#I've also come to realize I am horrible with any social settings

[nightoftheweek]

I have the tendency to forget that the pay machines at the check out have three options of payment with cards. Swipe, insert, or tap your card at whatever corner the machine wants you to do. I told the cashier that it's like doing the macarena at this point with all the options and she agreed. Then my dumb and tired riddled brain decided it was okay to sing out loud: "Hey macarena. Do the macarena and shake it all about." To which she started to laugh while pointing out that I just put two different songs together. It took me a moment to realize what I had done and all I could respond with was "Ah. You're right."

I've decided that I shall never return to that store.

[yallemagne]

This year, I'm not doing Dr*cula D*ily

Or any other substack but DD is the biggest. I have numerous reasons for this decision that none of y'all are gonna particularly care for, but ya know, just so we got our expectations in order: I'm not gonna participate in DD this year (maybe never again), I'm probably not gonna reblog many posts related to it (doing so would be counterintuitive), but I am holding myself to finishing Orice (at LEAST the base fic).

Now, why?

TL;DR: Mental health crisis brought on by internet harassment and overprioritizing social media. It's not fun anymore, folks.

DD just... it completely ruined the novel for me.

It was a nice phenomenon, but it took a wrecking ball to my mental health and self-worth. Now, I'm not saying DD's creator personally did something to spite me (or maybe I am, he knows what he did /j), but this whole thing? It wasn't good for me. It was never good. It was sometimes fun, but most of the time it made me want to end it because of thumblr notes.

That's fucking stupid. My life is not worth internet validation. My art is not worthless just because my numbers are not as big as the biggest big shots in the fandom. I'm not a horrible person when other people handle personal disagreements regarding headcanon with defaming rumours and impersonation. But hell! My view of reality was horribly skewed.

A while back, I unfollowed all the gothlit tags I previously followed because 1) Some people (active and popular members of the fandom, mind you, not bots or trolls) were posting honest-to-god name-dropping harassment in the tag because "it's a popular tag so more people will see my callout post" and 2) I reached a point where seeing anything related to the novel on my dash just set me off. It didn't even need to be drama-related anymore. Mentions of the characters, mentions of popular AUs, just the very content of this book became triggering to me, and I really didn't miss the content when it was gone, as sad as that is.

And the kicker? I've come to realize that I probably dislike more things about the novel than I actually like about it. Not only is it tied to some of my darkest moments in recent memory, but it's also just... a book with many flaws that I could go on and on and on about. Sometimes, it straight-up made me furious, like seething mad, and I think I'd rather just be happy. But even when I would try to channel that energy into being happy, I always felt I had to over-clarify or else I’d get bombarded with anonymous messages. If you’ve seen any of my posts from during that time… chances are there is a passive aggressive “btw people can have opposing opinions from you about an old book and it doesn’t give you leave to stone them” or several tags of “#this is a joke #a jooooooke #for the love of god #if y’all don’t stop”. I bet it was as annoying for y’all as it was for me.

P.S. Mutuals/friends, do not worry. Y'all keep doing y'all. I can and will block tags if seeing your posts triggers me. So, I suppose my only request is to properly tag, but I've been saying that from the very start.

I just want to move on to other things.

I took a break for Lent. I needed it terribly. And... not gonna lie? I almost didn't want to return. I never got an itching to just log on and "check in". I very successfully avoided tumb altogether. I came back because "I gotta come back eventually" and also like, this is my main hub where I update when I've written a fic, and ya know... I'm not gonna let toxic fandom bs rule my shit.

During my break, I got back into gaming. More specifically, I started playing Hades again. And listening to Epic the Musical. Aaaand boyyy did that bring me back to my Greek mythology phase. I have a Greek mythos/Hades sideblog btw: @areopagusimp. It's cringe, if you can't tell by the blog name.

Back when I was into Hades game and general Greek mythos, my expectations were so much smaller, but yet, my goals and will to create seemed so much bigger. I made art that no one gave a single solitary shit about (except for my friend), but I was happy. Maybe I'm wearing rose-tinted glasses, but... even if I wasn't as happy then as I remember being... haha at least I wasn't receiving threats and insults in my inbox back then :))). That was the most fun thing about the gothlit fandom. I hope every single chickenhearted angry anon is proud of their behaviour.

But yeah, whatever I end up doing, I’m striving to not let it run me into the ground.

But... What do I do now?

I have so many WIPs (art and writing) for the novel, and it's very disappointing that I didn't get to finish them before it all turned sour. Hopefully, I can still finish them, it just won't be with the same distress I worked with before. Hopefully, I can post that stuff and fully manage my expectations, not crash and burn when only a few people like it. Because hell! A few people liking my stuff? That's amazing, really. I shouldn't take that for granted. At the same time, I'm setting a boundary for myself. Placing my self-worth into the hands of people who I don't know, who don't know me, and who aren't even paying for the art? I need to stop that. Who the hell is that gonna serve? Absolutely no one.

My number one goal is to finish Orice. It is somehow untouched by my aversion to the novel; it is my safe space. I want to honour it and honour the longtime readers who have stuck with me. It's gonna be hard, but it's gonna be worth it for me.

This feels attention-seeking, and it kinda is. I'm not tagging the main subject and I'm not allowing reblogs because I want this to stay isolated (and hopefully prevent backlash/misunderstandings), but ya know, no matter how much I try to keep this small, I'm still posting it online. But I just feel like I needed to get this off my chest. I don't really owe everyone an explanation, but I want there to be one for my own sake... also it's much easier to generalize and make a post than contact each of my friends/mutuals on here and unload stuff onto them that I'm not sure is too personal or not.

For those of you who are reading: I love y'all. I love the good people I've met through all this mess. I want to keep the good apples, not throw out the whole harvest, alright? Dunno how much you'll care for my art when the subject is different, but... eh. If y'all are willing to try?

[cherryjasper]

i don't post my art much here more mainly cause i really don't draw much anymore, not nearly as much as i used to.

it's honestly kind of upsetting but i don't really know how nor do i really have the motivation to change it. i feel like i can trace it back to me absolutely burning myself out from drawing like, 80 pieces in a month during artfight 2021 but it's been almost 3 years now and i feel like i keep drawing less and less! when i could be drawing i play video games instead or browse social media. i feel even less drive now i am no longer friends with someone (i will not disclose why) who i realize now was a muse to me. now that i no longer have that, what little motivation i do have to draw has been washed down the drain. i want to keep making art! i want to draw more! but when push comes to shove i just can't. i have no inspiration, no drive, no clue. i've heard some people do studies when they have art block but i have always found those painfully boring with a few exceptions and i feel like making myself draw something i do not want to draw will only make the problem worse.

i know it's normal to grow out of hobbies and interests as you get older, but i don't want to give up art as a hobby. i do love it, even if i don't interact with it nearly as much as i used to. and maybe it is fine that i only draw once every few days, with my progress only being a few sketches using a symmetry tool, but compared to my previous output, it just makes me feel disappointed in myself and as a result makes me want to draw even less. i wondered if getting better mentally through therapy was making me have less motivation to do art and i have less to express now, and what i do need to express can be talked to with my therapist, but i've been off antidepressants and out of therapy for almost a year now after leaving it very suddenly due to my new therapist quitting a month after my old therapist set me up with her, and as a result the pills i was already forgetting to take for weeks on end falling completely to the wayside (so much that when I tried to take them again I had completely lost the tolerance i had built up to them and felt horrible, and was scared off from taking them again), my mental health has been slipping downwards again very rapidly and yet i still have no motivation to do art. i will admit, when i began to round up the art i had done for last year i did a lot more than i thought i did, and that made me feel really good, but i am falling right back into the pithole of also worrying about not making enough finished pieces this year and that making me so anxious that i end up getting a sort of paralysis that makes it hard to even pick up my tablet. that, and i also got a girlfriend, and while i do love her a LOT, she's in a pretty bad situation physically and mentally and i feel obligated to spend most of my free time with her, even when i know she wouldn't mind me taking time to myself to draw. i feel like my skills are decaying which makes the anxiety even worse, as i feel like whatever i will attempt to draw will look like complete shit. i really feel like i need to see like, an art therapist, or talk to someone who has had the exact same problem as me to the exact same extent, because asking people before hasn't really yielded me any answers that have helped me.

tldr: my relationship to art has been very bad the past couple of years and has been causing me to get severe anxiety over not doing art enough art and as a result feeling like im regressing in skill, causing me to avoid art more despite not wanting to let it go as a hobby and i have yet to find a solution or way to relieve my problem

normally i would keep super windy vents like this private but honestly i would love to talk to people who are facing the same problem as me. i love following other artists but i feel terrible seeing them output so much and meanwhile all i can do is a scuffed sketch of a head every 5 days

[ilaiyayaya]

Don't mind me just compiling a bunch of unfinished vent drafts into a finalized product ready for purchase~

It's crazy how for the first half, even maybe like 2/3rds of 2023 I felt amazing overall, the novelty of being out of horrible, multiple years-long situation and into a, realistically just kinda average situation, felt so great that it completely carried me emotionally for nearly a year. But ever since around August/September I've kinda slowly been receding back into that same depressive state I was before, my life has stagnated once again, I've traded one set of issues for a completely different, less familiar set, and I don't have any real clear solution for any of those problems that are within reach. Don't get me wrong I'm at the very least not trying to drown myself once per week yet, but I don't think that should really be the baseline of an acceptable quality of life.

I have a job I've very quickly come to hate that's also kind of consumed my life up until very recently, where I've had enough time off to realize that I've made virtually no progress in the last year outside of merely having a job. I've lost a sizable number of friends, in part due to my coming out as trans, and partly due to just a longterm buildup of disillusionment with those around me that just finally reached a breaking point, and some of the few still left in my life I don't particularly want to keep in my life much longer either, and after going several years socially isolating myself, I don't remember how to make new friends, even though I have several avenues to very easily do so if I actually put forth the effort. I likely won't be able to make any progress transitioning for quite a long time, despite deciding now would be the best time to come out for some reason, I still live with my father, and while I've spent months searching for a place to move out to, the renting market is abysmal and most of my prior options for roommates are either no longer an option, or I'm not particularly comfortable living with them now, and despite having a job that provides pretty good insurance, I am still undiagnosed for a million different potential mental illnesses that I should really probably be medicated for because I'm both too stupid and too lazy to figure out how to switch off my parents' insurance onto my job's, and I'm too afraid of hospitals after going probably close to 10 years without going to any doctor, outside of 1 visit to the optometrist 2 years ago after my old glasses finally broke. And I don't even really have much of a reason to change insurance plans right now when with each passing week I'm more heavily considering just quitting my current job, even though I realistically don't have any better options in my area.

So yea anyways life blows I miss my old terrorist friends (dear Tumblr mods; they were not real terrorists, they were merely g*y people on the internet, please do not nuke me thank you). In good news tho someone posted a map of informed consent clinics throughout the US so now I know there's one like 2 hours away from me, and while I'm still probably too afraid to actually go inside one, and also doubt I'd be able to literally just walk in and say "1 girl medicine plz :3" with any success at all, still good to know. I am so on the verge of wasting all of my savings on HRT without the assistance of insurance all for the bit >:). Also started doing 3D modelling again so like that's fun, didn't do that for a long time but now I have both the time and motivation and now I'm gonna make 5 million Veemon models and nothing else I hope Blender Guru dies fuck that guy.

Why is it so fucking big???

[vvatchword]

I just paid off one of my two credit cards. You would think this would be an announcement of joy. But the problem is that I've already done this like. Twice before. And I have another credit card to defeat, and that card is god-tier.

Defeating life's challenges used to be, you know... kinda satisfying. But it's different when you're at the bottom and it just doesn't take that much to knock you into a major challenge like that to begin with. I don't feel good about this. I feel furious. I am literally in the throes of despair. Full-ass despair. I considered throwing myself into traffic today. I had to bring out the time-worn listicle I built ten years ago and go down the list in my own mind for why we don't do that.

Whole reason I'm here is medical issues. Almost 100%. The rest of the reason is my car, followed at a very, very far distance by Fun Things, which I do every now and then when I feel like I'm going to die. I feel like I have to mention this because the pinch-assed little critic in me likes to come out with WELL MAYBE IF YOU DIDN'T MISUSE--bitch half of my income goes to rent. I have reduced my fun-stuff budget to $30 every MONTH. If I don't do this I'm going to kill myself. Shut the fuck up. These aren't the 90s. Also, given the familiar tone of your voice, I'm assuming you're the specter of my parents. I just watched Dad buy a whole-ass truck by digging into his retirement savings while refusing to take care of the basic medical needs of my mother. I spent money on a BioShock figure I've really wanted and it was fucking great. Fuck you and go kill yourself.

I'm about to have to move into a single room in someone's house. Like that's where we're going. I'm a middle-aged person with a very cool job and that job doesn't pay me enough to have my own living space. I have been buying little figurines to stand up in my living space since I graduated college the first time, and I'd put them in a box, thinking: "When you get a place of your own, you can put them all up!"

I have never, ever been in a place where I can put up my figurines and dolls. Never. I have boxes of them in my closet, carefully labeled. I bring them out every now and then to admire them. I'm never going to have a place to put them up, am I? Hell! All of my old video game equipment--the equipment I've dreamed of setting up a whole room for--CRT TVs, N64s, old carts. I'm literally never going to have it. It will never be. The cool writing office I want where I can finally stand all my books up properly? Walls for the art I want to display? I'll never have any of this. Never. All of this will literally never ever happen and I might as well give the fuck up now.

Just. Is there any torture more keen than looking back at the worlds of your parents--remembering the 90s, when you considered yourself poor but your Dad was able to support a family of five and own his own fucking house--and realize that not only do you have it worse, you're never going to get any better? Imagine the enormous hurdles in front of any kind of meaningful social change in this godforsaken hellhole we call a country. Because I'm not fooling myself. This is all 100% systemic. This isn't me fucking up. In fact, I'm doing the right thing almost all of the time--saving a little bit of money every month, not going on any exceptional spending sprees, very rarely treating myself, calculating how much I can reasonably do. No, this is someone refusing to pay me a living wage, living in a location with horrible tenant protections and expensive real estate for literally no reason, and a number of social and economic factors.

Certainly I've made gaffes, financially speaking, but gaffes are not a fucking sin that mean I deserve to live in suffering all the goddamn time. I couldn't afford an MRI, you piece of shit.

I have to brush shoulders with a lot of rich motherfuckers where I work. It's part of where I live and part of what I do--turns out I'm supported by a little passel of rich assholes. When you see the world they live in, when you realize what you are to them, everything in you just starts boiling. My director, who is unbelievably wealthy, saw my Invisalign sitting on my desk and started talking about how he went through the whole rigamarole and then just stopped wearing his retainer. Ohhh he didn't know why he stopped he jusssst stoppppeddddd.

I got Invisalign because I was experiencing debilitating headaches that would knock me out 2-3 days at a time and it turned out that I was grinding my teeth at night. That MRI I was talking about? I was trying to set one up just to figure out why I kept having agonizing headaches. I couldn't afford the MRI so I never got it. I'm having the headaches again, by the way. SURE HOPE IT ISN'T BRAIN CANCER OR EYEBALL ROT BUT IF IT WERE WHAT THE FUCK WOULD I DO? With what money?

My dental insurance didn't cover the Invisalign. I've had to pay it all out of pocket. It's a huge part of why I'm in debt, actually. I couldn't afford it in one fell swoop so I set up a payment plan, but that payment plan is $343/month. But if I didn't do this I assure you 10000% I would be in agony several times a month, up to and including not being able to work because of nausea.

I am at the point where I think seriously about stealing my groceries.

It's hard not to feel like I'm being punished for being alive. Or, hell, for being single and liking it. If I lived in a two-income household it would be different. But why isn't this a fucking option? Like you think you're going to Grow Up and be able to afford things eventually--do the shit you want, travel, see concerts and plays and movies. Instead I'm locked in a single place--almost literally, because moving is that expensive--and I can't do shit. I can't take care of my own most basic needs. I literally ask for nothing. I literally do nothing. I DO NOTHING.

What makes this particularly poignant is that I'm friends with several people who either should be on disability or are. They are constantly in the throes of shame for their poverty, but this is for good reason--they're being crushed to death by medical issues that are way outside of their responsibilities. Not only can I not help them, there's literally almost no difference between their lives and mine. They're supported by other people for the most part, but they can't live well. And neither can I. I am, for all intents and purposes, living the exact same life as people who can't afford the doctor. Because I can't. I'm faaaaaar from minimum wage and I still fall in a bracket just above what qualifies as "abject poverty." Literally.

I am about to go fucking insane. I might already be.

While I can reassure you that I will not nix myself anytime soon, I also have a feeling that's how I go out.

[wondereads]

Personal Recommendation (04/25/21)

The Evil Queen by Gena Showalter

Why am I recommending this book?

I've had my eye on this book for so long. I love when characters that are typically thought of as villains rise up and take hold of their fate (yes I read all those villainess mangas).

Want something quick and short? Check out my tiktok

Plot 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

Everly and her twin, Hartly, were raised in our world, but their mother hails from another dimension known as Enchantia, a deceptively pleasant name. Everly, Hartly, and the people around them are prophesized to eventually take part in the fairy tale of Snow White and the Evil Queen, and everyone seems to think Everly is the Evil Queen. It especially does not help that her magic involves her speaking to mirrors. Everly enters Enchantia in order to discover the truth behind her mother's escape and what the prophecy really means.

The plot was mostly character-driven. There was no big goal the characters were working towards; they made their decisions based on their emotions and in reaction to the other characters. Because of that, I could never really predict where the book was going to go next. Unfortunately, I was a little spoiled because one of the last chapters is at the beginning of the book. I get why it's there–it removes any expectations that Everly will come out of this untouched–but I still recommend that you skip it. There's just a bit too much there, so it's a major spoiler.

Showalter does a really good job of evoking outrage in the reader. At a lot of points in the book I was genuinely mad at what the characters decided to do, but it only made me want to keep reading so I could see what Everly would decide to do in response.

Characters 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

Everly is so great. It's so nice to have a YA female protagonist that is completely unapologetic. She's not the nicest person, and she knows it. She gets her revenge and takes pleasure in it. It was very cathartic to read from her point of view, especially after all the horrible things that happened to her. It was really great because she was 100% justified in doing so many horrible things to the people who wronged her, but she chose to have mercy not because it was the right thing to do but because she knew she was better than them. At times, I felt like she sort of fell into the trap of brash, over-sharing girl from another world, but she moved past that in the second half of the book.

Roth. My opinion on Roth went from one extreme to the other in the book. His general personality was good, especially for a traumatized and somewhat entitled prince. He was a good example of what happens to good people when they're taught to hate, and he really did love Everly. I really did enjoy their relationship for the most part. It was some weird balance between enemies to lovers and friends to lovers which doesn't sound real, but it is. There were some points that threw up some red flags for me (you'll know it when you read it), but I think he's on the way to redeeming himself by the end of the book. I did appreciate that Everly didn't just immediately accept him at the end; it'll take some time for them to work things out and set boundaries before even considering running off together.

God, I was so ready to end up hating Hartly. I was just bracing myself for that inevitable moment, but I loved that she turned out to be perfect throughout. Also, she made me cry. As for Truly, she swapped sides so often during this book, but I did end up liking her. Her conflicting relationships with Farrah and Everly were pretty interesting.

Below here are characters that will spoiler the book! Skip this part if you haven't read it yet!

I'll keep it short. Ophelia and Noel were awful; I can't believe Everly ever trusted them again after what they did to her. I loved to hate Farrah. I thought her punishment was fitting although I wouldn't have been mad if Everly killed her. Nicolas was definitely a wild card; I'm still not entirely sure what side he's on, and I finished the book.

Writing Style 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

The book is from the perspective of Everly, a modern teenage girl, so I felt it was mostly fitting. I did really like how the way Everly and Hartly talked contrasted with the fairytale world inhabitants like Roth and Truly. However, there were some points where it felt like Everly was trying too hard to be a ~relatable teenager~, which is a pitfall a lot of adult YA authors fall into.

I loved the map, I always love the maps. The poem that was written line by line at the beginning of each chapter was a nice touch too. I also really liked how Everly, Hartly, Truly, and Farrah were all based on fairytale-ish words (ever, heart, true, and fair), but Farrah's was still a little different because she distinguished herself as the protagonist and therefore didn't have the lasting bonds like the other girls did.

Meaning 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

I wouldn't say there was a big, glaring, over-arching message in this one, but it did have some really poignant commentary on hypocrisy, stereotyping, and hating for the sake of hate.

To start with, everyone dislikes Everly because her powers involve taking it from others, but everyone is also 100% ready to use her powers for themselves. Also, Everly is pretty much constantly railed on for the sake of the fairytale in the middle of the book. Even though she's done absolutely nothing to warrant it, she's forced into these horrible situations because people have pegged her as the Evil Queen, not realizing that they are why she will eventually become the antagonist. God, I love shit like that. When she retaliates to protect herself, she's all of a sudden this unforgiving, violent witch (which might also be a jab at how society shits on women and then villainizes them when they fight back). The best thing is that Everly doesn't stop standing up for herself and the ones she loves, and, while she isn't actively cruel to those against her, she certainly doesn't let them get away with it.

Overall 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

I loved this book. I have always loved twisted fairytales, and now I also love stereotypically evil women taking back power for themselves. I genuinely liked the main character, the romance was pretty good, and the side characters were all well-developed. The social commentary wasn't subtle, but, like Everly, sometimes being unapologetic isn't bad. This book was kind of cathartic to read. I would recommend this book to people who enjoy fairytales, romance with a lot of sexual tension, and those villainess mangas.

The Author

Gena Showalter—46, America, also wrote Alice in Zombieland, Firstlife, and The Glass Queen

The Reviewer

My name is Wonderose; I try to post a review every two weeks, and I take recommendations. Check out my about me post for more!

[paradise-creator]

Hellooo!! I love love LOVE the diamond box matchup you did!! You're amazing!! Your blog is incredible!! Now I'm here for a romantic haven box Haikyuu matchup pls🥺

Appearance: My name is Kay! She/her, black, straight, 5'1, I have a slightly athletic & curvy-ish figure (lol idk), short-ish hair(like mid-neck), dark brown eyes, shoe size 9, I like to dress comfy so I'm always in oversized hoodies, sweatpants, sneakers, sweatshirts and shorts. I like colorful clothes too, high waisted jeans and shorts and boots. I'm not very fashionable but I try lol.

Personality:

Basics: infp-t, Hufflepuff, Taurus sun, scorpio moon, sanguine, chaotic good, ambivert.

Some positive traits: I'm optimistic, friendly, energetic, organized, enthusiastic, observant, happy, open-minded, loving, encouraging and inquisitive!!

Some negative traits: I'm annoying, perfectionist, insecure, forgetful, easily distracted, kinda lazy, argumentative, too nice at times and clingy.

I love learning new things!! Currently I'm learning Korean, how to draw, how to paint and songs on the saxophone.

When I'm up for it, I love fun physical activity!! Going for a hike, going to the gym, bungee jumping, mountain climbing, going camping and etc :D

Although I love going out, nothing beats lazy days at home. I can spend hours by myself and still be happy. When alone I usually sleep or watch a movie/anime or practice my drawing or saxophone or try and learn something new!

I have a horrible memory and can never remember important dates 😭 I've forgotten my own birthday a few times (rip) so people can get mad at me for missing appointments, forgetting birthdays and other important days. I try my best to organize everything necessary on my phone calendar so I can be reminded.

I love seeing people happy! Nothing can fulfill my day more than knowing I put a smile on someone's face! I usually try my best to help out anyone who needs it and to the best of my ability! This has led to me getting taken advantage of in the past but I can't help but try and make others happy. I've developed a thicker skin and some trust issues as I've grown up because of it.

I love hyping my friends/family up!! Do you need a boost in confidence? Here I am, ready to help you remember the absolute king/queen/royalty that you are!! I'm usually very energetic and enthusiastic about many things and I love spreading positivity around!!

My love language is physical touch! So touch is very important to me in my relationships. Though I am insecure so I tend to think that I smother the people I care about with too much affection idk lol. I live for hugs and cuddles and hand holding 👉🏿👈🏿 but because of that I feel like I'm very clingy and annoying skskfksjd

I'm introverted in nature so although I mean usually full of energy and love making new friends, I can't do it for too long lol. My social battery runs out really fast and I have to hide away and recharge before I can be fully social again, otherwise I won't be my best self. I treasure personal time and understand when people need time for themselves too.

I love spontaneity!! I love living in the moment and doing stuff just for the hell of it!! Wanna go on a road trip? Dance in the rain? Build houses for charity? Go to McDonald's at 2am? Go on a long walk? SIGN ME UP!!

I can also be lazy and unmotivated to do stuff. If something doesn't interest me, I'd find myself incapable of doing it or I'd do it with great difficulty. I'm one of those 'do something when inspiration/motivation hits you otherwise it'll be absolute shit' types.

But when I do have motivation/inspiration that's when my perfectionism comes in and I have to do it in the best possible way and anything less is an insult to me, my family, my ancestors and descendants lmaoo. Unfortunately I subconsciously set a very high bar for myself which can be overwhelming and stressful but when I manage to produce work of that quality, it's very satisfying and rewarding jshkshdhsj

I have more to add but I feel like this is getting way too long 💀 lemme just move to the next section heheheh

Hobbies: I LOVE listening to music, learning new things, watching movies/anime, sleeping, reading, writing, playing saxophone (I'm still learning tho lol), swimming, drawing, journaling, making friends, and cooking!

My music taste: any type of rock (punk rock, grunge, j-rock, metal), pop, KPOP, RnB, jazz, dubstep, lofi hip hop, rap, trap, krnb, anime OP's and bangers from: Elvis, the beach boys, Queen, Khalid, Ateez, Harry styles, Kendrick Lamar, p!atd, mcr, fallout boy, Nirvana, BTS, mxmtoon, Marianas trench, twenty one pilots, stray kids, Jay Park, crush, Dreamcatcher, Skrillex, MJ, troye sivan etc

Fun facts:

I'm more of a cat person but I live dogs and think they're adorable!!

I have four piercings and I plan on getting more soon!!

I'm a night owl, and get super grumpy in the mornings especially when woken up unexpectedly >:/

Although I love making friends, I only have like 1/2 super close friends and like 20+ acquaintances lol

I want to get a tattoo soon but idk what to get :(

I'm super addicted to coffee (rip) and if I don't take some for some time (like a week) I'll get the worst migraines and I won't feel better until I drink some coffee 😭

That's it!! I hope i wrote enough stuff!! Did I leave anything out? If you need more pls tell me and I'll send another ask :D Take your time!! I'm in no rush. I'll patiently wait even though you get writers block or have a large amount of asks 😌 pls stay safe and healthy!! Drink lots of water, sleep well and have an amazing day/night!! 💙✨

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Hello and Welcome my Starlight!

The Haven box includes:

- Match up

- Sun drop

- Journal of Feelings

- 3 am shenanigans

──���✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

I'd match you up with

Sugawara Koushi, Vice-captain of Karasuno

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Sun drops

- OKAY so like, as I read your description I thought of Akaashi or Yaku or Sugawara

- Me being the indecisive author I am had trouble picking

- But then I remembered that you loved to do spontaneous things.

- And that's when I realized that Sugawara is THE ONE

- You two would be deemed the "3 am couple"

- Or in the team it would be "Epitome of Chaos"

- He takes care of you

- He will alway remind you that you don't need to be perfect

- Insecurities? BE GONE

- Nagativity? BE GONE

- That's basically his motto

- He is both your mom and partner in Crime

- did I mention he will take care of you?

- CUDDLES AND KISSES FOR DAYS

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

Journal of feelings

- Once this man realizes that you LOVE physical affection. He will give it to you. EVERYTIME HE SEES YOU

Kay entered the gym to watch her boyfriend play. She tried sneaking in and so far it has been great. She thought she was off the hook but then felt a familiar arms wrapped around her waist. "I found you~" Sugawara said with a smile.

- You both would often plan pranks and majority of the times, it would succeed

"Okay okay, so what are we doing today?" Kay asked the silver haired male. "Oh~ maybe we can scare Asahi or anyone for that matter with a beetle?" Sugawara suggested. "That's--no," Kay responded.

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3 am shenanigans

It’s 3 am in the morning. Almost everyone is fast asleep or in their homes, well almost. The night sky is littered with diamond in the sky. The streets were silent but it was comforting. A few people walked here and there. And a few cars passes by there and here. “What are we doing up so late?” A silver haired man said as he yawned. “We’ll be going to Mc Donald’s! What else?” The female responded as she smiled at him. “Is it even open at this time?” He asked. “Koushi, darling, it is open,” Kay, the lover of our beloved silvered male man said as she smiled. Sugawara chuckled and held her hand, the smile on his face was evident. “You know, we should be sleeping by now right?” He said as he pulled her closer. “And so what? I wasn’t planning on sleeping early! I slept the whole day yesterday and missed the chance to hang out with you,” The girl responded.

A small blush appeared on the male’s face and he giggled. “That’s very sweet bu-“ He was about to say but was silenced by the girl. “That was very sweet but we could’ve done this later on or tomorrow. Well, sorry to break it to you, Love. But, we are here,” She said as she pulled the male inside the fast food chain. And soon enough, the two got their orders and enjoyed their meal. “I don’t know why but this hits different,” Kay said as she eat a French fry. “It really does. Especially since you are here,” Sugawara stated as he patted her head. Now, she was the one blushing. As the two chatted, the other customers and staff glanced at them every now and then. None of them were annoyed at their interactions. On the contrary, they enjoyed watching them,

Some felt envious of their relationship. Some dreamt to have something like that. And others remembered the times of old. The two were so sweet, it’s almost too much. Laughter and chattering echoed through the building from both the couple and the people around them. Then they were dub the “3 am couple” as the two would often venture in that restaurant at 3 am in the morning.

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Author's note

I'm so so sorry for the long wait! This week has been hectic. Anywho, I hope you enjoy this matchup~ and thanks for requesting!

[taylunae]

My thoughts on Unbelievable so far...

Hi, 2021 Crescent here. I happen to come across this post on my blog, and as I was rereading realized how problematic it was. Where are the trigger warnings? Why was I throwing around the word r*pe so much? It's clear that I was new to fandom, and I've learned so much since then about being sensitive to others, so instead of just deleting this post, I'd like to give it another crack. To show to myself how much we've changed since 2019. Alright, here we go.

⚠️ Trigger warning ⚠️ discussions of SA

I've been watching a lot of TV lately. A lot. And I've been finding myself noticing the different ways that various TV shows are set up. You know, things like structure, main characters, presentation.

It's not very often that I can truly appreciate the presentation about a show. I mean, we all know I love Riverdale (I don't anymore) and it's an absolute dumpster fire of a show but that's not why I watch it. I don't watch Riverdale for the presentation, I watch it for the characters. (To be fair, I still like the characters, but I could only watch a writers room full of men make horrible decisions about characterization for so long before I had to dip) But, I digress.

But I'm watching this new show on Netflix, Unbelievable. And the depth and attention to detail is astounding me. The way that they are setting up the show is so artfully done that it actually amazes me. You begin to the show thinking that the main character is going to be Marie. But as the show progresses, you realize maybe the main character is Detective Duvall. And then Detective Rasmussen. And then you realize "oh it's not any of those." It's a hybrid of the story of two female detectives who are going above and beyond to solve an impossible mystery.

And I thought that this was going to be something that trivialised rape SA with young women. But it doesn't. It is The show talks about rape SA in a way that I'm sure every woman feels about rape SA. It's not playing it off as some awful thing that just happens. They don't say oh well. (That isn't completely true. I failed to mention that some of the characters do have this reaction, and that's what makes the determination of the detectives that take the case all the more validating) Even with one character who feels like she's forced to admit that she made a false report. That (referring to false accusations being sensationalized in media, which was incredibly common during the Me Too movement) is something fat that is in the media all the time but as they build the story you realize but that you can see this whole new perspective from women who report rape SA and then later come out to say that it was a false accusation. (I don't like that I said "new perspective" here. I think a more accurate description would have been a new perspective for me. Because this isn't a new perspective for some women, it's a very common thing that happens.)

In fact, that's one of my greatest fears about rape SA. Not that it will scar me for life. Or that I won't be the same person. Because I know those things are true. If that were to ever happen to me, I know that it will change me on a molecular level. The worst fear that I have about potentially being raped SA is the fact that if you're strong enough (this isn't about strength, it's about support. I remember I used to feel this way about SA. That is you didn't report it, you just weren't strong enough. Fuck that. All women are strong. This is such pick me, fucked up language that had been ingrained into me from living in a small town my entire life. Reporting SA isn't about strength. It's about the community you have behind you, and the people you keep beside you. Supported people can do hard things things) stand up for yourself, there are going to be people who say you made it up. And this show so artfully portrays that perspective.

And every other perspective. It's so well thought-out. And yeah, it's hard to watch. But it's worth the time. (This is one thing I got 100% right. This show is hard to stomach, and I still think about it two years later. I haven't rewatched, I don't think I could now knowing what I know about myself. Maybe I wouldn't like it this time around. But I'm glad I watched it then, it was worth my time.)

** okay, so some final thoughts from 2021 Tate**

I think the reason I had such a visceral reaction to my analysis, however juvenile it was, of the show is because since then I have done extensive work on myself through therapy. Through this therapy, something that we always came back to and talked about was my inherent fear of men. And we talked about how, to my belief, it was always something that had been a part of me.

We worked on that. And we came back to that. A lot. And one night it hit me. I had been preparing a lecture that I had to give to my students the next day about r*pe culture and how it affects the books that we read and something that I always do, because I teach in a small community, is I prepare for the worst, most bigoted statements that I can think of that my students might say and I pre-planned thoughtful, caring answers that restated my boundaries and corrected them to using gentler language to express their curiosity.

While I was doing this I happened to think about something that had happened to me when I was in high school that I had always looked at in a light of "oh that's a funny story to tell." But because I was already studying SA in depth with my students it was at the forefront of my mind, and it was then that I realized that what happened to me at a party in Grade 10 wasn't a funny story, I had experienced sexual assault. And if there was one thing that 2019 me got right was that it did change me.

Because that's when my fear of men started. I could almost pinpoint it to the day.

That's when I started being more cautious.

That's when my anxiety got unmanageable.

Once I had realized this, I immediately reached out to both my mom and my husband and told them about how I thought that I had been sexually assaulted. And just like I feared one of those people didn't believe me at first and required me to validate why I thought that it happened to me. My mother is an amazing person, and one of the most supportive people in my life. However, she also was taught about SA through a male gaze. She had never had somebody as close to her as I am tell her that that it happened to them. And unlike what I thought, it wasn't the worst thing that could happen to me. I had the opportunity to educate somebody else about exactly what SA means and entails. She cried with me and for me. She told me she loved me. And that was enough.

My husband came home from work that night looking lost. He had heard the story before. I used to tell it as a joke at parties. Yet, he came home and he wrapped me up in a hug and he said "I'm sorry that happened to you and I'm sorry that I didn't realize it was wrong until you did."

So like I said earlier. It's about support. I think about some of my earlier comments about how I used to know that if I was ever sexually assaulted it would ruin my life and scar me forever. About how I know that it would change me and I would never be the same.

But I've grown since then. I worked through this realization with my therapist for months. As I've grown, I've come to know other women who have experienced something similar to, or worse than, what I did, and I've noticed something. Did it change who we are? Of course. Am I scarred for life? No. I'm finding that no, I'm not. Did it change who I was on a molecular level? No. It changed me. It made me fearful, for a while. But I was going to change anyways. And I wish that I could have changed without experiencing something horrible, but I am stronger because of it. I'm not saying I'm grateful for my sexual assault, but I am grateful for the lessons I've learned since then.

I was just a child back then, and I didn't know anything about boundaries and how to assert myself or how to say no. But I've learned those things now, and I'm not afraid of men anymore. I wish that I had been taught those things then.

That contrary to what 2019 me thought, despite my realization of my SA, I'm okay. My life hasn't changed that much. And I know that I'm one of the lucky ones, in terms of severity. I know that I walked away and that means that I was lucky.

I'm realizing now that there are more nefarious things at play in our society. What started out as something small, the Me Too movement is now a global movement. And it has helped women all over the world. In 2019, I didn't think that we would live in a world where when somebody had sexual assault allegations put up against them, we dropped those people from sponsorships, and stopped carrying their shows on n*tflix. I never thought that we would live in a world like that, but we do. We don't stand for men who don't respect women, and we certainly don't support them and give them our money.

What's happening in Texas right now with the Ab*rtion Act that is being put out is exactly the kind of thing that will happen if we stay silent. However, it is amazing to know that if we speak out through our social medias and write to our MLAs and Senators that we can make change. We don't sit back and let injustices happen like we used to. We fight, and we set our boundaries, and we say no. And it is making a difference. And sometimes we all need that reminder.

[living-after-death-blog1]

The Day My Daughter Died.. (An introduction to the end and the beginning)

I received a phone call from my daughter's best friend, Alli, at about 2:30pm on that day. She told me that she had just left work and was on her way to my daughter's house, after receiving a frantic phone call from my daughter's roommate, Kenneth, who said that he had come home and found her unconscious, with a needle in her hand. He had called an ambulance, he had attempted CPR, and was now waiting outside of the house while the emergency personnel did their thing inside.

I think it was already pretty well established that my daughter was gone, and I think that this was probably communicated to me, but my brain literally wouldn't grasp it. I wasn't devastated; I was terrified. I spent the entire conversation (which was probably at least 20 minutes long) thinking that we didn't know anything yet, feeling like I was frozen, like everything around me was happening in slow motion, and that I was just holding my breath until the moment when Alli could finally get to the house and someone could tell us what was going on. I thought we were waiting to hear that she'd been trànsported or something. It honestly hadn't occurred to me until just now that simply knowing that Kenneth had attempted CPR should have been enough information to answer to the only question that was looping through my mind, over and over, until Alli arrived. "Is she breathing?"

I was 4 hours away, in another city.

Once Alli arrived, there were people everywhere; policemen, emergency responders, tons of neighborhood spectators, and Kenneth, the roommate. I was still on the phone, waiting, while he and Alli had a brief conversation, which I couldn't really hear and I finally interrupted to ask what I thought we'd been waiting to find out this whole time.. "But.. is she still breathing?"

At that point, I heard Alli take a deep breath and, very slowly, and with such pain, she said the words that made it real.

"No, Stephanie. She's gone."

I remember taking a deep breath and saying, "Okay."

It almost felt like, "Well.. Here we are. This is actually happening. You know, that thing that happens to other people, but not your child, not you? It's happening. Right now."

Another deep breath, and once again, " Okay.. "

I remember thinking that I needed to hold it together somehow, because I was going to have to handle and figure out a lot of things, and I really, really needed to be able to think. I just had to think. Figure this all out somehow, as if it were a problem that could be solved.

I did what I've always done when I need to call upon an extreme coping skill. I stopped feeling, and I started thinking. Intellectualizing, my therapist, Becca, the one from my daughter's first treatment center, used to call it.

I called upon that skill in that moment. Think. Think about what other people are going through, feeling, experiencing. Think about how everyone else feels, so you don't have to look at what this really is. Don't even get close to it.

That is the moment that I apologized to Alli for having to be the one to make such a horrible phone call, telling someone's mother that they are dead, and thanked her for being that person, at the same time. I thanked her for being a good friend. I told her I loved her. Said I'd be available for the police or whoever needs to speak to next of kin, and told her to give them my number.

I called my boyfriend first, in a panic; I had to get home, I had to get to Houston, and I had to get there NOW. I couldn't drive, and all I could think was how I needed to get there, I had to get there, and I needed to get there NOW. No answer.

I called my ex-husband (not the father of my daughter, but of two sons, ages 15 and 18, at the time) and, not realizing that the boys were in the car with him or that he had answered on speaker, I started screaming that my daughter was dead, she was dead, and I didn't know what to do. Of course, after finding out that the boys had overhead, I called both of them to apologize that they had had to hear me like that, to hear the news that way.

I don't remember very much of the next few weeks. The things I do remember are choppy, like random scenes from a movie, but I remember those things vividly.

I realized that I had to tell people. Who? Who is the first person you call to announce your daughter's death?

I called my mom first, I think, and I listened to her sob and repeat, "Noooo..." over and over.

I called my daughter's other grandmother, on her father's side, and I listened as she cried and kept saying, "Oh my god.."

I called my daughter's ex-boyfriend, Javi, the father of my granddaughter, who was 8 at the time, and he couldn't believe it, couldn't accept it, either; jumped in his car to go over there. I guess he needed to see it with his own eyes.

I spoke to another of my daughter's best friends, Jessica (she happened to text me, so I thought she already knew, and when I realized that she didn't, I told her to call me. She asked me, "How bad is it?" I said, "Bad."), and then she, too, immediately drove over to the house to meet up with Alli, Kenneth, and Javi.

I couldn't listen to any more breaking hearts at the moment, so as fucked up as it seems now, I just started texting people.

I texted my friend, Sarah, who, along with her entire family, have been like family to us. I don't even know how I said it. I think I said, "I'm so sorry to tell you like this, but they found her this morning, unconscious, with a needle, and she didn't make it. " Sarah immediately called me, and started screaming, " What? What? " as if she couldn't hear me. Her mind, too, couldn't seem to allow this to be real.

I spoke to my friends, Theresa and Joie, sisters, and they immediately offered all kinds of practical help that hadn't even occurred to me, such as setting up a GoFundMe account to pay for funeral expenses. I had been laid off from my job of over ten years several months prior, and so all of the life insurance policies and everything I'd been so used to just having were no longer available, and I had nothing.

Joie also posted on Facebook on my behalf. It was the only way I could think of to let everyone know, especially my daughter's friends, and it was because of all of these people, and so many more, that I have managed to get through this last year.

I don't know what I did to deserve such wonderful people in my life, but I am surrounded by them. The GoFundMe account reached over $5000 within a couple of days.

My daughter's best friend from middle school is a hair and makeup artist, and she flew in from Colorado to make sure that she was the one who did the makeup for the viewing. That was always their thing, and even though my daughter's addiction had driven them apart over the years, Vikki had to do this one last thing for her friend, and I was happy to have her do it.

Sarah's ex-boyfriend, who knew my daughter as a child, took care of all of the flowers and arrangements.

Sarah's mom has a friend who was able to make a dress for my daughter to wear during the viewing; an Alice in Wonderland dress, because that was always her thing.

Sarah and her mom had already found the cheapest most decent funeral home that they knew of (her mom had used the place for her own mother's service), so I literally spent the next few days just having to answer yes and no questions.

It turned out that since my daughter never divorced the father of her second child (my grandson, Isaac, who was almost 7 at the time), even though they'd been separated and out of contact for a few years (she was engaged to someone else for at least a year), he was her next of kin, not me, and this brought forth a whole host of issues. He doesn't raise their son, his mother does, because he is either 1) insane, 2) brain damaged from drug use, 3) currently using drugs, or 4) a combination of all of the above. These things made the entire process very difficult for me.

They tried to dictate who could be invited to the funeral, which I wasn't on board with. They threatened me by saying that they would have her body transferred to the funeral home of their choosing and they would let me know when and where to show up. They said I could not have any locks of her hair. They said they would not split up her ashes. They even dictated to me that she be cremated, because they somehow knew (having only known her for a few years, and not knowing her at all, really, for the few years prior to her death) that she wanted to be cremated and that she wanted her ashes spread over the ocean.

I won't ever be able to understand why someone would treat the mother of a dead child the way that they treated me, but I've just added them to the list of people I'll have to figure out how to forgive somehow, eventually.

Everyone showed up for us, and I was so grateful for the presence of every single one of them. People I hadn't seen or spoken to in years, such as my ex-husband's ex-boss's ex-wife, lol.

I placed a son for adoption when I was 19, and though I had met him in person once, he and my other kids had not met. He and my daughter had been talking a lot on social media, and he had planned to come visit and meet everyone in May, after he graduated college, but ended up coming in April for her funeral, instead. He never even got to hear her voice.

There is so much I want to use this blog for. I want to document my own journey through this grief. I want to talk about addiction and help destigmatize the way people view addicts. I want to offer resources and maybe even hope. And I want to remember my daughter.

Her name was Jade. She was 26 years old when she died. She was one of the funniest, coolest, most creative, beautiful people you could have ever known. Yes, the addiction was a part of her journey, her struggle, but she was more than that. And I intend to honor ALL of who she was, by speaking the truth.

The truth is that she died from the toxic effects of an accidental overdose of heroin and methamphetamine. But that's just one part of her story, and mine, and I need to tell them both, even if no one ever reads a single word I type. I need to tell these stories.

Since I started with her death, here is a photo recap of what there is to know so far:

#grief #overdose #addiction #loss #bereavement #grieving

[hottmessexpresss]

**Trigger Warning** Those who are sensitive to topics such as: drug-use, over-dose, and language/descriptions/scenarios involving drugs and drug activity, please do not continue reading, or read at your own risk**

I remember I was in the parking lot of a 24 hour fitness in Bakersfield, Ca. I remember distinctly feeling like I was wrapped in a warm, weighted blanket. My breathing was shallow, but it felt "nice". I felt as if some large fluffy llama was sitting directly on my chest. Oddly enough, I felt at peace...and I felt very, very, sleepy. I didn't feel scared. I felt "whole" for the first time- I felt...happy.

Unknown time had lapsed and I woke up with vomit all over my shirt. I was dazed and confused, and blisfully unaware of my surroundings. I came to, and the passenger next to me was crying and repeatedly saying, "I don't want to go to jail. I don't want to go to jail."

That was my first and only opiate induced over-dose, and before Narcan has been heavily encouraged and issued. If you think that was enough to scare me, you're dead wrong.

Fast forward 6 years, give or take...and here I am sitting in the hospital watching my husband writhe in pain. He just had a total shoulder replacement surgery for a second time, at 42 years old (that is considered "young" for this type of evasive surgery.) My husband never shows he is pain, and has been dealing with this pain for over a year. Doctors never took him seriously. He didn't "look" to be in pain, and his physiological responses didn't "show" he was in pain. Often, there was frustration. Anger. Resentment. Not a soul believed him, and he had accepted he was going to have to deal with it for the remainder of his life. My husband served 21 years in the United States Military. His body is proof of what men and women can endure ensuring our freedoms are protected.

My husband has said, "If it weren't for these junkies, I wouldn't have to be jumping through hoops to be taken seriously." It didn't offend me. It didn't hurt my feelings. With the recent (but not new) opiate epidemic, my mind has been reeling with questions, thoughts, and residual pain. How* do we as a society, fix this problem? What can be done to HELP? What types of out-patient, low cost programs could make an impact in communities of these (addicts) people?

Drugs do not discriminate. When I was detained by the oh-so-lovely, Bakersfield Police Department back in 2014, I was treated as less than a person. "How long have you been doing drugs??? You're too pretty and young to be a tweaker." I was humiliated. I sat in silence, and in that moment "they" had won. I wanted to tell them....."If you only knew me.....if you only knew my story....my amazing, loving, parents...my upbringing, my home...my college education....." but to them, I was just 'another tweaker,' and another case number to report on. The stigma is there. I've seen comments on numerous facebook posts, "tweakers deserve to die." But my friends, they do not. If it weren't for the passanger in my car 6 years ago (even if it were for selfish reasons...AKA not going to jail) I would not have had my beautiful babies, and I would not have had a fighting chance to change my life in a productive and meaningful way.

Not even a full 24 hours after surgery, my husband's nerve block started to wear off. We paged his nurse for relief......and what happened? The on-call resident had a nurse bring my husband Tylenol. Tylenol. After a major surgery. I was offended, and in that moment, I felt embarrassed. There are people out here in this world in legitimate pain. Because of the sudden intensity of the current opiate epidemic, they (pain patients) were forced to taper off of their medication completely, or cut back harshly on their medication. Is this the right thing to do? Is this fair to those battling pain daily with the medical records to back it all up? This is where most addictions can start. "It's a prescription by my doctor... so it's fine." I can bet most do not abuse them, because of course, they need them. But there also people out in this world with emotional pain.

The first time I tried Oxycontin, I felt the effects relatively quickly. Battling depression since 12 years of age, I was dealing with my parents divorce and remarriages, new family dynamics, being a fat, and bullied nerd....I never took medication long enough to know if it would be helpful to me. So in that moment, naiive to what was to come, not knowing my genetic predisposition, I thought to myself, "so THIS is happiness....THIS is what "normal" feels like." And so began my endless and bottomless search for that euphoric happiness, and my self-medication began.

My husband was finally given an Oxycodone 11 HOURS later. It was horrible seeing his face knowing he was in unbearable pain. "We're giving you two doses of Oxycodone, Mr. Steele." My ears. I heard the name, and I knew it all too well. A former best-friend of mine; one whom I loved more than myself and loved more than anything else in this entire world at one point. The word itself, triggered me. Almost 6 years of being free and clear off that shit, and the word alone sent my neurotransmitters firing rapidly and excitedly. My brain started to illict a chemical and emotional response... to a fuckin' word*. I started to feel anxious. Uneasy. Worried. Angry. Jealous. To those who have never been addicted to drugs, this probably sounds absolutely CRAZY to you. How can someone be jealous of someone in legitimate pain and taking pain pills? Well, someone who had once before been EXCITED to fracture her thumb knowing she was getting pain pills (me). I knew* my husband needed them. I knew he had a legitimate reason to need them-but I felt* out of my mind. That* is addiction... That* is your brain fighting against the rational fibers of what is "normal". After addiction sets in, your brain under goes chemical changes. Your "Hedonic Set-Point" of happiness is altered and flipped the fuck upside down. You become addicted because you realize that the intense euphoria and happiness, that warm, fuzzy feeling in your stomach, the rush to your head...have all caused a peak beyond your "set point" of euphoria. You crave it, and you NEED it just to even function and feel "normal" If you don't use (drugs), your entire body shuts down and you become so sick (the flu times 500). So you continue to use and abuse anything to reach the level of "normal" (and beyond) in order to not feel like a depressed piece of shit. Rock bottom hits (whenever and however that is and may be, and some will never experience the same rock bottom) and you get clean, and your "hedonic set point" is reset and now, unrealistic. You soon realize you will never* feel that level of happiness again (sober). Social context, and psychological predispositions can trigger a response in your brain to want to achieve that chemical, unrealistic level- over and over again.

Recovering addicts face this day in and day out, and in this case, recovery** is a CHOICE. No one wakes up one day and says, "you know what? I'm going to steal from my family and act like a reckless fool and ruin my normalcy and fuck up my entire family (and my fuckin' credit score) Addicts can do bad things, but that doesn't make them bad people. They are the walking wounded. In the words of my favorite author, Charles Bukowski, "we don't even ask (for) happiness, just a little less pain." A close friend of mines addiction was so deep, she lost custody of her child and lost sight of everything she once loved. No one in their right mind* would EVER jeopardize the relationship and well being with their own flesh and blood. People who weren't addicted could never phatom this scenario, but addiction is* ugly. She passed away almost two years ago, leaving her daughter and family behind. Again, addiction can be so powerful and it trumps all things good. Addicts become selfish. Because they only care about themselves and their next fix. Unless they get the proper intervention, have kick ass insurance, and the will and reason deep down to stop, they won't. That's why in NA, they say some people's only way out of addiction, is jail, institutions, or death.

I feel embarrassed sometimes to admit any of this. Those who knew me in my active addiction phase, constantly said, "where* is Katelyn? Where* did she go? This is not* the Katelyn we know and loved..." Addicts have to first admit they are powerless over their addiction. Along with this, comes a mountain of shame, guilt, embarrassment, shame, and a total slap in the face of everything* they were covering up during their abuse. We have to essentially re-learn how to live life again. How to cope with underlying mental illness, how to cope with triggers, how to live day to day without their former best friend.

I wish deep down I wasn't this way. I wish deep down the muffled voice subtly nagging at my brain would stop. I wish i knew better. I don't feel this hardcore temptation anymore. In the beginning, everything felt "unfair" and life kept throwing punches at me and I struggled to handle them. I blamed others for my addiction and carried around SO much anger. One day, it clicked. No one forced me to do anything. Only I was to blame. I was responsible and accountable for what happened to me, and only I was responsible for changing my behavior. It was hard. Most of the time, it felt virtually impossible to stop. If any addict could take a magic pill to end the cycle and to start their lives over, I'm betting some- if not most, would. This blog isn't a debate on whether or not addiction is a choice. I could sit here and debate with anyone all day on this subject. This entry is merely pointing out a basic and yet complex struggle one can face years and years down the line during their recovery. I look back and feel accomplished. I overcame something not everyone has the privilege to escape from. Being clean, I was able to rediscover myself, reevaluate goals, mend relationships, and lead a meaningful life. I found my soul-mate and have two amazing babies. My hope for anyone struggling with addiction is to overcome. Take advantage of any and all local resources and dig deep down to find the desire to want to stop. It might take you more than one attempt to get clean. In NA, they mention over and over to never feel like relapse isn't possible and that it "won't happen" to you. Because it is possible. It can happen at any given moment, and there is always a chance of giving in to the demons you have worked so hard to manage and control. Make the concious choice to NOT give in to the monster, no matter how tempting it could be. You are loved. You are worthy.

"Just for today, my thoughts will be on my recovery, living and enjoying life without the use of drugs. Just for today, I will have faith in someone in NA who believes in me and wants to help me in my recovery. Just for today, I will have a program. I will try to follow it to the best of my ability. Just for today, I will be unafraid. My thoughts will be on my new association's- people who are not using and have found a new way of life. So as long as I follow that way, I will have nothing to fear." (Narcotics Anonymous, text)

Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration (SAMHSA)

1-800-662-4357

NA (Narcotics Anonymous)- find NA meetings and local resources for recovery.

http://m.na.org/

[thetraumadiaries]

My experience with MDMA & PTSD

So let me tell you about the first time I made a major breakthrough with my PTSD.

It's the first time I felt like I was capable of healing. What I'm about to say may be controversial, and perhaps not all of you will respect my decision, nor do the same thing I did. In fact, I am not trying to encourage you to do what I did, but I just want to come out and be honest about how I felt.

Anyway.

For years, I've been the kind of girl that's very "against" drugs. Well, I didn't have a problem with people that chose to do it, but I could see their suffering and reliance and I did not want to become weakened by a substance, or reliant on it. I am an incredibly resilient person. Heck, I don't even take painkillers when I need them. But for a while, the idea of drugs scared me because of their dangers. Also, the social stigma made me really adamant on staying away from them.

Of course, when I turned 20 I did try marijuana for the first time. Tbh, I didn't even really enjoy it. It made me ridiculous, silly and paranoid. It enhanced the overthinking parts of my brain. A few years later, I decided to try it again... this time I had sex while being high. It was actually a great experience. It was fun. But meh, it wasn't really something I cared for tbh. At the time, that was the "hardest" drug I'd ever do. I'm glad I tried it, but I vowed not to do anything else.

You see, my mother has paranoid schizophrenia. We aren't sure what triggered it in her... perhaps it was having me after 3 miscarriages before. I wasn't meant to be born.

Maybe it was the way my uncle treated her as a child, and how horrible people were to her. Maybe it was her own traumatic experiences time after time.

Either way, I grew up with a crazy mom.

It was hard. I won't explain the details of that today, but of course, you can understand my hesitation and fear of drugs after growing up with a mother like that. No, my mom never did any drugs. But knowing that schizophrenia COULD be hereditary and that drugs CAN trigger it, means it is a very real risk for me.

After university and postgrad, I had a friend who tried to talk to me about drug therapy. I was very open about what I was going through on Instagram & Facebook. But I kept explaining to him that I have a very good reason not try any substances. He was telling me how MDMA research had found breakthroughs with PTSD. This is when I had just started suspecting that I had a severe case of PTSD, but wasn't yet diagnosed. Honestly, when he was talking to me, I didn't even know what MDMA was. I didn't know what ecstacy really did to people. Or meth. Or cocaine. Or heroine. I just knew that they could ruin people's lives - and that the risk to me is the greatest. So I brushed him off, educated him on my schizophrenic parent, and was adamantly against was he was saying.

But I have to say, I think that knowledge haunted me subconsciously.

Half a year later, I made some new friends when I was on my way to go clubbing with my girls. I really like to dance, and these new friends - two guys - they noticed that. They told me that I should come raving with them, and that I'd really enjoy it. I honestly knew nothing about raves, but being a metalhead for so long, I've also been exposed to harder styles of EDM and was interested in it. I decided to go with them. They offered me M but I declined, of course. I didn't explain my reasons right away, but they respected me for it & it was a great time.

I wanted to go again to another event. I was also interested in the guy that invited me. But he told me something that was strange. He said he doesn't feel comfortable around sober people when he raves. I thought that was some weird af guilt-tripping bullshit tbh. So I explained my reason and TBH, I always have a good time sober. I'm just as happy and fun and crazy as everyone else! But sure, whatever...maybe I didn't "tap into" whatever they did.

So we all went to another event. It was good. But I started growing more and more curious. My PTSD was actually getting worse. A few months before these raves, I got raped.. and I hadn't healed properly. I even lost my job because I wasn't able to focus on both a criminal investigation, how I felt and doing my daily tasks. I didn't even look for a new job in this time. I was so lost, going through so much. I think I really just wanted someone to talk to who wouldn't blame me or question the logic of what happened. But heck, I couldn't afford therapy. I didn't even have the energy to make the phone call to get help. But I really needed help. So I kept talking to this guy. He was nice to me and would talk to me, having "real" conversations with me (not like the BS small talk that most Toronto fuckboys engage in). Looking back, I think I liked him because I felt like I could heal through him. This was a mistake, of course. But it's okay, we live and we learn.

Now comes the good part. The first breakthrough.

Dreams Festival was around the corner, and since I'd been exposed to all my friends on M at every rave, I was really thinking about it a lot. I had done some research and read that M with assisted psychotherapy really did do wonders for PTSD. Of course, I didn't have a psychotherapist... but I was curious. What if I did just a little bit? Just a tiny amount.

The guy I was seeing - he would make his own pills. So he could tell me exactly how much is in each of them, and customize it for me. I told him I wanted to try it... but I didn't want to do it both days of the festival. Just one. I read and saw my friends go through a lot of the side effects and a lot of the highs, and they educated me a lot on it. So I think I was okay.

Day 1 was great, but Day 2 is when I popped for the first time.

I only took 0.10, but man... it was enough. Believe me. When I started rolling, it was like...

I didn't even know I was capable of feeling that way. It was as though a HUGE weight that I'd been carrying for my whole life was literally lifted off my shoulders. The sun was setting and it felt so good on my skin. They kept telling me to put my sunglasses on, but I didn't want to. I wanted to look at the sunset, and feel the warmth on my face. I didn't have a fear in the world.

And that was profound.

I didn't feel any fear. For the first time in my life.

I wasn't scared or worried about ANYTHING. I had no stress. I wasn't thinking about anything bad that had happened.

So I started crying. I was fucking balling my eyes out. I didn't know it was possible to feel this way. I didn't even know that hope existed. I didn't know what recovery felt like. But feeling that... made it all possible. I realized that it was actually possible for me to feel that way sober. The "real me" came out. I realized that there was a kind of "fear cloud" haunting me, and that I just need to separate myself from it to feel good and heal.

It was magical. This realization was the biggest epiphany I've ever had in my life.

I was okay. I was REALLY okay... and I would continue to be if I can remember how to do that again.

I just have to remember....

Since that amazing night, I got A LOT better. It was like 6 sessions of therapy, I swear. Don't get me wrong- the "fear cloud" definitely came back LOL. & I'm still damaged af. But tbh, I learned a lot and I can tap into that experience to help myself move forward.

The best part is, I had no come down and I didn't even crave the feeling of being high like that again. Just that one experience was enough for me to know that I'll be okay, but that it's going to take a lot of pro-activeness for me to get there.

And so I've been working hard at psychoanalyzing myself, and keeping my mental health in check.

When I break down, it gets REALLY bad. But I can tap into that and talk myself out of the overwhelming negative memories and bad thoughts that stop me from sleeping. It doesn't go away completely, but it really does help a lot. I'm not a lost cause anymore. I'm not bad anymore.

I'm not the way I was last summer.

And well, there you have it.

That's just one baby step in a life long journey of healing from PTSD.