smell of his cologne. After an hour or so they take a little break.

“So, you have a year left?”

“Mhm.”

“What do you think you’ll do after you graduate?”

“I have no idea.” She sighs. “I think I wanna travel. I could see myself freelancing for a bit before finding something stable.”

“You should definitely travel! I’m glad I did. You learn a lot about yourself, helps you grow up a little bit too.” He smiles at her. “Also, it’s okay to have no idea what you want to do. It’s not like graduating automatically means you’ll have it all figured out. Your passions will change all the time, and you might find you didn’t want what you thought.”

“Was there something you thought you’d be doing but realized you didn’t wanna do?”

“Yes and no. I knew I wanted to be a photographer. I thought for a while I’d end up in marketing with my mate Niall, especially while I was going for my MBA. But the structure was just too rigid. I also didn’t wanna wear a suit every day.”

“That’s too bad, you look so good in a suit.” She jokes nervously.

“True, I do clean up pretty well.” He jokes back. “But I just knew it wasn’t for me. There’s too many people to answer to. Even here there’s a lot of people to answer to, but I feel like my vision gets trusted more and more and I’m able to just do what I want. I think that’s the key. Do something you want, not something that someone else wants for you.”

“That makes so much sense. You really have it all figured out.”

“S’not that I have it all figured it out, but I’ve had a lot of experience to steer me in different directions.”

“I feel like I have a better head on my shoulders than a lot of my friends. This internship alone has been such a big help.”

“Good. Let’s get back to it, shall we?”

He leans back in closer and shows her some other things to make the virtual booklet look more interesting and engaging. He cracks a joke or two and she ends up putting a hand on his shoulder while she laughs.

You were just coming up from the elevator with dinner. You picked up some of his favorite sushi. It was dark in the studio except for Harry’s office. Julia’s hand was still lingering on Harry’s shoulder. She gripped lightly at the material, and his eyes went wide.

“Woah, what are you-“ He starts to stand up.

“Hey!” You say dropping the food to the floor. You grab the back of Julia’s dress and yank her over to the wall in Harry’s office, practically throwing her into the glass. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!”

“Nothing, I was just-“

“You were just trying to kiss my boyfriend?!” Your hand wraps around her throat and you push her back against the glass again. Harry wraps his arms around your waist to pull your away from her the girl cowering in front of you. You try to break from him, but he’s too strong. “I will end your shit, do you understand me?!”

“Julia, get your shit and go, now.” Harry says, very pissed, but not wanted to add more fuel to the fire.

Her body shakes as she grabs her laptop.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

“You didn’t mean to what?! Try to kiss him?! You’re a psycho! He already told you he wasn’t going to step out on me, remember when you tried to fuck him in Florida? He told me everything! I think I’ve been very nice, but I’m done. I am soooo done.” You look back at him. “Let go of me.” Harry cautiously loosens his grip on you and you get in her face. She uses her laptop to shield her. “As god as my witness, if you don’t leave him alone, if I even hear of you looking in his direction, I will end you. Your life will be over. You’ll get fired from this internship, cause guess what, you’ve been sexually harassing him. And don’t look at me like you don’t know that’s exactly what you’ve been doing. You’ll get fired, you won’t have a good enough reference for your next job, and you won’t get hired anywhere. You’ll live in your parent’s basement for the rest of your life all because you couldn’t keep your fucking hands to yourself after he said no.” You look her up and down. “You think you’re special just because he’s nice to you? Just because you wear a tight dress you thought he would get into your pants? Guess what little girl, I used to pull the same shit when I was your age. Grow the fuck up. And I don’t care if you’re the coffee girl. Have Dana do it, or Isaac. I don’t care. It’s not you anymore. Stay the fuck away from him.” You step forward again and she flinches.

You smirk at her, and she slips out of the office, running out of the studio. You turn around to Harry with wild eyes. He was absolutely stunned, and a tad frightened. You were fuming.

“Would you care to explain to me why her hand was on you in the first place?” You ask crossing your arms.

“I know you’re not blaming me for any of this.” He starts packing up his things. “You better hope she doesn’t report you threatening her.”

“She better hope you don’t go to H.R.! She’s lucky you didn’t report her when the thing in Florida happened!”

“You know as well as I do she could’ve turned that around and said I came to her room. It wasn’t worth the headache. I had the situation under control.”

“Did you?! It looked like she was about to kiss you, Harry!”

“You need to calm down! I would’ve never let that happen! I was about to stand up and tell her we were done.”

“Why. Was. She. Touching. You?” You step closer to him.

“I don’t know. I made some joke, she laughed, and then she put her on my shoulder. I noticed she started to grab at the material so I was about to get up. S’not like she grabbed my dick, Y/N.”

He walks out of the office and you follow him. He turns the light off and locks the door. He sighs and picks up the food from the ground.

“This should still be fine, nothin’ came out of the packaging.”

“How could you even eat?! I feel absolutely sick to my stomach!” You both walk over near Isaac’s desk where there’s more light.

“Babe, I-“

“Don’t babe me!” You put a finger in his face. “Only I get to touch you, do you understand? Me, only me!” Your eyes well up with tears and he puts everything down to wrap you in his arms. He hugs you to his chest. You cry into him.

“S’not worth your tears, love.” He strokes the back of your head. “I’m upset too, don’t get me wrong. I don’t like that anyone thinks they could touch me. You’re the only one I want touchin’ me. I only want you, Y/N.” You look up at him and he wipes your tears away.

“I didn’t mean to get so upset. I just came from therapy, and then I walked in and saw that, and I lost it.”

“I thought you were goin’ to throw her through the glass.” He chuckles. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen yeh like that before.”

“Oh, have I never told you that I’m a black belt? All my siblings and I did karate growing up. I could literally end her shit.”

“You’ve been keepin’ something like that from me all this time?” He says with a fake gasp.

“You’re only supposed to use it in certain situations.” He kisses the top of your head. “Shit, are there security cameras here?”

“Yeah, but Isaac’s the one who checks them in the morning. I’ll text him and ask him to not say anything to anyone.”

“Okay.”

You both leave and meet at home. Harry puts the sushi in the fridge, suddenly also not feeling hungry. He texts Isaac, and he tells him Julia is to not interact with him anymore.

“Harrryyyy.” You whine from the bedroom. He comes in to meet you.

“Sorry, I was just��textin…Jesus.” You had changed into the lingerie you hadn’t worn during the photoshoot. You had something behind your back.

“You were texting Jesus?” You giggle.

“How do you get more beautiful each time I see you?” A grin grows over your face.

“I have a lot of adrenaline built up.”

“Do you now?”

“Mhm.”

“What’s that behind your back?”

“I think you already know. I had a little chat with Sarah today. You and Niall tend to gossip more than she and I do.” Harry starts to sweat. You blush and toss the cockring to him. “Wanna have a little fun, baby boy?”

He smirks and nods. He puts the little package on the bed and starts to undress. He had never used one before, all he knew was that they made an erection last longer, so he just figured you wanted to go a few rounds tonight. But you had much more in store for him.

[aussieafterthought]

This is my first post.

A desperate cry to be heard without the judgement of others who know me.

This week has been one of the hardest weeks in such a long time. I am proud of myself for not falling back into old habits of self harm.

I am fighting to not fall into the learnt helplessness hole.

I wish I had the capacity to share this on my usual social media platforms, but I can't take the rejection and neglect anymore. I want to be heard, but no one is listening.

I downloaded this app and signed up purely to write this one post.

I'm in my 30s, I'm physically and mentally disabled. I rely heavily on supports, and lately the system has failed me.

I see a physio weekly, she's more than just a physio, she's given me hope again, shown me a light, can't say if it was at the end of the tunnel or not, this tunnel seems never ending.

She was away for a couple of weeks, 'okay Aussie you got this' I can survive 2 weeks without her. The day I was meant to go back, I got a call and she had to leave early. 'okay Aussie, she's a human too and life happens, just gotta cope one extra week'

My hopes were quickly crushed with the news of a flash lockdown. No time to process this information and make the phone calls I needed before the end of business hours Friday. I was afraid my brain would enter 'waiting mode' and be unable to do any of the 59 thousands things over the weekend.

The physio receptionist called on Saturday, explaining my appointment was cancelled. I booked another appointment for the week after but it was no guarantee if the lockdown was extended.

I had a telehealth appointment with a new GP on the Monday, I needed a new referral for my pain specialist on Thursday. My usual doctor is on holidays.

Between arranging that appointment and having that appointment things had changed. I needed something other then my regular medication to get me through the week for my next physio appointment whenever they may be. She asked me what I had used in the past. I told her, I also said I wasn't necessarily asking for that again. I'm at breaking point, she's the doctor. She looked at my file and saw I had it before and said she didn't feel comfortable prescribing it. Asked me what I wanted. How am I meant to know? You're the one who studied 10 years...

Her only 2 suggestions were 1. Go to emergency department, I'm having an unbearable pain flare from no fault of my own. Or 2. Suffer through it until I have my Specialist appointment Thursday.

Thursday felt like years away.

Wednesday I had a call from my psychiatrist, typical ADHD me, forgot all about the appointment. He helped me with some coping techniques, I didn't even think to ask for any more opinions to cope. He posts all my prescriptions anyway, which takes too long. Besides I've only just started seeing him again.

Thursday came, spoke to the nurse, explaining everything, she said that she was under the impression the appointment was only for more radio frequency therapy, I explained that was correct at the time of making the appointment and things have changed. My specialist wants to see me in person instead of this telehealth.. At least I wasn't charged for not being able to speak with him..

But this meant I'm suffering even longer.

Thoughts of self harm are creeping closer to the part of my brain where I can no longer be in control.

I thought I'd try to talk to someone other than the humans and animals close to me, I went on the beyond blue website. I have 'selective mutism' so phone call wasn't an option. Their online chat service was down. I tried with a number of different browsers.

Afterwards, I felt beyond depressed. I was beyond those self harm thoughts, feelings, urges, nothing. Empty.

I know no one will read this, I'm not asking for pity. I was originally going to keep this in my personal diary. Not a platform anyone can access.

Maybe somewhere inside, I still have a glimmer of hope. Not that I can see it right now. But maybe just maybe someone will listen to my cry who is actually in a position to do something about it.

[letsdiscoverkitty]

CPA update (30th August 2019)

I did not plan to write this this evening but I needed to get this out somewhere.

I know I haven’t been very present online and I can only apologise for that but as you can imagine things have been quite challenging since being admitted. I had my first CPA so I thought I would make a little post to help me begin to process it/get some thoughts down....(warning: very long post ahead, snacks may be necessary, and I am sorry if it does not read well/make much sense, I literally just typed my heart out)

For those who are not sure of what one is, a CPA is basically a care plan review where your treatment team review the past few weeks/months (time since the last review) and then start to plan the next stages of your care. It is a chance for different members of your treatment to meet and make sure that everyone is on the same page. Today my CPA consisted of my consultant, one of the nursing staff from the ward, the OP ED nurse I was seeing before I came in, myself and my parents. The first half of the review was just between professionals, I was then called into the room for a discussion followed by my parents nearer the end.

It is hard to remember what I have shared online so I am sorry if some of the things I mention do not make sense but I will try to cover most of what happened. I had my ward round on Thursday (due to the bank holiday weekend just gone), in which a lot of new ideas were brought to the table as, well, no one really knows what to do with me… A week or so ago I wrote a letter to my consultant as I was beginning to worry about what the plan was for when I was discharged (as it was being implied that I was to be discharged over the next few weeks)/that my community team were not replying to any messages and that I was concerned about going back home to live at my parents house.

My main worries with returning home were mainly because it is a place where I have been unwell for many years and I find that when I go back there it is almost like anorexia snaps back without me realising it/I can’t control it. Sadly due to being unwell at home for years, I do associate home with bad things, I also do not currently have no goals or things to be working towards (i.e. I have no education to go back to, no job lined up or thought about to go back to) and the worry is that I would be going back home to just anorexia and relapsing backwards. Throw into the mix that my mum retired last week, as well as the family dynamics always being quite rocky (along with being geographically being incredibly socially isolated), I think it is fair to say that I was extremely worried about the prospect of home leave let alone moving back home permanently and with very limited outpatient support.

A long story short, my consultant agrees that going back home is likely not going to help me move on/recover/give me a chance of living a life beyond this, however she also does not believe that staying in an acute EDU will help (which I do understand). In terms of why she thinks that being on the unit for longer might not help include that my weight has not been reaching the targets that are expected, I am struggling on leave/when I get given more control, as well as the usual pitfalls of being on an EDU like being trapped around a lot of other acutely unwell people, having the identity reinforced and the lack of responsibility/it not necessarily coming from me. I floated the idea of going to live in Reading with Andi however she shot me down straight away at that stage saying that I was far too unwell for that…

Anyway, to get to the point, she wants to apply for funding for me to go into residential treatment. This is not something that I know much about, although I do know that getting funding for a place is very very hard and that there are very few places that offer it in the country….from what she explained to me it is a more holistic approach, with the focus on helping you build a life beyond anorexia whilst also supporting you nutritionally. (it sounds far too fairytale-esque for my liking…)She said that as I have had a lot of psychological input and have been under services with very few gaps over the years, that it was obvious that a new approach was needed and that this style might be that. Apparently I have incredible insight/understanding however because the anorexic neural pathways/cognitions have become so strong and rigid, I find it near impossible to force myself to follow through with the theory that I know so well.

I honestly have no idea how I feel right now. I am utterly lost and confused and don’t really know what to do with myself. I feel like no one knows what to do with me/what will help and they are just trying to get rid of me. I want to recover, I really do.  My consultant said that it is not that I don’t want to or don’t have motivation, but that it is the degree of severity of the illness and the complexity of my case, which kind of helped but also left me feeling very broken and hopeless.

She tried to explain all of this to my parents today and I am actually relieved that she was able to speak to them about it as there is no way that I would have been able to approach the subject. She explained it in scientific terms and tried to be realistic about the whole process (which could likely take months to apply for funding, let alone get on the waiting list/pass assessments).

My OP team are apparently supportive of this and are going to work together with the IP team, my consultant and the therapist I was seeing as an OP to put together a proposal for the CCG. Sadly, as I have mentioned this is going to be quite a lengthy process and I don’t really know where it leaves me…If this were not being explored then I would be getting discharged to the same very minimal support that I have had over the past x years, which has not been enough in the past.

So what now? Good question. Basically I have been told that I have to “prove” to the CCG that I am not just in need of an acute EDU admission and that the funding would not be going to waste…this means that I have to show that I can maintain my weight in the community (or gain if possible) as if I were to relapse they would likely just say that I need an acute admission and refuse the funding, leaving me back at square one.

This admission was never going to be a long one, I knew that, but part of me was hoping for a bit longer…I suppose it has brought to the surface the necessity for a different approach to be explored, which I hope means something. Basically my admission can’t be extended, that has been made clear, and I now have a discharge date for two weeks time…with little to no idea of time length beyond that in regards to this talk of residential.

I honestly don’t know what to think or how to feel right now, I really don’t. Part of me thinks that they are making a big fuss over nothing and that there is no way that I will get funding as there are so many people out there with far worse scenarios than mine who need it more. At least I have a home to go to, I know there are many people who dont, so I should really just suck it up and try and do what I can at home with the support that I have.

I have no idea what the residential would entail practically but I am worried that it could end up feeding into my eating disorder even more? I know the reason for the admission would be to help me build a life beyond anorexia, but surely being stuck in a place like that almost reinforces that identity? I dont know, I am very confused about everything right now :(

Short term plan: I have an appointment set up with the ED nurse I am to see in the community for Monday morning and have been given a bit of extra leave this weekend to make it possible for me to attend. When I return to the ward on Monday afternoon I will be moving onto transition and have been promised that I will have a number of appointments with the dietitian over my last two weeks in order to create a realistic maintenance plan for when I go home (as well as trying to get my mum to attend an appointment with the two of us). I am also trying to get an appointment for my mum to come to a family therapy session (they have pretty much written off my dad as someone who can be supportive for a number of reasons which I do not want to go into right now) Being on transition hopefully will give me a bit of an opportunity to self-cater some meals and practice before I move back home for the foreseeable future.

It all feels very rushed and uncertain and I was not expecting to get this much leave this weekend so don’t really know what to do with myself but yeah I suppose this is where things are at. The ward has been quite a tricky environment so on the one hand I am glad to have some space, however Im also worried about it too.

I am sorry, I realise that this whole post probably comes across as extremely selfish and stupid - I wish I could shake myself/pull myself together and just do what I know I need to do but whywhywhy do I keep ending up back in the same place time and time again? I have tried so bloody hard over the past x years but it has never been enough….I do not want to end up being sent to a unit where I will spend months/my consultant briefly mentioned that admissions are usually between 1 and 2 years long…I really dont. but I dont know what else to do with myself when so many options have been explored. I am tired of it all, of everything. It is like I dont know where to turn anymore. Part of me feels like I am just getting palmed off from place to the next because no body knows what to do with me. sigh. I am sorry for throwing this pity party. I wish I had some more positive news to share with you all. I suppose yes I have made some progress since I was admitted. I have gained weight. I am no longer in as much danger as I was. I have had to face a lot of changes in terms of routines, eating different foods, times, I can think a little clearer, I have more concentration etc. Things are just very hard at the moment and having everything in terms of my treatment thrown up in the air like this has made me feel even more unsettled and uncertain about everything. I have no idea what the next few weeks/months may hold so for now I am going to have to continue to take each day as it comes and see where it takes me. Sorry again for the ridiculous  length of this post, you genuinely deserve a gold medal if you have stuck with me through this.

[bigskydreaming]

So it took interest rates that were like WE OWN UR SOUL NOW U FOOL HAHA TWILL BE OURS FOREVER, but joke’s on them lol like I never use that thing anyway. But I got the personal loan for $10K in the end after like a month of searching but who knew that obsessively raising my credit score for a year by like....occasionally chilling all night in an IHOP rather than use a credit card too much on a room would like....pay off with a credit score that actually is useful to me in a way that means I don’t even care right now that hahaha credit scores are just pointless imaginary numbers that really only exist because capitalism’s a dick?

Look I’m allowed to be a hypocrite for three weeks let me have this, I promise I’ll go back to ranting about people selling their souls for the sake of strings of binary code on a computer screen, like just cuz I wasn’t using mine doesn’t mean other ppl don’t want theirs.

Because oh yeah so I was like gimme the loan plz and they were like ugh fine and I somehow got my credit card companies to raise my limits because I’ve had them for over a year now and I honestly couldn’t even tell you how I convinced them to do that like did I haggle did I beg did I put out, who knows, it’s been a very long and strange and sleep deprived month and that’s on top of a long, strange, sleep-deprives two years. Point is between raising my limits on those two, the loan of DOOM and getting a CareCredit card with the remaining credit left to me or before the latter realized I’d just massively dinged my credit cuz the raised limits and loan hadn’t been reported yet, I came up with the $12400. Like again most of that is in the form of imaginary money that I’ll probably spend years paying out of future paychecks so if anyone wants to go ahead and put The Revolution on the books for like, say October, that would actually really work for me. I’d even be all pumped and full of rest and vigor and extra fightey and like, you know how fightey I usually am to begin with I’m just saying....

So now I am literally just waiting for my loan check to clear in my bank account cuz my doctor doesn’t accept checks. Second it does, probably Monday, I’ll go down to my doctors office, pay the $6200 upfront and finish the insurance paperwork for them to submit the claim for the insurance company’s part of it, and they can officially schedule my surgery, possibly in as little as three weeks??!!

Which is absolutely surreal to me, like after literal years of treading water and setbacks and everything dragging out endlessly and he’ll even just yesterday, it’s utterly bizarre finishing my stuff at my bank and doctor’s this morning and hearing how matter of fact they all are about how quickly things could happen now and like. Finally be over. Or like, start lol in the sense of holy shit I could actually maybe have an actual life again.

They can’t confirm a date until my first payment is processed, only then does she officially put me on the books at Cedar Sinai when they can get me into an open OR, but it hopefully could be the 20th. She’s already got another surgery scheduled for that day and an OR booked for it with potential slots before and after it but I can’t count on the 20th as a given just yet. Could still be one, two or even three weeks after that before they actually fit me in, so I’m trying not to set my thoughts and hopes too much on that three weeks from now appointment but that’s easier said than done. LOL.

But whenever it’s actually set for, I go in the day of, pay the second half of the payment, and the surgery takes a few hours but they send me home the same day. My high school friend from San Diego hopefully is going to be able to take enough time off to look out for me while I recover, we’ve been tentatively planning for that for most of a year but couldn’t guarantee anything with her work until we had actual dates which I mean we still don’t technically have. But my jaw will be wired shut for ten days so there’s no way I can manage on my own, esp the way I’ve been getting by day-to-day, and I’ll be on a liquid diet and having to drink everything through a special straw and stuff and completely unable to talk the whole time and oh yeah also apparently in agonizing pain that I’ve been extensively warned could put anything I’ve experienced thus far to shame, so I’m really REALLY looking forward to that part lol. Currently pondering the viability of just knocking myself unconscious every day. We’ll see how it goes.

But after that I go back in ten days later and they unwire my jaw, check that everything looks okay and I’m healing the way I’m supposed to, and I have two weeks of physical therapy and....that’s it. It’s over. I’m just. I’m just leaving that right there for now because I honestly don’t even know what to do with that thought after all this time, it’s. Like I can’t quite wrap my head around it and even really picture how that works. Idk my brain just fizzes out and it’s like wait, are you sure, that doesn’t sound right.

But like I made them go over it multiple times to make sure I wasn’t missing anything or understanding it wrong or whatever, like my doctor was this combination of kinda amused but also exasperated when I finally stopped asking to go over it all again. LOL look I just really really really needed to be sure there wasn’t something else involved that like I was supposed to already know or have been told by someone else, I don’t know okay? Anyone who’s been following me the last couple years knows that this isn’t how this sort of things go, they’re supposed to get my hopes up and then tell me they have no clue what’s wrong or send me off to someone else or tell me oh yeah you also need another thirty thousand and an MRI and some headgear that’s like made of platinum, but we just thought you already knew that. LOL.

But. I mean. Yeah. That’s it. I checked. A lot. Theoretically though unless there’s some new bizarre development in which case I will most likely detach my spirit from my body and evolve into my ultimate great rage power Digimon form, AreYouFreakingKiddingMeMon, and go like, fight god or the physical embodiment of the universe or whatever like I keep threatening....like, that really is what’s left. And then it’s all over. My jaw should by all accounts be restored to its full functionality from before all this. No more pain, no more eternal headache, no vertigo, blind-outs, no problems eating any particular food or swallowing or 45 degree slope to my lower jaw, none of the shit that’s been my day to day existence for well. Years. LOL.

Yeah. Really don’t know what to do with that yet. I just. Can’t. Haha.

Anyway, as I’ve said before, I literally couldn’t have made it to this point without the support of people here, both emotionally and financially. I hate to ask it because you’ve helped so much already, but I’m definitely going to have to ask for your help a little longer, there’s just no way around it. I am completely wiped and tbh overwhelmed so I’m probably going to try and sleep the rest of the day - I was pretty much up all night, unable to sleep while I waited to hear back on all this.

Then when my head’s fully processing things again and not friztzing our because I’ve forgotten how to process good news, lol, I’ll probably be putting together a post asking for your help paying my insurance premiums one last time, and on Monday or once I get the official set in stone date for my surgery I’ll be doing another, basically begging you guys to help keep me afloat the hopefully no more than three weeks til then.

I really really hate having to do that when I know you all have helped and given so much already, and it’ll literally be nothing more than my basic expenses of motel room and food, I don’t need anything beyond that, but I truly don’t see anyway around it. I exhausted every possible avenue available for me to try with my credit in order to get this loan and raise my limits enough, and I milked every cent I could out of those. There’s just no more money to be pulled out of any of that, it took everything I had to get what I needed for the surgery. And I’m afraid of the very real possibility that if I don’t ask for this help because of pride or because of how much I’ve asked for already, I’ll end up using one of my credit cards to pay for my room and such and end up stuck without enough money at hand to cover the second half payment on my day of surgery and I truly literally can not afford that. I have no idea what will happen with my insurance if I have to reschedule, how long it would take to reschedule, etc.

And the other side of this is there’s really not a whole lot left I can do for work at the moment. I’ve finished off all my existing projects except for one last cover and they already paid for it in advance. I honestly don’t know that I could take on new jobs if it ends up with my surgery on the 20th in just three weeks. Searching for more jobs and clients has become more and more time consuming these past months as is, and the simple truth is I couldn’t in good conscience or in honesty guarantee any new clients that I could finish their job in that time frame. Not with my present state physically and mentally and the uncertainty of my day to day expenses and stress about potential complications hanging over my head and not, truthfully, mixing all that well with my pre-existing mental health conditions lol. And yeah, if I can’t guarantee getting any new projects done in three weeks, I can’t afford to take them on for any potential client’s sake, not to mention the sake of my professional reputation, which I will really need to be, y’know, intact, in order to rebuild my life basically from the ground up, once my previous physicality and quality of life comes back after my surgery and recovery (knock on wood). With at least two or three weeks of recovery after the surgery even assuming it goes well and has no other complications, that’s way too much time to leave clients hanging and not be available to address any needs, concerns, revisions, etc. Especially if they’re not returning clients but brand new ones.

So yeah, as much as I would love to not have to ask for any more help than I already have and have been given, I sincerely just don’t see any alternatives that don’t jeopardize or risk wasting all the help I’ve already been given. You know I am fully aware of just how much that is and what its cost some of you, and I already could never repay you for this, not even in terms of just the money itself, but the fact that I know some of you have given at your own very real expense, sending me money that you really could have used yourself, that wasn’t any kind of surplus. I am already beyond grateful and humbled and overwhelmed how many of you have stepped forward to help me in ways that even though I’m older than many of you, I honestly have no precedent for, in ways and to an extent I’ve never received help or support from family. So I just needed to say that again, because I have not asked for any of this lightly, and I don’t now either. Really, really thank you. I’m not exaggerating or being dramatic or hyperbolic or silly for a change, when I say you guys most likely saved my life. Its simple fact. Hell, I was genuinely hours away from sleeping outside freezing my ass off in December, that first time I posted asking for help and you guys came through for me. So, yeah. I will never ever forget this, and never ever be able to give back as much as I’ve been given these past few months, though I will always do my best to pay it forward.

I’m going to go ahead and leave my paypal link here anyway, though I’ll be making those two additional posts tomorrow and next week, as I said. Aiming to keep them shorter than this, well, shorter than any of my posts, really, as shorter posts really just get more traction and I’ll need that. I can always link to the longer explanations of my situation for those wanting to know more.

Again, thank you all more than I can figure out how to put into words. I’m finally. Fuck. LOL. Sorry, I’m being very umm, sentimental over here but like its your fault I’m overwhelmed lol, like omg you guys, you can’t just throw love and affection and support at a guy with so much childhood traaaaaaaaauma, his brain doesn’t know how to handle it, look, you broke him. Are you happy? You broke his brain machine.

Okay cool, we’re back to inanity and obnoxious humor as an overcompensating self-defense mechanism, whew, everything’s normal, everyone can relax. LOL. Anyway, I’m gonna shut up now and go try and get some rest. Just know that I’m doing so feeling way more....hopeful? Optimistic? Faith-in-humanity-and-goodwill-and-community-ey? Than I have in years.

....the fact that I don’t even know what I’m feeling right now is called probably tells you all you need to know about me, huh? LMFAO God I’m so messed up lol. But whatever. Still alive and kicking. So. Y’know. There’s always that.

https://paypal.me/bigskydreaming?locale.x=en_US

[whattoreadinsteadofdrinking]

some notes on today

*I got a sponsor today! I am really really apprehensive about having a sponsor because 1) I hate accountability and 2) I hate the idea of having to follow someone else’s advice.  I know that’s petty and immature but part of recovery is being honest with myself about who I am.  And who I am is, at the core, a person who does not want to be ruled or even guided by anyone but myself.  Which works in some areas of life but clearly sobriety isn’t one of them.  I also can hear the part of my brain that is already pissed about having a sponsor because I know that, with a sponsor, it will be much harder/impossible to relapse and justify having a drink.  So of course my addiction brain is hating that I committed to meet with this woman for coffee on Saturday morning at the crack of dawn. But the part of me that retains some rationality knows it is for the best and a step that needs to be taken despite discomfort.

Staying comfortable has not worked for me.  If I could stay sober in isolation I already would have done it.  Time to bring in some other humans that have been there and let them help me.

* I have my first therapy appointment with my new therapist tomorrow!  I am truly looking forward to it.

* Work was a stress ball today.  I am trying to let it go. Teaching is hard and working with children in any capacity is hard.  Today we had a visitor who was full body-checking me and my assistant and tried to bite us.  My boss then “re-branded” that visit by telling me it was all fine and that he didn’t bite for real, and that we will be admitting that student in all probability next year.  I remain amazed at what administrators of schools will subject staff to, and then gaslight us about, even in the best of schools.  

*I got “The Spirituality of Imperfection” at barnes and noble earlier this week which is a great read so far.  It is making me want to listen to Brene Brown on Netflix but I know, I KNOW, that if I do that I am going to be ugly crying, LOUDLY.  So I am saving it for next week when I will be house-sitting for a couple of friends.  In the privacy of their empty home, I will watch Brene Brown call me out gently but firmly on my refusal to let anyone see the real me, and I will cry and eat saltwater taffy for dinner and maybe invite my friend J over to join me, since I sense this is an activity she could benefit from alongside me.

*Seeing the abortion debate going on in our country right now feels like watching The Hunger Games and The Handmaid’s Tale come to life and I want to crawl into a hole and avoid this reality.  I would love if men stopped telling women what to do with our bodies.  The fact that they will never stop feels as inevitable as when you’re driving down a highway and spot a pothole but you can’t change lanes and you can’t slow down in time and you know that hitting the pothole is gonna rip something out of your car.  I don’t know what this abortion ruling is ripping out of me, of us, but it feels like something big.  Like our autonomy and our dignity and our right to be a human on our own.  I don’t know.  I hesitate to even write about it because it’s so fucking terrible.  

*On a related note, I’m going to get some form of birth control on Monday!!! I know an IUD makes the most sense but I truly dread the insertion process which I have heard horror stories of.  

*I met a very attractive man who makes me feel the kind of innocent-teenager-type-crush feelings that I have not felt in a really long time.  We met at the art museum.  Two hours of talking about art/life and we had one of those weird eye contact moments where you realize how into it you both are.  I ran into him at a theater thing our mutual friend K was in the next week and we have been messaging each other since.  It feels nice to have a crush.  I honestly thought the part of me that could feel anything adjacent to romantic feelings was dead.  It’s nice to know that it’s still within my wheelhouse to smile absurdly at my phone and giggle (GIGGLE! WHO AM I) at a message from a man

*There is so much shit to do between now and summer.  Then summer will be a whirlwind.  I am anxious and excited for it all.  I am proud of myself for getting into therapy, for getting a sponsor, for going back on medication, for allowing myself to have a casual relationship, for taking risks and not closing myself in my room with a six pack of Blue Moon and calling that a life.  It’s less comfortable this way but it is BETTER.  I know it is.

[marysunshine23]

My week

I don’t remember Monday very well. I remember being stressed and wanting to cry but refusing to because I just had eyelash extensions put in and I was within the three days that they can’t get wet. I remember that my wanting to cry turned into wanting to scream, wanting to hit and wanting to kick because real life people aren’t as easy to work with as those in a video game or in a role play. I remember coming home and my parents asking how my day was and me telling them my troubles.

Tuesday is more vibrant in my memory. I remember how I woke up feeling okay; not great, but well enough to go to work. I remember walking to Denny’s and singing songs from my phone and self-talking through a potential roleplay. I had biscuits and gravy with sunny-side up eggs and hashbrowns. As I went to pay, I heard someone call my name and saw it was my sister and mom. I went to sit buy them, and something led our conversation to my work and how Monday, then yesterday, was hard and how my mom and sister started to tell me how to fix it. I remember logically understanding that they meant no ill will and that they were trying to help, but my emotions told me that they were disregarding what I had done and what I had achieved and were just picking at the fact that I’m tapped out emotionally.

I went to work trying not to cry because I didn’t want to disappoint anyone. That’s one of my biggest fears, disappointing the people I care about. It’s why I push myself to do things even when every fiber of my being tells me not to, tells me that it’s not good for me, tells me that I’m too hurt to keep moving. But I don’t want to disappoint my parents, my siblings, my boss, my coworkers, my friends, anyone. I remember when my coworker asked me what was wrong, I cried as I told her that I was just emotionally tapped out, that I don’t want to disappoint her or my boss, that I don’t want to disappoint my mom, but that being at work was draining me, that I was mad that I kept crying because I didn’t want to ruin these lashes that took five hours to put on. My coworker comforted me for a while before getting my boss. She suggested I go on sub-status and just text her in the morning to let her know if I’m emotionally stable enough to come in. I agreed, and she sent me home.

Another coworker drove me home during her lunch, not wanting me to cry on the bus and worried that I’d get hurt. I told her she didn’t have to, I didn’t want her to waste precious free time on me, but she wanted to. She said she was willing to talk to my parents and explain what had happened, but I knew I had to go do it alone. No one was home when I got there, and I went to take a nap and play my video games so I’d be more calm and prepared. When I came down from my room, my dad was startled to see me there. He asked me why I was home early, and I tried to lie; I tried to say that they had enough people that they sent me home. My work is understaffed, so that’s obviously not true. He accused me of being too wrapped up in my video games to want to go to work, and that I wasn’t on top of my medications, that I was feeding into my depression by being lazy, and I started to cry for the second time that day.

After I finished talking to him, and he tried to comfort me, I horded myself in my bathroom, wanting to hide from my shame. The shame that I had disappointed my parents again. I remember hearing my mom come into my room, and asking if I was safe. I said that I just wanted to hide because i had disappointed her and dad. She told me to come out and suggested that we have me do an IOP (intensive outpatient program). I agreed, because I knew I needed it. I had known I needed it for a month, but after my mom refused me the first time, I dropped it. I spent the rest of the day alone, trying to rest.

Wednesday I slept for the majority, only waking up to eat. I officially woke up to go to my therapy appointment, which I had scheduled after Monday’s difficulties. My dad wanted me to record a concert for his schools for him, so I dressed up nice. I remember during my session with my mother sitting beside me, trying to explain why this wasn’t something I could help, that in video game terms, I was just trying to defeat mini bosses but having no time to heal. I remember my therapist stopping me to say that the atmosphere of the room made her feel anxious. I felt guilty even after she said it wasn’t my fault. I never want people to feel how I feel, because it hurts; and I don’t want people to experience my pain. We finished, but I didn’t feel satisfied like I usually do. I went to the concert and recorded despite a child pulling on the tripod of the camera.

Thursday I had lunch with my grandmother and helped her with her phone. I remember her criticizing my purse, saying it was gaudy, and after looking at my food judging that I wasn’t on a diet. She said I was chubby, and I said I liked how I look. She continued to say I was chubby, and I continued to say that I liked the way I looked. The only reason she stopped was because something about her own food distracted her. Many people there complimented my purse, and my grandmother raved about how smart I was. We spent a few hours checking the numbers on her phone, and then I went home to rest.

Friday startled me, because I didn’t think it was Friday. I thought it was Thursday. Somehow in my mind, Monday was last week’s Friday, and all the other days were one day behind. Tuesday had been Monday, Wednesday had been Tuesday, Thursday had been Wednesday, but I realized that I was disoriented. I only got paid every other Friday, not Thursday. So I put $200 into savings and went to get my nails done. I tried a new sushi restaurant, which wasn’t terrible, I went to Daiso and got myself a new backpack for when I started my IOP, and as I walked home, I realized how much I had been self-talking lately. Talking like I’m giving a TED talk. I know that wasn’t something I usually do; most of my self-talk is roleplay related, not about the things bothering me, and it wasn’t this often anymore. I used to do it a lot before... but before when? When did it decrease? And was it a good thing, or bad? I went home and did nothing special. I remember being on my swing and overhearing my mom talk to someone on the phone about a fire on the other side of the freeway from us, and I wondered if we needed to evacuate. Mom said we were fine, so I watched some stuff before going to bed.

Today is Saturday, and I woke up maybe an hour and a half ago. I haven’t eaten yet, and my cat is kneading my back. I’m realizing how anxious I’ve been lately, how depressed I’ve been. How I’m not sure where to go from here, whether I want to stay a teacher or do data input, where me being introverted stops and me being depressed is, where sleeping to rest ends and sleeping to escape begins, and why I can’t seem to keep going in any direction I take. I feel weaker that everyone else, I feel like a failure most of the time, I feel like the times I enjoy being with people is less and less often, and that I just want to be alone all the time. Is it because I’m an aspie and I want to have more control, that I feel like I have none? Is it because I feel defeated by my disabilities? Is it because I’m just not meant to be a teacher? After all, I did this so I work with a group of people I feel similarities to; and I don’t mean other teachers. I know that being around people is good for me when it comes to depression, but even after nearly four days of minimal interaction with people, I still feel taxed. I’m not sure what to do or even if there’s anything I can do. It’s even hard to breathe. My stomach pleads for me to eat, but I find the will to even pour myself a bowl of cereal to be minimal. As my cat licks my fingers affectionately, I know that not all is bad; yet I can’t stop these tears from running down my cheeks. I can’t help feeling like a failure.

I’m not writing this for a pity party or for attention. In fact, I’m honestly just writing this here so I can read it to my therapist when I go see her later today, and it’s easier to type than it is to text on my phone. I suppose I could email it to myself or whatever, but... maybe I do what someone else to read it? Maybe I want someone who understands what I’m feeling to read it and to know they’re not alone? Maybe I want them to read it and understand what I’m feelings so I know I’m not alone? I know that tons of people have chronic depression like me, but so often I feel like all my disabilities combined make me feel like even in the disability community, I am alone. I’m sorry if I made you feel sad, I’m sorry if you think lowly of me, and I feel bad that there’s part of me that doesn’t care; simply because I don’t know you, and I feel badly that I don’t care. Does that mean I do care? I’m not sure... I should probably eat.

[themiddlelayer]

All the buttons

 MM has started the deep-cleaning and re-arranging of the master bedroom that I requested. I told him that I can’t even walk in there without it pushing buttons. Before the quad there were no other women. And even during the quad, MM and Gypsy were never “in our bed” like that. Pixie was in that bed. And Nomad was in that bed with me. Walking in there triggers my own memories as well as reminding me that my worst fears all came true. That fear that other women in our life would be the end of my marriage. And it was. 

Now we try to rebuild. We try to start over. After all this time and individual therapy, we have our first marriage counseling appointment on Monday. As of today wasn’t raw enough to begin with...

There’s a group I belong to that is a safe space for women and recently someone wrote something that just hit me like a ton of bricks. I knew immediately who it was about and I’m sitting here wanting to keep talking, keep venting... wanting to write about it and I can’t. I can’t because that’s one of the ways that he violated me. He read my blog when I asked him not to. He violated my safe space and I have to stay silent on something I would normally write all about here.

I’m trying to push through. I’m trying to just get up and grab cleaning supplies. But part of me doesn’t want to help MM. Part of me feels like he needs to do the work. I need to figure out how to let go of the anger and feeling of being a victim here. I know I’m stronger than this. I know I’ve endured worse. I know how lucky I was in dodging a really scary bullet. I know all of this but it feels so heavy. 

If we didn’t have plans tonight that I’ve been looking forward to, I would cry for a bit, medicate then go do some literal heavy lifting. Instead I’m here in my office listening to music and tip-toeing around the things I really want to say. Avoiding the topic at hand. Trying to not re-read the words “his hands on my throat” and remember when I was there.Trying not to accept that I saw that dark and twisty. I saw the danger, and I went there anyway. While I consented, I knew I wasn’t safe. And I didn’t care enough about myself to do anything about it in the moment. Or in the day. The week. 

The person I was before all of this would have kept going back and asking for it. Tempting fate with a ticking time bomb. How did I get here? And how do I forgive the person I was in that moment? How do I make sure that that really was the last time I would put myself in that kind of position? 

[whatzappening]

The Zappadydoodah

Hello! I’m Jenny – I am 38, married to a beautiful (in all the ways) lady for five years. We have a son who is nearly two and another baby on the way. I’m writing this down because I’m in a transformative time of life, with deliberate hope for change occurring around some treatment for my Stuff. I’m feeling super overwhelmed, massively restless and thought it might be a) handy to channel it all into a writing area, and b) useful for anyone else in a similar sitch.

The Stuff

So here’s my stuff. Fibromyalgia since 2005, Chronic Fatigue diagnosed since 2011, Depression and Anxiety diagnosed since 2012 but probably always. Definitely always.

Here is a list of some of the things I have done to try to manage/fix/deal with my stuff:

SSRI’s

Meditation

Herbal supplements

Naturopathy

CBT

Psychotherapy

Protein shakes

Exercise Therapy

Counseling

Hydrotherapy

Acupuncture

Pilates

Yoga

All of the Elimination Diets

Gym

Walking

Alexander Technique

Kinesiology

Psychics

Hypnosis

A thousand doctors

Graded Exercise Therapy

Narrative Therapy

Rheumatologist

Physiotherapy

Massage

Reiki

All the other stuff I can’t remember

Short of fish slapping that’s all I can remember right now (I did not try fish slapping). I want to be clear that a lot of these things have been extremely helpful in managing my life and keeping me as upright and mobile as possible. The ones who promised me that they could fix me, did the opposite and caused catastrophic setbacks, in every single case. I don’t feel like me listing which ones are which is helpful because every human reacts differently to different options depending on who they are and what their experiences have been.

I will say, however, that my current team members around my health are counselor, physiotherapist, massage therapist, acupuncturist/TCM practitioner.

So that is my stuff. Read on if you fancy!

What’s happening now, and how and why?

So a couple of months ago we were taking our kid for an outing on a Sunday morning. We thought we’d head to a local market about half an hour’s drive and visit our friends who were selling food there to raise money for the local wildlife shelter. Cute! Fun Sunday outing! He fell asleep five minutes from our destination so we kept going, because sleep is golden and we had no place we had to be, and ended up driving past my sister’s place.

We hadn’t seen them for a little while (she lives there with her daughters who are 19 and 20, both at uni this year so sometimes not there) and pulled up in the driveway, waking them up because they don’t live with a toddler and get to sleep in. I have no bitterness about this, it’s just something worth mentioning.

Her youngest daughter, my niece has had severe fibromyalgia for several years now. The list of things she’s tried are varied and include things like hospital stays, ketamine infusions, morphine – and they didn’t help. Morphine didn’t touch the sides of her pain. I won’t go into too much detail but her quality of life was non existent and she was cut down at her best and brightest. It’s horrific and unfair and all the other things. I have not seen colour in that kid’s face other than green for a number of years.

When we rocked up, she was pink cheeked and was about to go out for brunch with a friend.

Let me pause there – every part of that sentence was not possible for years. So after mouthing OMG at my sister when my niece wasn’t looking, we sat down at my sister’s dining table after her she went out with her friend and my sister took my hand. She teared up and said will you please, please think about trying this thing. It works. Look at her.

And then my heart skipped a beat. It had literally not occurred to me that anything could work. That was certainly not my lived experience. I knew they were trying a thing, and I was ready to support them as much as I could (and knowing that sometimes I need to keep a stronger boundary, to protect my sense of self and eschew self pity) when it inevitably didn’t work and their desperation in scrambling for something, some relief, would continue.

“things don’t work for people like me”

That was the sentence that was ringing in my head, loud and clear as a bell. I had believed one too many times when someone had promised me they could make it all better, and then as time went on the prices would increase and the narrowing field of ways I could be pressed in on me and the possibilities vanished when things that weren’t actually physically possible for me to do (and no, I couldn’t push through or engage in mind over matter, get fucked if you think that’s a thing that can happen in this situation, frankly) and I was a bad, naughty client who wasn’t complying so their promise no longer applied. By then they had all of the money and my sense of self was at rock bottom. Snake oil merchants for the win.

Four or so years ago I had a massive breakthrough with a fabulous narrative therapist I was working on my health management with. One day she asked me how it would be if I could just accept my limitations and not place pressure on myself to be capable of anything more than I could do. That I have a serious illness that impacts every single area of my life, and the more I ignore it the louder it gets. How would it feel to accept that?

Because I was ready to hear it, and because I trusted her, and because I knew everything I knew by that stage, I took it in and really imagined how it would feel. And my shoulders dropped about fifty metres and I felt relaxed and calm.

That year I had my first winter since my diagnosis where I didn’t have a severe depressive episode. I rested more, I kept myself warm, I didn’t push myself to not be such a big whiny baby. I cared for myself. I didn’t pretend I wasn’t unwell. I acknowledged it and acted accordingly. Bloody hell – it was absolutely life altering. I will always be grateful to that therapist for that revelation. Then she went and decided to help the refugees on Manus Island with their myriad of psychological issues resulting from trauma and abuse, which I understood but felt a bit miffed about in a selfish way.

So that huge shift had informed the way I went about caring for myself. What a relief to not feel the pressure of turning every stone over just in case. Wearing myself out going to All The Appointments. Never stopping because if I did that meant giving up.

Stopping is brilliant and should be compulsory for all people in all situations.

So now I have my team around me. Every member is crucial and I’m pretty happy most of the time. I’m a great parent and wife and friend and relative, I think.

The thought of messing with that? Oof. SO risky. Terrifying. But my sister held my hand and asked me to think about it. So I did.

I don’t mean to vaguebook atcha. The thing is called TMS and is usually provided to people who have severe depression. The kind where no medication works and everything is hopeless. It’s non invasive, and uses magnetic thingamebobs to retrain the pathways in your brain that have died off due to illness. So for people with fibro, the pathways of normal sensation are often replaced with pain pathways. Recently when I was extremely distressed about a work situation and I could not deal with what was happening, my brain told me that whenever I took a step I was at risk of my ankle shattering. My ankle was not at risk of shattering, but the pain felt extremely real and terrifying. And so on and so forth. So the TMS thingo (and to be honest it’s a little bit tinfoil hat to avoid the government reading your thoughts) is a metal cap that goes over your hair on the place where the specific neural pathways are, then magnetic waves are sent through the thing which stimulate your brains. It’s habit forming, so doing it once a week isn’t going to do squat. But 3-5 zaps a week (each zap is 30-60 mins) will be highly likely to have an impact. 5 will work faster, 3 will still work the same amount but will take a little longer.

They recommend about 30 sessions and then you can taper off and see how you respond. Here’s the kick. I live 90 mins from Melbourne CBD and it’s the closest place I can go for treatment. A three hour round trip a day isn’t possible for me (both in terms of fatigue and available free time).

My work is quite seasonal so I had planned to close off my books from May for a few months, and we were all going to go as a family to rent a house for a few months and just smash it. But then we both realised my wife’s pregnancy wasn’t getting easier and sooner would be better than later. So the compromise is as follows:

Kicking off this month with a week together as a family for calibration and a couple of treatments, and then I’ll head to Melbourne Tuesday morning til Thursday middle of the day allowing me three zaps (Tues – Wed – Thurs) and on the way home I get acupuncture so I can decompress a bit before arriving for family time at home and don’t just dump all my emotions all over them. I’ll have had time to process and chat a bit. Fridays the kidlet is in daycare, Saturdays and Sundays as per usual, Monday with the wee fella. Tuesdays drop him off at daycare late on my way in to town. We’re getting some help with kid wrangling on Wednesdays from daycare pickup to bedtime so my beautiful pregnant wife won’t have to be too exhausted after working all day. There’s a lot going on. Did I mention we’re married but not legally so we’re going to do that in a few weeks as well? It’s a big time.

I turned it all over and over and over in my head, spoke with some key people and most helpfully talked with my love. You don’t owe us anything, she said, and meant it. You try it, you don’t try it, we love you. Your body and health changes, or doesn’t, we love you. If you try it and it doesn’t work and it creates massive turmoil for you then we cross that bridge. You’ve dealt with worse.

So forward we go. 

[librabinight-blog]

Hiring a Therapist is Like Hiring a Math Tutor

Dear friendbugs, I know it sounds oversimplified but putting my therapist search in this frame has helped me become a better advocate for myself. Let me explain...

I’ve been battling depression at varying levels for roughly 10 years now. Hi! Nice to meet you. 👋🏻 lol Honestly it’s not something I’m proud of but I’m also not ashamed to say it. Mental health is stigmatized enough by society without its sufferers getting down on themselves. You wouldn’t judge someone for having the flu, so why judge an equally uncontrollable diagnosis? I could do a whole separate post on that, but let’s stay focused. 🤨 The fact is that therapy is something ANYONE could benefit from and I’m a firm believer that everyone should try it once.

The problem is that finding a therapist when you really need one is exhausting and difficult and stressful and all those other fun adjectives you want when you’re already feeling enough anxiety and/or depression to need help in the first place. It would be like telling someone who broke their arm that to get a cast they have to do push-ups first. Like bro, if I could do the push-ups, I wouldn’t need the cast! 🙄 Just a few things I personally had trouble finding in my therapist search were as follows:

- Someone with evening or weekend hours since I work full-time

- Someone who took my insurance or offered affordable sliding scale options

- Someone who was taking new patients

- Someone who specialized or had experience treating depression

- Someone within driving distance of my home

- Someone who even called or emailed me back

It’s not easy. It’s not fast. It’s not fun. I don’t speak for everyone of course, but for me it felt as though I was begging for help and no one was listening. We tell people not to commit suicide but we make it nearly impossible for them to get assistance to prevent it. Even crisis hotlines are overburdened but, again, we’re getting off topic. On top of how hard it was to find someone, I didn’t know if I even deserved the help in the first place. It’s part of my illness to have low self-worth. As a result, I was asking permission to be treated rather than demanding what I needed.

Fast-forward through 1 in-patient stint, 1 out-patient stint, 5 private therapists and 1 therapy app and here I am now finally understanding the problem. You see I had a couple of good therapists in my life but overwhelmingly they’ve been disappointing. I had one therapist that took appointments in her home and was late to our sessions every time because she would do her grocery shopping right before. There’s a special awkwardness in sitting outside your therapist’s house waiting for her to come home.😅 Then I had one who would spend our sessions frequently checking her phone or showing me 10-minute YouTube videos. Were they relevant? Sure. But maybe I could have just gotten the link from her for later rather than paying her hourly rate for a free video. 💸 Then I had the therapist that spoke from minute one all the way through to the end. I used to count how many words I could actually get in during the hour with him and never got above 20. Even one of the two good therapists I had would almost always cut our sessions short because she overbooked all the time. I never got my time made up for any of this stuff. Therapist after therapist came and went and often I felt worse and more depressed than when I came in. Like I said earlier, though, I didn’t think I deserved better. I thought I was lucky these people were even listening to me in the first place.

The final straw for me was the therapy app. The subscription promised 2 check-ins (text messages) each day Monday-Friday from a licensed professional in my state. You had a chatroom in the app with your therapist and you were free to send whatever messages whenever you wanted. Feeling anxious? No need to wait til your session to vent. You just send everything you’re thinking in the moment to your person. The theory was that the therapist would spend roughly 10 minutes a day reading and responding to you during the 2 check-ins. That would amount to 50 minutes by the end of the week which is like having a full in-person session. I liked the concept and I’ll admit that I did find some help...until the check-ins stopped coming. First it was a day here or there where she only checked in once instead of twice. Then it was a day of no check-in at all. Then it was two days in a row with no word.😕 I didn’t want to push her because I thought “This person is busy. This person is trying. What right do you have to be so demanding?” Well the fact is that I had every right. Eventually I confronted her but I was also very aware of how attached I’d gotten to this new support, so I didn’t blame her directly. I told her I understood she was busy but maybe she just needed someone less needy as a client. Looking back on it, I was being a pushover. I told her I knew I was asking quite a lot (by asking for what I paid for) and I was being difficult (for again, asking for what I paid for) but perhaps she could check-in more. She told me she completely agreed that she needed to check-in more and that it looked like we both had some work to do. Well, bugs, I bought it. I told her that I’d love to keep working.... and then the next day she didn’t check in. So I quit.

Me quitting came after the realization that she was right. I had A LOT of work to do but the thing I needed to address first was the way I looked for help. This is where the metaphor comes in, bugs! How is a therapist like a tutor? Every tutor knows the same fact and formulas, but the way they teach them varies. Therapists are similar in that way. You might see a therapist who is more dynamic and engaging or one who more reserved, “just hear to listen” style. They could both be treating the same problem just in different ways. Additionally, tutors are going to push you. They’ll assign you homework and force you to practice skills you might prefer to just avoid. Therapists are no different. A good therapist will push you past what you thought your own limits were because that’s how you grow. The most important piece of my metaphor though (and the point of all this) is that both therapists and tutors are people you hired. They work for you. You don’t owe them anything beyond their fee (and maybe some respect as a fellow human). If your tutor was late every time, you’d fire them. If your tutor spoke to you in a way you didn’t like, you wouldn’t go back. If your tutor only used verbal explanations when you’re a visual learner, why waste your money?🤷🏻‍♀️

After I put things into that frame, I realized how ridiculous I was to have ever put up with the treatment I’d had. 🤔 The truth is that it’s so hard to find a therapist in the first place, we sometimes settle for any help we can get. I know I did. Now that I’m advocating for myself, I feel like a stronger more worthwhile person. It won’t be easy to find someone new and it’s especially not easy to leave someone old even if they’re no good for you. You have to do it, though. Talk to your therapist and see if they can change the things you don’t like (a good therapist will work WITH you) but if they don’t respect your needs, you have to respect them enough for both of you. Never forget that like a tutor, your therapist needs to earn your business. You’re paying for a service. Get your money’s worth, bugs. 😘

[rosaofswords]

Year Ahead Spread Update - July 2018 ft. the Little Monsters

Year Card: The Fool July Card: Ace of Swords/Arrows (Bonus card: Page of Swords/Child of Arrows)

Update is under the cut because it’s long and real personal.

So, I ended June with a comment about cutting my hair in July because of the Ace of Swords... which I did not do. I was all set to get an appointment when reminders of my Grandpa started cropping up everywhere and I always remember him telling me how pretty my hair was the one summer I let it grow out in high school. So. It’s even longer now. Big love Gpa. 

The Little Monsters Tarot was actually only in my rotation for one week in July, but the impact it had on me was pretty extreme. In the deck interview it spoke really clearly about being good for inner child work. (I believe the first card in the spread was the Child of Cups, which literally has inner child stuff mentioned in the book.) Back in June I had actually been nudged towards some inner child exploration by my mental health team, but I was finding it hard to follow through as prescribed... so I took this as a mental nudge to find a method that does work for me. 

Mentor Readings have been as staple of my personal practice since sometime towards the beginning of this blog. Once a week (Monday, usually) I pick a new card that has something to teach me. Each day I shuffle my mentor back into my deck and then find the two cards around them for my message. Generally, these tend to be as the word mentor implies: the card is a teacher, they have something to tell me.

What I did for inner child work was a variation on this theme. I asked my deck to, instead of offering me a guide, give me a card for my inner child. The card that came up was the Child of Arrows and I immediately started crying. (There’s been a lot of crying this month.) The monster on the card looks curious and adorable, but also (to me) hesitant and/or tentative. 

My head went to Anne de Vernase, who was described as “the child of my mind” by her father, in the Collegia Magica series. This is a character that has struck a strong chord with me due to her curiosity, but also her social reluctance and her fear of her own powers. 

The guidebook for this deck doesn’t talk much about reluctance, it talks more about someone who loves knowledge. An insatiable curiosity, someone who sometimes flits between the latest “shiny things” to catch their interest. (Which is also very me.) And while the description was very loving, it had an edge. It was easy to see how this character, this child, could be a nuisance. (The word nuisance was even used to describe them, when unguided and left to their own devices.) It’s easy to see how this sort of child can be shut down by others and their inquisitive nature forced to the background.

The struggle I have been focusing on, which brought me to inner child work, is my voice. I am often told that I am not loud enough, especially in professional settings, and my voice teacher is often letting me know that “there’s still something tight,” physically, despite really good progress. Finding more freedom with my voice means going back to why I pull it back to begin with. So... see above. 

But this is not the Ace of Swords/Arrows-- or is it? Aces and Pages are very similar, I think, they just focus on different aspects. Both are often seen as the beginning of a journey. The Child/Page is the current player on the stage (my inner child, in this case) and the Ace is the action with which to address this journey. 

I associate the Ace of Swords with personal truth. It’s not as exact, nor its reach as broad, as Justice, but it is about parting with the lies. It’s systematically going through the things my inner child soaked in and still holds to and asking “Is this true?” and if it isn’t, “what is the truth?” 

Which, you know, sounds suspiciously like the words I was asked to use in therapy with my inner child to begin with. The cards just gave me a way to frame it so I could work with it more easily. Each day, the Child either brought me something they’d been told about themselves or something they needed to hear. I wrote at least a full page of loving, truthful conversation with them. 

And, when the week was up, I was emotionally exhausted but so much better for it. I went back to my usual mentors with a deck I could just default to Smith-Waite meanings on and finished out the month. But I kept the lessons with me, and next time I need to talk to a part of myself- be it inner child, higher self, or some of my shadows, I have a new mental tool to use. Which, really, isn’t that what a sword is supposed to be in tarot? A mental tool?

Anyways, it’s August now and I am starting my journey with the Two of Wands, which is actually my stalker card from last August. (I went back and checked my journal, just to be sure, and there is literally an index for every time it showed up because it was so frequent.) I’m excited to see where this takes me!