#I'm not helping anyone and all I'm doing is hurting people. I feel like I've been hired by hell to stab the damned.

[vivianblue]

Doesn't the existence of bell hooks along with her compassionate and phenomenal works literally disputes the whole idea that "The Left hates men" though?

bell hooks IS part of The Left, and correct me if I'm wrong but her central thesis in "The Will to Change" and "All About Love" isn't to point out how it's failure on leftists for not coddling men enough, but to point out how the patriarchy hurts men as well. The people who should read bell hooks are not mean leftists, but precisely MEN who feels they can and should deserve better than what this system of oppression has to offer them, and open up their perspective beyond the false dichotomy of "Accept Calvinism & Eternal Punitive Justice from The Oppressed" OR "Be The Oppressor & Enjoy Your Privileges (you earn this by being more Superior than other people)".

Men being drawn to the alt-right pipeline is not due to mean women and leftists. It's because like,... it's good to be a man under the patriarchy, because it benefits men at the expense of other people. This is just basic sociological analysis backed by historical facts that we should agree on. However, in some situations even by stating: "privileges exist and a lot are unearned/built on oppressing other groups", you would already be inviting a lot of hostility, because acknowledging this issue for a lot of people is Emotionally Challenging (and I'm saying that with no attached judgement).

We can examine a similar emotional response to see why this would be challenging - White Fragility. According to Ford, Green & Gross (2022), the psychological process underpinned it goes like this:

1. Generally, people want to be viewed as a Good Person.

2. Acknowledging systemic issues and how integral one's role as the "oppressor" in those issues can feel incongruent to the goal of wanting to be a Good Person (and might lead to guilt or shame).

3. This feeling can worsen when the person feels like they don't have the resources necessary to tackle a particular situation without coming off as a racist/sexist/transphobic/etc. (aka what many people would internalize as a Bad Person).

Many men could start out wanting to do good, but then find out that "doing good" requires more than just extending niceness on an individual basis. It's also about working on yourself and learning more about the world and other people's experiences and actively preventing harms, because anyone has the potential to do harm and the damage caused is in correlation to how much power you have over others. Everyone is capable of being racist/sexist/transphobic/etc. in a society where those actions are so normalized. Doesn't mean everyone is Inherently a Bad Person, but it does mean there are a LOT of choices to navigate and you will make mistakes, and people are going to be understandably cautious around you if you haven't worked on yourself enough since again - you can harm them. It is unjust to force people to love you, especially at the threat of you becoming a violent raging Nazi.

The dilemma of "Why should I help the people I've harmed when I get nothing but feeling of shame in return" are common human issues, and it's not entirely unique to cishet white men. The alt-right denies the questions entirely by saying that "No men, YOU have never done anything wrong. If anything it's those minorities and women who are harming you, and you're in the right for wanting to punish them back." Why takes responsibility when it turns out, you're the Good, Rational and Superior Guy all along?

The real answer is quite direct and Literally lies in bell hooks' writings, specifically "All About Love", and is only made difficult and obscure by the relentless effort to paint feminists and leftists as this homogeneous, hateful group who want to antagonize men. It's not about the unconditional love that women and The Left MUST have for men as a Reward for existing and being such a Good Boy. It's about the Love men should have for themselves and the world. Why must you do good by yourself, by women, by your fellow men, by your sons or daughters or neighbors or community? If you love someone, you want the best for them. The best for who and what you love would be for you do good actions and make good decisions that benefit everyone, and yourself. Love is not earned, it's something you do.

“The first act of violence that patriarchy demands of males is not violence toward women. Instead patriarchy demands of all males that they engage in acts of psychic self-mutilation, that they kill off the emotional parts of themselves. If an individual is not successful in emotionally crippling himself, he can count on patriarchal men to enact rituals of power that will assault his self-esteem.”

At the end of the day, women and leftists aren't the problem. It's the lack of resources re: point (3) and again, not due to leftists not providing them, but due to the patriarchy and people having an interest in not seeking them out or censoring them (e.g. the attack on critical race theory in uni).

I couldn't have said it better myself.

[caldrexic]

Homicidal Ideations, and What Living With Them is Actually Like ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ༄

﹒ ◠ DISCLAIMER ⊹ ﹒

Before anyone responds or worries about my own well-being, I'm currently in an outpatient program where my care team knows I have these thoughts. We know how to properly handle them.

This post is not for glorification, and is simply for educational/awareness purposes. Additionally, this post was made by a psychology student studying forensic psychology, but I am not a professional nor a licensed clinician. Please keep this in mind as you read.

﹒ ◠ CONTENTS ⊹ ﹒

i. definitions ii. different levels of ideations iii. how to cope with them iv. my personal experiences

i. definitions "WHAT ARE HOMICIDAL IDEATIONS?"

Homicidal ideations are defined as any thought pattern associated with the desire to kill another person/a group of people. The extent of/the detailed nature of the ideation varies from person to person, and is analyzed critically on a case-by-case basis.

**Most people who struggle with homicidal ideations do not act on these thoughts.**

ii. different levels of ideations

Clinicians come to a conclusion regarding the severity of homicidal ideations through analyzing the following aspects:

Target

Plan

Intent

Means

-> "TARGET" This is discerned by figuring out whether or not the person struggling with homicidal ideations has thoughts which target a specific person/group of people. If not, it is typically considered less likely they will act out on these thoughts.

-> "PLAN" This is discerned by figuring out whether or not the person struggling with homicidal ideations has a current plan in place. This can range from something as small as having a general location in mind to having a full-scale plot. It depends on the person, and, if no plan is in place, the individual is at less risk of acting out on these thoughts.

-> "INTENT" This is discerned by figuring out whether or not the person struggling with homicidal ideations has any sort of intent to act out on these thoughts, whether it's a strong intention of acting on them or no intention at all; of course, mixed intent can be present as well. The higher the intention, the more the individual is at risk of acting out on these thoughts.

-> "MEANS" This is discerned by figuring out whether or not the person struggling with homicidal ideations has any access to weapons, such as guns or knives. Naturally, if the individual has access to weapons/a "means" of hurting others, the more the individual is at risk of acting out on these thoughts.

iii. how to cope with them

The best way by far to cope with homicidal ideations is - unfortunately to some - by talking about these thoughts with a professional. It may feel scary, but the average person may find these thoughts frightening and will likely not know of the best way to support you, especially when these thoughts are so stigmatized in society as is. It is important to remember, however, that you are not a bad person for having these thoughts, and a professional should be able to help you cope with your urges and emotions in healthier ways.

Another way is to - ironically enough for some of us - stop engaging with violent content, such as true crime or other exposures to violence. Of course, these things do not cause homicidal ideation, but they can certainly influence them to worsen.

iv. my personal experiences

I had my first brush with homicidal ideations when I was a child. At the time, I was young and being bullied, but I found them disappearing a short while after the bullying stopped (however, I do not think that is what caused the thoughts, but rather influenced them).

In my experience, I've noticed that my ideations tend to be triggered by strong negative emotions, such as rage, sadness, or hopelessness. In my mind, it feels like a solution to my problems, even if I can recognize at later dates that that's not true. In the moment, it feels like the only solution I have.

I don't have a target, a plan, or a means. This means I would be considered "low-risk." I will (hopefully) always stay this way. Even though I do feel like harming others, these thoughts go against my personal moral convictions, and I can still objectively recognize that they're wrong and not a solution to my problems.

I've also noticed that there's a major overlap between those who look up to/idolize perpetrators of violent crimes and those who have homicidal ideations. Often, our projection onto violent criminals can make us feel less alone, even if it's not (in my opinion) the healthiest of coping mechanisms. The only thing I can compare it to - from personal experience - is a form of self-harm or addiction. It feels good in the moment, but is harmful in the long run.

However, I would be interested to hear anyone else's perspective, whether it be similar or vastly different. Thank you for reading!

[canirove]

The invinsible princess | Chapter 9

“Leo”

Author’s note: And we've made it to the end! Thank you very much to everyone who has read this story, supported it, for all your nice words and messages (they mean a lot) and of course, thank you to the anon who inspired it all! 💜 Hope you like this last chapter, and hopefully seen you soon with more Pedri 😊

Chapter 8

Masterlist

“Fuck the protocol”

“What did it do to you know?” I laugh.

“Making me wear this stupid suit and this stupid bow tie” Pedri says, struggling to tie it. “I hate it.”

“Then let me help… Shit.”

“Sofía, are you ok?” he says, quickly showing up at my side.

“I'm fine, don't worry. It's just that standing up at almost nine months pregnant isn't as easy as some people may think.”

“Ok, come here” he says, putting his arm around my waist and helping me get up from my chair.

“Thank you, Pedri.”

“Anything for you, my lady” he smiles.

“Now, let me see that bow tie.”

“It is a pain in the ass” he sighs. 

“A pain in the ass is having to wear high heels for hours. Or having to wear high heels while carrying a child inside you that is pushing against your bladder and making you want to pee every five minutes.”

“This is nothing compared to all that, true” he chuckles. “You women are amazing, you know? The world would go to hell without you.”

“Oh, we are very aware of that, trust me. Why are you smiling like that?” I say while struggling to make his bow tie look good.

“I was just thinking about something you said the day we met.”

“That I like men with interesting noses?”

“Nope, something else. It has to do with this thing in your head.”

“What?” 

“Your tiara. The day we met I asked you if didn't all princesses wear crowns, and you told me that if you were lucky maybe one day you would get to wear a tiara for a royal wedding or something like that, and here you are now. This is the first time I'm seeing you wearing one.”

“And probably the last since I only have one sister and this will hopefully be the only time she gets married.”

“What if I buy you one?”

“What?” I chuckle.

“I like the way it looks on you. It really suits you.”

“Because I am the queen of your heart?” I tease him.

“That too” he winks. “But I could get you a simple one that isn't one hundred years old and a family heirloom. Something you could wear if I organised you a fancy dinner at home or something like that.”

“Oh, it would look so nice with my pjs.”

“Of course it would. You can make anything look good, my lady” he smirks.

“You are such a flatterer, Pedri González” I laugh.

“And you love it.”

“A bit, yes. And this is done” I say when I finish with his bow tie. 

“How do I look?” he says, taking a step back and doing a twirl.

“Gorg… fuck!”

“Sofía! Sofía, are you ok? What is it? Is it the baby?” he says as he helps me sit down. 

“It was something like a cramp, but it has passed, I'm fine.”

“Sofia, you were in pain. What if something happened? What if…”

“What if what?”

“What if the baby is coming?” Pedri says.

“That's not possible. It is too soon and…”

“Let me go call Carlos.”

“No!” 

“Sofía, you are hurting. I can see it in your face and feel it on the way your nails are digging in my arm.”

“Sorry. I'm sorry” I say, letting go of him. “But I'm fine, don't call anyone.”

“Sofía, you may be in labour.”

“May be, exactly. We don't know for sure, and I'm actually starting to feel better.”

“Sofía…”

“It was a false alarm, Pedri. I'm feeling much better, I…”

“Sofía!” he says, catching me when I try to get up and suddenly start feeling dizzy. “That's it, I'm calling Carlos.”

“Pedri, I told you I'm fine.”

“You are not, Sofía. Stay there and don't move.”

“I can't! My sister is about to get married, I can't miss her wedding!” I say, trying to get up again.

“Sit down, Sofía” Pedri says, looking the most serious I've ever seen him.

“Urgh” I groan, doing as he asks. 

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“The doctor is here, ma'am” Carlos says.

“You've called him for nothing, Pedri. I'm fine.”

“Sofía, can you please stop being so stubborn?” he says, rolling his eyes.

“It's the truth! I'm… I'm fine.”

“Of course you are.”

“Your royal highness” the doctor says when he walks into the room. “What happened?”

“Sofía may be in labour.”

“I'm not, Pedri. I'm fine. We should be on our way to the cathedral to see my sister get married instead of being here wasting everyone's time” I say, struggling to get up from the bed where Pedri had forced me to move after I got another really bad cramp.

“Doctor, can you please help me here?” Pedri sighs.

“Ma’am, you are almost nine months pregnant, you could be in labour. And your husband only worries about you and the baby, he wants you both to be safe.”

“I know.”

“Then let the doctor check you, Sofía” Pedri says, sitting on the bed next to me. “Please.”

“I… fine” I say, finally giving up. “I can't never say no to you when you are looking at me with those big brown eyes of yours and then add a pout.”

“A pout with my lips made to kiss and be kissed?” he smirks.

“And now you add that smile! You are using all my weaknesses against me, Pedri. That's cheating!”

“Sorry” he shrugs. “I just worry about you, Sofía. About both of you” he says, caressing my bump. “I love you.”

“I know. I love you too.”

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“Sofía!” my mum says, storming into the room. “Sofía, are you alright? And the baby?”

“We are fine, mum.”

“But they told me the doctor came to check on you!”

“He did.”

“And?”

“And looks like the little one didn't want to miss auntie Leonor's wedding” I chuckle.

“What?”

“I'm labour, mum.”

“Already? And what are you doing here? Why aren't you in the hospital?”

“Because it still is too soon.”

“Is it?” she asks, looking at Pedri.

“It…”

“Sofía!” Leonor says, coming into the room just as my mum just did. “Oh my God, Sofía. Are you ok? And the baby?”

“We both are fine. But wow, Leonor. You look…. Wow” I say. Because she's showed up wearing her wedding dress, her tiara and everything else. “Max’s jaw is gonna be on the floor the moment he sees you” I smile, remembering what she and Irene had said about Pedri before our wedding.

“I hope so” she replies, also smiling. “But are you sure you are ok?”

“I'm fine. For now.”

“What?”

“She's in labour” my mum says.

“Already? Isn't it too early?”

“My due date is in a couple of weeks, but the doctor said that there is no need to worry and that it can happen. I'm just so sad I'm gonna miss your wedding… I wanted to be there with you.”

“Don't worry about that now, you can always watch it on tv. What matters is that you both are ok.”

“We are. We will be.”

“I'll make sure of it” Pedri says.

“You both look so calm” Leonor laughs.

“We look calm now. Twenty minutes ago we were yelling at each other because your sister here is the most stubborn person I've ever met.”

“Yet you love me” I smile.

“With all my heart” he smiles back.

“Aww… cute” Leonor says. 

“Very cute, but you and mum should get going. I know it is usual for the bride to be late, but not this late, and I don't want poor Max thinking that you are leaving him standing in the altar.”

“She's right” our mum says. “I left your dad alone with your grandmother and he must be driving her crazy. Or vice versa. But Sofía, I can stay with you if you want.”

“Pedri's mum already is on her way, don't worry. I'll be in good hands until you can free yourself from your queen and mother of the bride duties.”

“I know you will, but... Are you sure?”

“I am. Now go, c'mon.”

“Ok, ok. No need to kick us like that” Leonor chuckles. “I love you, little sis” she says while hugging me. “You can do this.”

“Love you too, big sis. And you can also do this. Getting married in front of the whole world, I mean.”

“No pressure there, uh?” she sighs. “But thank you.”

“Keep us updated on everything, ok?” my mum says when it is her turn to hug me. “I'll leave as soon as I'm allowed to, and if the baby can't wait, I'll run away, I don't care.”

“Fuck the protocol?” I laugh.

“That wording is a bit offensive, but yes, that's basically it” she smiles. “I love you, Sofía.”

“Love you too, mum.”

“Well…” Pedri says, sitting down on the bed next to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders while I rest my head on his. “It is happening.”

“It is, yes.”

“Are you scared?” he asks, kissing my head.

“A bit, yes. You?”

“I'm shitting myself.”

“Please tell me this time you aren't being literal like at our wedding” I laugh.

“Not yet.”

“Eww, Pedri!” I laugh again. 

“Sorry, I'm sorry. But even if I'm scared, I know you can do this, Sofía. I believe in you.”

“Thank… you.”

“Another contraction?”

“Yes” I nod. “And this one hurt a lot more than the last one.”

“Is there anything I can do to help? Maybe one of those massages they taught us?”

“That may be useful later. For now being like this is just enough” I say, curling up against him. 

“I can't believe we will be becoming parents in hopefully just a few hours” he says, his fingers caressing my arm, making me relax. “It feels like yesterday when we were talking in that corridor in Germany, shamelessly flirting with each other.”

“It does feel like it, doesn't it? But you know, if I got to relieve that moment, I would always choose to follow you outside the party.” 

“Because you couldn't wait to get rid of your dad and his friends telling the same anecdotes all over again?”

“That too” I chuckle. “But also because maybe, just maybe…” I say, lifting my head from his shoulder and looking at him. “I also had a little crush on you.”

“Wait, really? It wasn't just me?”

“I mean, you had a proper crush on me, Pedri. Mine was starting after watching you at the Euros, and it didn't stop until I fell head over heels in love with you. It hasn't stopped, to be honest.”

“Do I still make you feel butterflies in your stomach?” he smiles.

“Every single day. And I hope it never stops. I love you, Pedri.”

“I love you too… my lady” he says before kissing me. 

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“Knock, knock. Can we come in?”

“Leonor?” I say when I see her at the door of my hospital room, Max standing behind her. “What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be resting after yesterday?”

“I should, yes. But turns out that my little sister also gave birth, and I couldn't wait to see her and meet my nephew” she says, coming to my bed and hugging me. “How are you, Sofía?”

“Good. Sore and tired, but good. And really happy. You?”

“Extremely hungover” she chuckles. “But tell me, how did it go? Is what mum told me true and he let you watch the wedding?”

“Yep” I nod. “During the ceremony everything was pretty smooth, but once it ended, he said: auntie Leonor already had her moment, now is my turn.”

After she and my mum left, things had been quite calm. Both Pedri and I had had time to get changed, eat something, chat, and in my case, bawl my eyes out while watching the wedding on tv. But the moment Max and Leonor got into the car and started saying hello to all the people gathered on the streets, everything changed. My contractions started to become more painful and frequent, and when the doctor came to check me again, he said it was time to go to the hospital, the little one joining us just a couple of hours later.

“How did he do?” Leonor asks me, nodding towards Pedri. He is standing next to the window, the baby in his arms. 

“He started crying the moment the doctor said the head was out, and then didn't stop. At one point his mum even worried he was going to end up dehydrated” I chuckle.

“I didn't cry that much, don't listen to her” he says.

“He did” I whisper. “But other than that, he's been amazing” I smile while looking at him caressing the baby's cheek and whispering something to him. 

I thought I couldn't love Pedri more than I already did, that it was impossible to fall in love with him more than I already was. But every time I see him with the baby, with our son, I actually do it. I fall even more in love with him, my heart feeling like it is about to burst out of happiness and love.

“You are the one who is amazing, Sofía. Look at him” he says, kissing the baby's head. “I can't believe he is real. That he is my son.”

“Can't you? Haven't you seen all that hair?” Max chuckles. 

“I haven't” Leonor says, getting up from my bed and moving to where they are standing. “Oh my God, Sofía. He is perfect! And definitely Pedri's son, yes” she smiles, caressing his head. 

“Do you want to hold him?” Pedri tells her. 

“I… I don't know. Babies aren't my thing.”

“C'mon, Leonor. You are his auntie and godmother, you have to get used to it” I say.

“Wait, his godmother? Me?”

“Yeah. Who else?” 

“I don't know… Irene, perhaps? You've always been super close.”

“We have. But she isn't my sister, you are. And since Fer is going to be his godfather…” I shrug.

“I… I don't know what to say, guys. Thank you.”

“You're welcome. Now put your hand here” Pedri says, helping her hold the baby. “There, perfect. Little one, meet your auntie Leonor. Leonor, meet your nephew Leo.”

“Wait, Leo? Aren't you naming him Carlos?” she says.

“That was a little white lie” I smile. “We wanted to surprise you.”

“Me? Why?”

“Because we've named him after you.”

“What?” she says, looking from me to Pedri, then at the baby in her arms, and then back at me.

“I mean, if you don't like it, we can always say we named him after Messi since he is my idol” Pedri shrugs.

“No, we won't!” I say.

“I was just teasing you, my lady” he winks. “That story we told everyone about naming the baby Carlos as some kind of homage to him because he had been key in our love story and we wouldn't be here without him, was just a lie because we wanted to surprise you and we didn't want anyone ruining it” Pedro smiles.

“But… but…” Leonor mumbles. “What about Fer? You could have named him after him too.”

“We already have two in the family, we don't need another one. Besides, how would we call him? F?” he chuckles. “Leo is perfect. And not because that's Messi’s name” he says, looking at me.

“I… I don't know what to say, I… Thank you, guys.”

“Aww, Leonor” Max says, wiping away her tears since her hands are busy holding Leo.

“This is the best wedding gift ever, guys. Thank you” she says, managing to free one arm to hug Pedri. “Thank you, Sofía” she says, coming to the bed to also hug me. “I love you.”

“I love you too” I reply, hugging her back.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“Ready, my lady?” Pedri says, giving my hand an encouraging squeeze. 

“Ready” I say, taking a deep breath before the hospital doors open and we walk outside, the reporters and photographers waiting for us already shouting.

“Your royal highness, how are you?” one of them asks me when we stop in front of them.

“I'm well, very happy. Thank you for asking” I smile.

“And the father? How is he feeling?”

“Also very happy” Pedri says.

“Why Leo?” another reporter asks.”It isn't a very royal name.”

“He is named after my sister Leonor” I explain. “So it is a royal name.”

“Awww…” a bunch of them say. 

“Who does he look like?”

“Everyone says he is a mini me” Pedri chuckles, moving the blanket I have wrapped around Leo so they can see him better.

“Oh, he definitely has your hair” the reporter says.

“He does, yes” he says, caressing Leo's head. “Though I think he's gotten his mother's character.”

“How so?”

“Well, he is just a couple of days old, and he is quite stubborn already. Like his mum.”

“Pedri!” I say, elbowing in the ribs while the reporters just laugh. 

“Do you think he may have gotten your talent? That we may have the first royal football player in history?”

“We actually do. You should have seen the way he kicked me before he was born” I laugh. 

“We should start getting his room ready at La Masía, then” one of the reporters says.

“He may already have it” Pedri smirks, making them all laugh again.

“Ma'am, we should get going” Carlos says behind me.

“Oh, yes. Thank you very much for coming, guys. And for all your good wishes too, it means a lot.”

“One last photo, ma'am. Ma'am!” the photographers say as we move towards our car, both Pedri and Carlos escorting me.

“We did it” Pedri says once we are inside the car.

“We did it, yes.”

“Ready for what is ahead, my lady?” he says, taking my hand on his and kissing it. “Now the hard work begins.”

“I know. But I also know I can do it. That we can do it. As long as we are together, we can do anything.”

“I mean, I managed to teach you how to dance without injuring me, didn't I? After that, everything is possible” he smirks.

“You are such an idiot, Pedri González” I say, hitting his arm.

“Yet you love me, my lady” he replies.

“More and more every day” I smile before resting my head on his shoulder as the car starts moving, the new chapter of our lives ahead of us. 

━━━━❃━━━━ FIN ━━━━❃━━━━

[crimeronan]

there's a place in my neighborhood where a lot of kiddos hang out because there are a couple cheap restaurants & convenience stores open late without any bars/age-restricted venues nearby. it's extremely well-lit and by several busy roads and one of the safest places i've gone when walking at night & the kids have always been extremely chill towards me. so i was completely flummoxed today by a review of a business there that says it's in a """sketchy area""". until justice pointed out that it's definitely BECAUSE the kiddos are there that this random asshat thought the area was sketchy.

.......if you are genuinely afraid of a bunch of sixteen-year-olds minding their own business in an incredibly well-lit parking lot. then like. i truly do not know how to help you.

Git Gud....????

[thelindenpapers]

"who taught you that suffering in silence was noble, and how would you shutting up have benefited them?"

It's often something you learn when you're in an abusive or oppressive situation.

Especially long-term.

And especially if those long-term situations occur multiple times throughout life.

I grew up in an extremely racist/misogynist community.

They learned that they couldn't bully or intimidate me ...but they would pick on anyone who tried to defend me.

And that later expanded into them shunning or bullying anyone who I let on that I liked, or even worse, was crushing on.

I grew up with an abusive, fascist father.

He killed our dog. Why? Because it kept angrily and loudly barking every time he was trying to hurt Mom and me.

More than that: in my childhood community, anyone I tried to talk to would either ignore me like I was a ghost, or, shout slurs and death threats in my face. I'm talking early on in life: Before kindergarten, Kindergarten to at LEAST thru 3rd grade.

So:

You learn that anyone you like gets punished for the grevious faux pas of being liked by you.

You learn that anyone who tries to help you, gets hurt or even killed.

You learn that almost nobody comes to help when you cry for help.

You learn that even trying to talk or say 'Hi' to people, results in them suddenly appearing harmed or troubled or annoyed or angry, somehow.

...And why wouldn't I be silent?

As a feral kid, no one was going to listen to me anyway, no one was going to care how I felt about anything or about how anything was affecting me.

And if I did tell?

People frequently took the abuser's side.

Just as the cops did, the very first time I was finally old enough to threaten dad right back!

Don't even get me started on my marriage.

How long are you supposed to keep on telling a person, 'Hey, these are my needs, and I need your help to get something done about it please.

Hey, I should probably see a doctor, why aren't you letting me have access?

Hey, we really need to talk about our relationship. I don't know why you don't want to spend bonding time together.

Why are you making it so difficult for me to try to get a job or an education?

Why are you sabotaging my writing efforts?

Why do you get so upset at my physical activities?

What is with the panic when you see I'm trying to advance my tech skills?

Why does it anger you so much when I try to be proactive and vigilant in making us a comfortable and clean and helpful home?'.....

He actually complained to me:

"Why can't you just LIE?"

About being happy.

About being well.

So yeah.

Why would I want to ask his (or his parents) help in anything. I can't trust them at all.

Why would I allow someone to help if it might get them hurt or killed in the attempt?

Why would I bother to let anyone know? When, after SO many years of being stuck in a deep pit of a life, to help me would probably cause WAY more stress and take WAY more effort and resources, than any one person could possibly offer or endure?

Why would I do that?

When someone might decide to try and help, start the process -- decide partway through that it's all too much, and abandon the process: leaving me in a position that is less safe than where I started?

( Hell, sometimes that is an on-purpose thing. When a person feels bad, and knows they can't or don't want to help, but they'll make a gesture to make themselves feel good, not caring whether what they try to do is actually helpful or effective. )

And why would I tell people exactly what I'm going through, when so many around me would instead:

Victim-blame me.

Call me a liar.

Assume I was crazy.

Nod sympathetically and then use it as a way for them to feel much better about how they're doing in their own lives.

Say it's too much, say it's not so bad, or say others have it way worse.

Enjoy my explanation and my existence as a form of entertainment like I'm their personal IRL soap opera.

Or, use the information that I've given them about me as a way to hurt me further -- since they now seem to think that I'm some easy target, or that, in some twisted sense, abusing me further is somehow less morally bad, and more acceptable: because I've been abused before.....

So in their eyes, I'm 'Already soiled'?

'Already hopeless'?

'Already nothing'?

It's nothing to do with moral superiority.

It's survival.

...And I'm not saying it's right.

In an ideal situation, absolutely: being helped at any point in my life would have been great!

A healthier social structure would allow for this.

In a world where care was offered by the Community rather than by the individual, I wouldn't worry about speaking, just to find myself in worse trouble than when the 'helping' process started...

But this ain't a healthy world yet.

^^;

You asked why people feel that way.

So I've told you all the reasons why they might.

YMMV. 🤷🏾‍♀️

who taught you that suffering in silence was noble, and how would you shutting up have benefited them?

[savage-rhi]

✨️Magenta✨️

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

I think I've been touchy lately about my feelings of access to/participation in generativity. I've been feeling really overwhelmed lately by how much needs doing and how much disparate but necessary information I'm keeping in my head. I should probably get back into my thought maps for the work on the yard and house, because I think that will make it easier for me to empty my head when I'm not actively trying to work on something.

[euphoric-rambles]

I want to comment as someone who got a hysterectomy at 33 (and am now 35).

Why did I do it?

I was diagnosed at 26 with a rare form of uterine pre-cancer called Atypical Polyploid Adenoma (APA) and had recurrent tumors in my uterus with some transformation of the cells indicating a chance of high malignancy. Meaning there was a higher chance that I could develop an aggressive form of uterine cancer. Over the course of almost a decade, I visited my gynecologist, oncologist, and GP several times a year. I had annual transvaginal ultrasounds (where a wand is shoved inside your vagina to take pictures of your uterus and ovaries) along with several D/Cs. A D/C is where a doctor shaves a section of the impacted uterine tissue with a laser--think Darth Vader lasering out your uterus.

I also had several biopsies of my uterus taken. Uterine biopsies are some of the most targeted pain I have ever felt. The doctor has to open your cervix to get into the uterus. This is often completed while the patient is awake and without any pain relief. After my first one I was crying so hard my oncologist was concerned I might be having a panic attack.

Could you have just had D/Cs for the rest of your fertility?

I could have, but the stress, anxiety, and pain was getting to me. As any patient with cancer will tell you, the anxiety is excruciating. I also had serious conversations with my oncologist about the likelihood that I could get pregnant (many of my tumors grew on my fundus, where an egg would implant) and the chance that the hormonal changes could trigger that transformation into cancer. To me, it wasn't worth the risk. That may not be true of other patients.

What was the prep like?

I went through an oncology department so my prep was to fill in many, many legal documents that said I understood that my fertility would be gone and could not come back. Otherwise I faced no pushback from my surgical team.

The prep for the surgery was the same as is for any other same day procedure. No food after midnight, bath with unscented soap.

What does a hysterectomy feel like?

You're under general anesthesia so, at the time nothing. I elected to have laparoscopic surgery and my surgeon used a DaVinci robot. Which, is SO FUCKING COOL. They asked as they were wheeling me in if I had questions and I was like !!! YES I want to know more about the robot. There is an option to have a vaginal hysterectomy where the uterus is pulled through an incision in the vagina.

What's recovery like? Do you have scars?

I'm not going to lie, the first day or so was pretty awful. I had trouble walking and getting up and down off the toilet. My boyfriend had to help get me with a lot of basic functions. But after the first week, I was fine.

I was also pretty bloated following surgery as they inflate the area with air. Be open with anyone in your home, you're going to fart for a bit. Depending on which pain meds you receive (again, I went through oncology, I was given Percocet) you may be constipated which HURTS if you push after surgery.

I do have four tiny scars that are the length of my pinky nail. After two years, one has basically disappeared and one is in my belly button. I've explained the remaining scars away as falling as a child and people believe it.

Do you regret having a hysterectomy?

Again, my reasoning for doing this was not political but the answer is no. I categorically do not regret the surgery at all. When I woke up I sobbed that I was free and that it was over. I suffered for almost a decade and have never been happier.

Do you still get a period?

I do but not in the sense that I bleed. Again no uterus. But I do get a 'period' where I get cramps and moody. My hormones are still firing but often misfire, like I get bladder cramps (thanks Prostaglandins) because the hormones are looking for my uterus, thus I also get period diarrhea. There's a fun video from gross science that covers period poops. I do not have the period weight gain or acne that I had when I was menstruating. But that's my experience, I'm curious what others have experienced.

My hormones function normally because I still have my ovaries.

Do you have any other side effects?

I had my cervix removed as well and that is partially responsible for my ability to get wet during sex. I can still get wet but it is a little different. Climaxing also feels different, almost muted sometimes, which sucks. But I can still climax, I've just had to work differently with my partner.

I also did not have any post surgical complications but I know two other folks who had hystos and one had trouble urinating right after and needed a catheter for about a week.

What else do I want you to know?

I need you to understand that a full hysterectomy means you cannot and can never get pregnant. There is no way to take eggs from you and this cannot be reversed. Do not be mistaken--this IS permanent sterilization.

I am not stating this to scare you but to make sure you understand there is no going back. I think at this very political moment anxiety is SO high but please really assess whether or not you ever want biological children. If you do not that's ok, and a hysterectomy might be an option for you. Others have suggested other options which as also permanent sterilization techniques.

My ask box is always open for questions on hysterectomies. Make an informed decision and surround yourself with folks who love you.

if you're looking for a sign to get the hysterectomy, get it. if you are wondering if you will feel freer, less burdened, more optimistic, lighter without your uterus, you will. if you simply want to never get periods again, get the hysterectomy. if you want to have sex with a different person every day forever and never worry about getting pregnant, get the hysterectomy. if you don't know whether or not you want to stay on hormones, get the hysterectomy anyway. if you're afraid you're too young, and that people will judge you, get it anyway. you don't have to live in a hostile body. you are the one who gets to decide what it will and will not do.

[fragglerockopinions]

.

[ordinarytalk]

The plan is to stay in this hell job until I get public service loan forgiveness but damn if I'm not having a month that's making me consider just quitting right now and having all $50,000 of that debt fall right on my head just so I don't have to be here one single solitary second longer

[our-inspire-verse]

Just keeps going round and round eh?

[foxxsong]

.

[a-sassy-bench]

thank you for voting. i love and hate (affectionately) you all so much ❤️ you definitely picked the hardest one and i'm annoyed that i made this because now i feel an obligation to do it (which was the intention, its just that present tense me is annoyed at past tense me because i'm definitely still in stare at the wall mode and it's easier to use unhealthy coping mechanisms).

i've been scouring the house for all my craft supplies as they're scattered about after the move and i haven't cared about organizing anything since she passed. i'm thinking of crocheting something. i haven't done it in years but i used to be really good once upon a time. i stopped because my little decrepit old lady hands started hurting. now that my epilepsy is better controlled i'm hoping maybe it'll be a little easier (my seizures were causing intermittent muscle paralysis).

my friend asked me to crochet a filbo (from bugsnax) ages ago so I was thinking that, but since i haven't crocheted in so long i wanted to start with a smaller, refresher project but i don't have yarn in any of the colors i need. it's a thousand years before black friday but also it's america so i'm checking out some of the sales for yarn. i'll be sure to share when i get some and get a project going. it's snowing like crazy so it might be a sec.

for now maybe i'll start a new bugsnax run? i am sort of toying around with the idea of streaming bugsnax / streaming doing crochet projects. i don't think anyone is going to join or anything but maybe it's a way for me to manufacture some more pressure on myself to engage in anything aside from this everlasting grief coma.

anyway, i genuinely appreciate your votes, wonderful internet peoples. when i plopped all my yarn in the living room my partner was super confused and when i explained the poll social pressure idea his face just lit up and he was so invested in helping me find a project and grateful you all gave me a little push.

.

so it's been three weeks since my dog died and i basically just vacilate between working during the day and then staring at my phone at night which isn't super ideal from a mental health standpoint. i can't figure out what to do with myself, so:

[comicaurora]

So uhh. If you feel like talking about it. As someone who lives in the US, how are you being kind to yourself on this upsetting morning <3

Checked in with my loved ones first and foremost.

It's interesting. The vibe I've been getting from my circle is very different from 2016. Much less… dread and horror at a realignment of the understanding of what can and can't happen here, now, in this place and day and age. More "fuck, guys. again? whatever. enjoy your consequences, maybe you'll manage to learn something this time."

Frustration and anger is not the most positive feeling, or even the most fair one to express, but it is a protective one. It hurts a lot less than most alternatives.

And it's quite a shift. It was earthshattering back then. How could this have been allowed to happen? Why couldn't it be stopped? Why couldn't we stop it? Why couldn't I stop it? Why couldn't everyone see what this meant? Why couldn't I make them understand? Did they really not care? What did that mean about humanity as a whole? Were we so thoughtless? How could anyone be trusted?

It seems… much less earthshattering to see it happen twice. Disappointing, sure. Frustrating. But nowhere near as devastating as the first time I saw it unfold. We already knew it could happen. I've already had time to digest the implications. Now I'm just freshly disappointed.

It also feels less indicative of Crushing Truths Of Reality this time. We've seen shit get bad. We've also seen shit get better from here! We know both outcomes are possible, even inevitable. We know hoping for a better future is always worthwhile. This isn't the apocalypse. It's an unremarkably bad turn of events brought on by unremarkably self-centered well-documented human impulses. It's utterly mundane in its unpleasantness. It doesn't need to be dignified with despair.

A democratic election, no matter the outcome or the side we're on, makes us all acutely aware of how outnumbered we are by people whose worldviews and priorities are demonstrably incomprehensible to us. And the first time you get outnumbered, it's a shock. Defeat is haunting. It didn't matter how badly you wanted it; by the very function of democracy, you do not have the power to override greater numbers. (insert electoral college caveat here)

The second time through, I find myself focusing on a different facet that has dramatically reduced the amount of spiralling I'm doing. I don't expect this to work for everyone, but for me specifically, it helped to crystallize a few thoughts:

You don't have the power to control anyone else. You don't. You can't share your worldview and your revelations with them. You can't make them think or understand anything. You can lay it all out for them, but you can't make them listen, and you can't make it click. A mentor can't make their student learn a lesson; that's why teaching is so complicated and hard. An active choice must be made by the person to enable themselves to understand, and they must put the pieces together in their own mind before it makes sense to them, and the pieces must have been presented in a way that makes sense to them in the first place. Lead a horse to water, can't make them drink.

These elections highlight a disconnect in what different groups of people care about; and no matter how clearly you explain yourself or how passionately you perform, caring cannot be forced on someone. Understanding and connection cannot be forced. You cannot make anything or anyone matter to someone. They have to choose to see how it matters in order to internalize it. If they choose not to, that is not your failing. You couldn't have made them do it by just Explaining Better. They are not your responsibility. They make their own choices. You can't reach inside their head and connect the dots for them.

I'm a storyteller. I make stories and put them out into the world. I hope people get something good out of them, but I have no control over what that something is. I want people to be thoughtful and kind and compassionate and hopeful and see themselves reflected in stranges, no matter their differences. I can craft stories that I hope encourage this. But that is the extent of my ability and the extent of my responsibility. I control no-one's actions but my own, and so while I am not having the best day, I am at least content that I am doing what I can, and I am not shattering myself against impossibilities trying to control the things I can't.

Sometimes, people make decisions that I think are really bad. I can't make that not happen. All I can do is try to make decisions that will result in things I think are good. Today, that means checking in on people, and not assigning too much dramatic narrative weight to an ultimately mundane set of unremarkable bad decisions outside of my control. We'll take life as it comes and help each other out when and how we can. Everything else is out of our hands.

[lastoneout]

I keep thinking about all of the disabled activists and people before me who stranded themselves on the 4th floor of buildings for weeks and crawled up stairs and fought with airline staff and schools and doctors and refused to stop existing in the face of injustice and bigotry no matter how big and scary and hopeless it seemed. Every time I get angry and scared the protests that lead to the creation of the ADA pop up again and remind me that disabled people are so much fucking stronger than anyone has ever given us credit for, and I can't help but be proud of that. And I know not all disabled people feel like we should take pride in our disabilities and have flags or whatever, but I think not just living, but thriving, in spite of a world that wants us dead and gone, in the face of both illness and persecution, and how we've not only bought ourselves forward, but uplifted the disabled people around us, secured more equal futures for everyone who will come after, and truly changed the way so many abled people have seen us for the better is something to be damn fucking proud of.

We have always been here and we always will be, there will never be a world without disabled people because being disabled is not bad, it's a natural part of the human experience and yeah it sucks some times but even when it sucks we have fought to build beautiful, unique, happy lives with people, both like us and not, and that should be celebrated.

The first sign of human civilization is the healed femur. The body of the profoundly disabled person who would have needed help to even just eat being carefully laid to rest after decades of a full, happy life. The medicinal plants showing even before we were entirely human we were doing what we could to not just survive, but alleviate suffering while we're at it. Above everything, evolution selected not the baby who can walk and eat and be quiet, but the one that can ask for help.

Disabled people are not just angry cockroach motherfuckers who refuse to die, we are proof of humanity's HUMANITY. Proof that natural selection selected a species that takes care of each other. From healed femurs and medicinal plants to vaccines and IVs and insulin to now, we are driven to help one another, we are at our strongest when we don't leave our most vulnerable behind. And I am living proof of that. My mother is living proof of that. Every disabled and chronically and/or mentally ill person I know is living proof of that.

And I don't know about the rest of you, but will carry that shred of humanity's true nature inside me like it's my fucking soul. I am scared and angry and hurt, but I have a lifetime's experience being scared and angry, and I can shake off the kind of pain that would make Atlas crumble to dust like it's nothing but a stiff fucking breeze. Disabled people have always been here, turning fear and anger and pain into joy and beauty and connection, and I'm not going to let everyone who came before me down. I'm not going to give up. Not now, not ever.

It's okay if you're disabled and you've hit your limit, you're too scared and tired and hurt, I won't blame you. But I won't abandon you, either. I might not be able to right all of the wrongs in the world, but I'll be strong, I'll carry all of you with me, I will not give up.

As I've said before, society hates a cripple who won't die, so we must spite them and live anyway.

Please, live anyway. I know if anyone can, it's us.

[thebibliosphere]

Whenever I talk about the medical neglect and ableism I've encountered as a victim of the healthcare system, there's always some cockwaffle who feels entitled to come into my inbox and make the argument of "not all doctors" while talking about how "people like them" (because it's always someone in a field of medicine who does this) are doing their best and it's really hard because so many people fake being ill to get on welfare (Yikes), but like, yeah, obviously #not all doctors, because if all doctors were negligent, bullying scum bags, I'd be dead.

But here's the thing: while I truly believe that the majority of doctors are doing their best in a system stacked against them and their patients, their presence does not negate the mass harm caused by the bad ones. And there are far more bad ones than you realize.

Fuck, John Oliver literally did a segment on this last week:

Yes, the truly bad, malicious doctors are in the minority. Most are just horrifically burned out and fighting a losing battle against a system, killing both them and their patients through a lack of funding and resources and profound overwork.

But the malicious ones do exist, and they will go out of their way to harm patients who don't kowtow to them.

I almost lost my life because when I was in my early twenties, I told a doctor I didn't think she was listening to me, and I disagreed with her assessment of my mental health (she was not a mental health doctor, and I was there for heart palpitations and chronic pain). She retaliated by putting "non-compliant" in my file.

There was also a fun little "doesn't show respect" note too that lives rent-free in my head because I know I wasn't rude. I was polite. I just didn't agree with her, and my refusal to accept her off-handed comment that "you probably have bipolar or BPD" (again, I was there for heart palpitations and chronic pain) meant I was "refusing care."

I wasn't. I just refused to be slapped with a mood/personality disorder when I was there because I kept fucking fainting when I stood up.

(Spoiler alert: it was dysautonomia)

That "non-compliant" marker followed me around for years. It followed me across an ocean and effectively ensured that any doctor I saw was going to treat me like absolute dogshit because no one wants to help Difficult Patients. It wasn't until I was so undeniably ill, literally on the brink of death, that anyone helped me.

I'm alive because of a good doctor. And all the good ones that came after him because of him.

So, I know they exist. You don't have to tell me that.

But I really fucking need you to acknowledge the bad ones and that you're part of a system with a long, long history of abusing minorities and vulnerable people. I need you to acknowledge that because it's the only way we're going to survive this godforsaken nightmare and make things better.

So yeah, #notalldoctors, but if you feel the need to say that because someone talking about being literally left to die by the medical system hurts your feelings, I'm going to have to ask you to take a step back and ask yourself if you're going into medicine for the right reasons.

Namely: do you want to help people, even the "difficult" ones?

Even the ones who might disagree with you?

Even if they're on welfare?

Even if they'll never get "better" in a way that means "cured"?

Just a thought. But hey, what do I know. I'm just someone who experienced hemolytic anemia because doctors kept telling me I was anxious and needed to exercise more 🤷‍♀️.