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cryptidghostgirl · 9 months ago

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Humanity’s Most Favored Fantasy (Alastor x Reader)

Paring: Alastor x Reader

Description: It wasn't love. Alastor didn't feel love, not anymore. He'd lost that part of himself the day he died so it couldn't be love, could it?

Warnings: Look, I'm writing and it's not for a request. Angst. It's always angst. I just love Alastor's inhumanity, what can I say? This bitch is in denial. Also, bodies, blood, death, no gore but like, eh. Also Adam is in this one and he's his own warning. Loose Mistki quoting at one part. Also a loose Sappho quote “pale as grass” and self harm.

Word Count: 2,420

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A/N My classics major side came out a little bit in this one lol. Also I have a big classics major side fic in the wings so if you guys like this, just wait. Also Sir Pentious is from the 1800s so he for sure had a classical education. Also the title came from an article I was reading about the history of witchcraft for one of my classes.

The most complex and yet the most simple of the human emotions. Feared by some, wielded by others, out of reach for many, perennial for more still, and taken as easily as a breath of air by a solemn few. What a strange thing, love.

It was this last category that bewitched Alastor. Even when he had been alive, he had never understood the people like that, the ones who took heartbreak in stride, the ones who shared any love they had the minute they felt it with everyone and everything. The ones who weren't paralyzed by potential loss or violent embarrassment.

The people who feared love made sense. It had a vast capacity for harm, it was able to destroy without a second thought. Even when it was good, love could be devastating. Those who wielded it as their weapon of choice nearly fell into a subcategory of this group. They used other people's fear of the matter against them or they lured people in to get what they wanted and threw them to the curb without a second glance.

Everyone on earth, living or dead, had felt at least once that love was out of their reach, Alastor reasoned. Hopelessness is one of the most vital parts of the human condition, after all.

Perennial was the category in which most people fell. Love came and went. It lived and died, but always returned like the plants he had named this grouping for.

Then there were people like Y/n. Not a day went by where she wasn't explaining how much she adored something random or telling people she loved them, throwing the word around as if it had no weight, as if it was the easiest thing in the world to love, to share love. When Angel had made some snide remark about everything being her alleged 'favorite thing,' Y/n had quickly replied, saying:

"Aren't I lucky for that? Isn't that just wonderful?"

Alastor couldn't tell in which category he fell or what his opinion was about that answer of hers. One thing he did know was that Y/n was to be avoided at all costs.

She was the typical sinner. Never too bad of a person when alive, but never too good either. She wore her hedonism like a badge of honor, living her afterlife in much the same way Alastor assumed she had lived her living life: in a constant state of indulgence.

It wasn't the typical form of being that takes a person's mind when they think of the word. No, Y/n didn't indulge in a reckless, Dionysian way. Instead, she devoured everything. Books, good food, music, friends, you name it. Y/n had a million stories about each and a million examples of the best they all had to offer on hand. She relished in all that every word had to offer.

Alastor had overheard her talking to Charlie one night about that. He hadn't meant to, he had just been wandering the hotel, unable to sleep and in need of some air, when he'd heard a slight commotion in the lobby. Hidden by his shadows, he had entered the familiar space to find an exhausted Charlie standing tensely before a bulletin board.

"God is in the details." Y/n was saying as she adjusted the plans pinned on the structure so they were easier to read, more cohesive, "Anything can be a work of art, don't forget that. It's what makes everything so undeniably worth it."

She was so utterly out of his reach. Not that Alastor wanted Y/n in his reach, no. How ridiculous would that be: the Radio Demon, the most feared overlord in all of Hell, getting butterflies because he heard a girl tell someone else she loved them and imagined it was him. No, that would be utterly foolish which was why it wasn't the case, couldn't be the case. He must be getting sick, that was why his stomach had felt weird.

"What are you reading?" he heard Sir Pentious ask as the snake demon took a seat on the couch beside Y/n.

Alastor was at the bar, sharing a drink with Husk. His ear twitched in their direction.

"It's a book discussing the changes in interpretations of Sappho's poetry over time." Y/n replied, her tone soft and even.

It felt like a salve against Alastor's ears. Husk raised an eyebrow towards his master but made no remark.

"Really? I didn't know you were interested in that sort of thing."

"I was actually a professor in the human world... living world? Whatever. I didn't work on Sappho, I worked on ancient medicine, but I always found her intriguing and lovely. I mean, phainetai moi is creating a diagnosed love, using all the language of medicine. How could it not capture my attention?"

"You know, if you look at Homer, the same language Sappho uses is also used to describe love. She is actually working off a preexisting cannon of love as something painful and destroying."

"Really?"

"Yes, and curse tablets tend to draw off medical writings quite a bit as well, especially those involved in love magic."

"Huh, that’s a neat little intersection I have yet to explore: medicine, magic, and love. I never knew you knew so much about this. You died in the 1890s, right?"

"Sometime around then."

"I should have guessed then, my mistake. Tell me, what was it like growing up with all this wonder at your finger tips? It was hard for me to even find a university with a classics department, let alone a good one. You’re lucky to have had it all right there."

Now that was an interesting idea to Alastor. A diagnosable love, a painful and deadly thing. Love as a curse, love as being shot through by an enemy spear, love as a god. It made more sense to him than anything else about the matter had. Unavoidable, not something self imposed. A cursed love, a medical love, something that controlled a person rather than vice versa.

He lay awake at night, unable to speak, pale as grass, thinking unwillingly of the way her lips curved to form words, of the way one could see the gears of her mind turning behind her eyes. He lay awake, unable to do anything else. He stared at the ceiling.

"Ah! Angel! Thank you!" Y/n exclaimed as he handed her the sweater he'd spotted her eyeing a few days before when they'd been for a walk around town, "This was so kind of you!"

Alastor watched as Y/n pulled the lanky demon into a hug which he reluctantly returned, looking down at her with a platonic version of the sort of fondness that was so forbidden to him.

"Great work Angel!" Charlie clapped excitedly, "That's a step in the right direction."

No, it wasn't love. Alastor Hartifelt didn't love, he had lost that ability the day he had died and he'd barely had it before that. It didn't matter that his heart skipped a beat, there was no truth to his upset stomach when he had to speak to her except something bad he must have eaten. The sleeplessness wasn't new, sleep had never been his friend so to speak, the two had never really gotten along. The reason it got so stuck in his head, the way she threw her affection around, was the carelessness of it all, the foolishness. Only, what he had overheard her saying to Charlie that night, that anything can be a work of art, were the words of someone who acted purely on intention, who did nothing without considered thought.

Y/n couldn't be a wielder of love. Alastor never once saw her manipulate someone or even really ask anyone for anything at all. There was no way she was scared and the way she freely gave took her out of the other two categories as well. It didn't make sense. The intention, the earnestness, the true meaning behind her actions and words that always seemed to shine through no matter what she did, was what had him stuck. She barley even fit into her own category because of it. Most people that threw love around the way she did had the words and actions lose their meaning over time but, somehow, that seemed never to be the case for her.

He pictured a life on earth. He pictured walking with her beneath the stars, the way the light of the moon would play gently across her skin. He pictured her in the recording studio, the one he'd worked at while alive, waiting by the door for him to finish his work and taking him by the hand, dragging him off into the unknown. He pictured waking up beside her in the morning, all messy hair and smiles. He pictured, he dreamed, he dissolved. The doctors diagnosed him and he went to see other people because he didn't like the answer they gave him.

Y/n pulled Vaggie from her seat at the bar, spinning the demon into an ungraceful waltz to the music Alastor was playing on the piano for the group. He nearly fumbled, nearly missed a note. She missed so many steps and it didn't matter because she was laughing, and so was Vaggie. She didn't have to be perfect, but he did.

They each smiled ear to ear while Charlie clapped along to the beat. He imagined himself in Vaggie's place, he could practically feel his hands on the gentle curve of her hips. The world was half real.

It wasn't love because he didn't know her, he never spoke to her. It wasn't love because that was impossible, he couldn't love. It wasn't love because that was an ability he'd left in the world of the living. It wasn't love because she was too kind, too good, and he was nothing if not brutal and bloodstained to his core. It wasn't love because it couldn't be. It wasn't love because if it was...

It's not love. It's not love. It's not love.

He repeated the mantra to himself. Alone walking the halls, in meetings with the other overlords, making tea in the kitchen. He whispered the words to himself like a prayer.

It's not love. It's not love. It's not love.

Y/n was out of reach, untouchable, destined to join the ranks of Heaven while he remained rotting in Hell. It couldn't be anything else, no other future was possible which was why it wasn't love. She was made of all the things a human is and he was made of those a monster is. She was bright, she shined, and Alastor fed off the light of others, burning it out into darkness. He refused to do such a thing to her, he couldn't. Not when she was practically the sun. Not when he wasn't even a star but the black hole of the earth revolving around her.

He saw her holding Husk's hands over the bar top as he told her something, a look of deep concern etched into her features. He watched her pick Nifty up by the waist so the little demon could dust the tops of the bookshelves. He watched her, he waited, he would always be waiting because nothing could ever happen. Nothing would ever happen, he wouldn't allow it and goddamnit it wasn’t love.

It was also impossible, Alastor reminded himself. He had left that part of himself when he had died, it hadn't made the journey with him. The most favored fantasy of his own humanity, or what was left of it. The little spark of the person he had been that glowed softly from the center of his chest. Alastor had tried to douse it, tried to kill it, tried to rip it from himself but all he'd ever ended up with was bloody hands and torn flesh and the light pulsed on in its eternal hunger, its eternal hope, its eternal harm.

And then it was too late. Then, she really was gone, double dead or however anyone wanted to call it. Adam dropped her lifeless corpse to the ground and Alastor's world crashed in around him because no matter how many times he had said it wasn't, no matter how he had avoided her, no matter what he had done it had been love, or the beginnings of it at least. The closest thing to it he'd ever really felt. His hand tightened around the staff of his microphone. Alastor bared his teeth, he saw red.

"What have you done?"

Adam turned to him, grinning. Y/n deserved a viking funeral, to be surrounded by flowers and sent off in a burning boat. She deserved a Greek burial, reduced to ashes and buried with all the proper rites that made sure she would make it to the afterlife. She deserved, she was owed, he was angry.

"What." Adam laughed, "Was she your little bitch?"

Alastor didn't think he had any room left inside him for the fury, but found his rage redoubled at Adam's words.

"What did you just call her?"

"Your little bitch." Adam smirked, "She was a cute one, shame you all are gonna have to burn. Woulda kept her for myself."

Adam looked down, nudging Y/n's lifeless corpse with the toe of his shoe. Alastor attacked. There was no thought, no order, no grace, there was only the anger. Only now that it was too late, was he at last able to let loose, be less than perfect, exist in an unintentional manner. Or was it that this was the true meaning of intention -- reckless abandon? Y/n probably would have thought that. It didn't matter. It didn't matter what she would have thought, what any of them did think. It was too late. There was no more time and Alastor had come to terms with his own frailty a second past the buzzer. He would never forgive himself.

"You will pay for what you have done. You will die for what you have done."

Because it had been love, all along and Alastor, who had thought himself above it all, had been in that first group. He had been scared, not of what love could do but of what Y/n would, of what she had already done to him. Now it was too late and he would never get another chance.

"You will fucking die!"

----

Part Two --> → Humanity's Most Favored Fantasy pt. 2

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howlsofbloodhounds · 1 month ago

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I saw somewhere (here on Tumblr but I don't remember from who) that the creator of Dreamtale apparently wanted Driller to become canon at some point. And, I gotta say, I don't think that relationship would be healthy for Killer.

Here's my thing, Dream is very focused on helping his brother and getting his brother back. And Killer is a paranoid fucker who for very good reason thinks everyone is out to use him.

How would Dream ever be able to convince Killer that he isn't using him to get closer to Nightmare? How would he ever convince him that his kindness and affection don't have ulterior motives?

With Color it's a lot easier because Color isn't really affiliated with Nightmare in any way. Like, I don't think he'd leave him to die if he found him injured somewhere, but I also don't think he'd be going out of his way to try and help him. And definitely not as publicly as Dream does.

Like, how could Killer ever truly feel safe in that relationship? And that's without considering the fact that power corrupted Nightmare, but he started as Dream's twin. Meaning that Dream theoretically has just as much capacity to become corrupted as Nightmare did. And he's powerful (of course, Color himself isn't weak, but, again, his powers are further removed from Nightmare's), would Killer wanna risk ending up trapped simply under a different apple twin? I mean, maybe, he doesn't exactly have that many self preservation instincts. But would he be truly happy with that choice?

I also don’t think it’d help Dream either. Dream is constantly on the move, keeping ahead of Nightmare, trying to keep that last golden apple safe. He cannot provide the stability Killer needs because everyone else is always pulling him in different directions and his duty as the Guardian of Positivity would understandably be placed above Killer. It is important.

Color isn’t exactly known for staying in one spot either, but he is consistent and committed to Killer in a way Dream simply cannot afford to do. Not at the cost of everyone else, Dream has a lot of responsibility, or at least he may feel he does. I wouldn’t doubt he struggles to maintain a “work” and personal life balance, whereas Color does not have this type of responsibility to the Multiverse.

The only responsibility Color has to anyone or anything except Killer is the six human souls. Aka six dead children he has absorbed and will spend the rest of his life taking care of, alongside Killer. This will be a terribly exhausting thing and huge responsibility, and Color understands that, but he’s willing and able to take the commitment. And he has friends to support and help him.

Would Dream be able to handle it or understand when Killer is cued or triggered? Would he be able to understand when he refuses to eat, or manipulates, or acts out, when killer tests and pokes and prods at him. Would he be able to understand willing vs conditioned submission, would he be able to understand dissociation and fawn responses.

Would he rely on his empathy abilities far too much when doing so won’t get him nowhere with Stage 2, and could potentially have effects on Nightmare’s own emotional conditioning of Killer.

Would he be able to understand how killer can be a threat to himself or others—his desensitization and comfort with violence and self mutilatation. Whenever Chara starts whispering and Killer starts feeling watched, judged.

A sense of impending doom if he doesn’t do what Chara wants. A sense that it’ll all be Reset if he doesn’t keep up the Deal, and none of this will matter in the end.

Would he be able to understand the pure intensely of Stage 1’s emotions—which could lead to self destructive breakdowns when he feels like he doesn’t deserve kindness or happiness or safety or even the right to exist.

Stage 4’s inclination towards self destruction at any sign or fear of being restricted from fulfilling the Deal, any sign of failure—which while inevitably happen because Dream cannot allow Killer to go around killing people.

Would Dream be able to understand why Stage 4 will feel it has to—wants to—die if it can’t kill people or destroy worlds—because that wouldn’t make sense to anyone, but that’s what it looks like from the outside.

Stage 4 wouldn’t explain what’s going on internally—it would think Dream should already understand if he’s a handler, or that it is unimportant that he understands if hes not a handler—so long as it’s done.

Would Dream be able to accept Killer as he is without feeling the need to look for something “good” in him all the time. He’s afraid of Killer when he’s in Stage 2—even him going to touch him caused Dream to get scared.

Killer has hurt Dream before, and doesn’t feel remorse and I’m sure Dream can sense that—but he keeps looking for something “positive” and “good” in Killer.

Color doesn’t really care if Killer is good or not, he doesn’t need him to be—and he didn’t need to sense any positive emotion from Killer to tell he needed help or is capable of change or is secretly a “good person” deep down.

Killer asked for help, he asked to be saved, and so Color is helping and saving. He expressed a desire for change, a want to get and be better—but more importantly, that he wanted out.

And of course, Killer will think Dream is trying to use him to get to Nightmare. Stage 2 always does think of himself as something for others to use—a tool, a weapon, a resource.

But whereas Color can easily argue back that he really doesn’t gain any benefit from helping Killer besides a friend and a feeling of happiness/purpose, Dream will always have a benefit from trying to save Killer.

Save Nightmare, find out more about Nightmare, use Killer against Nightmare, take Killer off the field and away from Nightmare’s grasp so he cant be used as a weapon against the Multiverse. These are all noble goals that anyone would understandably have, but to Killer—it’s still using him.

Color is in position to uniquely challenge Killer’s worldview and the time and resources needed to dedicate to him. Dream has a lot more going on, a war to win. A brother to save. People to protect. The poor man will be running himself into the ground taking on more than he can handle.

{ @stellocchia }

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cosmicjoke · 7 months ago

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Yashiro never owed it to Doumeki to Stay

I know I'm probably gonna' draw the ire of a lot of people by making this post, but fuck it. I'm too exhausted at some of the same, ridiculous rhetoric I see in this fandom, over and over, again and again, and I think it needs to be addressed.

A big part of my problem with the way people talk about what happened between Yashiro and Doumeki pre-time skip, and in particular, the harsh criticism I see lobbed at Yashiro specifically for what happened is that, underlying it, is this presumption that Yashiro ever owed Doumeki anything. The way Yashiro's rejection of Doumeki so often gets framed makes it seem as if Yashiro somehow owed himself to Doumeki, body and soul, and how dare he push Doumeki away. How dare he refuse his advances. As if Yashiro was some sort of possession that Doumeki alone had a claim to.

Because, see, no, Yashiro isn't an object to be attained. He isn't, to quote Jasmine from "Aladdin", a prize to be won. He's a human being, and his previous relationship with Doumeki was that of employer and employee. Yashiro never promised himself to Doumeki. He never made any sort of vow of faithfulness or assurances to him that he alone would be his only partner. He never even hinted at or implied that he wanted to be with Doumeki in any sort of romantic capacity.

And yet, we see so many people raging against Yashiro for rejecting Doumeki's advances, straight up accusing Yashiro of causing Doumeki "trauma" by pushing him away, as if Yashiro was somehow obligated to accept and receive those advances for the sake of Doumeki's own, mental health.

What the hell is Yashiro to these people, I wonder. Do they view him as the catalyst for Doumeki's journey toward mental health? Is he meant only to serve Doumeki in his journey toward self-discovery and self-affirmation?

The reasons for why Yashiro pushed Doumeki away rarely, if ever, get discussed. All we hear about is how Yashiro hurt Doumeki, and how he's now supposed to make it up to him by being magically cured of all his own mental illnesses and embrace Doumeki's sudden reappearance in his life with open arms, confessing his unwavering love and faithfulness to Doumeki alone.

Again, no. Yashiro never owed anything to Doumeki. He didn't owe him a relationship. He didn't owe him his faithfulness. He didn't owe him an acceptance of his advances.

Yashiro pushed Doumeki away because he was trying to protect both of them. He resorted to more and more extreme tactics as the story went on because Doumeki wouldn't stop pursuing him. Doumeki wouldn't take no for an answer, and that made Yashiro more and more desperate. That doesn't make the way Yashiro treated Doumeki right, but it also is important to understanding why Yashiro acted as he did. It wasn't out of malice. It wasn't out of an intent to harm Doumeki. It was out of fear for Doumeki's safety and out of an attempt to protect himself. Yashrio felt threatened by Doumeki's pursuit of him. Not physically, but from an emotional and mental standpoint. Doumeki's presence in his life at that particular time, and his particular way of treating Yashiro, caused Yashiro immense mental and emotional anguish and also undermined his very sense of self-identity. It was devastating to him. He told Doumeki no, and Doumeki didn't listen.

I don't think people want to acknowledge this reality, or take into account that it was wrong of Doumeki to keep pursuing Yashiro when Yashiro told him he didn't want him to. He had no claim on Yashiro. He had no right to intrude on his life without being invited in. Yashiro didn't owe himself to Doumeki in any way, even as a means of healing Doumeki's negative self-image.

And so you see, the way it still gets talked about post-time skip, as if Doumeki's cold-facade is entirely Yashiro's fault and, thus, the onus is on Yashiro to assuage Doumeki's fears of him running away again by confessing his feelings, continues to make the presumption that Yashiro ever owed it to Doumeki to stay in the first place.

He didn't.

I understand Doumeki's fear. I understand why he continues to act indifferent to Yashiro. I understand he's attempting to prevent Yashiro from running away again because he wants to be in a relationship with him. The problem with all of this is, Yashiro staying or leaving is entirely up to Yashiro himself. It's his body, and his life, and whether he wants to stay with Doumeki or not isn't up to Doumeki at all. And so Doumeki attempting to manipulate him into staying isn't the right way to approach the situation. It isn't right to try and trick Yashiro into staying with him.

Obviously, Yashiro wants to be with Doumeki. Obviously he's in love with him. But what I think a lot of people don't want to accept, or admit is that, ultimately, the choice needs to be Yashiro's alone, without any sort of manipulative tactic from Doumeki calculated to keep Yashiro at his side. Yashiro staying at Doumeki's side needs to be consensual on Yashiro's part, and right now, it's not. Right now, Doumeki is lying to Yashiro to keep him frozen in place, because Doumeki wants it. Because Doumeki wants Yashiro. Doumeki is going to have to come to understand, at some point, that the choice isn't his to make. It's Yashiro's.

I think, if he does realize that, and accepts it, that Yashiro should be the one who gets to decide whether he stays or leaves, he can then let go of his fear of Yashiro running away. And if he can let that fear go, then he can start being honest with Yashiro again. And I think Doumeki will be pleasantly surprised at the results if he does. Because Yashiro very obviously DOES want to stay with him. But he needs to be allowed by Doumeki to choose that for himself.

#saezuru tori wa habatakanai #twittering birds never fly #Yashiro #Doumeki #meta #commentary #analysis

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max1461 · 8 months ago

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I think something which is not widely acknowledged in discussions about division of labor in (usually heterosexual) relationships, despite its utter obviousness, is the following: the workload involved in either working a full time job or taking care of housework is alone already grueling in and of itself to many people; many people find it barely manageable. If someone does not want to help with the housework after coming home from their job, or conversely does not want to pitch in to help with the couple's joint income because they are already doing all the housework, this is not necessarily any kind of expression of entitlement. It is I suspect very often an expression of exhaustion, emotional or physical. It is not necessarily that such people would do these things themselves if they lived alone, and thus are merely being opportunistic in expecting their partner to do them—for many people, if they lived alone, they would simply not be able to bring themselves to do these things at all, and thus would either live in filth or in poverty/dependence on others, because humans are finite being of limited capacity.

This is a particular bugbear for me because during the pandemic, for reasons that you all already know, I found myself unable to do either. I could not support myself nor could I manage housework, and thus I found myself in the unpleasant and humiliating experience of having to depend wholly on my parents for my living situation and also living in very gross and unpleasant conditions to boot.

So, yes, sometimes, probably oftentimes (especially in light of heterosexual social scripts) someone is just unfairly shunting work onto their partner because they can get away with it. But sometimes I suspect people would like to be able to do more, but even with no other option they could not. Sometimes a single person might "choose" to come back to a dirty house every day because after a day of work and ~3 hours of commute they would rather capture some small portion of their waking life for mental rest instead of spending 100% of it working, and if they get a partner this is not necessarily going to change although it may be viewed differently.

Of course, this person's partner is very possibly (indeed I think probably) in the exact same position, and I think if you really care about someone it is generally desirable to sacrifice some of your rest and peace and to engage in otherwise undesirable toil in order to ease their burden a bit. I think that's admirable. But these situations must be approached with the understanding that both parties may to some degree be struggling to do their best, and not succeeding out of the shear difficulty of the task rather than out of neglectfulness.

Yes, I contend that the mere basics of living are a task of considerable difficulty, however silly this may sound. It is obviously true. Perhaps not for everyone but for very many.

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catkin-morgs-kookaburralover · 10 months ago

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Hey. To the thought of suicide being 'inevitable', I'd like to share my story to show why I can disagree...if I may.

So my mother, she hurt my father. Abused him. Hit him. Manipulated him. Badly. Stalked him. Then she took her own life. As a result, mentioning her in our household was all but forbidden because it reminds my father of her. He'd NEVER talk about her. He'd tense up and become curt when I tried to mention her. And he broke contact with all her family. This happened before I was able to remember anything. So all my life, I felt doomed to repeat what she did. Because if you're not allowed to remind your father of your own mother, else risking anger, punishment and exclusion, that's pretty hard to do when you're her spitting image. So I wasn't allowed to exist. Not move, not speak, not be. Because I am like her. I look like her, speak like her, move like her. Maybe I even like stuff that she liked. So basically my life became about avoiding triggering my father. How can I do that best? By believing that I shouldn't exist. Because my whole DNA seems evil. Remember, he removed her entire family tree from his life, which is not far from effectively "killing" them. So I grew up thinking that my Mom deserved to be dead, because she was Bad™ to her core, and because I love my father and my father is a good man and I believe his pain to be true. And so I thought that I deserved to be dead too, because all I could ever do was hurt my father just as she has done. Until I took action and found that family of hers.

I found wonderful women who look like my mother, who look like me, and they are GOOD. They have problems too, yes, but they are kind and they are HUMAN. And they made it in life. They did not die because there was no other way. They lived. They still live. And for the first time in my entire life I understood that my mother made a choice. For herself. That she HAD a choice, and that I have the power to choose differently. I found women on different paths of life, and I discovered that I have the capacity for good. If anything, I'm allowed.

It's my father who never moved on. It's my father who is triggered. It's my father who avoids facing up to his past and to feel through the pain and the emotions of what my mother did to him. It's not my problem. It's not me. It's not my fault. It's him, never having dealt with an old and terrible wound. That doesn't make his own pain less true. But he made it about me, as if I was the problem. He cannot stand the sight of me.

And so... I don't know your story, but I know that every family entertains a certain solid narrative that frames their entire history and reinforces their current behavior. And it will continue to do so until it is challenged. So I will go out on a limb here and dare assume that you can't stop self-harming because you are punishing yourself and that deep down, you somehow believe that it is right for you to deserve it. You deserve to die because it's tied to your identity, to who you are, and not to a specific behavior of yours. You cannot help being you, so it's a fault to be as you are.

Because someone else saw or sees it as a fault, and they have influence and authority over your life, likely because they're family (NEVER underestimate blood, but I don't have to tell YOU that), and they have - whether they intended to or not - let you know this all your life. If it's tied to being autistic, you may have been told you're "too much". You're "a freak" (for me it was "drama queen" for wanting to express myself). You're "exhausting", "why can't you be normal". Your poor Mom can't handle you, or whatever (take this with a grain of salt, only you know what it is). Why are you being such a burden.

Darling, pursue self-respect. You do not have to suck up to anyone's trouble with who you are as a person. That's on them, not you.

Don't let them take you. Don't let society, or your surroundings, dictate your permission to exist. You have permission to be. You are loved, and wanted, and known by the Most High.

And I believe that people love you too. But I get that it's hard when you aren't akin to their standards. You are allowed though. It's not your fault. I'm glad if the autism diagnosis helps to set a frame for other people and yourself to understand you better. Congratulations.

Wishing you peace.

;-; thankyou

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girltalkcollectives · 20 days ago

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🦋 Learning to say NO: how I finally stopped being everyone's emotional support human (and you can too) 🦋

Ladies, we need to talk about something that's been weighing on my heart lately. You know that feeling when your phone lights up with yet another friend drama, and your stomach immediately ties itself into knots? When you find yourself giving advice at 2 AM while your own life is falling apart? When you're everyone's shoulder to cry on, but somehow can't find a shoulder for yourself?

Yeah. That was me. The designated therapist friend. The one who dropped everything to be there for others. The one who felt guilty for even thinking about saying "no."

But here's the thing: being everyone's emotional support person was slowly drowning me. And I bet some of you know exactly what I'm talking about.

So today, I want to share my journey of learning to set boundaries without feeling like I'm somehow betraying the entire universe. (Spoiler alert: the universe is doing just fine!)

The Breaking Point

It hit me during a particularly chaotic week. I was juggling three different friend crises, trying to meet a school deadline, and hadn't done laundry in… well, let's not talk about that. I was exhausted, overwhelmed, and honestly? Pretty resentful.

That's when I realized: by trying to be there for everyone, I wasn't really there for anyone – especially not myself.

The Uncomfortable Truth

Here's what I've learned: Setting boundaries isn't selfish – it's necessary. It's not about building walls; it's about creating healthy doors that you can open and close as needed.

Some hard truths I had to accept:

Other people's emergencies are not automatically my emergencies

Saying "no" doesn't make me a bad friend

I can care about someone without sacrificing my own wellbeing

People who truly love me will respect my boundaries

The Baby Steps

Starting small was key. Here's how I began:

I stopped responding to non-emergency texts immediately

I learned to say "I can't talk right now, but can we catch up tomorrow?"

I started being honest about my capacity: "I love you, but I'm not in a headspace to give advice right now"

I designated specific times for deep conversations instead of being available 24/7

The Surprising Results

You know what happened? The world didn't end. In fact:

My real friends totally got it and started respecting my time more

I had energy to actually help when it really mattered

My anxiety decreased significantly

I started sleeping better (who knew setting boundaries could be better than melatonin?)

I finally had time to work on my own growth

The Plot Twist

Here's the beautiful irony: by setting boundaries, I've actually become a better friend. I'm more present when I am available. I give better advice because I'm not emotionally exhausted. And most importantly? I'm modeling healthy behavior for the women in my life.

The Ongoing Journey

Look, I'm not perfect at this yet. Sometimes I still slip into old patterns. Sometimes guilt still creeps in. But I'm learning that it's okay to be a work in progress.

To all my fellow recovering people-pleasers out there, remember:

Your worth isn't measured by your availability

"No" is a complete sentence

You can't pour from an empty cup

Someone else's lack of planning isn't your emergency

Your mental health matters just as much as everyone else's

Moving Forward

If you're reading this and feeling seen, know that you're not alone. Setting boundaries is hard, especially for us women who've been conditioned to be nurturers and caretakers. But it's also one of the most powerful forms of self-love.

Start small. Be gentle with yourself. And remember that you deserve the same care and consideration that you so freely give to others.

Link to our website: https://girltalkcollectives.com/

#self care #boundaries #mental health #personal growth #girl talk #women supporting women #emotional labor #self love #relationship #relationships #personal development #truth bombs #healing journey #life lessons #empowerment #authentic living #real talk #mental wellness #growth mindset

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kabillieu · 2 months ago

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Parenting lately

Sometimes my big kid says things that are so wise. I don't want to give examples here because it's stuff that just too intimate for this space (believe it or not, I do keep some things to myself), but it shows his capacity for self-reflection and a keen understanding of human emotions. This, from the same kid who struggles with basic precepts of accepted social behavior, like don't just yell at people all the time.

I feel weird about saying this for all sorts of reasons, number one being that every toddler seems smart as they "wake up" and start becoming an actual person, but my toddler seems really, really smart. He remembers things that I would not expect a toddler to remember. Three months ago, my mom showed him some frogs in a storage container in our backyard, and he still points to that storage container and says frogs. He figured out how to use our Alexa to listen to "Baby Shark" (Awexa, pay baby shardt). He can remember names and faces of people he rarely sees. He knows so many words and can use them correctly in sentences now. I feel like I'm having actual conversations with him??? When he doesn't want something he says, "No thank you, Mama." He's two! A young two.

Anyway, I have been finding being a parent to be very difficult lately, and I've been feeling sorry for myself, but my kids are pretty wonderful. It's just that every single day from 2:30pm to about 8:30pm, I'm basically working nonstop to communicate with teachers / help with homework / help emotionally unregulated people regulate their emotions / make dinner / do bedtime routines. It's nonstop and exhausting!!!

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joy-haver · 4 months ago

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Honestly, being outside helps with my pain. Not always. But often. The stimulation of it. The feeling of interconnectedness. The understanding of the evolutionary mechanisms that led to this. The sense of a greater purpose. And, also, finding a nice tree or rock thats shaped in the perfect way for me to stretch upon. And there is movement.

I’ve had many days where I was so stuck in bed, hurting, weak, fatigued; spending hours to build up the strength to get outside.

Other things that help with pain are touch, support, substance, and community.

Physical touch does so much for relief. It tells your nerves “I am here. We are here. We are trying”. And the sufferer wants most to know they are not condemned, that an effort is being taken, even in futility. Love is the action of caretaking.

Support, physical, and emotional, is also very assistive. A brace or a crutch or a nice word. Giving the body strength it does not have, so it can rest, so it can build strength. Gloves and a hand up and beauty.

Substances help. Many creams, powders and ointments, chemically reacting with the body in different ways. Treating the problem or treating the pain. Protein and fiber and vitamins and drinking. None are without side effects, and there is a constant management. But sometimes it is better to feel nothing than to feel constant pain. It is no wonder we self medicate.

Community provides much assistance. The daily work of living takes on its exhaustion. The dishes, eating, processing your emotions. Community can help address this. And like nature, they provide beloved alternate sensations.

The thing to understand is pain is the psychological response to bodily damage. It is a way of the less conscious parts of us to beg, to plead, to say “I am hurting…please help me….please save me.” They keep begging, regardless of your capacity for their salvation.

Replacing their sensation of suffering with joyous stimulation is a good way to strive for other feelings. They may be temporary. They may lead to Injuries. But that is part of management.

Pain is also the immediate physical reaction to injury. Your body’s sensor for damage. Your nerves become overwhelmed, so they cannot continue to do what is injurious. This has its practicality, in the animal of your body.

This is something to learn from. Not to obey its demand for inaction; but to learn to work with it. Feeling what hurts more, what is more damaging, and then doing your best to avoid it. To build safer pathways of movement

I’ve had to learn to walk with very specific motions of the legs and hips. And i relearn how to hold everything every few months so I can do it safely. I do this in concert with my pain, in community with it, in relation to it.

Pain is one more aspect of the human experience. Not an enemy. It is uncomfortable, but it is trying to gift us. Pain is trying to save you. It may be failing spectacularly. But coming to converse with it from a place of love, compassion, and understanding will lead to better management.

#text post #pain #eds zebra #heds #chronically ill #chronic pain #nature #community #substance use #touch #rose baker #disabled #disability

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dorminchu · 2 months ago

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the floodgates of her wrath (preview)

A scene from my first attempt at a Dune fic. Based loosely off of the Messiah novel & the Villeneuve films ' continuity.

A silent question lingered in the air between them. Angry and hopeful, then contempt at her own hope for going along with Paul and Irulan's ploy—the boy she felt such affection for no longer existed. The man who went along with the prophecy he didn't believe in, the one who would wield her trust as a weapon, the Water of Life eclipsed Paul Atredies, leaving only this simulacrum. The boy, almost-a-man, who fought alongside her. His betrayal was unforgivable, but the capacity for empathy was worse.

"I am here because I chose to be," said Chani. "I did it for the sake of my people. Not yours."

His mouth curled. She'd seen him smile in public, but it never reached his eyes. Not after his transformation. It was as if he'd forgotten that emotion and its purpose, clinging to muscle memory in the hopes it would supplement the emptiness leftover. "Is that what you told Irulan?"

"She's the one who offered this opportunity to me."

He chuckled, low in his throat. "Of course."

"You've delayed our meeting," she said. Careful to keep any inflection from her voice, but she was less attuned to matters of control than Paul. "Why, now?"

A familiar emotion curdled in the pit of her chest. Laying beside each other in the tent. He'd wake from another dream, comforted in the moment by the grace of their safety, however fleeting. Somewhere in that miasma was an echo of a simpler time. It felt like a lifetime ago, rather than three years.

"I promised her she would never have an heir. Anything else, I would willingly give." His eyes flickered over her body, impartial. "I could bear to hurt you if it would spare your life."

He looked at Chani as he spoke. A silent understanding passed between them.

Before, Chani would have been maligned at the idea. She, the surrogate that Irulan could never be, and to this outlander. But months of playing along in silence had taught her a valuable lesson. The only way to survive was to go along with these outlanders. And Paul was offering to meet her on that level. Whether he had his own plans, or simply was blinded by his own sentiment, she would come to see.

"Why not?"

"There are other outcomes I can strive towards." He wouldn't meet her eyes. "I'd rather protect those who are dear to me."

Chani looked at him. Burdened with knowledge she could never come to grips with, but palpably detect. It ate away at him, putting up a divide between himself and the world he'd inhabited before. She reached out and cupped his face in her hand.

"If we're going to survive," she said, "we need to work as a team. Not apart." His eyes flickered to her face. His exhaustion was palpable, but underneath it lay something else. He raised his hand, overlapping hers. His thumb traced the ridges of her knuckles. "And you need an heir," she said. Paul's eyes became distant. Receding into the annals of his inheritance where he could not be reached. She cupped his face in both hands. "Isn't it so?"

"In the long-term," he said, terse, "it would be prudent."

Chani could play along. "Not Irulan's."

"No, not hers." Paul didn't pull away. His expression changing the longer they looked at one another. A glimpse of humanity the inheritance could not quite stamp out, only dampen. No longer lost in the high of victories against the Harkonnens, he'd returned to what was once-loved. The remnants from their understanding were not as pure in their intention, but had nevertheless endured.

Paul had his own frailties. For the sake of her survival as much as his, Chani must learn to wield them. He pulled away, arm's length, but his touch lingered on her naked forearm.

"I can't ask such a thing of you."

"I'm not asking."

Paul stopped in-place, brow furrowed. He hadn't pulled away. His eyes carried less hesitance than before. In spite of the pit in her chest, Chani held his gaze. As though alloting himself permission, he placed his mouth to her shoulder, inhaled, exhaled. The billow of his breath raised the hairs on her skin before his kiss. She wrapped her arm around his head, to embrace or subsume him, and he pulled her to him as though the years between had never passed.

#dune #paul atreides #chani kynes #paul x chani #wip #fanfiction #fanfic

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atmymercy · 22 days ago

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Hello, hope you're doing well lovely and thank you for another tarot giveaway (again, no pressure into picking me). My question is guess about who? 😆 yeah my specific person aka the only man my soul desires to connect with and I'd like to know more about our connection. This time I won't be on anon 😂

Q: "What is the deepest emotion or feeling that my special/specific person (💙) has towards me?" (I feel like he intuitively knows me better than anyone even if we haven't had a face to face contact yet, but I let you, your/our guides and your cards speak✨)

As for your quest, this may sound corny but the character Goku from Dragon Ball makes me feel inspirational and hopeful. Because he is part of my childhood so is my comfort character and I love it how he always tries to better himself and not undertimate challenges but still being confident in his own capacities. Yes, he fights a lot of enemies but behind that power there's a tender heart, he cares a lot about his family even tho sometimes doesn't seem so lol but is clear he wants to protect them and also about his friends. Also, I love it how in the long run he sees his enemy more as a friend who needs his help even though this friend doesn't want to admit it bec of his big ego but even him deep down cares about his beloveds and he once sacrificed himself for Goku's son and everytime I see this scene I cry like when I was a kid. Goku always lets his ego on the side instead. It's sad how this show is criticized because considered 'violent' but in reality it hides really deep and important messages, very human and spiritual like it was the one who drew the Manga.

Thank you so much, regardless 🙏💙💙 - a.r.

♡ giveaway winner - 2/5 ♡

hello ar! aww! i am doing well, honey! how about you? how are you, honey? i hope well! and aww! you know i never mind getting a question from you about your special person! it's too cute!!!

ooh goku is such a good pick! i can totally understand how you feel! a lot of people want to assume that db/dbz/so on are all about fighting and violence but the true story is about positivity and hope! it's about not backing down to challenges! and making friends with your enemy! omg! yes! goku is such a good role model! i think what i love the most about goku is how he is not afraid to be tender with the ones he loves and fierce in their protection or in the face of adversary! eee! it's so good! i don't know how many times goku has been an inspiration for me! especially with his old voice actor kirby morrow! i hear that voice as goku and i just feel this great sense of hope and faith that i can't even begin to really describe! but i will say i have always looked up to bulma! her brains! her creativity! her tenaciousness! and let's not get into how i ship these two... lolol

for you, i got the world, 10 of swords & the sun.

interesting. right now the strongest and deepest emotions that they have for you are bitterness, exhaustion and ruin. so they are feeling tired and a little run down right now. it's like they keep feeling "like they're losing so much time" when it comes to you, honey! so they're feeling a bit lost without you right now and it's a bit hard on them... but but but! they are also surrounded by your love is the real interesting part here! so it's like they feel tired and listless, yet they know your love is waiting on them and ready to surround them! so it's like a waiting and healing game right now where they are dealing with their annoyances and frustrations while waiting for your love to "come my way" is what i heard. it's really giving that they are trying to finish up the journey they are already on so they don't have to be "miles away, miles away" from you. because it's like they know you are coming for them but until then it feels like "they're dying from the inside out". so their emotions are hard on them right now but they do know the light and your sun is coming for them as well! it's giving the princess up in the tower waiting for her fair knight to come along! lol it's hard on them!

hope you enjoyed it! please give feedback or buy me a coffee/tip when you can! if you want to explore this further, please also consider a private read. also thank you for sharing with me!♡

love & light!

-tea

♡ message me for details/questions & to book a reading! ♡

#tea tarot reading #tarot witch #daily tarot #tarotcommunity #tarot deck #tarot cards #tarotblr #tarot reading #tarot #i love tarot #free tarot #tarot reader #divination #channeled reading #channeled message #channeling #tarot read

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angelwoozi · 2 years ago

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when you don't know him anymore | ljh (bullet fic)

pairing ; jihoon x reader

rating/genre ; sfw // angst, est relationship au, idol au

wc ; 854

warnings ; swearing, insecurity, miscommunication, allusions to infedility

note ; my first bullet point fic! it's unedited! lowercase intended!

aw masterlist

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the days are getting shorter, and the nights seem to go on and on -- forever. still, you don't seem to find the comfort you always did, atleast since the last three years. this christmas, things look different, especially with you and jihoon.

he had told you he will be home by dinner. and even though you had no expectations for him to do so, you had hoped he would. still, he didn't. it was around 1 am when the front door had clicked open and your boyfriend had dragged himself inside with heavy eyes and a head hanging low. you had took him in your arms and tucked him to sleep, not thinking much about it and him breaking his promise. it was for the first time he did it, after all.

first turned to second and second turned to third. it kept on going on. nowadays you ate alone and slept alone, the only time you remember is that whenever he tucks himself in, he kisses you on the forehead. atleast that action of his gave you hope that things won't go downhill -- that things can get better.

you might be a fool. a completely, gone fool for a man who doesn't even care to look towards you, despite staying with you. atleast when you are not lucid. the day starts with him already up by the time you wake up, bustling around the kitchen in haste. he makes you breakfast, yes he does. he kisses you goodbye -- just a peck, and goes out the door before you can even get ready for the day. after that you directly meet him in your dreams, when a chaste kiss is left on your forehead and a soft warmth engulfs you after midnight.

maybe jihoon is ignorant or just too tired to notice the ever staying tear stains on your pillow cover, on your blankets and on your face if he ever saw it.

you don't think you could ever feel this much. you didn't know a human heart had the capacity to break to this extent. but yours did the night of your birthday. yours did the night of your three year anniversary with him. your heart cried the fourth week you slept alone, a gift for him on the bedside drawer with the note happy birthday, my love stuck to it.

it's as if you were living in a stagnant pond, no waves, no movement. just the occasional ripples of emotions and weeds growing which pulled you down. maybe he has someone else? no. don't hurt yourself more. maybe he didn't love you anymore? maybe he didn't feel as strongly as he did before? or maybe he will be himself again after the comeback? maybe he will come back to you and give you his smile again? maybe? maybe...

maybe is a scary word. maybe, is the most heartbreaking word. because you never know the probability of the event. in maths you had learned how to find out the probability of a possible outcome. but in life, you know no outcome. the comeback flew by. the days bled into night. but things, they still didn't change. at this point, you think even your tears have exhausted. it's as if you feel nothing anymore. just a shell of a person, who once had an undying flame burning for him, but now the flame is threatening to die, threatening to engulf the heart with gnawing darkness. scary darkness.

you stop using the word maybe. now you know the outcome. and maybe (again) you were scared, uncertain before. but now you are not. the flame has almost died and the coldness is seeping into each and every crevice of your shell of a body, shell of a heart.

they say feelings, emotions are what differentiates a human from a robot. like a robot, you know how feelings work. you know how deadly they can become when they have no outlet and only a closed system to eat at, to decay in, or worse -- to grow in.

the house is as dark as your mind and you don't think you can take it anymore. your limit is exhausted, you are exhausted, your love for him ... has not yet exhausted, but you hope at some point it does. because the heartache is real. so, that night you make some calls, get some people to help you, pack some necessities, and wait for jihoon to come back home.

he returns just a minute before the clock strikes 3 am. his head is again, hung low, eyes heavy, and feet sludgy. he reeks of what you immediately realise as alcohol and your heart sinks deeper. your boyfriend doesn't drink. why is he drunk?

but you don't think much about that. you have stopped thinking. you only act on instinct nowadays. so when jihoon looks up, and registers your presence, registers that you are still awake with wide eyes and maybe ... a smile in his longing eyes, you break his eyes by saying the first, and the only thing that comes to your mind -

"i think we should take a break."

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-- feedback of any kind will be appreciated :D

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peacesignsandlighters · 2 months ago

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Everyday I mask my neurodivergency. That’s normal at this point.

But this has been masking on overload. On steroids!!

I am mentally, physically, and emotionally overwhelmed and exhausted.

I just need to take my hands off the wheel and my foot off the gas for just a moment. The tiniest moment.

This would be a lot for anyone. I know people go through this everyday. There are a million caregivers for a million different people for a thousand different reasons. I understand that. I know that there are hard days for everyone one of them. Unfortunately I just so happen to be one of them. I even acknowledge that it’s even harder for the people we care for.

But for me… for my neurodivergent, adhd having self.. I am drowning… I am fucking drowning. And yet I can’t… I won’t… take my hands off the wheel nor my foot off the gas.. because I know what it looks like when that happens. I know the destruction that follows. I know the pain and the guilt and the shame, all the blame that comes with it and that’s far more than I can handle. That’s way worst than this. I wouldn’t survive that. And I’m barely surviving this.

I’m not complaining for having to do it. In no way shape or form. I am simply acknowledging that I am human, I have feelings, I am overwhelmed, and I really really need help. I need physical support. I don’t have the mental or emotional capacity to go into details. All I can say is shouldering all of the day to day responsibilities of this, remembering every detail of every task that needs to be accomplished, hell just simply trying to accomplish 1/4th of it is exhausting. I am one person. My entire world has been flipped on it’s side.. hell flipped upside down in the last 3 months.. we’re just in month 4 of an undetermined timeline of an anomaly. I am this exhausted and it’s only been 3 months. I mean I’ve been exhausted for the majority of my existence but this… this is different. I just need someone to help me. I need another 3 to 10 other me’s. I need someone that doesn’t have the same mental challenges as me.

I need the mental help of processing the fact that my narcissistic mother, who has been my sole provider for my entire life, now needs me to be a caregiver to her. I have been trying to run and escape this hell for 14+ years and now I feel obligated because that’s my mom. That the single mother that stepped up when my father didn’t. That’s the woman who, whether she was physically or emotionally present or not.. more times not, she was the one semi present. I am her only child. It is my sole responsibility to take care of her. Outside of her mother, whose going to do it. And yet I have been the one on the front lines. I have been the one taking all the negativity and abuse these last few months. I get the ugly. I have to endure the painful times. I’m the one that gets blamed. I’m the one that gets verbally and emotionally abused. I am the one that has to take it and keep going.. and yet again.. this isn’t anything new.. I should be used to it but again it’s different now. I need the mental help of having to accept the fact that my last memories of my mother was not that we got it together, not that we mended our relationship, not that I felt her love and respect and proudness… no my last memories are more than likely that I wasn’t enough, that I didn’t do anything right, that I never made any good decisions, that I was lazy and careless and irresponsible. I will have to live whatever days I have left feeling this. I have zero clue of how to heal from that kind of hurt. I know for a fact that it is already changing me for the worst.

Which brings me to emotionally. I have literally shoulder all of this on my own. All the thoughts and emotions. I have both relied on and absolutely undone 5 years worth of healing in 3 months. I can’t remember the last time I was genuinely happy. I can remember the last time I smiled and it wasn’t out of momentary politeness. I can’t remember the last time my nervous system felt stable and at peace. Life has completely destructed my support system. I don’t even feel comfortable reaching out anymore and when I do it’s because I am literally at a breaking point and I’m just trying not to jump off the edge. The one person I want to be here can’t or won’t or whatever word fits the moment. There is resentment forming inside of me for so many people. I used to say I just need a hug but honestly, a hug is barely scratching the surface. It’s the feeling of scratching the surface without actually leaving a mark. I need real love and support and PRESENCE right now. And I know that nobody that God has put in my path thus far can give me that. I know that I have to give it to myself. And yet as hard as I’ve been working to give myself grace and love and support… it’s just not the same. Maybe I haven’t mastered it. Maybe I have no clue how to.. because I definitely don’t. But at the end of the day I know it’s a need that screaming to be met and I have zero way of meeting it right now.

This isn’t even a pouring from an empty cup situation anymore… the cup has been dry.. and so is the well that the cup was supposed to get water from. I’m pouring air and hopes and prayers at this point.. empty fucking wishes and desires.

That is all I have. And yet my foot is on the gas and I have a death grip on a wheel that I am not actually steering. I am truly extremely more afraid of who I will be after this that of who I am right now. Or even who I was. I am terrified of what this situation is going to turn me into. I am terrified of what that level of hurt and grief and exhaustion is going to do.. I’m already terrified of who I’ve become thus far.. imagine then.

I genuinely wish someone understood that.

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kodabiku · 5 months ago

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I often think about how love has brought me so far compared to being completely narrow minded. I’m able to not take people’s close mindedness personally, and it makes my social relationships fairly good.

I have a lot of people around me who don’t understand the fact that I’m trans, and I just… don’t take it personally if they think I’m not. I’ve just realized they don’t understand how simply put- but also complex- the gender spectrum is. It’s literally a free for all, and if someone I know is unable to comprehend that, that’s fine. It’s really a choice, and as long as they don’t treat me poorly I have no issue.

Sometimes I get stressed and worried about the future for my LGBTQ+ family, but then I realize that change can start small. It doesn’t have to be instant. And I, as a human, can only vote and connect with everyone around my community (literally a melting pot.).

Even if I’m experiencing pain, I’m going to try to do the best I can in each situation. I’m going to try to approach each situation with an open mind. It’s something I am NOT perfect at, and that’s completely okay! As long as I’m getting better at leading with patience and love, I’m content. And I want to show people that there’s another way to go about life, one that doesn’t involve taking other’s pain and misunderstanding personally.

I think demonizing people with vulnerable minds is not effective, but I will also say that taking advantage of said people is worse. It creates division, strife, and so much pain on so many different levels. There can be love, and there can be clarity for those who seek it.

Open mindedness can give us strides towards a cordial collectivity, and it’s okay if it seems scary and unfamiliar. It’s a completely valid emotion towards being demonized (at least I think so!).

But, in my experience, demonizing people in response to my own pain does not work. Instead, coming from a place of understanding and compassion has been effective. Even if it ends up as an “agree to disagree” conclusion.

It takes practice, but I truly believe EVERYONE has the capacity to reach it. Voting is IMPORTANT. Advocating is IMPORTANT. But love? Love is what brings us to participate in movements. And love is what gives us the bridge to bring largely differing communities together. It will take time, and it will take a near exhausting amount of effort, but for the betterment of future generations I’d do anything.

#open minded #love #self love #collective liberation #lead with love #growth #growth mindset #lgbtq community #lgbtq #pride month #queer pride #transgender #trans pride #gay #choose love #pride 2024 #happy pride 🌈#gay pride

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ardenpnw · 8 months ago

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just working some things out

I've been thinking a lot about The General Garbage Fire. I burn myself out looking for the Answer, or even just an answer for me. I need a life where I know my labor contributes to my community, I have a home and a people, I have ethical choices to meet my needs, I'm in a sustainable relationship with the earth, I'll be cared for in my old age, I'm leaving a better world for the next generation, and I'm contributing my small handful toward the liberation and justice of all people. Where I live, in America, in my tax bracket, even meeting one of those needs feels like a distant dream.

At times I feel so insane with hunger & despair in my failure to find a path to these needs, as I spend my life hunched & sweating over my own individual survival. At times I feel hopeless and small and exhausted, other times I'm manic and enraged with possibility and clarity and hunger, most of the time I'm just hanging on & coping.

What I need to grow first is my capacity to even sit with the situation. I can't learn, I can't dream, and I can't take action if I can't hold the painful emotions that show up in this space. Both despair and manic strategy are emotional reactions to the intensity of this feeling, and neither reaction helps me find my work & my community.

That's what I'm looking for. My work. My community. I can deal with other kinds of suffering & scarcity, if I can just find my work and my people.

I DON'T KNOW HOW. WHY IS IT SO HARD. I HEAR RUMORS OF RESISTANCE, I HEAR THEY ARE DANCING IN THE STREETS. WHY AM I TYPING ALONE IN MY ROOM. WHERE DO I GO. WHAT CAN I START. WHERE IS THE MUSIC COMING FROM. I HEAR THE SONG WITHOUT WORDS AND I WANT I NEED WHERE IS THE MUSIC COMING FROM??

I am so hungry. I'm looking back over my words for a thread to pull. It's so abstract. I'm too big picture. I need to get in close.

I sit on my bed in the room I rent, my head buzzing from screens. It was sunny today, but I spent all day inside watching homesteaders on youtube, as they built chicken coops and dug trenches for septic tanks and boiled cans of beans. I took notes in a new notebook, the notebook I started when my friend asked, "What if we actually started a queer forest commune instead of just talking about it?" After googling "permaculture" and "gardening classes near me" I found myself in researching intentional communities, and left America for Italy and Portugal and India, and got deep into the articles of the "healing biotope" Tamera, and had to google words like morphogenetic and entelechial. Then I sent voice messages to my friend about all my research, and I said maybe I can handle this feeling if I just get into the questions and let go of the answers, and she got hit with an anxiety attack about The State of Things, and I ended up writing here.

I don't just want to go off into the woods with my friends. I want to be in a community with elders and kids. I want -- I want everything, I want a human life, and I want it this year, tomorrow, today.

I can't believe how hard it is here. I can't believe how lonely I am. When I was a kid, I thought the pain I saw in adults was their fault, I judged their boredom and fear and loneliness, I planned to grow up and leave them behind and find real life. When I was in my early twenties, I thought the church was the problem, and if I just left, I'd find real life. But the pain is all around me, still, and now I'm an adult and I'm just as bored and scared and lonely as my parents. I mean, I've found some peace and joy, but when I jump up to move in joy I feel how tightly I'm bound, and then -- outside of my own personal hunger -- in the rest of world -- crushed under the boot -- a child's white sneakers red with blood on a hospital bed -- the hospital bombed to rubble --

I understand Aaron Bushnell.

How to hold what's here? How to hold what's coming? Where is the music coming from? Do you hear the song too? I hear it in the voice of Ismatu Gwendolyn, I hear in it in the voice of adrienne maree brown, I hear it in the voice of Toshi Reagon, Alexis Pauline Gumbs, Walidah Imarisha, Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha. I hear it in Parable of the Sower by Octavia Butler, I hear it in "Change on the Rise" by Avi Kaplan.

I need the music like I need water.

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myhealingera · 8 months ago

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Why Taylor Swift?

Being a devoted @taylorswift fan often prompts the question, "Why her?" from those around me. The answer lies deep within the connection I feel to her music, a connection that seems almost serendipitous. It's as though with every album she releases, there's a song that resonates with exactly what I'm going through at that moment. Taylor has this incredible gift of articulation, weaving emotions, thoughts, and experiences into her lyrics in a way that mirrors my own inner turmoil.

Recently, a few of her songs have struck a particularly deep chord with me, finding themselves on repeat. Lyrics like, “You know how much I hate that everybody just expects me to bounce back—Just like that,” and “I’m getting tired even for a Phoenix, always rising from the ashes, mending all her gashes,” have spoken to me on a profound level. I've always been seen as the strong one, the resilient one who, no matter how many times I'm hit, stands back up. Being constantly applauded for my strength and resilience, I've found myself wishing to never be complimented for how well I endure pain ever again. Taylor captures this exhaustion perfectly with, “I’m getting tired even for a Phoenix, always rises from the ashes, mending all her gashes, you just might have dealt the final blow.” That encapsulates how I feel at this very moment in my life—like I'm facing the final blow.

This feeling was magnified recently when, just as I wrapped up another painful chapter of my life, I was blindsided by a diagnosis of metastatic thyroid cancer, requiring two surgeries and radiation. My life has been a series of back-to-back traumas, each time challenging my ability to stand back up. Yet, amidst this feeling of being at my breaking point, the symbolism of the Phoenix in Taylor's lyrics shines through as a glimmer of hope. It reminds me that the essence of strength isn't about the frequency of our setbacks, but our capacity to rise from them, no matter the circumstances. Taylor's music becomes more than just a collection of melodies; it's an outlet for my emotions, a way to articulate the pain and resilience that's too difficult to express in my own words.

In her music, there are moments when a particular set of lyrics doesn’t just resonate; it reaches deep into the corners of my soul, speaking the truths I’ve struggled to articulate. One passage has echoed within me, embodying feelings of invisibility and silent despair I’ve grappled with: “Every mornin', I glared at you with storms in my eyes. How can you say that you love someone you can't tell is dyin'? I sent you signals and bit my nails down to the quick.” These words have never made me feel so heard.

Taylor Swift, through her profound lyrical talent, has managed to give voice to this silent scream. Her words are offer solace in the knowledge that someone out there understands the complexity of hiding one's pain behind a veneer of normalcy. These lyrics hold up a mirror to the paradox of being loved and yet feeling unseen, capturing the essence of my struggle with such accuracy that it’s as if she’s narrating my own life story.

Her songs become a medium through which my bottled-up emotions, the ones I struggle to articulate or even fully understand, are not only expressed but also validated. This deep, almost inexplicable connection to her music is why I am such a huge fan. Taylor Swift doesn't just sing songs; she narrates parts of my life, offering comfort, understanding, and sometimes even closure through her profound understanding of human emotions and resilience.

Thank you @taylorswift @taylornation

#taylor swift #taylornation #healing #swifties #tswift13

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