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suchastart · 7 years ago

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If it isn't too personal, what happend with your husband? (feel free to ignore this if you aren't comfortable, sorry!)

sigh

real talk, I guess?

very long answer behind the cut

So. I got got married to the guy I loved in college, and we’d been together for a few years, and I was 22, and that was the natural progression of things? Graduate and then marry? I’d graduated with my mostly-so-far, STILL to this day ugh useless degree in Creative Writing and English, and we both had jobs and an apartment and were happy? I think we were happy. I thought we were. We were doing Life together and you know, we were living, but. But I think I was struggling with things even then; drinking a little almost every day, not as much then, and for two years we were okay, and then we moved to GA to be closer to his family–while mine was far-flung, in PA and England and Washington state and then Germany.

I missed them. It was hard. It was so hard. I grew up with the super-close unit that was my mom, dad, and brother for my whole life, because my dad was in the military and we moved around so much and they were all I had, so like, I am my family? I don’t feel myself if I don’t have them, I guess. Long distance from them was terrifying and hard and debilitating. But I was married now! So I had my husband, and his family was my family now so, naturally, of course we would move to be closer to them.

So I found a new job when we moved to GA, and it was like 30-35 hrs a week and I had a lot of time at home and I am Shy and self-deprecating and I always think I am awful and I was in a new place and felt alone and so I had absolutely no friends where we were living, and absolutely no family around–it was just me, and my husband, and his family. Which was okay–his family are (still, I’m sure) such great people, and we got along great, but. It’s not the same? “What’s mine is yours” and all, sure, but it wasn’t my family, who know me inside and out, who raised me and grew up with me and just. know me, to my blood, to my bones; I didn’t have anything that was MINE. And you need that, I think, as a person???? You need stuff that is yours. Even when you’re “in Love” and married–you still need stuff that’s yours?? And everything seemed to be his? We moved there for him and his job and his family, and we hung out with his sister and his brother and his friends, and drove his new car, and travelled his roads, and visited his family, and just.

I felt like I was drowning. I drank more. I drank so much. I went into work hungover, and I pretended to be “sick” or cramping and went home early because I was aching in my heart and my head and my whole body, and I was dehydrated and depressed and fucking just kind of dizzy and wanted to puke and sleep forever. I got into bed and cried. I drank so much. I worried about absolutely everything. I didn’t go anywhere. Secretly I resented him for taking me away from my family (which wasn’t fair to him, or to me, or to anybody). I don’t think we communicated any of this well. I cried so much, and told him that I hated myself, and I wanted to go home, or to die.

I just very, very much wanted to die.

We grew distant? It felt different than when we both lived in NC and away from our families, both of us together. Maybe he knew. He tried to help, I think, how he felt like he could–he was so nice to me, and I never doubted his kindness, and he tried to get me to hang out with his family and friends, and to go do things, tried to pretend I was still his Dream Girl who liked video games and his favorite shows and was really chill, but I think I made it worse by preferring to stay home and cry. I just didn’t have the energy to pretend, and I was sad and angry and exhausted. I wanted to die. I was suffocating, and I missed my family. I never tried to restrict him going anywhere–it was truly so great that he was visiting his sister, or his mom and dad, or going out of state to visit his college friends. I was genuinely happy for him, I was always supportive of him and encouraged him to go, because I wanted him to have fun and I was happy that he was happy, and I never wanted my issues fucking up his good time. Sometimes I would go, too! But sometimes he would ask that I go, and I just–couldn’t. I physically couldn’t make myself. Once, we drove a whole hour and a half, maybe, to his sister’s place, and we were going to play some board game and I had a panic attack and he drove me all the way home an hour and a half there in Atlanta traffic, and then drove back. And I felt like such a terrible burden, and a terrible wife. And he told me, once, that he cried on the way there, that he was so upset when he went to visit and I didn’t go with him, that he wanted a partner and it was supposed to be me–and that was just… I know it was probably hard for him, having a wife who was depressed and anxious and lonely and. Well.

We didn’t really communicate any of this well. He was always kind to me–he was supportive, and made me my first doctor’s appointment when I felt like I couldn’t call, and I started my antidepressants because of that, and I’m still alive. Sometimes that in itself still feels like an achievement. Like: hey! At least I haven’t killed myself yet! Even though it’s come close a few times? Like, listen. Once this year I called the suicide hotline everybody posts about? Because I was just done. And it’s a fuckin’ automated system????? And just. That was so disheartening, like–the last thing I want to do when I truly am just miserable and Ready to Go is like, fucking go through a god damn automated machine system to press 2 if I wanna die? Like?? Jesus. Why am I going to call an automated system when I’m ready to just down my whole bottle of pills to press through fifteen buttons of a machine?

Anyway. So that didn’t work out well but. I don’t know. I just really don’t know. I still have a lot of feelings about everything. I felt like things were (slowly, very, very slowly) getting better after I started taking medications. I had future plans with my previous job (at the next year! the next two years! it was such a novel thing, making career plans for actually building my own place in a company, I would’ve had a Place, I would’ve done something that mattered in a company that I believed in), I was talking to my mom again, I was feeling like I could breathe, just a little, taking antidepressants and medications that might help my anxiety and sleeplessness. I knew things weren’t The Same with my husband, but I thought we could work toward it? We were rarely physically intimate anymore. I was miserable, and he was trying to help. I was trying to live, and to pretend that I was alive. I was raised to think that we shouldn’t Give Up on my promises, that marriage has its ups and downs and that things can go way south sometimes but you can keep going, keep working, not giving up.

We were growing apart. I know it, and I knew it. He came home one day in September, and I was washing the dishes and asking him what he wanted to do that day, or that weekend, and he told me that he just couldn’t do it anymore. He didn’t love me, and he hadn’t loved me for the past two years. He left that night, and took our dog, and left me alone in a state by myself with my mom, my dad, and my brother, my whole heart family, in Europe. I had literally nobody. He was my person, and he left.

So that’s what happened.

I called my dad, and he booked a very fuckin’ expensive immediate ticket from England to come help me pack up my stuff. I was sick for days until he got there. I was vomiting, and couldn’t sleep, and lost so much hair. I couldn’t eat. I called my husband and told him that I was sick and didn’t know what to do (because who else was I supposed to call?? any semblance of family that would help me being literally hours away from me at that point), and he told me that he was at his sister’s house an hour and a half away and that I should just go to urgent care?? So I just. Waited. I waited for my dad, my best friend, to get there. I hired a lawyer. My husband wanted to just do everything Online and get rid of me easy–but my parents helped me hire a lawyer and my father and I went to meet one while we packed all my stuff in a U-Haul. We drove all my stuff to PA, and they renovated the whole attic to give me a little suite up here. I haven’t talked to my ex but maybe once since then. I’m still friends with his family on Facebook, which most days still feels a little weird. We don’t talk at all, or comment on each other’s posts, and it kind of feels like a stalemate? It’s very awkward. I still love them? And miss them?? But it feels a little displaced, like–I’m still super angry at him, but his family has been nothing but kind and welcoming to me, so–?

I don’t know. I don’t know? I’m angry, and sad, and accepting, and thankful, and tired. I want this to be over. My parents and I have spent so much money in attorneys fees. I am tired. I am terrified of being alone. I am terrified that I am broken, and unlovable, and unfixable. I don’t want to see his last name on mine anymore. I am mad that he gave up on me, and silently accepting that he did, because of course he did, why wouldn’t he give up on me? I am bitter. I don’t want to believe in love, mostly because I don’t believe I will ever have it again. My new friends at work are getting married. I keep telling them that it’s not too late to turn back–poking fun while torn between being happy at their happiness and bitter about it, too. I’m jealous, and angry, and scared.

People grow apart. Maybe we weren’t meant to last forever. Maybe I still have a person out there. Right now I feel hopeless. I had an email from my lawyer this morning about sending a final decree to the judge. We’re approaching the last stages of this divorce.

Maybe this is a learning stage? Maybe I’m supposed to learn things about myself. Maybe this is meant to be. Maybe everything happens for a reason.

But I’m still terrified. I don’t want to be alone. I am terrified of being alone. I want somebody to love–I want to make a family with somebody, to join theirs to mine, to share myself with someone, to make a family. I don’t want to feel so torn, or regretful, or resentful, or angry. I want to have someone.

I want to feel love. And I am so, so scared that I won’t ever get another chance.

So that’s the story. And I just–I want you to be careful? Whoever is reading this. Please be careful with your heart. And despite how bitter and angry I am, and how much I hate saying it–I want you to believe in love.

So maybe do both?

And if you need someone to talk to, please remember that I’m here, and I believe that you are so great and beautiful and worthy of whatever your heart desires ♥

#Mina answers asks #this got long wow sorry #also like. real life talk about depression and anxiety and suicide sorry just. that's stuff that I talk about #i need to see a therapist eventually still but #here's what happened

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galaxysupreme17 · 3 years ago

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Hold On

Olivia Benson X Daughter Reader!

TRIGER WARNNING! Cutting/Bullying/attempted suicide. So this isn’t my first time writing but it is my first time posting on here. I write a lot of stories manly about my favorite tv shows/characters. Anyway this is a short story about being Olivia Benson’s Daughter and having depression and someone keeps leaving notes telling you to kill yourself. Olivia is currently a detective around season 14. If you guys have any request send them in and I will write them!

As you walk through the walls of your high school trying to keep your head down, not wanting to be seen, you walk up to your locker and open it. A bunch of notes come flowing out of it. You squat down, pick them up, and read through them.

“No wonder your mom is ever around. It’s probably because you are a horrible no good person” and another “my god just go kill yourself” and another “the world would be a better place if you weren’t here.”

After reading all of them you quickly shoved them into your bag and shut your locker. You walk home and as fast as possible open your apartment door. You run to your bedroom and burst into tears.

You have been getting these notes for months and slowly you have been believing them. You have your own personal bullies. Their names are Holly and Jamie. They make your life a living hell as often as they can.

Holly is the captain of the cheerleaders and Jamie is captain of the football team. You open your bag, after drying your tears, and pull out the notes putting them with the others, which are in a box on your desk right next to the picture of you and your mom.

You smile at the picture through your tear eyes and pull out a pen and paper. You quickly write down a suicide note and leave it on the counter in the kitchen for Olivia to find.

You then walk to the bathroom and pull out a bottle of pills and your razor. Before doing anything you think about your life.

Olivia was the best mother in the world. Always coming to every performance of every musical and always being there when you needed her. She would be there when you woke up and when you went to bed.

You remember going to the park when it was snowing and the rest of the squad went and you and Fin ganged up on Cragen throwing snowballs at him. Then the bullying started and your depression and anxiety got worse. You dropped theatre and show choir because you didn’t feel the joy of singing anymore.

After a little bit of thinking you continued with your plan. You took the razor and slid it across your arms and legs watching as the blood came running down. You grab the bottle of pills and start taking them; at first one by one but then continued until even after you started to feel dizzy. Within in minutes you passed out on the floor.

~With Olivia~

Olivia finally got off work just ready to be home. She was happy because she was finally going to have an evening with you. She had planned to let you pick dinner then you both would curl up on the couch and finish watching Gilmore Girls. You started that show together loving it because it reminded you both of your relationship with each other.

You were Rory and Olivia was Lorelai. The memory makes Olivia smile as she drives home. As soon as she parks her car and heads the flight of stairs, she gets a sickening feeling in her gut telling her something is wrong. Olivia rushes to the door and fumbles with her keys to get the door open. Finally, after struggling, she gets the door open and walks inside.

“Y/n! Y/n Where are you?” Olivia sets her stuff down and sees the note, it reads.

“Dear Mom, I am so sorry for this. I just can’t take it anymore. The real reason I quit theatre and show choir was because I have been bullied. For awhile now actually. I just cannot stand to live another day. They keep telling me it is for the best that I die and I believe that is true. Just now that I did fight. I fought for so long. I truly just cannot continue fighting. Know that I love you and none of this is your fault, I know you are going to blame yourself for not seeing it sooner but I am serious, none of this is your fault. I just can’t continue on. I don’t think I can continue on, I feel numb and like no one wants me. I love you momma never forget that.” By the end Olivia had tears streaming down her face as she ran to the bathroom banging on the door,

“Y/n! Please stay with me baby please! Open the door Y/n!” Olivia yelled.

Pulling out her phone she called 911 and busted down the door. As soon as she saw your body laying on the floor she broke. Immediately, Oliva checked for a pulse which was weak but there.

“Please don’t leave me baby! Hold on baby-girl please! I love you so much sweetheart!” Oliva cried as she began doing CPR.

The ambulance soon showed up and the took you and Olivia to the hospital. Olivia called Fin and asked to go check your bedroom for anything and bring it to the hospital. Of course Fin immediately jumped and ran when he heard what happened. Fin was still at the precinct when Liv called and Cragen happened to also be there.

Fin told Cragen everything and the two took off to go to Liv’s apartment then the hospital. Once the found the notes from your classmates and the suicide note they drove to the hospital. Olivia was waiting in the waiting room and when she saw Fin and Cragen she stood up again, on the verge of tears.

“Liv what happened?” Cragen asks looking her. Oliva cleared her through trying not to cry.

“I uhh had this feeling something was wrong and when I finally got into the apartment I saw umm the note. I ran to the bathroom and the door was locked so I called 911 and broke down the door. She was just laying there *her voice cracks* y/n looked to helpless it broke me.” Olivia explains and starts crying again.

Fin pulls her in for a hug and they all three just stand there. Olivia walked away to call Rachel your best friend. Rachel Cabot is Alex Cabot’s daughter and your best friend. The two of you have been through thick and thin together. Olivia knew she needed to call Alex and Rachel so they could be here.

After calling Alex, who said they would be down there soon, Olivia returned to the waiting room where your doctor came walking out. “Olivia Benson?” She asked softly.

“That’s me” Olivia said standing and walking forward. “Hi! I’m Arizona Robbins. So me and my team were able to pump Y/n stomach and stich up their wounds. They are still asleep and it might be awhile before they wake up but I can take you back to see them if you want”

“Yes please” Olivia says letting out a breath that she didn’t know she was holding. As soon as they reached your room, Olivia covered her mouth trying not to cry. She sat next to your bed and held your hand, not wanting to let go.

Hours later you woke up not knowing where you were. Olivia felt you moving and immediately jumped looking at you with a soft smile.

“Mommy?” You say barley above a whisper. “Yes baby I’m right here” Olivia says wiping the tears away.

~Days Later~

You were sitting on the couch reading your favorite book Little Women. “Y/n can I talk to you about something serious?” Olivia asks walking over and sitting on the coffee table in front of you. “What is it?” You ask setting your book down and turning and looking at her.

“If you don’t want to talk about it I completely understand but, why didn’t you tell me about the notes from the kids at school?” Olivia asks looking at you watching your facial expressions.

“I don’t know. I just felt like if you saw them you would agree or would tell me I’m just being dramatic and over reacting.” You say trying not to cry.

“Listen to me Y/n; I will always be here for you to talk or just to cry. I don’t ever want you to feel like you can’t come to me. You are my daughter and I never ever want you to feel like I would judge or yell at you. I love you so much baby” Olivia says opening her arms causing you to jump into her arms hugging her.

“Thank you. I love you too mom” You smile as she tightens her grip around you.

#olivia benson #x reader #mother/daughter #law and order svu #svu fic #svu fandom #Fin #captain cragen #fanfic #short story

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stxrryrobin · 3 years ago

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TW emotional abuse, self harm, suicidal emotions

my dad constantly bullies me saying every single day “how are u gonna make it in the world if u can’t even do (blank)?!” It will literally happen when I’m just vibing or whatever. He knows I deal with depression and anxiety and am in the process of trying to get better, thus some days are harder than others. On those days I have my mum help me with some stuff. I’m also a huge germaphobe so he takes it out on me for not doing everyone’s dishes.

Well today was another day of “how are u gonna make it in the world if u can’t even do (blank)?!”

I was fed up and done with it. I told him to stop bullying me and he just sat there with no emotions while I cried and screamed after dealing with 17 years of him constantly hurting me and bullying me and him never admitting to it/him calling me the bad guy/him never feeling sorry or having emotion when I cry. I was DONE. So I went off on a tangent, telling him he can’t treat me like this anyone.

And look who decides to come down stairs! My brother who is 20 years older than me and has been homophobic to me in the past! (I also hardly even know this dude. He’s just sorta here)

I heard him telling my mum in the other room that he agrees with my dad (he’s not even his dad either. My dad actually hates my brother) and I was fuming at this point. It was 17 years of being bullied and torn down and made to seem crazy for feeling hurt all coming out at once. It was all hazy, felt like I was floating and in a dream. It didn’t even feel real. So of course I went over to my brother (cuz hey, there’s nothing to lose when I don’t even feel present! Not true) and asked if he wanted to start now.

He went on about how he agreed with my dad and how his dad said the same thing to him (mind it he hates his dad and doesn’t talk to him). So I said how he doesn’t even like his dad so now he’s applauding his parenting? He then went to say how his dad was way worse than mine is. I then stated that just because his dad was worse I’m not allowed to feel hurt by mine? And then he said I’m twisting his words and he slammed the door shut.

Mind it, this whole time I’m screaming and all they see is this crazy women. When in reality I’m just someone who has been pushed around my whole life, sick of taking it, and the people who have treated me like shit won’t listen to me.

Soooo that was my evening! I feel so out of it. I was sobbing for hours. My mum and I even started looking for a new house, despite it not even being a possibility. I was suicidal for a few hours and I’ve never felt like that before. Also not proud to say I scratched my arm up quite a lot to try to numb the pain. I just feel so lost and depressed. I know my life will get better soon. But I’m always stuck with them for family. And it sucks. I’m already nervous to leave home and now I have two people pig piling on me to say I’m not gonna make it in life. I feel like shit. I feel depressed and stuck. I feel lost and hazy. I just need a hug and someone to tell me it’s gonna be ok. I need advice on how to get through this.

#emotional abuse #toxic family #abusive family #homophobia #lgbtqia #gay #queer #advice #toxic parents #toxic siblings #abusive parents #abusive siblings #depression #tw depressing thoughts #depressing shit #tw depressing stuff #i need advice #i need a hug

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doctorbunny · 3 years ago

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MILGRAM theory time: Haruka!

This isn't going to go super in depth (famous last words) but there's a few heavily debated parts of Haruka's MV I want to share my findings/thoughts on because I think this is my new special interest and during my quest to get best boy's song to 1 million views I have been looking over his first MV with a fine tooth comb so to speak.

Disclaimer: As the Jackalope said in the "This is the MILGRAM" trailer, we don't necessarily know everyone's crime from just the first video, its possible that a lot of things will be re-contextualized in the second MV, however I am not psychic or bilingual and thus will only be working with content released before August 20th 2021 and translated into English (which could cause some language/cultural details to be lost on me as translation is not a 1 to 1 process).

TW for discussions of ableism, child abuse, murder and animal death. Also this is really long so sorry to all the people that follow me for non-MILGRAM stuff

Firstly, I want to start on the topic of Haruka as a person. He is disabled. He does not have 'the mind of a child' (although he is 17, making him legally a minor in both North America and Japan). He is not just 'child-like'. And he is not mentally ill (well he might be, in the sense that many disabilities like Haruka's have strong comorbidities [where a person has two or more conditions but neither directly causes the other] with anxiety, depression and PTSD, but usually when I see people talk about him 'struggling with mental illness' they go on to refer to aspects of his disability). Sometimes on tumblr, people like myself, will see canonical traits written into a character and identify them as being traits associated with our disabilities/mental illness and headcanon them as such. Sometimes this even involves saying things like "It's basically canon!" Although we understand that these characters were probably not the result of a writer intending to write a disabled person. When I say that Haruka is being written as a person with a neurodevelopmental disability, I mean the writer intended to write a disabled character and wrote them in a way that they wanted the audience to pick up on. As an autistic person (which is one of many neurodevelopmental disorders and also something I probably didn't have to specify because who else would be writing an essay about a series they got into a few days ago at 11 o'clock at night) I really like how Haruka has been written so far. There's definitely some parts of him that have been exaggerated so abled normies can pick up on his disability (namely how his MV 's main motif is really child-like drawings) but the writers also included a lot of smaller details I appreciate like how it is noted he avoids eye contact when talking to other people and is depicted as nervously pulling at his sleeves in official artwork, or how he says he finds his prison uniform (which has tight straps) 'relaxing' and when he gets nervous/tense, he will dig his fingernails into the palm of his hands. (These last two potential being examples of 'self stimulation' [aka stimming] where a person seeks out specific sensory stimuli in order to help regulate their nervous system/emotions, in this case the tight uniform creates a comforting, secure feeling [you may have heard about some people preferring to sleep under weighted blankets for this reason] and digging nails into his palms sounds uncomfortable/painful but is done in an attempt to deal with a greater sensory discomfort caused by the situation/environment) I also appreciate the depth he is written with, he struggles to communicate verbally but in his MV and interactions with other inmates is shown to have insecurities, opinions and a consistent thought process (this is all basic character stuff but unfortunately not always present in disabled characters)

Also I want to add that (in terms of what we've been shown so far) Haruka did not kill anyone because of his disability/mental illness. Disabled people are not inherently more innocent than abled people. But there is no disability/mental illness where a symptom is that you kill people and real people have to live with the stigma when you speak carelessly and suggest things like "Haruka is the kind of mentally ill person who kills people as a cry for help" 🧂 (or at the very least real people have to read BS like that and cringe). TL;DR Haruka is less child-like and more onion-like (as in, he has layers) 🧅🧅🧅

Now is the actual theory stuff, oops:

Every prisoner in MILGRAM is supposed to have committed murder in some way, obviously considering Yuno just had an abortion (which i personally do not consider an act of murder) whilst Mu literally stabbed someone to death, this definition is stretched a bit. But it is not agreed upon yet who Haruka killed/how many people he killed or why he killed.

In his MV he is shown to have chased after his dog into a forest, seen something off-screen, then beaten something into a messy pulp with a rock. Some people think the dog is a red herring and that Haruka actually killed his mother/the girl from the fireworks show/his brother. I do not agree.

First: I believe Haruka when he says he doesn't have a brother. The MV literally starts by Haruka looking in the mirror and then switching between the him now

and a really similar looking younger child who just so happened to be a key feature of his memories (I don't have the vocabulary to explain it but its like cinematic parallels that establish this is the same person at different points of their life)

Its not impossible that this is Haruka's secret younger brother, but i think its unlikely. I saw someone saying they had to be different people because Haruka looks less happy than the child but like, most 17 year olds are less visibly happy than when they were 7 (or however old the child is meant to be). Life happens.

So when Haruka is shown pushing the child around and eventually strangling him, this isn't meant to be literal (homicide or suicide), but a representation of how conflicted Haruka feels about his younger self, who may have committed the murder (if you've ever been kept awake cringing at memories of something you said in the past and wishing you could go slap some sense into your former self, this is like that but 10 times more self loathing). The lyric "I am always repeating yesterday," implies he might think about this specific past event a lot.

Moving on, its pretty well accepted that Haruka's parents were abusive in some way and Haruka internalised a lot of it: he constantly apologises, he says in his interrogation questions that his one wish come true is that "[he] want[s] to be loved" and describes in his MV how when he couldn't find the words he was looking for ("you're unfair") one of his parents "would get angry at me and say “You’re hopeless.”". He seems to know its unfair but also still says he 'loves' his family, possibly mistakenly believing it is his fault, but also showing an awareness of his situation (and how his parents might behave).

Now, the MV is stylised in a way that makes certain details unclear, but there is one clear detail showing that Haruka's dog was killed

This is the first close up of Haruka and the dog. Haruka's mother is just out of frame supervising, but they look pretty happy. Notice how the puppy has a silvery chain for a collar. Somehow, this dog gets out of the house but only Haruka is shown chasing after it (whether his mother was searching elsewhere or didn't bother following her disabled son into the forest is unclear). Either way, young Haruka is now in the forest, unsupervised.

By the time he finds the dog, there is already blood, suggesting it was initally attacked by something else.

is this a sigh of relief from a boy whose finally found his beloved pet or a jealous weakling glad that nature took its course and he is finally free of that meddling mutt stealing all his mummy's attention? /j

I think this shock at the discovery that 'there is blood on his hands' could imply that rather than literally getting the blood from his dog, Haruka has seen his already injured dog and realises that if the dog got out because of him (he is previously shown to be aware his parents seem to blame him for everything) then he is the reason his dog is injured/dying and will be blamed for it. (this scene plays over the lyrics "It’s fine, though it’s really not It’s really fine, though I don’t really think so When I tried to understand it, You’ll make that disappointed face again" suggesting he is trying to avoid making his parents disappointed and letting the family pet escape into danger is something that could make them very disappointed)

now we get into rock murder (this is present-day Haruka implying that this is either: not how the scene really played out; the writers really wanting the audience to know that this was Haruka's doing and not someone else's; or this turns into a separate incident that happened much later [although note that the red sky and blue moon is the same as when young Haruka first appears at the start])

b the corpse is beyond mangled now, but its clearly the dog because the silver chain collar is still there, to the right of the body. (circled in red for your convenience :3)

My hypothesis is: Haruka didn't set out to kill his dog, but upon finding it injured (we don't know the severity aside from bleeding and also it not being able to run away from Haruka kneeling down above it w/ a big rock so it could range from treatable with a lot of vet help to already on death's door, TBH I don't think Haruka would know the difference) He knew he'd be blamed for this; made into a villain who let the poor puppy come to harm. He panicked and killed the dog out of some idea that it would make him the victim here (since he'd be found crying over a dog corpse, which might make a parent go comfort him rather than getting angry about what could've happened to the dog). This is over the lyrics: "I cried, I screamed I wanted to be a pitied and loved weakling I was in denial, I was in denial I just had to make sure I’ve become a victim, I’ve become a victim" (there's another theory that he was also jealous of the dog, which could work here too, since this is not some calculated plot; rather its a rash decision) This ties in with his Japanese song title (translated as Weakness) which is a play on a phrase sort of like "The strong eat, the weak do not" to become "The weak are eaten by society" or "The weak eat each other to survive" [once again I am reminding everyone this is based on second hand information from the youtube comments section (from users mitchki and Alphaistic) because I do not speak Japanese] This second meaning (The weak eat each other to survive) makes sense under the reading that Haruka killed his dog in order to 'survive' making his parents disappointed for the dog escaping.

Miscellaneous points:

We don't know where Haruka's necklace came from yet, it must be a gift since the most expensive thing he's ever bought was cotton candy. The younger child in the video isn't wearing it and neither is his mother or the girl in the purple dress.

Haruka's home seems quite big, at the start we can see a large flower garden outside the window and there's a forest in walking distance. This might suggest his family is quite wealthy

Haruka probably did go to school at some point as homeschooling is not a legally accepted as an alternative to public schools in Japan. (However it is estimated that up to 5000 families homeschool, this is uncommon) A lot (about 62%) of Japanese schools apparently have a 'special needs' classes and there are about 505 schools focused on educating intellectually disabled students (although I do not know which sort Haruka would've needed as whilst intellectual and development disabilities can be comorbid they aren't the same). Now, if children aged 7-14 don't go to school, their parents receive a fine, but its possible that if Haruka's parents are wealthy, they just paid it to avoid sending him to school. (This might imply they wanted to hide him or were generally ashamed of him in some way) However high school education (for students over 14) is not legally required and its likely that even if Haruka went to elementary/middle school, he hasn't been around people his own age in at least 3 years. As he seems quite lonely and glad that the other prisoners give him attention.

I don't think Haruka's parents are divorced and if they are, its not his father who left. Haruka mentions in the 30 questions that he thinks he disappointed his father. But still includes him as part of his family ("My father and mother and me"). A theory I've seen is that his father was disappointed by his son being disabled and left. but developmental disabilities (especially in non verbal and semi verbal children like Haruka) can be diagnosed before the age of 3, so I feel it is unlikely that Haruka would bring up his father if he left that early in Haruka's life

All MILGRAM prisoners have covered one of DECO*27's older vocaloid songs (DECO*27 is a well known producer who composes the music for MILGRAM) Haruka covered 'Two Breaths Walking' (https://youtu.be/puXLfVWrz2Q) which is about a boy's first relationship and how his mother's jealousy set him up for failure as the relationship becomes toxic (specifically it has some very funny out of context lines like "Whose breasts are you sucking on now?") so yeah, mommy issues: the song (Also: some people say in the song, the boy kills the girl at the end, but this isn't literal, TBW is the first of a trilogy of songs about the same relationship, it is followed by Android girl then Two Breaths Walking: Reloaded and the story resolves with the couple reuniting as adults and getting in the relationship again, although its not necessarily as abusive as before, its still implied to be codependant ending on the line 'We should live like oxygen tanks, sucking breathe from the words each of us exhale, until our last breathe')

In all seriousness, the scene where younger Haruka is walking through the city with his mother but it keeps repeating until older Haruka pulls the younger one away might indicate an attempt to focus the happier memories of his parents (since this is also over the lyrics "Why is it breaking? Tell me why? Please don’t change If I tried and couldn’t say it, You would get angry at me and say “You’re hopeless.”" which depict a worse scene) I think both his parents are still physically present but have become far more emotionally distant, not giving him as much attention, which exacerbates his loneliness from not having any friends his own age to talk to

And if one of his parents did leave? I think its likely his mother since she is shown disappearing out of his reach after the dog-incident (inferring she got angry/disappointed in Haruka anyway) This could also be where he got his necklace from: Its something his mother used to wear (although this is 100% a guess) and that's why its shown to be important to him

This one is just me, but i didn't realise until a rewatch that when Haruka is watching the younger him and the girl running together, the background has fireworks. Haruka mentions fireworks being a key memory to him so I wonder if this was one of the first/last times he got to make a friend...

On three separate occasions in the interrogation, Haruka mentions not liking animals. Despite this, he is depicted as sleeping with a rabbit plush and on his birthday art (I'd include that too but tumblr only allows 10 pictures per post, so here's a link) he is standing next to a giant blueberry and strawberry cake with two bunny themed biscuits at the side. Through my experiences of seeing Japanese fandom art on pixiv, sometimes rabbits are used to insinuate a character is cute and timid in fanart.

Meaningless details: Haruka sleeps with his necklace on; he sleeps on a bed and not a futon; at first I thought he woke up holding his plush's hand but his hand is merely next to the toy; and considering the state of the pillow and blanket, I wonder if he moves a lot in his sleep or if the is just because in this case he seems to be waking up from a nightmare about the dog incident...

Final note: I've spent so many hours writing this I don't remember if i was building up to any big finale or not but I hope you enjoyed reading this! Feel free to add on in the comments/reblogs.

#haruka sakurai #milgram #milgram theory #001 #text post #essay #long post

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awsugar · 3 years ago

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Weird question but could you possibly list some pros and unexpected good things that come out of see a therapist. I'm uhhh going through a bad time and everyone is trying to get me to go talk to someone but the thought of talking to someone about those things gives me such anxiety that i start to shake, which i know is definitely a reason to go but i just can't get myself to do it.

im putting this under a cut cause it got long

ok well first of all i will say for me, i think the medication i'm on is doing the heavy lifting of like making me a lot less suicidal on a daily basis which was like. the thing keeping me constantly in crisis. but therapy is still an important part of my treatment. so i would say i do recommend looking into medication and honestly it can take ages to find something that works but if you have really bad anxiety and depression i think medication, if you find the right one, can help a lot! and more quickly than therapy as well bc medication can start working right away or up to a month but therapy is kind of a long haul thing. i get that not everyone wants to take medication but for me it really really works now that i finally found the right one. so for me the combination is really important. just putting that out there. (however if you're just going through a specific hardship rn thats making things difficult for you and it's not a chronic mental illness then therapy alone will probably be great!)

anyway, your real question, pros of therapy. what i talk about a lot with my therapist is reframing my thoughts. she gives me strategies to think about my life in more positive ways bc one of my issues is thinking negatively about basically everything and also catastrophizing. so i would say a pro is being able to think about things in a different way that doesn't make you so upset/makes you feel better about the situation. along that line, a good therapist willl be blunt with you and tell you when the stuff you're coming up with is bullshit. a lot of the stuff i worry about is not based in reality so she helps me realize when i'm just pulling worries out of thin air. also healthy coping mechanisms! i personally have a lot of unhealthy coping mechanisms what with chronic substance abuse and binge eating and self harm and i'm not like perfect with those things still but she helps me come up with a plan to cope in better ways. i think you'll also find that it really helps to have someone you can be totally honest with. there are things i won't tell my friends or my parents obviously but with her i know i can talk about those things and not be judged and sometimes just getting things off your chest helps a ton. i think it also can help a lot to improve your relationships. i struggle with a lot of black and white thinking so my therapist is able to tell me, if i explain a struggle im going through with one of my personal relationships, if i'm being too stubborn or not seeing the big picture she helps with that. i think they can also help you to realize the people in your personal life that might be. bringing you down/toxic and help you to remove those people from your life or learn how to better deal with them if it's someone you can't cut out like a family member etc. a friend who i asked for input also said that therapy can help you get into things that you didn’t even realize were issues to begin with, and then they can help you deal with those as well. and she said and unexpected pro for her was finding out that some chronic physical issues were related to anxiety, and through treatment they went away. i know you said you have a lot of anxiety so i think that’s a big one.

anyway, with all of that, i'm just going to tell you that going to therapy once a week isn't going to make you happy. it's something that requires work and dedication from YOU. you have to take the things that you learn from your therapist and implement them in your life in order to notice a difference in how you feel and it really is all about changing the way you think about the things that are causing you stress/pain.

additionally, i see a lot of people i know talk about how they don't tell their therapist anything or they don't tell the truth or they give only a little bit of information to keep them from prying. if you're going to do that you shouldn't bother paying for therapy. you need to be honest and open about your problems if you're going to get any help in return on how to improve them. therapy is honestly all about what YOU put in to it. it's not a magical cure that you get just by talking about your problems. it took me a really long time and many therapists to learn that.

the last thing i'll say is that if you do start therapy, it's important to find a therapist that you like and you think you can create a good rapport with and that makes you feel comfortable enough to be open and honest like you need to be. a lot of times that isn't going to be the very first person you see. it can take a few (or more) people to get someone who really meshes with you and that's ok, you just need to not give up. if you start therapy and you're not vibing with them after the first couple sessions you need to be honest with them about that and look for someone else. dragging your feet with a therapist whos style doesnt work for you is just as bad as not being honest with them. you won't get what you need out of it.

so that's what i have to say about therapy basically. it can definitely help in a lot of ways as long as you are willing to put in the work, in combination with finding the right person. i know you're scared and anxious about talking about that stuff with someone, probably especially someone you don't know, but most therapists will not delve into your deepest issues in the first few sessions. they'll want to get to know you on a more baseline level and create a level of trust so that you DO feel more comfortable telling them everything on your mind in the future.

i hope this was helpful at all and i'm sorry you're having a bad time and i hope you can find something that helps!!! <3

#anonymous

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thatfilthyanimal · 4 years ago

Text

I really don't want to vent here but I also don't want to overload my friends so I'm just going to do it and suck it up, fuck it.

I feel pretty fucking horrible in a very deep way and I don't know how to talk to people about it. This started up around the beginning of April and I thought it was in relation to April just being generally rough on me because of how my dad died, but it hasn't let up yet. If anything, I feel worse. Way worse.

I'm guessing I need to raise the dosage of my medication and I'm actually really heartbroken about that in a way I don't know how to describe. How am I supposed to feel if shit is so horrible I have to take the highest possible dosage I can safely take of a medication? How am I supposed to feel calling up a psychiatrist I just told two months ago my dosage was stable and I was feeling great, to tell her "ha ha ha I high key hate life and want to die again, please, raise my shit so I can hold up the illusion that I'm not a fucking lost cause a little longer?"

So... some of the only stuff I'm really comfortable touching on here is the whole transphobia at the doctors, thing. After spending most of 2020 living at doctors because of unknown stomach pain and just trying not to fucking die from something during a global pandemic I'm at a loss now. Nobody ever figured out my pain issues, I've just changed around what I eat and it seems better... Sort of? But mostly my existence in general hurts because coming out as trans to my newer doctors has been... uncomfortable. Now it feels like every time they "ma'am" me or pointedly call me "a woman" or "female" in a phone call (where I'm specifically asking for help regarding getting on testosterone) I want to claw myself out of my own skin and bury myself deep in the ground where nobody ever has to see me again.

Literally all the shit that I was terrified of that kept me from admitting to myself I was trans this entire time is fucking real and-- I'm weak, I'm fucking weak and scared and tired because I've never needed so much help with something so desperately in my life and the ONE PLACE I should be able to get help from I'm... terrified of, now. I just want to cancel all my future appointments and just never leave my house again because what is the fucking point. I'll never look right and I'll never be taken seriously and my weight is always an issue some-fucking-how regardless of the actual problem, so just. Fuck. Why leave. Why go anywhere. Why try to take care of myself anymore just. why.

I knew this would happen if I came out, I knew admitting I was trans would be a challenge of my ability to continue to love myself and... you know, I do, I do love myself, and coming out has proven that more than anything, but the cost of that almost feels like it outweighs the euphoria of being myself.

But now I'm in that weird middle-state of my body and voice not "matching" my gender and nobody taking said gender seriously and. What do I do. I'm so terrified of this happening at another doctor's office that it hurts to try to reach out. Literally the nearest doctors that might help me are an hour and a half out in Chicagoland, if not Chicago proper. And things feel so uncomfortable here where I am that I may literally need to drive that hour and a half just for basic health care, not just the hormone therapy and. Like. It hurts.

If I had figured this out sooner while I was in Champaign, there was an endocrinologist there and the city was super LGBTQIA+ friendly and I'm kicking myself for not doing something before I moved three hours away. Getting help could have been maybe a 15 minute drive in my own city instead of an hour and a half into the heart of Chicago, which, btw, I fucking hate driving in because everyone out there drives like a crazy asshole.

Idk. I'm tired and I'm scared and worn down and I don't know how to ask for help. I tried with one of my local friends but, well, their life is busy and its always "oh I forgot to ask my friend about that place here that would help you, sorry, there's been so much going on" but. It's been months now. They were the one that suggested I reach out to said people about whatever place it is, and I don't want to be rude but also... are you going to help me? Because it sounds like my sorry ass is stuck going to Chicago in a global pandemic to get T and I'm really upset about it.

Like, if my friend can't even see it as important than I guess I just have to do everything alone. Just like I've had to with BPD.

This is getting way longer than I meant, and it's not even the worst thing just. I'm feeling vulnerable and isolated as hell and I need more support than I have and I'm too scared to ask for it. And most of the people I know can't do jack or shit about it because there's really nothing they can do, so like. Why ask them. Why tell them. Idk.

I'm talking to a therapist too, have been for months, and she's nice but she's not great for trans issues. She's supportive but it's not her specialty. Because I have borderline I have to kind of choose my battles when it comes to therapists... There are therapists that handle BPD and therapists that handle trans issues but my insurance doesn't cover one that specializes in both at once in this town. And BPD is super misunderstood-- the wrong therapist may admit me for just passive suicidal ideation not realizing it's a common and (generally non-life-threatening) part of BPD that doesn't hold real threat. Getting a therapist for trans issues that doesn't know how to read the weight of my depression/anxiety/suicidal thoughts and call them correctly is dangerous and... that's its own problem. I have to choose my battles here and it's really hurting me.

Like I really don't know what to do. Do I get a second therapist and risk that they may not understand BPD and may be overwhelmed and scared to work with me? God. I've never had two therapists at once and the thought is... idk. It hurts.

I just want to feel okay, and I don't. And I'm more tired and scared and feeling misunderstood than I've ever been and the idea of reaching for help is terrifying me. This feels like stuff I should only be unloading on a therapist, not my friends... my friends deserve better than that. But also I'm well aware of how my friendships will go if I start to use them to vent and seek help like this.

Idk. I wish I knew how to talk about everything that's wrong right now but I... can't. It sounds horrible and mean when I say it all and I don't want people to look at me like I'm fragile and someone to pity, but that seems to be my life and how people are going to view me. I basically exist as an example of what not to be. So. Idk. I'm tired and I want help but I'm scared to ask for it.

Past friends have taught me that if I seek help and cry to them that I'm a Problem that they need to distance from and. It hurts. There may be friends that do genuinely want me to come to them and I don't know how to try; the idea scares the shit out of me. Everyone I've ever opened up to (besides my partner) has eventually grown sick of me and I can't handle losing what support I have right now.

I need to hush cause this sounds blamey and I don't mean it that way. My life is just... highkey fucked and I'm trying to hold on and struggling about it.

I don't regret finally admitting to both myself and everyone else that I'm trans, but fuck, the weight of this level of medical rejection on top of the BPD feelings interfering with my ability to reach to friends for help just... it's so much. And I feel guilty complaining about it at all.

And every time I post something public about it I'm just giving people insight on why they should avoid me, or worse, exactly what they can do/say if they want to hurt me.

#personal #bpd #trans issues and dysphoria yayyy #suicidal ideation yaaaaaaaaay #come to filthy's brain where we have #sadness!#regret!#dread!#trust issues!#fear of abandonment!!#it's great it's fun and I'm definitely not typing tags to stall hitting the post button hoooo #shit

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luviedovey · 4 years ago

Text

the you i fell in love with

connor murphy x female!reader

a/n: not me writing a fic about mike faist’s connor murphy 2 years after he left the show...... also Connor is probably ooc

summary: you were Connor’s girlfriend who lived in the next town over, a little over a half hour away. his family didn’t know about you, no one did. he didn’t want his family or anyone he knew to scare you away. in the end, it didn’t really matter. he was gone. when the Connor Project came to be and Evan resigned from being co-president, you ran into him. you questioned him about his “friendship” with Connor and he told you everything.

set after the Murphy’s find out the truth and before the Evan/Zoe reunion at the orchard.

second person pov

warning: a few swear words, also very brief mention of depression and taking your own life, and Larry Murphy kind of being a dick

word count: 5,573

______

“Who are you exactly?” Evan questioned the girl who pulled him off to the side of the supermarket where no one else was around. To say he was a little nervous would be an understatement, he was freaking out on the inside.

“I’m so sorry! I probably scared you half to death dragging you along like that.. I just have some questions for you, if you don’t mind answering..?” You smiled at him sheepishly. Something about your awkward smile eased his mind a bit, but not enough. “No, sorry my mom actually is waiting for me by the-” “It’s about Connor!” You interrupted, looking at him through sad, heartbroken eyes. “..Please. Evan Hansen. I know you weren’t really friends with him. I know you weren’t even secret friends with him.. Because if you were, I would’ve known.”

Evan looked around before looking back at you, confused. “Who are you?” He asked for the second time. “I’m- I was Connor’s girlfriend. Y/N L/N. I met him 2 years ago at the apple orchard you guys rebuilt? We both went there because we thought that no one else would be there and that it would be the perfect place to escape. His family and classmates never knew about me because he-” you laugh slightly,” he was afraid they would take me away from him. Or that his family would fight in front of me and he’d lose his cool or that his sister would say nasty things about him to ‘spare me from being in a relationship with him’ or even that the bullies at his school would turn me against him even though he knew damn well I could never.” You stopped rambling and passed him a Polaroid picture of the two of you, sitting against the chain link fence that surrounded the old abandoned apple orchard. You were looking up at Connor with heart eyes as he smiled back down at you. A real smile. This was the real Connor Murphy.

Evan looked up from the picture at you, shocked before quickly returning it to you. “Oh my god... You must think I’m such a h- horrible person for doing all this and pretending to be best friends with your- your dead boyfriend- I’m so sorry for your loss by the way- and making up all these stories about things we never really did and starting a whole online campaign about-” “Evan!” He stopped ranting, breathing heavily. “Breathe, okay? In through your nose, out through your mouth. Relax.”

It was silent for a moment before Evan mumbled a quiet, “Thank you.”

You smiled knowingly. “Now. Mind telling me everything?”

The two of you sat in your old beat up truck, as Evan told you everything. And by everything i mean everything. He started from the very beginning, “My dad left when I was 7 so now it’s just me and my mom. She works all the time at the hospital to support us and to pay for her education- she’s studying to be a paralegal- and so I’m usually home alone. I have anxiety so I take medication and go to therapy where I have to write a letter to myself hyping myself up for the day and trying to be positive and stuff-” “’Dear Evan Hansen’...”

He looked up from his hands at you, “Yeah.. Connor had one of my letters when he- um.. he took it from me earlier that day..” “It was your therapy letter? Why did he take it from you?” “Oh! You see he didn’t actually know it was a letter to myself for therapy he just thought I was being creepy and writing about his sister in a letter to print it out where he would find it and freak out and explode or something- That wasn’t why though, I didn’t even know he was in the room with me, I thought I was alone. He signed my cast before he read my letter, though. He said, ‘Now we both can pretend we have friends.’ Which is why I thought doing what I did would be okay but it wasn’t and it never will be and I really shouldn’t justify my actions because it was-” “Evan breathe.” “Right, sorry.” “Don’t apologize, it’s okay.” “Okay sor-” You gave him a pointed look.

“O-okay...” You giggled slightly, looking out of the window at the supermarket parking lot, “So.. he ran out with your letter, pissed because he thought you were fucking with him... And then he killed himself.” “Yeah.”

“So what happened after that?” “The Murphy’s showed up in the principal’s office three days later. I knew something was wrong because Connor and Zoe both weren’t in school and I know Connor skips but it’s not likely that they would both be out on the same days. Zoe doesn’t really skip school- she’s not that kind of person.” You nodded, gesturing to get to the point. “Right, they called me into the office because Connor had my letter and my name was on it so they thought the letter was for me. I tried to tell them it wasn’t- that I was the one who wrote it, but they were in denial. They kept reading parts of my letter back to me from memory, trying to make sense of it but I couldn’t tell them- I couldn’t get through to them....” He sighed.

“They invited me over to dinner and I went because I wanted to set the record straight but when I got there, they wanted to hear everything I knew about Connor. But I didn’t know anything, so whenever they brought something up I just nodded and agreed. Zoe was getting suspicious so I started to make things up. ‘Connor loved to talk about how much he hated skiing.’ ‘Connor took us to A La Mode and we ate our ice cream in the apple orchard where we climbed trees and raced across the open fields.’ ‘We would quote songs by our favorite bands.’ ‘We’d tell jokes no one else would understand.’ All lies. And they believed them. They wanted me to keep talking, they needed me to. They were broken and I just wanted to help them. I told them that we were friends on the internet where we’d email each other to talk about our day and stuff. And Connor would use a secret email account because he knew his dad was checking his regular email, and he didn’t want anyone to know we were friends.... Now that I think about it, this kind of sounds like your story.” You laughed, lightening the mood, and nodded.

“You know, you really aren’t that far off from who Connor was, despite the fact that you were making it up as you went. He wasn’t the monster that everyone thought he was. I mean sure in 2nd grade he pushed over a printer because he had a little tantrum about being skipped for line leader, but what kid doesn’t have a tantrum at least once in their life? It definitely didn’t help that all those kids grew up, making the story sound worse than it really was. He was always angry and stand-offish because everyone in his life would say shit about him that wasn’t true or be nice to him to get close enough to learn something new about him and then turn around and make fun of him for it. He was battling depression and needed help but his family didn’t want to believe there was anything actually wrong with him. I was the only one to believe him. To believe in him. But I’m just one person, and I guess that wasn’t enough..” You trailed off. Evan awkwardly put a hand on your shoulder, rubbing it with his thumb as a way to console you.

It was silent for a moment. “I think he would’ve liked you. It would’ve taken him a while to warm up to you, but I really do think the two of you could’ve been friends.” Evan smiled slightly, before frowning. “I pretended to be his friend for so long, but Alana- she’s the co-president of the Connor Project- started getting suspicious about our friendship, saying that the letters didn’t make sense because it sounded like Connor was getting better so I showed her Connor’s ‘suicide note’-” “Dear Evan Hansen, It turns out this wasn’t an amazing day after all. This isn’t going to be an amazing week or an amazing year. Because, why would it be?”

“...Yeah. She believed me too. I told her not to show anyone because it was a really private thing, but she just said that was exactly what people needed to see. She posted it and people on the internet started to attack the Murphy’s, saying things like ‘They’re a rich family who couldn’t bother to pay for their son to get help?’ and ‘I’m not saying to do anything illegal but their house is the pale yellow house at the end of the cul de sac with a red door.’” Your hand flew to your mouth in shock. “They even leaked Zoe’s phone number and their house phone! Everything was just spiraling out of control and I didn’t know what to do. I panicked and the only thing I could think of to do was just.. them the truth. So I did and I told them everything. I wrote the letter, Connor took it from me, we weren’t really friends, and it was all a lie. I haven’t spoken to the Murphy’s since.” He fiddled with his hands in his lap and sighed. “And.. I’m scared. Scared that one day I’ll go to school and everyone will hate me or that the Murphy’s will ruin my life.. Not that I don’t deserve it, after what I did? I deserve worse.”

“Evan.. No one deserves that, especially not you. What you did wasn’t exactly the right thing to do but you had the best intentions.” He nodded silently, “What did you want to ask me earlier anyways?”

You turned, facing down at the wheel in front of you. “I wanted to ask you if you knew where he was buried.”, a tear slipped from your eye as you sighed, smiling sadly, “I didn’t exactly get to say goodbye..” “I could go with you if you’d like. To show you the way?”

“Thank you, Evan.”

___

During the ride to the cemetery, You and Evan talked, trying to lighten the mood, and quickly became best friends. The two of you didn't have so much in common but you were both very comfortable and supportive of each other. You were like the siblings neither of you had.

The two of you stepped out of the truck, and begun walking to Connor’s grave. “Oh! Hold on..” You turn back, grabbing a beautiful bouquet of red roses and pink tulips, with a small white card that said, “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you enough when you needed it, Connor. I will never forget you, mon amour. I love you, always.” Connor didn’t have a specific favorite flower but he did appreciate their meanings. Roses represent love, and tulips represent a declaration of love. You hoped that even though he was gone he would still appreciate the thought you put into it.

The two of you walked up to his grave. It was at this moment when it hit you that he was really gone forever. You dropped to your knees, carefully placing down the flowers. Tears streaming as you silently sobbed, Evan’s hand on your left shoulder and the ghost of Connor’s hand on your right.

“I’m sorry, Connor. I love you more than you’ll ever know..”

The two of you sat there in silence for a while, before agreeing to leave in case the Murphy’s decided to visit. Neither of you really wanted to run into them and have to explain who you were and why you were there. “Do you want to come over to my house? You look emotionally exhausted.” You laughed and nodded, starting up the car.

___

“Why didn’t you come to town sooner?” You sighed, “I just.. I didn’t want to believe that he was really gone, you know? And coming here, seeing his grave, and his grieving family just confirmed what I prayed wasn’t true.” You sipped on the hot chocolate in your hands, staring out of the window at the pouring rain and cloudy night sky. “Have you met them yet?” Evan mumbled, typing on his laptop on the couch beside you. He pulled up the Connor Project and read about all the many different things Alana was doing. “No.. But I feel like I should? Like I know things about Connor that would give them closure but I can’t bring myself to go over and talk to them.”

“If only there was a way for you to show them what Connor was really like so you wouldn’t have to talk to them...” It was silent for a moment, “Actually... Connor and I used to write each other handwritten letters and take a lot of pictures together..” “Well what are the odds..” he giggled, “Maybe you could give those to them? The ones that aren’t super personal?” You sat together deeply in thought.

“But I can’t exactly bring myself to just give them away... Maybe I could copy them and white out all the personal stuff? Like the things between me and Connor only, and my face and name?” Evan nodded, agreeing that that would be the best option. You’d create a box filled with things Connor wrote and pictures of when he was truly happy, then leave it on the Murphy’s doorstep. It was a safe, no-contact interaction.

___

The next night, you went over to Evan’s house with the box labeled “The Real Connor Murphy. (i’m so sorry for your loss.. i thought maybe you would like to have these to know who he really was.)” Evan gave you directions to the Murphy household. Eventually, you parked in front of the pale yellow house, all three cars were in the driveway. “You better be quick if you don’t want anyone to see you.. Just.. keep the car running, drop off the box, ring the doorbell, and book it back here and drive off. Don’t turn back.” “Okay super spy.” You laughed nervously.

You walked up to the door, placing the box neatly on the ground with a single rose and tulip tapped on the top, rang the doorbell, and ran off. You jumped into the car and drove off just as Evan, who was previously hiding away from the car window, saw the red front door begin to open.

___

“Larry!” Cynthia Murphy exclaimed, picking up the box from the front porch to the dinner table, placing it beside the small card they had found on a mysterious bouquet of flowers they found the day before against Connor’s gravestone. “What is that?” He asked, looking at it with disinterest. “I found it on the porch, it says ‘The Real Connor Murphy. I’m so sorry for your loss.. I thought maybe you would like to have these to know who he really was.’ It’s in the same handwriting as the note we found on that bouquet of flowers. It even has the same two flowers! It has to be the same person. Someone who really loved him...” “What’s inside?” Zoe asked while reading and rereading the small card.

Cynthia opened the box to find handwritten letters from Connor and a mystery girl, photos of Connor laughing, smiling, pouting, hugging and kissing someone with a scratched out face. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes. This was the real Connor, a whole different version of him that the three were completely unaware of. Seeing him like this was just so unfamiliar to them, they couldn’t believe their eyes for a moment. Zoe picked up a letter, reading it aloud,

“Dear Y/N

Things haven’t been going so well lately, my parents are always fighting, my mom pretends like there’s nothing wrong, my dad doesn’t pay attention to anyone but himself anymore, and Zoe hates me.

Not that I blame her, I hate myself too. But I don’t hate myself when I’m around you. I’m so glad to have you around. You make life just a little easier every day.

It’s harder when you’re not around, I get angry easier when I get bullied at school or when Zoe says something awful about me. I just feel like I’m an airplane about to crash, but with you around I feel like I’m flying. Smooth sailing. Floating even. You are the most perfect girl I’ve ever met.

Thank you. I love you.

Sincerely, Con”

“He.. he had a girlfriend..?” She said, in shock. The three began to shuffle through the letters, photos, and little post-it notes, putting them in piles. “These are all copied..” “Maybe whoever left them didn’t want to give the originals away..?” “Maybe because she still cares about and loves him and didn’t want to give these away. They seem so.. personal.” Cynthia picked up a post-it note,

“Tu es belle Y/N, je t'adore.”

“What does that even mean?” Zoe pulled out her phone going straight to google translate, “It’s says ‘you are beautiful, i adore you.’.. I didn’t know Connor knew french.” “He never took a class for it. Maybe he learned it on his own?” Larry picked up a photo this time, Connor was standing in front of the apple orchard’s rotting old sign in the middle of the field, fake pouting and wearing a thin little flower crown you had made him. “I didn’t know Connor had any feelings other than anger.” Cynthia hit his arm. “Wait,” Zoe said, grabbing the attention of her bickering parents, “This letter has a picture and a post-it note attached to it.”

“Dear Con,

Thank you for the painting, it’s absolutely beautiful. You are so so talented. The way you put so much thought into every detail is truly admirable. You make everything you paint so exciting and captivating, even if the thing you’re painting isn’t very exciting at all. You see the beauty in the things that most people never give a second glance.

It kind of reminds me of the way I look at you.

To most people that don’t know you, you are a “freak” or “school shooter chic”. But, when I look at you, you are none of those things. You are beautiful, you are captivating, you are perfectly imperfect. You are worth it. Don’t give up on me darlin’.

I love you.

Sincerely, Y/N/N”

Attached to the letter was a photo of the painting mentioned. It was a painting of your beaten old navy blue truck parked beside a chain link fence that blocked it off from the open field. In the background, the sun was setting in a perfect blend of yellows, oranges, and reds. It was so detailed that if you weren’t already aware that it was a painting, you would’ve probably thought it was a photo taken from a fancy camera. “It really is beautiful..” Cynthia trailed off, wiping a stray tear that fell from her eye, “He was so talented. I didn’t even know he liked to paint! I mean I knew he took an art class but because he skipped school so much, I never even thought he went..”

“I guess we really didn’t know Connor at all..” Zoe begun to get angry, “What kind of family does that?! I mean we lived with him, I grew up with him, you two raised him, and we still didn’t even know who he was?! This.. this stranger even knew more about him than we did! Do you realize how sad this is? We have to learn about our dead family member from a complete stranger because when he was alive, we were too busy pretending like he was just acting out for attention instead of actually needing help! He needed help and we didn’t give it to him! It’s not like we couldn’t afford to take him to therapy! We just pretended like he was a monster and if we ignored him, he would stop..” She took a deep breath, “Maybe we were the monsters and his anger and tantrums were his cries for help...” “Zoe..” Cynthia reached for her arm but she pulled away, running up to her room while choking back tears. “..She’s right.”

The two were quiet for a long period of time, reading and rereading every letter and every note, memorizing every photo.

Cynthia held up a photo of Connor and a girl, whose face was completely scratched out, “Who are you..”

___

The next day was a particularly warm day so you and Evan drove over to A La Mode as a victory ice cream run of sorts. You really believed in treating yourself after small, seemingly insignificant, victories such as dropping off a box of precious letters to a grieving family. They needed closure, and you were willing to give it them. Evan, despite talking about A La Mode with the Murphy’s before, had never actually been. You two talked and ate your ice cream sitting in the back of your truck, looking out at the orchard across the street. The orchard was renamed the “Connor Murphy Memorial Orchard”, which made your heart a little heavy. Another reminder that he was really gone.

In the distance, on the other side of the fence sat the Murphy’s who were packing up from their weekly picnic. As they got up to walk out of the orchard, Zoe looked across the street. “Wait a minute..” Her parents stopped walking. “What is it Zoe?” Larry asked. She pointed at the car parked across the street, “Isn’t that the car that Connor painted his girlfriend in that letter? And Evan?” They looked across the street to find the same navy blue truck and a familiar face.

Evan paled, “The Murphy’s are looking at us!” he whisper-shouted. You began to turn around, but Evan stopped you. “No don’t look!” Your head whipped back to him as your face paled, “They recognized my car..” “How could they? It was night time when you dropped off the box and the door barely begun to open as you drove away..”

You smiled sheepishly, “I may or may not have given them a picture of a painting Connor made me of my truck parked beside that exact fence...” Evan facepalmed and gave you a deadpanned look. “Well they’re starting to walk across the street now.”

You shot up, “Let’s go.” “I mean would it be so bad to meet his parents?” Evan asked as the two of you scrambled into the front seats. “I’m just.. I’m not ready to have that conversation just yet.” You reversed out of the parking spot and drove back onto the road.

“Wait!” The Murphy’s shouted to the car as it begun to drive off. “There was a girl driving. Maybe that was her?” Cynthia asked, hopefulness clear in her voice. “She was with Evan, do you think the box of letters were fake?” Larry, always the optimist. “They couldn’t be, they were handwritten in Connor’s handwriting. Even the french notes.”

Zoe thought for a moment, “Well if we’re going to find her, we should probably start with Evan’s place first.” “Who said we were going to look for her?” Larry asked, “I’m not wasting my time on a wild goose chase. She’s already shown us enough about Connor.”

Cynthia turned to her husband, “How could you say that? She could be the one thing to bring us closer to our son. Our son who took his own life because he felt that that was the only path left for him. And you don’t want to try to find her? Find closure? Honestly Larry, what is wrong with you lately!” “I’m sorry. We’ll find her.”

___

The Murphy’s found themselves at the Hansen household. They knew you were there. After all, your truck was parked in the driveway. Inside were you, Heidi, and Evan. You had just met Heidi, but she loved you. She was thrilled to find that Evan had made a friend like you. You hung out with Evan even after learning he lied about being friends with your recently deceased boyfriend, and helped him when he started to rant and breathe heavy about it. You were so kind-hearted, forgiving, and calm by nature, that he was finally comfortable around someone. You were quickly best friends.

A knock at the door startled the three of you. “Are you guys expecting anyone?”, Heidi stood up to get the door as you and Evan turned to each other. He placed a hand on your shoulder to comfort you. “I suppose now’s a good time as ever, even though I really only had 24 hours to prepare myself..” You muttered, the two of you walking towards the front door.

The Murphy’s stopped and stared at you. “Are you.. Were you Connor’s girlfriend?” Cynthia asked. You nodded slightly, rubbing your arm as a nervous habit. “I’m Cynthia, this is Larry and Zoe.. We’re Connor’s family.” “I know.”

Heidi invited them in, everyone heading to the living room. “It’s so nice to finally meet you.. We just wanted to thank you for all the letters and photos of Connor. It feels like we’re finally getting to know who he really was on the inside.” You looked up from your lap, “No offense ma’am, but shouldn’t you have gotten to know your own son when he was still around?”

Zoe laughed, awkward and uncomfortable. “I really don’t think that’s funny.. especially considering you didn’t bother to get to know him either.” You said getting defensive, sticking up for Connor. Even if he was gone, you would never stop fighting for him. You did truly love him after all. “And before you say ‘Connor wasn’t easy to talk to. He would always yell and storm off.’, just think about the fact that having a relationship with someone is a two way street. You can’t expect someone to make an effort if you don’t try to do the same.”

The three looked at her in shock. Heidi and Evan smiling sheepishly in the background. “I..”, Larry started, but trailed off, not being able to come up with a proper response. Cynthia and Zoe looked deep in thought, unable to do the same.

It was quiet for a long amount of time.

“You’re right. You’re right and I wish it wasn’t true, but it is. And the only thing we could do now is learn from our mistakes. We don’t exactly know how we’re going to do that but we’re willing to try. And we’re hoping that you could help us? Help us figure out what to do and help us learn about who Connor was?” Zoe finally spoke up, her parents nodding along in agreement.

You were trying to heal from everything that happened and them putting all their hope on you wasn’t really helping. But maybe grieving together would allow everyone to heal and remember him in a more positive way? At least you hoped.

There’s a lot of hope pinned on others here.

“I suppose helping you all would let us heal.. together?” You said, slightly questioning your own words, turning toward Evan. He shrugged, giving you a thumbs-up. “But I don’t feel comfortable talking about Connor unless Evan is around.” You paused, “It’d be nice to have a familiar face around and we’re practically best friends now.. so..” “Yes of course.” The three stood up, walking to the front door, “We’ll come back here at 11AM tomorrow and drive to the orchard for a picnic if that’s alright with the two of you?” You and Evan nodded simultaneously. “Are you allergic to anything dear?”

With the shake of your head and a quick goodbye from Evan and Heidi, the Murphy’s were off.

“Am I doing the right thing here? Connor didn’t even want his family to known I existed! And now we’re going on a picnic with them? Where I have to talk about him?” You sat down, head in your hands as a headache begun to grow. Heidi placed her hand on your shoulder gently, “It’s going to be tough right now, and it’s going to be emotionally draining, I’m sure. But, if you really think that they deserve to know who he really was, that how they perceive him is wrong, then I think you are doing the right thing. You’re helping them, you’re helping yourself, and you’re helping Connor. You did say that he wanted to change the way people saw him. And you’d be doing that for him, even if he’s not physically around to see it happen.”

“Thank you, Heidi.”

___

“It’s really nice of you to agree to meet us here, Y/N. And Evan, it’s nice to have you here too.” Cynthia smiled, putting down a blanket for the picnic. Everyone sat down in an awkward silence.

“So... is.. is there anything you wanted to know that wasn’t already in the letters?” You asked, picking at the blades of grass beside you. Evan slapped your hand away from the grass, silently scolding you in true forest ranger fashion for messing with nature. The Murphy’s turned to each other, silently debating what to say and who would say it. No surprise to you and Evan that the one to speak up was Cynthia. The past couple of hours really showed that she was the only one who seemed to care, at least a little bit, about Connor when he was around, though Zoe and Larry were trying their best now.

“Why didn’t Connor bring you around to meet the family? It really seemed like you brought so much light to his life. I mean, you brought out parts of him that we didn’t even know existed!” “We thought he was a monster...” Zoe muttered sadly.

Your heart ached for this family, they really knew nothing about him.. “Connor didn’t bring me around because he was afraid you’d all ‘scare me off’,” you laughed slightly, “And Connor may have been a monster to you, but the real Connor was never a monster, to me or to anyone in my small town. In the next town over, no one knew who Connor was or what he’d done in the past. It was like a fresh start. Which I knew he desperately needed. I mean, with all the people bullying him, hurting him physically or emotionally or both, and spreading fake rumors about him since he was in the second grade? He was angry and hurting and he didn’t know how to deal with it, so he would lash out. But wouldn’t you react the same way? Build up walls so people wouldn’t hurt you? Isolate yourself so people couldn’t get close enough to?”

It went silent again, the only sound was the wind blowing in the summer breeze and the trees rustling in the background.

“She’s right.”

Everyone looked up, faces showing some form of shock. Larry continued, “All that stuff was going on in school and we made it worse for him at home. He asked us for help and we always assumed he was doing for attention. No matter how hard we tried to be a perfect family, we never were and we probably never will be.”

Zoe wiped away a stray tear. “Even though you couldn’t save your kid, maybe there’s a way you could save someone else’s?” He turned to you with a questioning glance. “I mean you have to admit, you’re a pretty wealthy family, maybe you can spend some time donating to suicide prevention hotlines and foundations that were created specifically to help those who are suffering from depression and suicidal thoughts like Connor was? I know for a fact that Connor hated the way that he felt, and would never want anyone to go through what he’d been going through, no matter how much of an asshole they were.”

Cynthia reached over to you, placing a hand on your knee, smiling as tears fell freely from her face, from all of their faces. “That’s a brilliant idea, Y/N.”

___

The picnic went on as you told them stories of your’s and Connor’s adventures together. Jumping over the fence to lay around in the yellow fields of the old orchard, helping your mom arrange flowers in her flower shop (he would always make sure his bouquets were well thought out in their meaning), buying junk food and snacks when having movie marathons on a Saturday night, sketching and painting moments together so you two would never forget them.

With each little story, his family knew more about him and you felt as close to him as you had been before that heart-wrenching summer day.

You fell behind from the group as you all walked out of the orchard. Turning back and taking one last look at the entrance, the fields, and the growing trees of the Connor Murphy Memorial Orchard, you notice a figure dressed in black standing with his back against the fence. He gave you a smile, a genuine yet sad smile, mouthing the words “thank you” and “i love you”, before disappearing in the wind.

#connor murphy #connor murphy x reader #deh #dear evan hansen #mike faist #broadway #dear evan hansen x reader

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biotchthatmeows · 3 years ago

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#tw #suicideawarness #triggering #depression #suicide #substanceabuse

Ah! So suicide awareness month eh. Well I don't know where to burst out exactly because people don't really care about it but ok let's try it here at good ol' Tumblr.

So, where I live we don't have any suicide helpline or any awareness programs or anything at all regarding mental health. I mean don't get me wrong we would adapt western media full fledge when it's Valentine's Day or some other ridiculous thing but no one wants to talk about suicide because it doesn't bring trp and people are already sad and I agree it's true.

But we gotta talk about suicide, man, come on. I am sorry but at least I think I should.

I have never really openly said it but I have given hints many times. But I am openly saying it that I suffer from very severe depression and anxiety plus Bipolar personality disorder. Which means I am either going through maniac episode or depressive episode almost everyday (you can Google them).

And yes, I have tried to kill myself multiple times. And turns out like most things in my life I am not really good at it. Since, I am writing this. Which is why whoever is reading this, I am taking your time (thanks btw).

I was always a little different since my childhood as compared to others. I liked being alone a lot and writing things instead of talking to a person. Because whenever I tried to make a friend I would do something wrong and they go away. So, at one point I stopped trying and I realized something that people around me dont really like me.

Even my teachers kind of didn't like me because I would just randomly ask the most peculiar questions. For example when we were reading *book spoiler* George Orwell's 1984, everyone in the class was worried for the hero when he was being tortured but I asked or told my teacher that 'okay so, his fear for the mouse was bigger than the love for the girl and it okay to betray her?' and everyone was like that was not the point. I am sorry, I got districted and I am sure most people wouldn't get the reference.

Anyway, my point is that I always had and have questions about things when people should keep their mouth shut. At least one shouldn't questioned these things.

But that is still the thing with me, when you or someone makes a prominent statement there should be a reason or at least an explanation behind it but I was called blasphemous for questioning them. And that was fine with me but calling me blasphemous didn't get you out of the position of not able to justify your statement.

So, throughout my life I was called many things, spoiled, brat, weird, drama queen, actress, attention seeker. I can go on and on.

I don't know about rest of the names but I am pretty sure I wasn't spoiled. My parents were never the type to hand over the money because you asked for it. They were kind of people who wouldn't even give you money even when you actually need and beg for it. They would give you the thing instead that you need the money for or you don't get it at all for example school picnics and events or the bag you really really wanted.

So, well when you don't get things. You eventually start doing bad things such lying a lot and stealing stuff. And it keeps growing and growing and even though deep down you know how wrong you are but then you don't know how to stop because you are getting things you want.

Okay, off the topic again. What I am trying to say that I was maybe lot of things that people said but I wasn't spoiled. I was physically abused and eventually realize mentally abused too. And things weren't really okay with me. I won't take it like most people do.

My brain wouldn't stop thinking about them and I was becoming more and more irrational as days goes by. And I was thinking what if I was dead and that would make things lot more easier for me and the people around me.

Eventually, that idea became more and more intense and growing around I always heard people say that if a person kills themself they would never be forgiven and it was the greatest sin ever.

But then those people would also say that not praying is the greatest sin and you won't be forgiven for that ever.

And then not believing in one God is also the biggest is of all sin and you won't be forgiven for that ever.

And then saying hurtful things to people is also the biggest sin and you won't forgiven until that person forgives you.

So, which one was the biggest sin? All of them? Because then those same people would say that God would forgive you for all your sins if you repent and because God is most forgiving. Even more forgiving then your own mother.

So, my curious brain once again started asking questions. For which again I was told that I shouldn't because it was wrong and blasphemy.

Meanwhile, my mental health was decling day after day but no one really noticed because in our society their is no such thing as mental health. Either you are crazy or lazy, hey that rhymes.

I was pretty much deemed both.

Mostly, lazy but then there is a solution for that in our society for as well. Get married! Tada! Because when you are married it fixes everything! And anything.

It shouldn't come as a surprise that I obviously despiced the marriage thing. Because I knew I couldn't do it.

Someone who can barely keep themself put together, cannot handle the responsibility of the marriage and of course I wasn't interested in anyone. I mean of course I had crushes and stuff but unlike most girls/women my age I never went as far as thinking about marriage all the time. Which was happening at that time all around me.

People were keen to get married or getting married.

And I don't know why people thought it's about time I should get married too and everytime the situation like that came along I would have the worst kind of panic attacks. I couldn't eat or drink or sleep and I had to fight and fight to make the situation go away.

But you can't win every time now, can you? Eventually, I was forced into getting engaged and I can't explain how horrible each second for me during that time was. But once got lucky enough get out of it and it was happiest day of entire life. Well just for me of course. Everyone around me was pretty bumped but I was selfish because I got out of it.

And the worst part of the whole thing that bugged me was that guy was honestly horrible. He called me fat and then his family came around to inspect me like a cattle because my family told them I wasn't fat. What a wonderful thing to your child. Really helped my self esteem.

He couldn't even spell aunty right. Yeah he wrote 'unty' and apparently his parents bragged he went and study in Australia. So, if Australians wrote aunty like that, then I suppose I was being a little judgy.

Anyhow, I was so relieved. It was like I could breathe again. But obviously it wasn't the end of it.

Things like that don't don't just end for people in our society. Situations like that kept happening and my parents was getting desperate at this point because duh! I was growing old and who would marry an old girl even when like they 10 years older her.

During the period of my engagement my mental health was at its worse and it was getting worse everyday. I was constantly having panic attacks and one day out pity I was finally taken to the doctor not a psychologist or psychiatrist but just a normal doctor.

Lucky for me that guy prescribed a magical pill which fixed everything, for a while and I loved it. The minute I would take that pill everything would become normal. I would even stopped caring about the engagement thing till that pill lasted.

I didn't know at first what it was but then I figured it out and I would go out buy shit ton of them because it fixed things for a while.

In short I was addicted to vallium and then I found out there are other pills like that such as Xanax and plenty of other and as long as I had money no one cared who they selling these pills too and it wasn't like I was buying them from some shady person. I was actually buying them from legit pharmaceutical shops.

So, whenever situations like those came around or at that any other point I faced problems I would take those pills but then I realized that eventually that they stopped working so I increased the doses for them to work and the doses increased and increased. At one point I was taking a box each day just for a moment of calm. And years went by and so did the amount of pills I was literally throwing my whole month of salary on them.

Then my family finally noticed that something was off because I never had money and I wasn't exactly

buying anything so where was the money going? Also I was sleeping a lot and starting to forget things which was pretty out character for me.

I was confronted and given an ultimatum. So, for a week or more I think I didn't take any pills but then I was taking them for years now and you are not supposed to suddenly stop them. But I didn't know that at that time.

And that was my first attempt to kill myself. But then things happen, bad things, and they kept happening and happening. Finally came a point where no one was to stop me from taking pills or trying to kill myself.

By then I had committed multiple attempts to kill myself. I was self harming long before that but after that it had gotten much worse. And my last attempt was this year but instead of dying I went into a seizure which lasted 48 hours and even after that I wasn't able move my tounge properly and certain part of my body for a month.

That was the first time I was scared of suicide. Because I was not able to do anything on my own. I bit tounge so hard that it bled and broke a teeth. It worse than dying.

I was finally taken to the hospital and a real psychiatrist who finally diagnosed me with my illness.

Yet still, some people think I make things up because I did them in the past but that shit was real and anyone who say I act crazy to get attention, then I swear to you that you wouldn't wish that condition on your worst enemy.

Talking about all this wasn't to let my heart out or anything. I just want to tell you and anyone who understands to realise that mental illness is very very real and it's a nightmare that doesn't go away. That only problem it is not visible like other diseases. It's just like having a cancer but imagine you can't see that cancer.

And being suicidal is not a joke, no one wants to end their lives on purpose. Everyone wants to live.

But just think for a moment from prespective of the person that their brain had been through enough that it thought that life is not worth living anymore. And if it's a sin then they are ready to go to hell because imagine life being worse than hell.

I know this is already a really long post but I needed to bring this up because recently I was having conversation with colleagues about what we should about suicide awareness month and I was like maybe make post to empathize with people who go through this horrible rough path but my colleagues suggested that they should put this religious script which says that anyone commits suicide will never be forgiven and will forever be in hell.

And this was coming from the person who doesn't pray at all. I was like what about you? I wasn't judging him. I was like so you won't go to hell and be there forever?

And he was like I will be forgiven but people who commits suicide they will not be. And he was so confident that he even said that you will see on the day of judgment that people who didn't pray will be eventually forgiven but there is no way for people who had committed suicide to be forgiven.

And I was like okay, wow! Because there is literally no point with arguing or trying to make people like them understand because they won't. And I know many, actually forget many but most people would agree with him. Because they don't even accept mental illness as illness at all and if you are sad/depressed you must not be praying or need to pray more.

But, I pray for those ignorants who make fun of mental illness and suicide and call it attention seekers or actors when it is desperate cry for help.

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albatris · 4 years ago

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ik this is probably an inappropriate question to ask but i deal with stpd and just recently discovered this. Previously thought it was just depression/anxiety but ive been on like 7 antidepressants/2 of which were more geared towards anxiety. I was wondering if you take any meds or have any advice you might recommend. Id really appreciate it. Im running out of ideas lol.( Sorry to bother and thank you)

nah you’re all good, I don’t have any problem with questions like this n I’m happy to share any experiences of mine that people might find useful!! though in this case idk how much help I’ll be, sorry D:

mostly about meds but my bad for goin on a whole ramble in the middle about therapy?? I talk a lot and have trouble staying on topic

'cause meds n therapy both have been useful to me but both probably would've been pretty useless without the other

under cut for personal rambles

so I was in the same boat as you for several years, I was in treatment for depression and anxiety and then borderline later on, way way way before anyone landed on schizotypal

as such I’ve been obviously dealing with stpd symptoms for basically my whole life but I only got diagnosed early last year n it’s the first time I’ve been. like. actually in any sort of therapy that addresses it properly and I’m still getting a feel for it

in terms of meds, I’ve been on a whole slew of different antidepressants, didn’t find one that worked until I was maybe 18 or 19? so I’ve been on the highest dose mirtazapine since then....... helps with that kinda baseline anxiety background hum, helps with obsessions and guilt spirals..... I didn’t think it did much for depression until I tried coming off it??

like, it gave me a slight boost in terms of energy and motivation, not a huge one, but definitely noticeable once it was gone

but yeah, it was kinda..... yeah, this med is about as helpful as I’m gonna get, so I decided to stick with it. I recently have considered coming off it ‘cause the sedation was a nightmare, but that’s on hold for the time being

I’ve been on two different antipsychotics, first quetiapine, which did absolutely nothing and was even more sedating on top of the mirtazapine, and currently I’m starting on aripiprazole. still on a super low dose, but working up to something that will hopefully ease some psychotic symptoms. side effects of insomnia and nausea but eased off mostly after the first week

but yeah, I haven’t really had much experience with antipsychotics or how helpful they are yet, atm I’m gonna wait and see whether there’s any real positive effects

but meds are super hard to give advice about, ‘cause different ones work for different folks, what works for me might not for you, what works for you might be something I tried and hated, etc etc etc, y’know

honestly the most helpful thing for me has been therapy, I’ve pretty much been in therapy since I was like 5 and I’ve done a lot of it

meds might be helpful to some people on their own but for me I think they would have been mainly useless without some form of therapy

meds kinda helped with some of the “edges” ie, the resulting depression and anxiety of the personality disorder, hopefully will help with some psychotic symptoms too, therapy has also helped with some of these issues on the edges, and I’m currently addressing some of the more specifically schizotypal core issues, although I will likely have to continue doing the work on those issues for most of my life

if you have a good doctor who listens to you, if you want to continue trying out meds then you might still find one that helps you out! I don’t really have a lot of advice here, because the effects can be so different from person to person. but I’ve found that meds only help on a really small scale, they kind of take a little bit of the weight off but it’s still a whole lot of heavy lifting on my own

so therapy was real good for some of that stuff too, skills for easing some of the load. therapy for me involved Other People, but for others it could involve other resources, such as online workbooks n that kind of thing....... ‘cause I know personally for me I fuckin HATE meeting new people and having to bare my soul for them, so therapy gets. interesting

and I know therapy is not realistic for some folks (and also not what this question was about but I’m just rambling now)

n I know especially that that shit gets fucking HARD when any sort of psychosis and paranoia is involved, in terms of stpd, I flat out refused to speak about certain symptoms with professionals due to paranoia and fear, and had a lot of issues trying to come into a therapy environment and immediately having complete strangers be like “ok tell me about what’s up”

like, no???? fuck off?? I don’t even know you??

n until recently all my therapies where only tangentially useful as a schizotypal, like, I did a bunch of social anxiety stuff which helped with some of the surface level day-to-day social anxiety (not so much the more deep-seated stpd social anxiety, that whole “it gets worse the closer you get to people” type, very fun), I did a lot of work around depression and suicidal urges and goals and meaningful living and whatnot, I did DBT which also encompassed a lot of work on interpersonal skills and handling dissociation and paranoia

n like. some of it was helpful? none of it got to the core of the issue or addressed what I really needed to address

I got super lucky with my current psychiatrist in that she was someone I already knew for around a year and a half beforehand ‘cause she helped out in my DBT group therapy. so I was able to get a feel for what kind of person she was beforehand and got to find my feet in trusting her in a more distanced context before entering one on one therapy. she also specialises in personality disorders and was the one who actually diagnosed me so it wasn’t like she was like “oh you’re definitely schizotypal, I’m gonna just pan you off to someone more experienced now” which was nice

she’s also the one who’s helping me out with meds currently

but ya, therapy can be A Lot, ‘specially for schizotypals who tend to isolate and get uncomfy in those vulnerable scenarios. in order to make the most out of it I have to practice an extremely uncomfortable sort of “radical openness” which is like..... well, I’ve spent most of my life being miserable and unhappy and feeling trapped and stuck in these patterns, and this has gotten me nowhere, in order for something to change I need to be radically open about my experiences

which gets HARD because the knee-jerk reaction to paranoia and delusions is often to pull back and isolate, and often I’ve struggled with the idea that it’s not “safe” to speak about certain things or that something bad will happen if I do

so it’s difficult, but I have to continually commit myself to being open and placing myself in intensely uncomfortable scenarios, getting used to the idea of trust being An Action, and practicing trust even when I don’t necessarily Feel It

that’s been a really helpful outlook for me and the only thing that’s kept me involved with therapy and meds and treatment. idk if it’ll be useful to others. I also know that some therapists and psychiatrists are shit and being radically open with the wrong people can be a nightmare

but it’s something that applies in my other relationships too and with my relationship to myself, so. *shrug emoji*

but yeah. that’s been what’s helpful for me

meds do a little bit of the work, but honestly I still have to pull a fuckload of the weight on my own, I kinda got to the point with meds where I was just like “ok this is obviously as good as it’s gonna get” and just stuck with it......... which is kind of a bummer of an answer

ik that kinda turned into a whole unrelated ramble in the middle there but I hope this kinda answers a bit of your question maybe or maybe not ‘cause I don’t really know what I’m doing

but also

I hope you have a nice day

#sorry this is such a rambling wishy-washy answer #tl;dr meds r good but sometimes shit. therapy is good but sometimes shit #like both have probably been really instrumental to me in learning how to manage my symptoms #but also #both can be a nightmare #also idk if this made any sense at all it's a bit of an all-over-the-place response #n bits of it aren't really relevant i don't think #schizotypal #Anonymous

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katzirra · 3 years ago

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Waiting for the place to give me my file list from my hand drive recovery. Made an omelet with asparagus and bacon, and gave the boys a tiny bit for being good this morning and letting me sleep in past 8:06...

Hannibal woke me up with very loudly aggressively loving face rubs which is new, and has been demanding attention all morning by soft paw grabbing and holding my hand while cooking, also new. Usually he's very independent and wants nothing to do with us.

Still concerned with his audible breathing when he's SLIGHTLY distressed, for a cat with obvious anxiety, and when he's picked up or sitting/laying weird. It's very noticeable, and I'm wondering if it has to do with his nasal bridge being a tad flat.

Trying to manifest a good mood. I'm having a big existential crisis about being alive.

Which, I'll just throw that under a cut and pair it with an apology. 🤙✨

I feel like I have no purpose or meaning. Having a lot of those "why bother/what's the point" moments about a lot of things which...the depth of those feelings isn't just apathetic like most people experience? For me it's very much a red flag, so that's been fun. Usually it's doing something as simple as doing something nice for myself, thinking why bother, and having to ARGUE with myself why it matters. Like...having to validate EVERYTHING I do these days is exhausting. Honestly, it's been a low simmer scary JUST KEEP SWIMMING the last few months. But everything I feel is too much to talk to anyone about, and it doesn't HELP me to. It's me. It's my brain. It's scary and I don't like looking the beast directly in the face when people want me to open up. My demon, my problem, trust me when I say I'm trying and that I'm sincere when I say sorry I'm not all here or present.

I'm, like torn between wanting to message my friend first to talk about shit, but I'm also refusing because I was hurt and the comment about shit being too much to read just resonates in my brain yelling "you're not worth their time and effort, you dumb bitch!" because my brain has a FIELD day with that shit. Its.... Kicking a dead horse, repeating myself anyway probably. It hasn't seemed to stick after the last year of me apologizing monthly because I'm just a shit friend who is too busy working and trying to not kill myself. Suicide ideation is a thing, and it SUCKS when it's as invasive as it is for intruding thoughts. But I'll keep apologizing because I feel guilty for not being good enough. Present enough. Engaging enough. Because maybe that time it'll stick??

They'll probably be better off without me making them feel bad because I don't put in enough effort I guess? Which also just hurts because I know online I'm standoffish these days, so I put the extra effort into being a good host I thought and I hoped that mattered. I just feel like no matter what I'm doomed to disappoint them? So I don't mean they'd be better off in a dismissive way, it's a legit...way I think. Like I'm obviously causing distress, and yelling at me won't fix it because it makes me recoil emotionally. So maybe I'm just a bad friend in reality and it is what it is. I'm sorry so many people have fucked me up about inter personal relationships?? I don't know what to do this time because that stupid fight cut me very deep in core values in myself.

It...Fucked me up. And whether that's important to them or not, or whether it has an repercussive weight, whatever. We've both been hurt by people, and been there as much as we'd let eachother. I've tried to be crazy supportive in the last bout of shit they went through. Because I love a bitch, and they matter immensely to me, and I know I suffered alone through a LOT of things like that and know it sucks. I offered my home, attention and time any time I could give it.. Being told i don't give as much as them set weird on my heart in light of that. It hurt.

Idk...And maybe I'm just some dramatic bitch or whatever I guess. Doesn't matter. I matter, my feelings matter. I'm mentally ill and I fucking bust my ass to deal with it, AND be a loving and supportive fixture in people's lives. I suck, sure. But I'm ALWAYS there for people.

I mention I'm depressed or angry at life, sure, but the layers of distress aren't...on display? It's my shit to deal with, if I bring it up, it's for benefit of people knowing why I'm withdrawn usually. I don't talk about myself much anymore because everything is too much and I just start venting. And people don't care that deeply about how fucked up my head is. Or I over share too much. Or yeah, it's a lot to read and I start babbling because the cork is off and I HURT inside just being alive anymore. I don't feel like I'm living my life for me these days. I don't feel alive. I feel stagnant. I'm biding time for SOMETHING to happen??

Yet I'm constantly apologizing to people for not being able to do basic shit, that I'm upfront about being difficult for some dumb reason. I'm always having to explain myself to people. I am in this bubble so often of feeling like I was made wrong, a mistake, missing something important.

Or that I'm a bad person. I'm too open, too closed, withdrawn, outgoing - I can never seem to get the ratio right. And its the kind of discussion I feel leans into self pity and attention grabbing but it's...something I internally struggle with every week and keep to myself.

Oh Kat, get a psychiatrist - I dont know that it would help, honestly. I know 90% of my thoughts and fears are irrational, and pointless. But I know they have valid backing in trauma that I have mostly dealt with, and am unlearning. But I also know I see through people, can identify those markers, and understand outcomes way too easy and that ALSO makes people mad. So. What the fuck is a shrink gonna do for me? My depression is a background white noise to this stuff, and it's honestly just bullshit I deal with. I'm not keen on medication, I'm sure it would help quiet my brain, but I've been dealing with this shit almost 20 years now, ita just the added drama and bullshit from people that exacerbates the emotional brain rash, for lack of a better phrasing. My issues are all behavioral and some depression and anxiety in the mix that I manage.

For all I'm told people understand ahit wrong with me, it sure is something I repeatedly get bitched at over, honestly. And I partially get it, I also find it frustrating. But I've been battling depression since I was 12/13 and learning to stop thinking certain things only since 21, and that's the harder part. I'm not the person people think I am, I wish I was anymore. That bitch died in 2011/2012. That fissure in my foundation fucked me UP. The shaking I had one or two years ago, didn't help.

To be transparently honest the whole shitstorm two weeks ago really hit some raw nerves I'm trying to deal with, and not doing well. Because the more times that nerve is hit the more I don't feel like a valuable person and that I'm wasting people's time. But the reason I'm yelled at is that I am a valuable person, and they want more of my time in a way?? I don't know what people want from me.

Waves hand dismissively - they're being sweethearts by the back door for now.

I'm in a weird place emotionally and mentally. I don't feel alive. I don't feel real. I don't feel valid or... I don't know. Nothing I say or so actually matters in my own life or experiences. I can be an amazing person with communication and intention but it doesn't matter if the other person doesn't care, it's like arguing online.

You can have a valid discussion and someone can just say "you're a fucking moron, I'm not listening to this" and you can't do anything.

I just wasted two hours organizing my thoughts qnd emotions into a post that I'll delete in a week. What a great use of my time. I'm juat exhausted.

I turn 31 tomorrow and is rather be dead lmao. I'm so tired of the weight of being alive and aware of the world and people around me. About being considerate and kind to everyone and it's never god damn enough. I bleed myself dry emotionally for everyone and run my mental battery into the ground qnd it's never enough. It's never going to BE enough. I don't want mental.break downs and emotional roller-coasters. I want friends that understand I'm scatterbrained and severely damaged and abused and I'm TRYING. I'm sorry it's never good enough.

I'm so fucking tired these days. I just want to disappear. I want to have an actual breakdown and cry

I haven't actually cried in years. I.... Mm. I feel like.im a shell. I'm so tired. I'm trying AO hard to be a good person and functional and I'm just constantly having more dished and I'm just...what is my purpose qnd point these days. I can't even make people happy.

Tomorrow I'll turn 31. It'll be like any other day. 👍✨

#kat life #ignore me

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jasasvimmojimmanama · 4 years ago

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A cry for help...I need some advice, please

Hi. So, I am really in a difficult situation, that is I don’t know what is going on with my boyfriend and I’m afraid we’re going to break up. I know it may seem silly, it something that happens all the time, but I feel so exhausted and I need to tell somebody my story, and maybe to have a second opinion.

I’ve had a difficult life, full of illnesses and losses. I have depression and some anxiety attacks, but I stopped seeing the therapist years ago because my family thought it was stupid. Now I am afraid to start again (plus I felt awkward) and I could not afford it. Anyway, I tried to manage it. I had ups and downs, but in the last two years I kind of started seeing some results. That is mainly because of my boyfriend.

On the one hand, I felt as if it was finally my time to be happy. I felt as if it was time for me to have a family, because my real family...is not a family. I have no contact with my family except for my dad and granny but I do not have a good relationship with them, especially not with my dad who is the main source of my mental illness. My bf gave me hope: he seemed to be in love with me, he talked about family, having kids, even kind of proposed, living together....and his family loved me.

On the other hand, he is quite focused on his life and his life only. He loves his family very much and he never seemed to include me fully in his life, not like he does with his family. He put me (it seems to be) in the last place. family, fake friends and work were more important. he preferred being with his friend the day of our anniversay than with me, he wanted to stay with his fam and not me on Chirstmas and his bday, when we started living together he went back home every weekend. he decided everything on his own or with his family....

I gave up my dreams and twisted my life for him because he didn’t want to move away from his city and he wasn’t ready to change his plans to see me. I did it because I believed in us, in his words and promises.

I kind of suffered a lot for his behavoir but never truly spoke to him. Well, I told him something, maybe how i felt but not everytime and not everything, but the things that made me upset were always the same and i was worried that if i would insist and repeat myself, he would leave me and i would be once again alone.

i always hoped that after he would move in with me, things would change and get real. they didn’t. i spoke to him, openly and honestly, not to reproach him, but to make him understand that i was suffering and that i couldn’t carry the whole relationship on my own and that i felt as if all the promises were just words. he sais he finally understood, he thanked me and said he couldn’t live without me.

then, he started to act weirdly. he didn’t talk to me much, he stopped asking me how my day was or to tell me his day, he texted me differently, he didn’t want to make love with me. then he told me a girl tagged him on FB. i overreacted, but because i connected his strange behavior to that girl + it wasn’t a friend of his and he sweared thet have NEVER spoken etc. so i didn’t understand how come she tagged him. then months later (It may seem weird, but sometimes i have like premonitory dreams) i dreamt of him texting this girl. in the morning i looked through his phone and found a conversation with her, nothing special but still, he lied to me and hid the convo. I am ashamed of what i did, i thought i would never do something like that, but i wasn’t thinking. when he came from work he packed his stuff. eventually he stayed and the morning after he said he agreed to be still together. he said he did it to protect me, but he never apologised nor said he was sorry hor hiding the chat, he said he didn’t know whether he would ever again be honest and that he was kind of relieved i discovered him.

he went back home because of a job. 3 weeks he said. in 2 and a half weeks he didn’t do anything. i was upset and said it wasn’t right. he said he doesn’t know how he feels about us, that he feels as if i don’t support him (i can give u 1000 examples it’s not true). He said to cancel the papers. 2 weeks before that i told him that maybe i was pregnant. during that call he said (in response to what i told him) that yes, he won’t come home to see me, but he would if i’d have an abortion. then i didn’t hear from him even though he said we would. he texted me for easter and after a week i decided to call him. he hasn’t asked me about the pregnancy, nor how i feel. he didn’t answer me (if we are on a break or if it’s a break up) but he said he was confused, that he doesn’t know what his feelings are etc and that he thinks that i’ll suffer with him and he won’t change and that he won’t be able to keep the promises but that he believed in them when he promised me those things. i told him to forget those promises but he said it wasn’t possible because if we do it, the first time he won’t do something i, i would think also about the past promises etc.

i still do not know wheter we’re together or not. i am crying all day and night. i cannot sleep properly, if i fall asleep i dream about him and i wake up, i cannot focus on work. i feel destroyed. i do not know what to think. i don’t know how to deal with it. how can it be that he went from “i can’t live without you” to a “idk how i feel, i don’t see a future” in less than 2 months?

i haven’t said a lot of things, it would take too much time. but i though of suicide, he knows it, he saw that i was looking something about it on the net. he knows i am not fine, that i am willing to continue our story, that i love him a lot. why does he not love me back? has he ever loved me? how can i deal with it? how can i start a life after him? for the first time i thought i could be happy and now i feel as if i’ll never be happy because i don’t deserve it. sorry for the mistakes but english is not my first language and i am really too tired.

#advice #advise #psychology #relationship #relationships #breaks #breakup #help #depression #anxiety #delusion #illusion #helpme #crying #cry

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lemonadebloodsworld · 4 years ago

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Tw: ED (??), sh, depression, suicidal thoughts, abuse (??)

So yeah,

It feels weird to come back here even if it's a more recent account. The first time I made a tumblr account was when I was 13 and back then I was already really depressed because of trauma, my relationship with my parents and the fact that they were always saying that I faked being depressed and was just being dramatic and other shitty stuff.

Back then they thought I was a gay girl too but yeah I'm a bi trans boy and it makes everything so damn harder because everytime I try to talk about my mental health my mom just says that it's JUST because I'm trans and I should just be patient and wait to be 18 to start a transition while yes, dysphoria and the fact that my family isn't really supportive make me sad but my mental health has been getting so damn bad.

I've never really been a happy child, my parents divorced when I was 3-4, my mom found my stepdad who has always been an asshole to me and my little brother because we are not his "real" kids and would always yell at us and hit my brother and my mom has always been depressive and mentally ill (Ed, depression and trauma) so she is scared of him ig, anyways, she just never said anything about it, even when she noticed that we were really scared of him.

My bio father was supposed to take us at his place every weekend but after a year he stopped coming and dissappeared for 9 years. At the same time I started to get bullied at school by older kids and some kids in my class and I didn't have any friends because it was a shame for them to be friend with me.

At 11, I have been sexually assaulted by an older kid (he was 15 or something) leaving me with trauma.

At 12 I changed school and found friends, I was so unused to it and ashamed of my past that I spent my time lying to them so they'll like me and think I'm cool, I also started to smoke and drink in secret because I felt so much pain and the intrusive thoughts started to get loud.

At 13 my bio dad came back in my life because he owed a lot of money to my mom and wanted to use us to make my mom feel bad about it. I started self-harming lightly and depression started to settle in but I wasn't really understanding what was going on because the "hypomanic" phases and intrusive thoughts were getting more present causing me to lose the only friends I had and yeah I just didn't understand what the hell was going on. I tried to talk about my mental health to my parents but they told me that I was being dramatic and it's a normal thing to feel bad because I was an adolescent and questioning my identity (I came out as a lesbian back at this time) and decided to just punish me and take my phone away because I was spending too much time alone in my room and didn't do the chores.

At 14 I started to have a lot of anxiety and panic attacks while being in depressive episodes, I started an ed (feeling shameful for eating even a little amount of anything and purging, I don't want to give it any name because I have been diagnosed and yeah), I also began to self-harm more and deeper (still not bad, I don't want to lie for that type of stuff xd), I broke down one day and told everything to my parents (sh, depressive tendencies, smoke, suicidal thoughts etc) and once again they were like "yeah nah it can't be that bad, you just lie to have attention and have an excuse to stay in your room and just being stupid" but my mom saw my arms and thights and then was okay for me to go see a psychologist. So for a year I had the opportunity to talk with a professional who was really amazing, she prescribed me light sleep pills because of my insomnia while in depressive episodes and "hypomanic" (don't have a diagnosis but I have all the symptoms but then again I don't want to self diagnose because it could be wrong and be something else) ones but my mom always refused to give them to me. At the end of the year she wanted an appointment with my mom to talk about my mental health and the importance for me to go see a therapist to be diagnosed (bipolar disorder 2 (she was still questioning it) , anxiety disorder and depression or whatever, she just wanted me to have the help I needed) but then again my mom said no because I was surely just faking it all and I just had to make efforts to be happy. I was so tired of everything and just wanted to feel better so I started to steal my mom depression medication (mostly Xanax and calming pills).

At 15 I met my first serious girlfriend, I fell in love so hard with her and for the first month she really helped me to stop sh, pills, drinking and everything was great until she started to verbally abuse me using my dysphoria and fragile subjects I told her about (she would say that I'm annoying and selfish for always feeling bad and that u was too sensitive and not a real boy if I cried) once I wasn't agreeing with her, slap and hit me if I said something she wasn't okay with or when I would have anxiety attacks or talk to her about my suicidal thoughts while in depressive episodes and yeah she used me like if I was a dog, if she wanted something or think in some way I would have to give her or do whatever she wanted or I would get threatened, insulted or ignored for a long time or other icky stuff. After 6 months of making me feel guilty for not letting her touch me in a sexual way she one day decided to start taking advantage of me while I wasn't in the appropriate head space or without my consent and then making fun of my body and making comments about the way I look. She in fact, made me really anxious and feel bad and it made me start to binge eat, at the end of the year my weight was 78 kg, before our relationship I was 59 kg, people noticed it but just told me to stop eating and go on a diet.

At 17 (this year) I finally broke up even if she asked me to do it because she didn't want to be seen as the mean one for letting me while I was clearly depressed. It was hard but I could finally meet new people or get back with people she didn't wanted me to talk to (especially my amazing actual partner and my bestfriend) who helped me a lot realizing all the shit she did to me and they have been amazing at making me feel loved and cared for and to be honest I don't think I would be there if they weren't in my life right now.

Now my mental health is just fucked. Like I said when I broke up with my abusive ex I had gained almost 20 kg and it reminded me all the bully I've been through as a kid (they most of the time used the fact I was overweight to bully me) so I started to starve myself or purge if I felt like I ate too much (I started to count calories) I was at 78 kg at the start and in 2 weeks I was at 65kg, it was during quarantine so i didn't have any friend or people noticing what I was doing or see me fainting. I started to drink almost everyday and smoke a lot.

In June I got in a relationship with my actual partner and to be honest it's the only good point I can find this year. They (genderfluid) are an angel and I just don't know what I would do without them, they help me a lot even if they are struggling with mental illness themself and anyone has ever cared for me and made me feel so loved before. Today it's been 4 months officially and it makes me feel happy and I just want it to never stop. My mental health is at its worst, I've been having a lot of intrusive thoughts, i have a self destructive comportement, in September I started to sh again (a lot deeper) after 2 years clean, I often call them in the middle of the night (well in the middle of the day for them cause I'm in Belgium and they are in Texas) because of really bad dreams and suicidal thoughts, I am bullied and made fun of by the people in my class for being trans and having a different style (alt-grunge), I barely eat or purge if I try to have a meal, I have these "hypomanic" phases that make me getting really angry at nothing and do a lot of stupid shit because I feel invincible and better than anyone, almost godly and yet they never made me feel like I was a burden or like I should just stfu or like I was being dramatic and they are actually the first person believing me and not saying I fake everything.

I am struggling and it becomes so damn hard to live but I will do my best not to give up and just keep on fighting for them and maybe try to recover and seek for help when I turn 18. I already try to make little steps and stop self harming, drinking too much energy drink XDD so yeah let's just try and be positive I guess.

Sorry its actually so damn long hhh I don't even know if i will post It one day or keep it as a draft eheh I hate venting

#ed vent #vent text #tw depressing stuff #tw eating stuff #trauma #ventcore #traumacore #long ass rant #tw self destruction #self harrrm #tw self destructive behavior

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light-of-being · 5 years ago

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On the void (aka summary of like, 5-7 years of my life lmao)

Idk if this would apply to anyone else at all but regardless. If you, like me, have a side of you with an almost-irresistible pull towards nothingness -- finding existence itself ill-fitted, false or otherwise undesirable -- manifesting in hating the fact of a physical body, infinite passivity and the desire to do nothing ever, wanting to be silent forever because words are some sort of betrayal, explicit wish for disappearance, blend into the surroundings (them posts about lying down in the forest and have the plants grow over you), etc ...or if you feel like you’re already there, a little diffuse, not sure if you exist at all...I’d invite you to at least consider it.

Strong tw for suicide and disordered eating.

The problem (and failed solutions)

For a long time, I tried to realise that desire as much as possible. I did, literally, for weeks and months, stop eating, stop speaking, even for a brief period stop moving entirely. I guess my subconscious was playing along, erasing memory, identity, perception itself. I knew it was hurting me and not a sensible thing to do, but I couldn’t not. The ideal, of course, was death, and I tried to get that too, but at some point I was resigned to living but continued trying to make it as little alive as possible. (see also: that quote from Persona)

I expect we know, it’s Bad, but it’s also the only thing that feels right, feels pure and true. Also feels...inevitable.

I spent years trying to eat normally again, because I “knew” it wasn’t working for me. And it was, like, stupid. I was endlessly frustrated because really, I know better than that, and this doesn’t need to be so hard. But if I’m being honest, I really didn’t want to. I kept hoping and trying for a way to sneak past myself and my life and find a way to still stay true to that...need. And every time I slipped, it felt like I’d found my way back where I belonged. Back with my heart, the void. Home. Where things are a little less wrong.

They talk a lot about the whole “control” thing, and I guess yeah, in a way it’s that. It’s rejection of all that’s been placed upon you, just one big “No” to living a life that’s not on your terms, that you never asked for. No, to life itself. Because none of it feels true to you and you’d rather have nothing than betray yourself. And at some point, you’d rather have nothing than...anything. It feels like passivity -- for a long time, I was like, “without influence, nothingness is the default state. doing anything is an active decision. sustaining life is an active decision. i’m just letting things be in their natural state.” But if you pay attention for a single second, it’s nothing like that. It’s stubborn af. It’s the strongest assertion you’ll ever make. (also, lol, being stationary and nothing is not the natural state of jackshit, at least not for a long time. the heat death of the universe is far away, folks. it’s precisely staying the same that requires resistance)

The thing that led to my first halfway-successful “recovery” attempt (grudgingly, still, not some magic transformation)...wasn’t any good reason that life is good and void is harmful. It was -- “what I desire is literally not a thing I can ever have”. However much I may believe it to be the ultimate good, it’s impossible. And insofar as I’m not actually there, I’m no happier for trying to approximate it. “Slightly pure” is not a thing. It’s just as miserable. It’s futile. All I do is hate myself for every way I fall short.

How does starving myself proceed, how does it end? Not even in death, not usually (I would probably have considered that okay, good even). If I “succeed” enough, it probably ends in a hospital room, being force-fed. And after that? Well, I can just go back to how it was, and have that life on repeat and maybe die somewhere along the way (or just have them not release me again). Or I can try to stop at that stage. Which I guess gives me a little while longer that I can keep up my shit before then, but like. Is that really any good? (my brain still often says yes, but let’s be real. if we can avoid the hospital that’s probably a thing we want)

That’s pragmatic thinking, though; it’s considering things within the frameworks of the world rather than keeping oneself outside of them, and void-self hates that (and I’m 99% sure that anyone who sufficiently strongly related to the previous shit in the present would’ve scoffed at that last paragraph. although some part of you probably also hated to admit it’s true. unless you’re still deep inside, in which case you probably still think you can sneak past it. spoiler alert: you can’t). And I’m sorry, void-self, I know you’d rather have literally anything else, but that is where the universe has placed you, and life isn’t easy enough to let you cop out of anything it gives you.

Void-life is more than just dysfunctional and harmful, it’s completely unsustainable and futile. You’re never going to get there. You’ll just become progressively more miserable. And you can cover your head with a blanket and try to pretend that’s not true while you keep trying, but I know that deep down, you know this. And you hate it and it hurts, and you want to run away from this, too, but...tough. Soz. There’s probably few things you hate so much as, “That’s just the way it is” and you probably just hate the world that much more for not even letting you have this. one. thing. And yeah, fuck the world. Or fuck you. End of the day, you’re probably right -- you weren’t made for each other.

So what now?

I mean, you can die. That’s always a thing you can do. And the first time I really thought this through, I was 100% ready to die rather than deal with it. But it wasn’t the void death from earlier up in this post. It was the anxiety/escapist death from the previous paragraph -- “ohmygod ohmygod I can’t accept this I’m out”. Which, personally, doesn’t generally translate into action, just extreme discomfort and running around like a trapped mouse, wanting to throw myself against the wall (unless it lasts long enough without finding an out of some sort, that it becomes standard depressive hopelessness).

Stage # the next one went like, “well...I guess dying is a thing I’ll get eventually. as such, I could get it anytime I want! eh, what the hell, i can probably fuck around a little while.” Which works, until things become difficult to handle and it becomes, “now seems like a good time.” (after this, technically there was a stage of “killing myself would hurt this person i care about and i’m committed to not doing that...i can probably hang on through it” but that’s not really relevant so i’m sweeping past it.)

But let’s say, for whatever reason, dying is not the ideal option (look, you’re reading this. if you felt this, death was probably one of your first considerations. i expect there’s some reason, however ridiculous, you haven’t successfully gotten to it yet. most of the time, void-self isn’t the whole self and the rest of you still hopes there’s a better way you can satiate it).

Okay, one last thing that I’ve noted to be common in people with this kind of thing going on before I carry on: you have weak boundaries. It sometimes feels like the things placed upon you might seep in and subsume you, and although you seek nothingness, you don’t want to be that kind of nothing (like I said, secretly stubborn af. after all, part of your desire for nothingness involves wanting to be “not that” where that is fkin everything. see also: abjection).

A possible way forward

So here’s what’s been working quite well for me (so far. it might turn into a trainwreck at some point so eh...yeah. but it has been a long time). It boils down to the exist harder and/or assurance point. It also consists of behaving a bit weirdly like you’re [at least] two people.

The main thing is: like I said above, if you’re picking this direction, it’s probably not the void-self choosing it. There’s something else to you. So here’s the plan. You feed it. You strengthen it and let it grow as close to a full person as you can. At first, this looks almost entirely like fighting against void-self and forcing yourself into the world no matter how much it complains. This is really fkin difficult and terrifying to do, and you should use any tools or support you can. This person has been hiding all this time; they’re weak and scared and don’t know how to life. But as they get stronger and develop more of a voice, it becomes easier.

Whatever fragment of this person you start out with, you should be able to identify one (1) thing they consider important or want (don’t tell me there isn’t. that’s not true. it can be as fucking stupid as you like, but if there’s nothing get your depression treated first). Start with that. As you throw them out there more, you’ll probably find more things that they like. Explore many things, stuff you wouldn’t necessarily consider or would be scared of, but you’re curious about. But try as far as possible to make this very much yours. You don’t want to feel like you’re succumbing to some external pressure. You want to feel like you’re in power; that is literally the most important part -- any non-destructive things make you feel like that are great. Take your time. (A thing that’s vaguely useful is miscellaneous advice for people rebuilding themselves after a breakup or loss, because that’s what you’re doing: rebuilding yourself. For yourself this time. Not just for survival.)

Are we suppressing void-self, trying to kill it off? No. We’re just saying it no longer gets to govern our entire lives, because it’s no good at that. It has a place, a place that will probably bring you a lot of happiness, but its place is not controlling your external life. It’s internal.

What we’re doing is giving it a caretaker. We’re giving you the ability to carve out a space for yourself where you can comfortably exist and be a person, without dissolving. But for that you need boundaries, and you need to sustain life first.

More than that, though. The person you’re building will make space for void-self to exist. Void-self doesn’t do that for you. It’s selfish. It kills that person off. It wants to be everything. That’s not fair to the rest of you. And guess what? The rest of you is great, too! It has a lot of potential. It has capabilities void-self could never have dreamed of, that you would never have dreamed of while under the control of void-self. It can bring you a lot of happiness. It has the right to exist, to take up space in your life, too. It will surprise you. This person has the magical ability to exist in the world without being fake...yes, really.

And then, when they’re all grown up, they can protect void-self from being subsumed by everything pushed onto it because they have the strength and skills to navigate real life, to negotiate and place you in situations you want rather than where the wind blows it. And now? Now they can nourish void-self. You can go off on a trip and “disappear” for all intents and purposes. You can go and lie in a field for hours. You can read poetry and do all of the things that do feel authentic to void-self. It never has to pretend to be anything ever again. You can even learn how to really express it to others (something it’d love to do but lacks the ability for). But you can also go to work the next day and feed your organism.

Will void-self be entirely happy with this arrangement? Eh...not really, not when you propose it. You will definitely encounter resistence. But, in my experience, when you actually get there, it comes to peace.

#heh this is still raw who knew #there's at least 4 of my mutuals i think this is very directly applicable to #but i don't think tagging is exactly appropriate here #so eh hope you see it #please i worry about you #but this became extremely fkin long and i'm not sure anyone would want to read #also i think i got tired towards the end and quality dropped a bunch #which sucks because that was the main part lol #anyway yeah #reflections #tw disordered eating #tw suicide #szpd #assurance #i think this is actually common schizoid treatment protocol but whatever #also as a Me i would definitely not trust it coming from some standard recommendations written by people who probably understand jackshit #anyway also #i think this was easier for me #because i was in a space where i was VERY determined #that You Will Not Destroy Me #I will be my own person if it kills me

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