#RECOVERY

[mira-mazing]

Same, when are we not, really?

so many of the transfems i know spent their time pre-transition performing a kind of lifelong exercise in self-deprivation, the goal of which was to find out exactly how little a person needed to live. they starved themselves, dressed carelessly, shunned friends, and hollowed themselves out so as not to be burdens on anyone but themselves.

i see it now, too, in the girls around me. i'll ask if they want care – a home-cooked meal, relaxed company, sex without the expectation of reciprocation – and they say no, no, thank you, i don't need it; what would you like, what do you want, because in their head they're still doing that awful calculus, still training themselves to disappear in the eyes of the people around them.

i don't think i'd have died without transition – not in the conventional sense, at least – but to take that leap, i had to stop thinking of myself as a human experiment in fuel-efficient living and start nurturing the anemic, atrophied flame of desire in my heart. i had to learn to eat well, to exercise, to style myself beautiful, but harder than that, i had to learn to ask the people around me to work on my behalf in order to enrich my life and give me the things i wanted.

and i did it; i learned. and it was agony, but courage is a muscle you can train, and every day i get better at accepting gifts with the hungry gratitude i never learned in my years and years as a sad, scared, lonely boy.

so be patient with the trans girls in your life. better than that: be proactive, attentive, generous; be forceful, if you have to, and learn to distinguish real discomfort from the terrified reflex of self-denial that so many of us once learned to rely on.

and if you are so lucky as to love a trans girl, you must insist upon her. you must insist upon her happiness, her comfort, her pleasure, and her rest, because she may still not yet know how to make those demands for herself. if you can devote any amount of energy to becoming an engine that nurtures the flame of even a single tgirl then there is a place for you in trans heaven, which as far as i'm concerned is the only one worth going to

[daily-reminders-that-ur-enough]

You deserve food. No matter what. You deserve food for fun and joy and to feed you.

[therecoveryquotes]

Sometimes the smallest step in the right direction ends up being the biggest step of your life. Tiptoe you must, but take the step.

— Naeem Callaway

[thepeacefulgarden]

[ezekieltobiasfletcher]

Simple pleasures, simple life, simple joys.

[marionmabelle]

“coquette aesthetic” but it’s just a photo of a thigh gap and bony hands 🤨

[linecrosser]

Febuwhump 2k25 - Day 28 - Recovery

All will be well again

[wiktoria-mm]

Sometimes I’m thinking that I miss it when I was at my lowest and lowkey looked like a corpse.

But then I remember that my mom had a hard time calling me pretty cuz she thought I genuinely looked scary.

[loopstagirl]

Home

And here we are, the final prompt! For @febuwhump day 28: recovery

-x-

Virgil cursed as he tried to reach the cushion. It had slipped from under his propped up leg, but negotiating retrieving it was too much effort. Instead, his upper body just sort of flopped, leaving him more stuck than before, and still with no cushion. 

“Interesting,” an amused voice said from the doorway.  

Virgil looked up and found himself sagging in relief that Scott had at least still got the sling on. With his left leg in a cast, Virgil wasn’t exactly up to chasing his brother around the house to try and make him support his fractured wrist. 

“You gonna help or not?” 

“More curious to see how you’re going to get out of this.” 

“Come on,” Virgil wheedled. “Give me a hand.” 

Scott’s eyes narrowed. “Starting with the jokes already?” 

“What?” Virgil stared at him nonplussed. Scott accepted his innocence and crossed the room. He seized Virgil’s upper arm with his good hand and hauled him back into an upright position before bending to get the cushion, sliding it back under his leg. 

“Need anything?” 

Virgil shook his head. What he needed was to not have a broken leg and a broken Thunderbird. He needed to not stress about the fact they were offline and Scott was standing there with his arm in a sling. But his brother couldn’t help with any of that and if Virgil admitted any of it, Scott was likely to try and do something like fix it, which he was in no state to do. 

Scott sat down next to him, leaning back with a long groan and closing his eyes. 

“I’m getting old,” he grumbled. “This many places shouldn’t hurt.” 

“Not sure that’s age,” Virgil said, “I think that might be more related to the building that fell on top of you.” 

“Us.” 

“Huh?” 

“Fell on top of us. You’re worse than I am, right now.” 

“I was further in,” Virgil muttered. He lent back himself. He was aiming for the pillow behind him, but somehow, his head landed on Scott’s shoulder instead. Neither of them said anything. 

They sat in a companionable silence for a few moments. They didn’t have the energy for idle talk and knew the other felt the same. But they weren’t left waiting for long. 

If Scott felt old, it was nothing compared to how John must’ve been feeling given the shuffling walk he entered the room with. His groan was twice as long as he sank onto the cushions the other side of Scott. 

“I’m never getting up again,” he grumbled. 

Virgil winced sympathetically. It had been a rough re-entry and Three hadn’t given her passengers an easy time of it. Alan was limping around complaining about whiplash, but John had forgone the usual gentle re-entry to Earth’s atmosphere. They’d only just avoided landing with a literal bang. His brother was feeling his introduction to gravity more than usual. 

“Head still bad?” Virgil asked, taking John’s grunt as affirmation given he couldn’t actually see his brother over Scott’s broad shoulders. He grabbed the bottle of painkillers beside him and passed them over Scott’s head. 

“Didn’t offer me any,” Scott muttered. Virgil snorted. 

“You wouldn’t have taken them.” 

“Not the point.” 

They managed to pass over a glass of water without it spilling on anyone and John sighed in relief as he swallowed the painkillers. 

Silence fell. But once again, it wasn’t for long. 

Gordon was shuffling almost as much as John. He didn’t aim for the sofa though, instead choosing to stretch out on the floor. Virgil tossed him down a pillow which Gordon slipped behind his head and gave him a thumbs up. As he shifted, something gave an audible crack in Gordon’s back but his brother didn’t react other than an annoyed wince. He was slowly getting movement back but it had been a long three weeks since a mudslide had messed up his back worse than it had been in years. 

“This sucks,” Gordon muttered. 

Three noises of agreement met his words but no one quite found the right words. 

“So this is where you’re all hiding?” Alan didn’t take long to find them. He climbed over Gordon and sat down next to him, his back against the couch and resting against Scott’s legs. Virgil wasn’t sure Scott even realised what he was doing as his good hand dropped down and started fiddling with Alan’s hair mindlessly. 

“So-,” Gordon began. 

“Yeah.” 

Virgil wasn’t even sure which brother answered. He didn’t care. He was finding it hard to keep his eyes open. He didn’t realise how exhausting restricted movement could be. 

There weren’t many times when all five brothers were in one room and no one was speaking. But it was what they needed right now. Just the soft press of shoulder against shoulder, the lean of body weight as they all nursed their respective injuries and took comfort in the fact the others were there. They all understood; they all hated it; and they all knew they’d get through it. 

Virgil wasn’t the first to fall asleep, but he wasn’t the last, either. 

By the time their dad tracked them down an hour later, he came across a sight he hadn’t seen for a long, long time. All five of his boys were sprawled in various positions to support their injuries, and all of them were asleep. Virgil and John were both using Scott’s shoulders as pillows, while his eldest had his hand resting on Alan’s head, which was leaning against Scott’s knee. Gordon’s legs were bent, resting casually against John’s. 

Jeff smiled. One tinged with sadness at seeing what his dream was costing his children. But one also full of pride. They’d come through this, just like they’d overcome every other obstacle in their path. They’d be stronger for it. 

And the world would be just that little bit safer because of it. 

[curingourhearts]

Adult life is not meant to be miserable, don't let the world fool you. Yes, there are many things in life that will not be pleasant but the majority of your life isn't meant to be miserable. What kind of existence is that? You work to be miserable? There is a job out there that will satisfy you and allow you to be a person at the same time. Some of us may have more privileges due to having a better starting point but regardless of your life now, you deserve a happy life, a comfortable life, a doable life. You shouldn't be working yourself to death and do not let ANYONE tell you that you do.

[throughtheeyesofmeblog]

[fawnsky]

this is how recovery feels

Ups and downs

[bm571158]

Free Now LN4 (Part 38)

"Well?!" Flo demanded the second Lando answered the phone. "How did it go?"

"How did what go?" He asked.

"Don't play dumb with me, how did it go with Lottie?"

"How did you know I was there?" He asked, confused.

"Well, mum said you were coming over to go to McLaren so I took a guess, and now you've just told me that you were there. So come on, tell me!" Flo demanded.

"Lottie didn't call you?" He asked.

"No." Flo told him. "I was going to call her, but you're my brother and it's way easier to interrogate you. Now, tell me."

The way Lando sighed into the phone was enough of an answer for Flo to know that it hadn't gone the way that he had expected it to. "Oh...." She mumbled.

"She uh... she's better, she's happy." He sighed, as if that somehow made what he was feeling less painful. He supposed in a way it did. Seeing her happy, knowing that she had the chance to get back to doing what she loved and finally something to look forward to was great, but it hadn't made it any easier walking back out of her house and getting in his car to drive away.

"I'm sorry, Lando." Flo said quietly. "I never should've suggested you go there, I really thought that she'd change her mind and it would all be fine... shit.... Are you alright?"

"No." He admitted. "But I'm about five minutes away from MTC so I haven't really got time to worry about it right now I guess."

"Why don't you come here tonight, rather than going back to Monaco?" Flo suggested. She hated the idea that he was going to fly back to Monaco to sit alone in that apartment and be miserable on his own.

"It's alright." He reassured her. "I need to get back. I've got stuff I need to sort before Zandvoort. I'll be okay it's just... well, it sucks."

"I'm so sorry Lando, I really thought all she needed was to see you again and she'd realise that she's being stupid. What did she say?"

"It's fine Flo, really." Lando brushed her off, he didn't want to get into the details of what had been said with his sister. "I need to go now, I'm at MTC and I'm already running late." It was a lie, he was actually early and still fifteen minutes away but he just wanted to get out of the conversation.

"Okay, call me later?" Flo suggested. "And if you change your mind and want to come and stay then the offer is still open, okay?"

"Okay." He agreed quietly, ending the call. He had no intention of going to Flo's no matter how many times she suggested it. He just wanted to be on his own where he could think and digest what Lottie had said to him.

He was still sat in his car staring into space thinking about it when Oscar had arrived at MTC, tapping on the car window and making Lando jump.

"You alright mate?" Oscar asked him as he scrambled out of the car, realising he'd now only got a couple of minutes before he was supposed to be somewhere. "You looked like you were miles away."

"I uh... yeah. I've got a lot on my mind I guess." Lando mumbled, shutting the car door behind him.

"I know it's none of my business..." Oscar said hesitantly, and Lando looked up at him in surprise. His teammate was quiet, never stuck his nose into anyone else's business, he always had been. "But you and Lottie... there's so many rumours going around online and I haven't seen her for a few races now. Is everything okay?"

Lando hesitated, halfway tempted to just lie to Oscar and tell him it was all fine. He knew Oscar wouldn't believe him, but he was probably too polite to call him out on it and it might put an end to the conversation. Lando knew what Oscar was referring to, the second he'd shown up in Spain without Lottie beside him the rumour mill had well and truly started turning.

"You shouldn't believe what you see on the internet." Lando muttered. If you believed what the gossip sites and TikTok were saying he'd cheated on Lottie, she'd cheated on him, he'd proposed and she'd said no... the variations on the story were endless. Not a single one of them was correct, but obviously the people on the internet weren't worried about how factual it was, it was great reading.

"I don't." Oscar shrugged. "But there's no smoke without fire usually, and you're not telling me nothings going on."

"It's... it's complicated." Lando sighed. "But yeah, we're... we're not together anymore."

"I'm sorry mate." Oscar gave him a sympathetic smile, patting him on the shoulder. "That's rough."

"Ironically, a lot of the problem was all these gossip sites and people with cameras who are now having a great time speculating about what happened." Lando commented dryly.

"Ah.." Oscar gave him a knowing look, after all they'd all been there. "I really am sorry, she seemed like such a nice girl."

"Yeah." Lando sighed. "Me too."

Thankfully, Oscar seemed to have decided that his one brief venture into Lando's personal life was more than enough for the for a lifetime and hadn't brought it up again. Instead he'd gone a little over the top doing everything he could to keep the conversation away from that particular topic, changing the topic of conversation not so subtly any time anyone came remotely close to mentioning it and Lando had never been more grateful.

He'd said goodbye to Oscar and the team as quickly as he could at the end of the day, heading back to the airport to go back to Monaco, but not without checking his phone one more time on the off chance that Lottie might have called him. She hadn't, of course, she'd been very clear with him when he'd left hers that he shouldn't hang around waiting for her to call, but the hope that she might was definitely still there.

It wasn't until he was back in his apartment in Monaco, haphazardly shoving the clothes he needed to take to Zandvoort with him into a suitcase, that he really started to digest what she'd said to him.

None of it was anything that he could even try and argue with, and it was clear that she'd put as much thought into whether or not she could be with him as he had put into trying to persuade her to come back. It wasn't some impulsive decision that she had made as a result of what had happened in Monaco, it was clearly something that had been bubbling away underneath the surface for quite a while and that had just been the final straw.

He couldn't say he blamed her either, for not wanting to live her life in the media spotlight. He hated it too, missed the days of being able to go out and have fun without worrying about people recording him and it ending up on the internet. He didn't have a choice, just had to accept it and get on with it, but Lottie did have a choice. She could get away from it... it just meant that she had to get away from him.

So as much as it broke his heart and he wanted to plead with her to change her mind, he understood her reasoning. It just didn't make it any easier to accept.

He was still mulling it over in his mind as he arrived in Zandvoort. It wasn't his favourite race, the win there last year and his decision to throw out a 'simply lovely' in the heat of the moment after the race had been the beginning of a level of hatred on the internet that had been like nothing he'd ever experienced before. The seemingly innocuous comment that had slipped out of his mouth in the heat of the moment being taken as something it wasn't.

He'd had to delete all his social media off his phone for weeks after that race. The comments and posts were so vile that he hadn't been able to bring himself to even pretend he wasn't bothered. He'd gone back home to his parents to spend some time with them in the hope that might offer a distraction, anything to stop him from thinking about what people were saying.

As he walked back into the paddock in Zandvoort, a year later, the same uneasy feeling settled over him. It was Max's home race, of course everyone was rooting for him to win. It made sense that if hadn't been popular with the home crowd that Lando had won, it made sense that they'd started booing him as he went past on the track this year.

It all made sense, and yet he couldn't quell the horrible feeling of anxiety that came with it.

The pressure was on for this weekend. He had the lead in the championship but a reasonable, but not comfortable, margin. It was effectively his to lose now, and that was a terrifying prospect. Then there was the pressure of returning to a track that he'd absolutely dominated at the previous year, winning by a huge margin, and people were going to expect the same this year. He could hear them now if he didn't win, saying that last year had just been a fluke- luck not talent they'd say.

He'd worked himself up into such a frenzy about it that he was pacing up and down in his drivers room ahead of his media commitments, unable to sit still with all the nervous energy coursing through his body. If he had time he probably would've gone for a run around the track, he needed some kind of distraction and way to clear his head.

The interviews went along the lines he was expecting, and he repeated the answers that he'd become very well rehearsed in giving when it came to the inevitable questions about the championship and his rivalry with Max. They were the diplomatic answers that had been very carefully though out by the McLaren PR team, the ones that had been recycled so often by this point he knew them by heart. He wasn't even sure why journalists kept asking the question really. Had they not figured out that they only ever got the same answer from him?

He'd muddled his way through, tripping over his words a few times when someone had asked him a slightly more unexpected question, but he'd recovered quickly enough that hopefully no one would think anything of it. Certainly no one from the team had said anything. Then before he knew it, the day was over and he was in the car on the way back to the hotel, ready to spend another night alone with his thoughts and absolutely no distractions.

Lottie meanwhile, had been watching the tv coverage as she always did. While no one at the track may have picked up on his rather erratic mood, she spotted within the first two minutes of the interview she was watching that something was wrong. That frown line on his forehead was back, the way he was fidgeting around in front of the camera completely unable to stand still, the way his fingers kept finding their way to his neck to fiddle with his necklace and the way he kept adjusting his cap on his head every time he spoke... it was nothing like the calm and collected interviews she'd watched him give as of late. She just couldn't put her finger on why.

She'd dialled his number before her brain really had the chance to catch up with her actions, and in the split second of indecision that she'd had about whether or not she should quickly hang up he'd then answered and taken away her opportunity to back out. She wasn't sure if their new found agreement to be friends really extended to her calling him up like this to check in on him, but she supposed she was about to find out.

"Lottie?" He sounded puzzled as he answered. "What are you doing? Is everything okay? Are you okay?"

"I was actually calling to ask you that." She told him sheepishly. "Sorry, I shouldn't have called. I don't know what I was thinking really, I just..."

"You just what?" He asked.

"I was just watching your interview on tv and you looked like you could use someone to talk to." She said softly. "Are you okay?"

"Was the interview that bad?" He groaned. "No one here said anything."

"No, it wasn't." Lottie reassured him. "But I know you well enough to know when something is wrong, so tell me."

"It'll be okay, I'm just a bit nervous. It's Max's home crowd, they're never that pleased when someone else does well... I think I just feel a bit funny after all that last year." He mumbled. "It'll be fine, I'll be fine."

"I think the first step would be for you to stop pacing up and down the hotel room." She suggested.

He stopped mid step, looking around in confusion. "How did you..."

"I can't see you." She laughed, because she could just picture the confused look on his face as he tried to work out how she knew. "But I know you well enough to know exactly what you do when you're stressed. I'm not wrong, am I?"

"No." He admitted. "You're not."

"So, stop pacing. Go and take a nice warm shower, order yourself some dinner. Play something online with Max for a bit and then get some sleep. You'll be absolutely fine tomorrow, I know you will. I'll be cheering for you, even if some of the crowd aren't."

"Thank you." He whispered. "I've really missed your pep talks. I wish you were here. It was all so much better when you were here."

"Lando." She sighed into the phone. "Come on, let's not do this again. Especially not when you've got a race to think about."

"I know, I know." He agreed unhappily. "I just miss you. Being friends is great, but it at the same time it's really, really shit."

"I'm sorry Lando. It's the best I can do at the moment." She told him quietly. "I miss you too, but I need to do what's right for me. I'm always here though, if you need me. You can call me and I'll talk some sense into you any time."

"Maybe you could come to Abu Dhabi with Flo?" He suggested. "It'll be the end of the season. You can talk some sense into me in person then."

"You'll be world champion by then, you won't need me to talk some sense into you." She reassured him.

"Please?" He asked again. "It would be so good to have you there." Abu Dhabi was an age away, but it would give him something to look forward to at least.

"Let's see how things go." Lottie suggests, not wanting to commit but also not wanting to upset him by saying no. "I've got to go now, but you'll be fine tomorrow. I promise. Good luck, Lando."

She'd been right of course, she always was. She'd watched on with fond smile at the tv screen as he'd come home to win the race on Sunday. Not quite by the same landslide margin that he had done the year before, but a win was a win worthless. She quickly fired off a message to him to congratulate him and tell him to enjoy the celebrations.

She stared at the tv screen with a wistful smile as she watched him take to the podium, the proud look on his face as the anthem was played. She tried again to remind herself that she was doing the right thing, for both of them, but as she watched on all she could really think about was how much she wished she was there with him.

The problem was, it came and went in waves. One minute she was convincing herself that she was wrong, that she was denying herself a chance at happiness with someone she really, truly loved because she'd let the opinion of a load of strangers on the internet get in her head. The next minute though she would remember how it had made her feel watching her life and appearance get torn to shreds on the internet for other people's entertainment. She would remember what it felt like to not be able to walk down the street without having a dozen cameras pointed at her, the suffocating feeling of not ever being able to go anywhere and just relax.

It was a coin toss- the two things she so desperately wanted seemingly impossible to have at the same time. She could be with the man that she loved, or she could have her privacy and live her life away from the media to  keep her sanity in tact. The two seemed to be mutually exclusive, no matter how hard she had tried to look for a middle ground. So no, as much as she wanted to be there and be the one that he came running to when he got off that podium and was ready to celebrate, she couldn't be that person for him, as much as she wished that she was.

[thepeacefulgarden]

In fact, it's necessary. If you need a break, take one. No guilt, and no ruminating over what you still need to do, or what you or others think you "should be" doing.

[thevirgodoll]

start a new day remembering to persist. in all things regarding the self. everyday we must make a conscious choice to persist… even when it feels unbearably pointless. the reward of showing yourself a kindness that life has not shown you is enough. the darkness may return but light always persists. morning always comes