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tsukishimas-shortcake · 4 years ago

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Relationship Headcanons

↦ Character(s): Hakkai Shiba x fem!reader

↦ Rating/Warning: No rating though there are some light mentions of abuse (if you have read the manga you are aware of what I am talking about, I’m not going very deep into it though it literally just mentions it), mentions of anxiety attacks (no detail though), fluff, not proof read

↦ Word count: 1.8k (longer than planned, sections are bolded)

↦ Your Momo’s Receipt: Hello~ I’m post yet another TR headcanon and this was requested by the lovely @strawbub I hope this doesn’t disappoint, it did get longer than planned but I enjoyed writing it. I'll prob do a part two that's more of a scenario based on your first date or something since I didn't go into it here. Please note: for those of you who don’t know my blog is currently under construction, meaning I will not be updating my masterlist for the time being.

So how did you guys meet, well mostly because of Yuzuha,

One day in like elementary you’re walking home and you see this super pretty middle school girl just like yelling at this small group of guys

The guys end up running off just because they don’t wanna deal with her or the attention she's drawn to them

Behind her was a boy, taller than her but obviously younger. You didn’t assume they knew eachother though.

The boy and yuzuha began walking in opposite directions because one was going home while the other was going to pick up something like groceries

You’re so entranced by how she stood up to them yet she’s a girl who was far smaller and you end up catching up to her, almost stepping on her heels

You end up absent mindedly following her into the grocery store and eventually she just freezes, turns, and stare directly at you

Your eyes widen since you must’ve been staring and she just goes “may I ask why you’re following me?” And you explain how cool she was earlier. She invites you over for dinner (esp since her older brother won’t be home) and figured it’d be good for Hakkai to meet someone his age

You end up going over but Hakkai didn’t come down to eat so you never actually got to meet him, though from then on you would see Yuzuha every so often, visit every other weekend or so

But no matter how often you came over the next few months, you never once met hakkai,

That was until you both reached the end of your middle school education and we’re about to begin high school

You had gone over because you were going to borrow an old work book from Yuzuha, and when you go to knock on the door the door opens before your closed fist could hit it, instead hitting a firm chest

You blush and quickly apologize but the person in front of you doesn’t move at all, doesn’t say anything and almost looks like they drifted into space with their dead stare

You assume this is yuzuha’s older brother because you’ve also never met him and you immediately turn to walk away but Yuzuha calls over hakkai’s shoulder

“Y/N-Chan! You just got here where are you going?” This was def not yuzuha’s older brother. There’s no way she’d be that happy with him around; oh my god. Realization hit, the guy who you hit (though it was more of a tap) was hakkai.

The hakkai you had only caught a glimpse of in yuzuha’s photos, never talked to or actually seen in person despite going to the same school and living in the same neighborhood

He must hate you. That’s why he avoids you. That’s def why - is what you think

Yuzuha drags hakkai back inside and invites you in; you sit down with them in the living room and watch hakkai visibly relax now that he’s inside his house, his own space, with a pillow behind him and a blanket covering his lower half, he almost curls up into it as he continues to avoid your stare

“Hi hakkai…Kun? Im L/N Y/N” you say and you see his face dead pan once again

Yuzuha can be heard laughing from the kitchen as she comes back in.

She leans over and begins explaining that hakkai literally just freezes with any interaction between him and girls who aren’t in his family

You nod, thinking maybe it’s an anxiety thing? Which is the case with you, but only because he’s been watching you since you’ve come over (not in a creepy way) wanting to and working the courage up to talk to you

The 5th or so time you came over after that encounter he was inches away from introducing himself before the house phone rang causing everyone to kind of “wake up” in a sense

Every time since then he gets closer and closer but isn’t able to say anything; he even realizes he has a crush on you.

The way you sit when you do homework and how cute you look when you’re focused.

How your forehead scrunches up when you’re trying to figure something out and you end up just sitting back with a small huff followed by yuzuha’s signature laughter.

It’s also a huge thing that you get along with Yuzuha.

So enough with first meeting time for the confession.

He ends up confessing accidentally. He didn’t know you were coming over to begin with so he was flustered out of his mind. And how was he supposed to know you hadn’t actually fallen asleep and you could hear him over the tv

The tv was more white noise than anything and the day was hot since it was the middle of summer causing the window to be open and the sound of soft wind and small birds to drift in; this was the hot that makes you tired so you were all sprawled out of just sitting in a daze

So while resting your head on the table you’re dozing in and out but then you hear hakkai begin to speak, something he never really did around you

Now did you and hakkai text? Yes. Did it take him an hour to reply because his brain would explode when you replied to him? Yes. But was it a start to communication? Also a yes.

You hear him say your name quietly before he moved closer, you can feel his gaze on your features

“I like you” is all he says. Simple and sweet. But you sit there in shock, trying not to blush so he’ll have no idea you heard him but he can tell because your forehead scrunches

You heard him and are focused on if you should reply or not. And he knows that.

You open your eyes and just look up at him, he’s closer than expected. His hand close to yours on the floor and he reaches over and grabs it lightly. Hoping you’ll also return the gesture by holding his hand instead of leaving your hand limp inside his.

And you do, thank goodness, and Hakkai almost mentally can’t handle it.

Once you start dating it’s more so just hanging out at his house or yours; however he talks a bit more and you text a lot more. He’s gotten better at replying. It usually takes him like 15 minutes now

He’s kinda stressed about your relationship but not due to anything you or him did

He’s stressed because of the mentality his older brother gave him

Is he even allowed to be this happy?

He finally has someone thats small enough and naive enough that he can protect you; compared to constantly being protected it’s a sudden, strong, yet good change for him

He’s touch s t a r v e d

Yes Yuzuha shows affection; but he stopped accepting her hugs when he was around 8 just because he physically wasn’t able to handle it due to his bruises and such

But with you, even with his bruises and all you take care of him. Able to coax him into using medicines and toning down the physical violence (that he can control himself)

He also finds it super soothing when you lightly brush over his scars (especially those that his brother gave him), it helps him believe that scars are only physical and can fade with help

One thing that stresses him out the most is trying to hide you from his brother. Any time you leave something at the house its easy to pass it off as yuzuha's but when it comes to things like photos he has with you, he can't hang them up, show them off, or have them as his phone Lock Screen, etc. because he just really doesn't want his brother to know and target you since he'll then know that you're his weakness (aside from yuzuha as well)

Sometimes won't explain why he can't hang out and has legit pushed you out of his house before at the last minute notice of his brother coming home

Will always make sure you get home safe though, usually by having Yuzuha go with you since then she can just say you're a friend from school

Your parents love him, though they were a bit hesitant it became a "you always have a place to stay" because they learned about their family situation from you and yuzuha. So expect him to spend the night when he's too scared to deal with his brother. Same with yuzuha. (yes I know this isn't yuzuha head canons but its hard to write for him without mentioning her when they're so close)

We're talking three person sleep overs. Yuzuha and you of course share the bed and Hakkai takes some time to even set foot in your room much less sleep on a mattress that's on the floor

He has a small heart attack every time he comes into your room because he's overwhelmed with everything, he's never been so comfortable and it makes him feel restless. Like he's never and I mean n e v e r been less stressed and slept better than when he does so in your room

The smell, the colors, just being surrounded by you is something that completely changes his mood

Once showed up after he fought with his brother, tears in his eyes and clothes a bit tattered and you just pulled him to your room, and sat down with him.

You laid on your bed with him laying down onto of you, head on your chest as you rubbed his head and only said a few words "its not your fault"

He ends up crying so hard he falls asleep and gets dehydrated and you have to make him drink a bunch of water when he finally wakes up.

NSFW

super fucking careful w you

almost annoyingly so, but you're understanding

He knows that he might be taking things frustratingly slow but he knows that since you understand and know his history that you can help him get through it

Your first time you think you'll have to call it off because he's shaking so bad

"baby... are you sure it won't hurt you?" he keeps asking.

pretty sure that's the longest its ever taken him to finish because he was so anxious

despite being so slow and hesitant, late he isn't too scared to get a bit rougher

but im not talking anything crazy im talking like he's willing to pull your hair a bit or nip a bit harder at your neck.

Please never ask him to do anything like degrade you or some type of harsh physical rough shit, he can't

like literally im 99% sure that if you ask him to choke you or something he will pass out because of the anxiety attack he would have at even the thought.

in short with nsfw though he is sweet boy. He's a switch through and through. Loves when you take care of everything because then he doesn't have to be scared of hurting you.

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metapianycist · 3 years ago

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if you are interviewing parents whose children are estranged, you cannot take the parents' story at face value and assume it's the whole story, or even that the parents are being truthful.

if you interviewed my mom about our relationship, she would say she's disappointed that I'm so ungrateful and mean to her. she would emphasize that everything she did was out of love. she would say she doesn't know why i don't take her calls.

i have in fact directly told her in no uncertain terms why i don't take her calls.

my mom emotionally and physically abused me. she not only spanked me, but also smacked me across the face. she hit me while she was angry. whenever i had a minor fight with a friend (the kind that is normal, like when you accidentally hurt their feelings and don't realize it right away and they call you an asshole, and you both apologize a few days later when you both cool down), she would try to put a wedge between me and the friend by insisting that they're just a bad friend. it was to the point where i could never ask her for advice with any interpersonal conflict at all, because her advice was either "just end the friendship" or "ignore the problem and it will go away" (when i was bullied from elementary school through high school). she forced me to end friendships when i was a child for bullshit reasons multiple times. so i learned at age 8 to lie to her about my friendships in order to protect myself from her gaslighting!

whenever I've expressed a boundary to my mother, or when I've tried to express to her that she has hurt me, she has acted like it's not a big deal and like I'm being way too serious. or she thinks I'm being mean. when I told her how she severely damaged my ability to form interpersonal relationships, she doubled down that she did it out of love and refused to admit having ever made a mistake in her parenting choices. she sincerely believes she has done nothing wrong and that I'm just mean, ungrateful, or listening to other people's unfair lies about her (read: other people who correctly identify her parenting choices as fucked up).

i have directly told my mother why i don't take her calls (she interrupts me, never gives me actual information, demands to know things she is not entitled to know, and gets angry when i assert a reasonable boundary like "stop trying to invite yourself over my house that is 300 miles away during a pandemic"). she thinks I'm being silly and mean.

parents of estranged children are never a reliable source of information about why their children are estranged.

#metapianycist original post #gaslighting #abuse #estranged #child abuse #physical abuse #domestic violence

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courtingstars · 4 years ago

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Notes for The Vanishing Prince: Chapter Nine

Yay, Chapter Nine is finally posted! As I mentioned over on Ao3, I’ve been looking forward to sharing this one for a loooong time. I don’t have much to share in the way of cultural notes, but I still had some pretty big things I wanted to talk about… Like info about the mental health topics from the therapy scene, plus a ton of rambling about things I’ve been researching and/or planning for a while. So if that’s something you’re interested in, well… enjoy? //laughs

As always, I updated the Pinterest inspiration board with images inspired by the new chapter. (I actually did that last month, which was when I originally intended to post the chapter before my schedule fell apart… So anyone who was checking the board during that time got an accidental sneak peak of what was coming next. Oops? ^^;) You can check the board out here.

And with that, on to the notes!

Cut for a writer babbling on and on about mental health research, references to earlier events in the series, and also violins (!!) …

Akashi’s Childhood Friendships

So the first scene of Chapter Nine features a headcanon of mine that has been popping up throughout the series… Which is that when Akashi started going to school, he attended a private elementary school that mainly catered to elite, wealthy families and their children. He was generally encouraged to spend time with his classmates, rather than seeking friends elsewhere, and he never made any close friends from a different social “class” until he started going to Teikou. (Which he joined specifically because he asked his mother if he could go somewhere that was different from his elementary school.)

As this chapter reveals, he never told his father about the friends he ended up making through basketball, because of the values he was modeled earlier in life. This was actually brought up alllll the way back in The Fast Train to Kyoto. (Though it was pretty vague!) In fact, Akashi referenced it in the very first scene:

Maybe it was the echoes of his father’s voice inside his head, just another series of frosty words he ached to forget:

“It is not for an Akashi to associate with just anyone. Your time is valuable, Seijuurou, and so is your reputation. See that you don’t waste it, on trivial pursuits, or persons unworthy of your stature.”

Akashi cringed. ‘Persons unworthy of his stature? What a ridiculous idea. Everyone he had ever known who had made his life worthwhile, had no particular wealth or rank to speak of. (With the crucial exception of his mother.) He had long ago discarded this principle of his father’s as nonsense.

I also explained the backstory with his elementary school and his struggle to make friends in a lot more detail in Chapter Three of Fast Train. (As well as why he decided to go to Teikou, and how he started making friends there, particularly Midorima.)

That aspect of his childhood turned out to be pretty important in the series, so I thought it was worth mentioning that Akashi did talk about it before… Especially since those early values still affect how he sees his friendships, plus it’s one of the reasons why he’s been trying to keep those friends as separate from his home life as possible. (Until Furihata came along and wanted to sleep over at his house, and he just couldn’t say no to his BFF, apparently? //laughs)

Attachment Theory, Disorganized Attachment, and Dissociation

So, uh… I’m not qualified to talk about any of this, like, at all. //laughs That being said, I’ll start with a big disclaimer: I am not a mental health professional, or an expert about this subject in any way whatsoever. So if anything I say doesn’t make sense or I get any of the details wrong, I sincerely apologize in advance! This is just based on the research I’ve done and some first-person accounts I’ve read over the years. As a non-expert, I find a lot of psychology theory to be difficult to research in general… Since a lot of the science is still being studied and verified, and things are becoming outdated all the time.

Okay, so with all that being said… In this chapter, Akashi’s psychiatrist brings up a theory in psychology called attachment theory. If you’d like to learn the basics of how it started, the Wikipedia article has a decent overview of the initial studies. Basically, the theory has to do with the idea that children bond with their primary caregiver (stereotypically the mother, but it doesn’t have to be) either successfully or unsuccessfully, based on how the caregiver responds to the child’s needs. A child who bonds with their caregiver in a healthy, successful way is said to be “securely” attached, while an unhealthy bond is an “insecure attachment.”

From there, it gets more complicated… There are a few different types/forms of insecure attachment, and these types can be classified in different ways, depending on the study. (There’s also something called “attachment style,” which from what I can tell is an idea inspired by attachment theory, that adults will have a general style of bonding that originates from their main caregiver bond in childhood. This idea is often used to help adults work through issues in their adult relationships.) For example, there’s generally an “anxious” form of attachment where the child is overly scared and tends to cling to their caregiver if they try to leave, out of fear that they won’t get the care they need. Then there’s an “avoidant” type where the child tends to push the caregiver away or ignore them, and can seem very apathetic and independent. (Even though they’re actually just as scared on the inside of not being cared for as an “anxious” child.)

As you can imagine, there are a lot of theories about why this happens, and what exactly in the caregiving process could contribute to it. What’s more, some children display both anxiety and avoidance… A form of this is called “disorganized attachment.” As Akashi’s psychiatrist explains, this describes a behavioral pattern where the child clings to their caregiver AND pushes them away, sometimes very close together. This style seems to often develop when the child has been through some kind of early trauma, often severe abuse or neglect. It also seems to be prevalent among people with dissociation disorders, which isn’t surprising, given the common thread of childhood trauma between the two. You can read more about that in this article here.

Actually, I first learned about disorganized attachment—and attachment in general—when I was reading a blog many years ago that was written by someone chronicling their experience with Dissociative Identity Disorder. As I researched the subject in more detail, I came across a few explanations about how children with this attachment style tend to act very confused and distressed around their caregivers, and I found the descriptions really sad… It helped me begin to better understand some of the difficulties that these children go through, and how it affects their minds when they’re still developing. It’s not hard to imagine how a child who longs to be taken care of but also has painful experiences of being denied that care (for whatever reason) can really struggle with trying to make sense of their reality and survive it on an emotional level. And that struggle causes lasting damage.

It’s important to note, though, that some psychologists will caution against assuming that a child’s attachment to their primary caregiver always dictates how they will attach to other people in their life, or in their future relationships. Also, there’s some evidence that children may struggle with attachment issues not just because of the actions of their caregiver, but also due to their own personality/ genetic predispositions. You can read more about both of these topics here.

Way back when I started planning this series, and deciding how to portray Akashi’s backstory, I found myself returning over and over to the concept of disorganized attachment… I wasn’t sure if it would make it into the fic directly, and it’s certainly not the only thing that influenced my portrayal of Akashi’s mental health. But it was definitely something I had in mind from the start, and helped shape the series, so I’m glad that I did end up referencing it in some detail.

The Akashi Family Servants

Since I just introduced the housekeeper, now seems as good a time as any to mention this… Originally, I didn’t plan for the servants who work for the Akashi family to have roles in the series at all? XD Takeda is the only one who’s mentioned in The Fast Train to Kyoto, and he doesn’t have a name. (I refer to him as either Akashi’s “driver” or “valet” depending on what he’s doing… This was actually before I’d decided that Takeda is the one who drives Akashi around when he’s in Kyoto. OTL) Then I mentioned several of the servants during Furihata’s visit in Storming the Castle… But almost no one gets a real introduction? Except for the butler, Ginhara. //laughs

One reason why I took so long to give them names/describe them is that I try to mostly stick to writing about canon characters in fics, instead of creating a ton of OCs. (I consider the families of the KnB characters to be canon, since they’re in the fanbooks. XD) But I enjoy coming up with minor characters, if it feels like a good fit for the story! Still, you can really tell that I didn’t know I would end up using these characters as much as I did, because their names are alllll over the place… Especially Takeda, which is roughly the Japanese equivalent of naming a character Mr. Smith or something? (LOL.) For a while I really regretted that I didn’t come up with a more interesting name for him, since he ended up being in this series CONSTANTLY. Also, I recently received this incredible comment on Chapter 5 of The Fast Train to Kyoto and it’s one of my all-time FAVORITES:

“Yo the drivers probs just sitting in the front like

Mmm this tea is piping hot”

(And they signed their name Yeet too, omgggg XDD)

… So yeah, I have decided this is totally Takeda’s reaction, to Akashi and Furihata’s whole “friend breakup” in the rain in the first story. //laughs

That said, I kind of love that Takeda has such a generic name now? Especially after he showed up at Seirin in sunglasses in this chapter. (Like maybe Takeda isn’t even his real name, because he actually had an exciting former life as a secret agent or something like that, and now he’s working for this super rich kid from a powerful family and maybe he’s actually hiding some epic skills so he can double as Akashi’s bodyguard if he needs to…? I DON’T KNOW, I HAVE WEIRD HEADCANONS.)

In any case, I enjoyed coming up with the characters for the Akashi family staff, even though it took a while! And I’m glad a few of them were able to play an interesting part in sneaking Akashi out of the house, so his dad wouldn’t find out about Furihata. (Though we don’t know what any of them think about that, or not yet, at least. XD) There will be at least one more member of the staff who gets an introduction, which should be coming soon. But for now, we’ve got:

Takeda, Akashi’s personal valet (and driver, sometimes)

Ginhara, the Akashi family butler and head of staff

Umagami Ichiro, Yukimaru’s groom

Inuyama, Akashi’s father’s personal valet

Hanamitsu Atsuko, housekeeper for the Akashi mansion in Tokyo

The Akashi family chef (name???)

(Plus some maids, who I also did not name)

… And as you can see, most of them still don’t have given names, even the ones with family names. That’s how disorganized I’ve been about this. //laughs

Also, I have a feeling no one was actually wondering (lol), but if you happen to remember this scene from Episode 63 in the Teikou arc in the anime:

In my headcanons, this guy is the head chauffeur for the Akashi family household, and he used to drive the whole family around. (Which would mean that he was also mentioned in The Fast Train to Kyoto, in a brief flashback about Akashi and his parents! Where he’s just “the driver.” XD) Now he mostly drives Akashi’s father to work, and sometimes chauffeurs Akashi as well, when he’s in Tokyo. (Whereas Takeda drives him around in Kyoto.) I briefly referred to him as Onoda in Chapter One of The Vanishing Prince, so… I guess that’s the name I came up with for him? //laughs

TL;DR… I’ve really enjoyed writing about the various characters who work for the Akashi family, and I had way more fun including them in the story than I expected. <3 (Maybe I should give in and post character sketches for all the OCs in this series sometime… That would be a project. XD)

Beliefs About Ghosts

I might go into this more in a future chapter, but I did want to briefly discuss how Reo talks to Furihata about ghosts, and how/why they haunt certain places… There are a LOT of different beliefs all over the world about whether ghosts are real, and why they appear. There are also lots of theories about whether they need the help of living humans to pass on or not.

For this fic, I tried to include some of the most common beliefs in Reo’s response, including the “revenge” ghost stories that are super common in Japanese folklore. But it’s not a comprehensive explanation by any means, and there are a lot of people who believe in ghosts and spirits but wouldn’t agree with the ideas Reo mentioned. (Basically, I had to pick among a bunch of different supernatural ideas about ghosts for the fic, and these are some of the ones I chose to include? But that’s not to say that they’re representative of my own beliefs, or of every Japanese person who believes in ghosts, either!)

The Akashi Family Curse (…?)

So I know some readers have been discussing this and making predictions about it in the comments for a while now… And while I don’t want to spoil anything about where the story is going, I’m really excited that I finally got to reveal another piece of the legend/rumors about the Akashi family curse:

Furihata’s mouth dropped open. It never occurred to him that some people might still think that the Akashis were cursed, centuries later. Or that these rumors were somehow connected to their catlike eyes. Was that maybe even how the peasants in the legend came up with the curse in the first place? Were they just creeped out, by this super-rare genetic thing that ran in the family?

Or… could it be true? Could the Akashi family really be cursed?

I can’t remember if anyone specifically connected the dots about the legend being connected to the “catlike” eyes or not… But if you saw this coming, YES YOU WERE TOTALLY RIGHT AND I AM IMPRESSED. <333

As for what the legend/rumors say about how the curse works, and whether or not it’s actually real… I guess I shouldn’t go into that just yet, for the sake of spoilers. XD But hopefully you can have fun guessing for now! And I’m glad I can finally point to the connection between the idea of a family curse and the “catlike eyes” to explain why I kept including so many passages like this one:

He and Akashi were walking through another long passageway. This one was lined with life-sized portraits—and oddly enough, Furihata recognized some of the faces. He had seen them in paintings in the Tokyo house.

“Are these your relatives?” he asked. They didn’t resemble Akashi very much. But a few did have the same unusual, catlike pupils.

Akashi nodded, as he glanced up at the huge frames. “They led the family, several generations ago. This one was my great-great-great-great-great grandfather.”

He gestured to the largest painting. The steel-haired man in the portrait wore a piercing frown. Even his posture was severe, somehow.

… Yeah, there are a BUNCH of descriptions in A Spark of Light of portraits of Akashi’s relatives, and how some of them have the same eyes as him. Also, as I’m sure a lot of people noticed, I mention Akashi’s eyes A LOT throughout the series. And this is one of the reasons why I wanted to emphasize it so much. XD

(Well, okay and also like a lot of fic writers, I enjoy pretty descriptions about eyes. XD BUT I WOULD’VE TRIED TO CUT MORE OF THEM IF IT WASN’T SUCH AN IMPORTANT PLOT POINT… Or so I’ll claim, anyway. //laughs)

And Finally… THE VIOLIN

Ahhh I’m so happy I finally got to post this scene! I’ve been saving the moment of Akashi playing his violin for Furihata for a loooong time… I foreshadowed it briefly back in Storming the Castle, when Furihata notices Akashi’s violin case sitting in his study. But I got the idea for this scene even earlier… All the way back when I drafted that part in The Fast Train to Kyoto, where Akashi plays his violin after he writes to Furihata to tell him they can’t be friends. (YES. IT HAS BEEN THAT LONG.)

So, yeah… I had no idea know how long it would take to get there, but I definitely knew that Akashi would have to play his violin for Furihata at some point. And I wanted it to be a Really Big Moment in their romantic arc. So I did the best I could with it. (Because, I mean… How could I NOT include a scene where Akashi plays the violin for Furihata? That just had to happen, come on. //laughs)

As I mentioned over on Ao3, I do have my own idea about which piece Akashi plays for Furi… I might even mention it directly in the next chapter, but I’m not sure yet? (Either way, if you have a piece that you’d like to imagine him playing instead, you have my blessing. xD I tried to write it in such a way that he could be playing a lot of different songs!) So here was my thought process on that…

I figured Akashi would probably decide to play something on the simple side for Furihata, rather than anything too technical/demanding on the ear. I also realized that he was probably thinking that Furihata would like a sweet, romantic sort of song, because of this scene from Storming the Castle:

“Oh, r-right.” Furihata let go of the flower. He managed a laugh. “Sorry. I’m being weird, huh?”

“I just never realized you had such an interest in roses,” Akashi said, with a hint of humor. “But it shouldn’t surprise me, really.”

Furihata didn’t follow. “Why’s that?”

The edge of Akashi’s mouth dimpled. “Well, you are a romantic, after all.”

And that was when I realized… ROSES. Like, what if the piece had to do with roses, because Akashi was remembering that conversation about Furihata’s romantic side that they had in his rose garden…? So in my head, Akashi plays a version of The Last Rose of Summer, which is this really sweet, old Irish song that was later set to a poem of that name, written by Thomas Moore. It’s an easier piece to play, so it’s a little difficult to find a nice version of it by a professional violinist. But I did find this arrangement that is SUPER old-fashioned and adorable:

And my personal favorite version with strings that I found (and linked first on Ao3) is probably this one. Though I believe the violin doesn’t start until around a minute and a half into the recording?

(My sister and I thought the first soloist *might* be a viola… Apologies if we’re wrong though!! We took band a thousand years ago in high school but didn’t play in an orchestra, so we’re basically clueless about anything with strings. XD)

Anyway, I just thought that the song would be fitting because of the whole “bonding over roses” connection to Storming the Castle, and the fact that they’re still on summer vacation in this story… Plus the words of the poem are kind of the most Oreshi thing I’ve ever heard??? It’s REALLY sad, but also all about friendship. You can hear how it’s sung and see the complete lyrics in this version by Charlotte Church if you’d like (again, the song starts at around 1:30), but I’ll also include the beginning and end of the poem here:

Tis the last rose of summer,

Left blooming alone,

All her lovely companions

Are faded and gone.

…

So soon may I follow

When friendships decay;

And from love's shining circle

The gems drop away

When true hearts lie wither'd

And fond ones are flow'n

Oh! Who would inhabit

This bleak world alone?

… TELL ME THAT’S NOT AN ORESHI KIND OF POEM. It’s all about friendship and being afraid of being alone, and I just… gahhhh. T_____T

Also, you might have noticed that the versions I linked don’t have any parts where the soloist plucks the violin strings, which I described Akashi doing at one point… That’s because I like to think that in between playing a simpler version, Akashi also slips into a few sections of Variations on the Last Rose of Summer by Ernst, which you can see the violinist Midori playing here. (Unlike the other versions I linked, this is one of the hardest pieces ever written for violin, period… Apparently it’s so difficult that many top-tier professionals won’t even play it in front of a crowd! So for those of you who want to picture him playing something more badass, I’ve got you covered. XD)

(And while we’re still on the subject of different versions… My all-time favorite when it comes to different instruments playing The Last Rose of Summer has got to be this one. BECAUSE IT’S A KOTO, LIKE OMGGGG YES. Honestly, if my series had a sound, I’d like to think that it would be this…? Because roses and traditional Japanese instruments, that’s why. //laughs)

Also, I’m not sure whether anyone was curious about this part of the scene:

Akashi chuckled as he unlatched the case. Resting on a bed of crimson silk was a delicately carved violin. Furihata didn’t know how to tell if an instrument was well made, but he was pretty sure that this one had to be.

So I do indeed headcanon that Akashi would have a really nice violin… For those who might not know, violins can be EXTREMELY expensive, most notably at the professional and soloist quality levels. As in, the famous Stradivarius violins are valued at $10 million or MORE, for example. XD Though I personally tend to think that Akashi probably wouldn’t play a Strad himself… He’d have too much reverence for the instrument for that. //laughs (Although I wouldn’t be surprised if his family owns a Stradivarius and lends it out to some world-famous soloist… Which is apparently how it works in real life, by the way!) But I still imagine that his violin would be a super fancy one, maybe somewhere in the $100k range or something? (And now I’m just imagining Furihata finding that out and freaking out, lol.)

And last but not least, since I’m already rambling a lot, I would like to credit a new favorite YouTube channel of mine that I discovered while writing the violin scene… I really wanted to make sure that I described the violin playing correctly, because like I mentioned, I understand nothing about stringed instruments whatsoever. (I was a very mediocre flute player, once upon a time. //laughs)

So while I was hunting for references, I stumbled across TwoSet Violin, and OMG THEY ARE THE COOLEST CHANNEL EVER. I’d recommend them to literally everyone, even if you don’t play the violin or have any interest in classical music! They’re two professional violinists from Australia who make tons of super-entertaining content, like analyzing the way actors pretend to play instruments in movies and Chinese dramas, or trying to play the cheapest violin they can buy on Amazon. And it’s FANTASTIC. XD They’re super skilled and funny, and they even inspired me to listen to classical music again, so yeah, I can’t recommend them enough. <3

Well, this post turned out a lot longer than I expected…? //laughs In any case, I hope it was interesting, and thank you for reading! And as I said over on Ao3, thank you again to all of my lovely readers for your patience, especially while I dealt with my grandmother’s passing. I have the next chapter of the fic drafted, just like last time, but it does have some issues so I’m not sure how long it will take to edit. (Hopefully less time than this one did. OTL) I’ll definitely do my best to post it as soon as I can. In the meantime, I really hope everyone is staying safe, and see you then!

#the vanishing prince #kat writes fanfic #text post #long post #kat writes about basketball dorks #akafuri #good lord this post was loooooong #and the chapter was long #everything I write is long XD #but I'm so glad I got to FINALLY POST THIS #I can't even begin to express how long and painstaking the editing process was #BUT WE GOT THERE IT'S ALL GOOD #and I had a lot of fun writing a lot of these scenes #the adorable dorks continue to be adorable #Takeda and Ginhara also amused me this time for some reason #and the housekeeper #oh and Seirin was back YAY #I missed Bokushi though he wasn't in this one as much XD #also yay violins <3<3<3

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flesymetahiq · 4 years ago

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Magic ask for magical characters

God, it’s good that I am subscribed to such great writers who are trying in every possible way to help develop other characters associated with their favorite fandom, live happily <3 Egm, thank you XD

Bad English warning ~w~ I’m really sorry

The questions were constructed by @arcanecadenza, thank you very much again and sorry >w<

1.Magic always comes at a cost… what price does your character have to pay in order to practice it? What kind of trade-offs are involved?

I want to talk about Eleanor, earlier I mentioned that her mother (Akane) came from the Haiko clan, in fact, they were not just cursed magicians who also owned dark magic (of course). The clan leaders concluded in their bodies the energy of that nine-tailed fox-demon which had been killed by their ancestors. And it would seem that this is not a curse at all. But many of them died because their body would simply explode, they could not withstand so much energy, some did not die such a painful death, they turned into monsters, but in their case, it would be better to die at the hands of Haiko magicians.

Haiko Fuji, one of the clan’s leaders, acted quite cunningly, passing with his blood his curse to another group of people (Some of them were Madara and Tsunobi), so his daughter Haiko Akane got only part of the energy of the nine-tailed.

To use the power of the demon inside you, you must donate your blood. The demon is held at the expense of being marked in the form of red symbols, it is on them that the Haiko magicians make a deep cut, thus giving their blood. After that, many painful transformations take place with their body.

Elinor currently does not use her inherited power, which is called a curse, because she does not even remember about it, nor about her past, which is probably to some extent good for her.Not to say that the marks and symbols on her body do not cause her questions. Of course, Eleanor was very scared to find them on her body after amnesia, but any attempts to connect them with her past and remember ended in loss of consciousness, so she tries to cover them up and not especially go in touch with them.

About the magic associated with the elements.The best, but at the same time the most dangerous source of this power is fire. Wizards specializing in fire magic often gain great strength, but pay for it by dependence on the elements of fire, burns, and sometimes even die in flames, for example.Anyway, magic consumes a lot of energy, which is very difficult to recover, it is also likely to pay for the use of magic. It is also worth mentioning that Elinor, after applying any serious spells, suffers very much later, fainting or migraines

2.“For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.” What kind of magic directly opposes that of your character? As in, what kind of magic would complement theirs so perfectly that it would be difficult for either one of them to get the upper hand on the other?

That will sound a little funny. But for example, the complete opposite of the demonic magic of Elinor is white magic. But since it uses just white magic, its opposite is demonic, it can also be clarified that if she possessed demonic magic, she could never use it with the magic of elements.

3.What kind of magic would effectively neutralize that of your character?

Magic associated with the penetration of consciousness and its control, so Eleanor can not resist.

4.Is their magic more suited to offence or defence? Or is it more versatile? What is it like when used in a fight?

The magic that Elinor uses now is more suitable for defense than for offence,which cannot be said about its demonic side.

Spells that are/were more commonly used in fight.

Fire(more for offence)

🔥Fire ball. A spell in which fire erupts from the mouth in the form of a massive ball of roaring flame.Also associated with this spell, the creation of a small fiery sphere in the hands

🔥Fire trap. With this spell, the enemy is in a circle of flame, which over time begins to narrow.

Water (more for defence)

🌊 Streaming the water:The spell draws water from a source. In this case, the magician can manipulate it, for example, create large waves, barriers, shapes, whirlpools and so on.

🌳Earth (more for defence)

Eleanor uses only one spell, by. which creates strong currents of wind, most likely it will be able to repel the enemy or prevent him from approaching

.🍃Wind (more for defence)

Eleanor uses only one spell, which creates strong currents of wind, most likely it will be able to repel the enemy or prevent him from approaching.

Dark Magic spells

Puppeteer(more for offence)

With this spell, contact with the enemy is necessary, for example, you must touch him, after which Elinor forms the threads connecting her hands with the body of the enemy, and gives her full control over his body, making the enemy his puppet.

Devil eyes (more for offence)

With this spell, under a step one big circle is formed, inside of which there are smaller circles, each circle is crossed out by a small line, once at the intersection points, raised bayonets rarely grow.The circles begin to spin, new points of intersection begin to appear, and hence new bayonets.

5.What are some interesting subsets and/or sub-practices of their magic? Like, what’s something they can or something that other practitioners of the same kind of magic can do that would surprise someone else?

In addition to the magic associated with the elements and demons, Eleanor is very fond of doing all sorts of wonderful tricks. The most elementary, for example, she can make a dancers from an ordinary napkin and arrange a whole ball of napkins ladies and gentlemen at some feast, which will be very effective and beautiful.

6.If they have a magical gateway, does their magic shape it? For example, the pool of water in Asra’s oasis and the fact that he travels to it is by way of bodies of water is likely representative of his affinity for water magic.

There are special mirrors that are a portal to Augusay (the kingdom where Elinor herself was born). These mirrors are in the house of the late aunt Elinor, but she still does not know about their existence.

7.Does magic run in their family? Alternatively, if they are an Apprentice, how does their magic compare to that of their aunt?

Aunt was a rather advanced sorceress; her magic was completely based on the elements of the elements, especially the element of fire was developed.Unlike her brother, Victor (Elinor's father), she owned magic. I also mentioned several times that Elinor inherited magical abilities from her mother Akane too.

8.How sustainable is their magic? Where do they fall on a sliding scale of getting tired after one spell versus feeling more and more energized the more they cast?

If you do not talk about the dark magic of Elinor, then it is quite stable. However, depending on the spell. If this spell (for example) is associated with the creation of large spheres of fire, then the larger the sphere, the greater the likelihood that Elinor will lose consciousness. If for example the mass of water that Elinor controls is very large, then she will not be able to hold out for too long.What about dark magic, the longer Elinor casts spells, such as the devil's eye or a puppeteer, there will be a chance that she will lose control over herself, otherwise her body will transform into a nine-tailed Demon, more precisely, a seal on her body will be destroyed.

9.Where does your character’s magical potential come from? Is it inherent? Is it because of some sort of bargain that they struck with an entity/Major or Minor Arcana? Is it a skill that was taught and honed? Is it a combination of things?

I wrote earlier, so the answer will be short. The magic of Elinor was inherited from her mother as well as the curse of the nine-tailed, about the Haiku clan I already described in questions regarding apprentice 10.If you had to assign an elemental denotation to their magic, what would it be and why? Fire, earth, air, or water?

Fire.Her entire clan had a predisposition to fire (Uchiha lol)

11.What is their relationship with magic like? Is it something they feel blessed to have or is it more of a burden/curse to them?

Eleanor does not know about her demonic power, so her abilities would be a terrible curse for her. So she believes that this is a great gift that can make the world a better place, so she is trying her best to develop her magical demand.

12.In what ways could they potentially misuse their magic? If you’re not sure of what I mean, just think of how a skilled waterbender could just as easily bloodbend to accomplish their goals/get what they want.

Many options, especially if you take dark magic, the puppeteer’s spell is very suitable for achieving any goals, because with it you gain control over someone else’s body.

13.What school(s) of magic best encompasses that of your character? Abjuration, conjuration, divination, enchantment, evocation, illusion, necromancy, or transmutation? Yes, this is a Dungeons and Dragons question because I’m a nerd and I’m very curious.

Oh... I think.. Oh.. conjuration probably. 14.What kind of ethics are associated with your character’s practice of their magic? What kind of in-universe laws do you think might exist that pertain to it?

In my opinion, the most important laws regarding magic are the prohibitions on using any ancient forbidden spells, agreements with creatures from other worlds, and the prohibition on using magic outside Hogwarts (just kidding), that is, I mean the prohibition on using magic for the purpose of killing innocent people (yes my fantasy is as sucks as my English, sorry)

15.If your character was tasked with teaching someone else about their magic, where would they start? What would the learning curve look like for that?

It is difficult to imagine Elinor as a master of (hehe) magic. To begin with, she would test her apprentice to make sure that he / she would not abuse his magic and spells, whether he / she would use magic for good. After that, it will be necessary to explain all the dangerous moments associated with magic, its advantages, the minuses of the story and the consequences of its correct and incorrect use and much, much more.

#the arcana #the arcane game #the arcana apprentice #ask #magician #the arcana oc #fan apprentice #the arcana ask meme #ask meme

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sanderssidesfanfiction · 5 years ago

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We’ll Carry On - Chapter Forty Four

We’ll Carry On Tag

General Content Warnings: Sympathetic Deceit Sanders, Substance Abuse, Abandonment, Minor Character Death, Transphobia, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Dissociation, Bullying, Homophobia

March 20th, 2019

“Anxiety?” Virgil asked, tilting his head to the side. “What does that mean, anxiety?”

“You know how sometimes you get really afraid and you start shaking and having panic attacks?” Mister Emile asked.

Virgil frowned but nodded.

“Well, that’s a symptom of several anxiety disorders. Basically, even if there’s no danger around you, your body still thinks there is and it starts your fight-or-flight instincts,” Mister Emile explained. “It’s not a bad thing, but I wanted to see if we could get you diagnosed, and maybe figure out if you need therapy to help with it.”

“Oh,” Virgil said. “That’s...a thing people get?”

“Yeah. You’re not weird, Virgil. Anxiety disorders are really common,” Mister Emile said. “You’ll be fine, and I’m always here if you need any help.”

February 20th, 2020

Virgil was enjoying himself, for once. It wasn’t unheard of for him to enjoy himself, but he didn’t feel any anxiety attached to his enjoyment whatsoever, so it was noteworthy. He and Patton were currently playing on one of the laptops in the house, Virgil handling the arrow keys and Patton working the “wasd” keys, so together they could steer a rebel ship to shoot the Death Star. It was entertaining.

Once they had shot the Death Star, they cheered and high-fived, before putting the laptop away. Patton and Virgil hadn’t wanted to go out to celebrate their adoption anniversary, so instead they were going to have a movie marathon in the den. Patton and Virgil had agreed to hide in the basement for half an hour while the others got everything set up, and it had to be at least forty minutes that they had been cooped up in the basement. They walked up the stairs, Patton calling in the general direction of the den, “Is it safe to come in?”

“You’re good!” Roman called back. “We just finished!”

Patton and Virgil walked in, and Virgil gawked. There was a stack of DVDs next to the TV, and huge bowls of popcorn and candy ready to be eaten. He wasn’t sure he would be able to watch all of the movies in the stack, but he knew they were certainly going to try.

Virgil got on the couch, grabbing a bag full of M&Ms and settling down. “Do you guys have the movies picked out already?” he asked.

“Yes, we have the first one in the player already,” Dad said. “But we figured you both would like to see this one first, so hopefully we weren’t too far off in that assumption.”

Ami turned on the TV and set it to the DVD player, revealing Bolt on the screen. Patton cheered and Virgil grinned. It was no secret to anyone in the family that they both loved that movie to death. As everyone got situated on the couches, Dad pressed play and they started up the movie (with captions, both because Dee liked using them to learn how to read and because Logan focused better with them).

Patton leaned into Virgil and Virgil looked over to him. “Enjoying yourself?” Virgil signed.

He got a content sigh and a nod in return. “You?” Patton asked.

Virgil considered. “Yeah,” he signed. “I’m enjoying myself.”

“No anxiety?” Patton asked, brows furrowing.

“Not...no anxiety, but very little anxiety,” Virgil explained.

“That’s good!” Patton signed, returning his attention to the movie.

Virgil idly nodded, and wrapped an arm around Patton’s shoulders, leaning back into the couch as they watched the movie unfold. Both of them knew what would happen like the back of their hands, but the ending still got to them. Patton cried a little and Virgil wasn’t far off.

After the first movie ended, Ami got up and turned the lights in the den on, before approaching Virgil and Patton with two presents. “You two know the drill,” he said with a smile. “These might not be as big as Logan’s or as lucky as Roman’s, but we hope you’ll still like them.”

Virgil and Patton looked at each other. “You go first,” he told Patton.”

Patton nodded and opened the paper, gasping in surprise. “Oh, that’s so cool!” he said, running his hand over the cover of the book. It was an encyclopedia about animals, no doubt designed for elementary school kids, so Patton would probably need bigger books if he became a vet, but Virgil knew this still meant a lot to him. “Thank you!” Patton exclaimed.

Virgil knew this was a big deal to Patton. He had never had someone really rooting for him when it came to his passions, until they had come here. Virgil tried, but Patton always said he wanted an adult who believed in him. Now, he had two, who were encouraging him to study what he wanted.

Virgil opened his slowly. His box was a little bigger than Patton’s, but he figured that Dad and Ami made sure that the gifts were mostly even. He opened the box underneath the paper and found...“A cat?” he asked.

“I’d recommend smelling them,” Dad said.

Virgil did so, and could make out...lavender. “Oh!” he exclaimed. “This is the smell that the therapist said made me calmer when we tried grounding!”

“Yeah, she told me that you seemed to really enjoy the scent. Now, obviously, you might not want to carry a stuffed animal everywhere you go to help with grounding, but because we know your thoughts start to race when you try to sleep...well, we thought you might like it,” Dad said.

Virgil picked the cat out of the box. “And it’s weighted?” he asked.

“Just a little,” Ami confirmed. “We figured that could also help with the grounding when you start to panic.”

“Wow,” Virgil said, swallowing. “I...thank you. This...yeah. This will help.”

Logan looked him over. “You okay, Virgil? You look overwhelmed.”

“I mean, I guess I’m a little overwhelmed,” Virgil said with a little laugh. “But you know, it’s more with the fact that you guys are so considerate than with panic.”

“Oh, that’s okay, then,” Logan said with a grin.

Virgil laughed in shock. “Okay, listen, buddy—”

“Ooh, Logan’s in trouble~” Roman sang.

Logan glared at Roman and chucked a pillow at his face. Roman ducked and laughed. Virgil giggled and hugged the cat close to his chest, nuzzling the toy close. “Will the lavender scent fade?” he asked.

“Over time, yeah,” Ami said. “But don’t worry, Dad and I put a little velcro on its belly so whenever the lavender scent fades, we can replace it with whatever scent you like.”

“Cool,” Virgil said with a grin. Roman chucked a pillow at Logan but Logan swatted it away...directly into Virgil’s face. “Logan! Roman!” he yelled, pushing down the pillow so he could glare at them.

Logan looked somewhat chastised but Roman was unapologetic. “Not my fault Logan dodged,” he said with a shrug.

“This means war,” Virgil said solemnly, putting his new friend on the table, before running with a scream over to Roman, whacking him mercilessly with the pillow until Dad and Ami ripped it from his hands. “Not tonight, please,” Dad all but begged. “We need to preserve the pillows for at least another month.”

Roman groaned and Virgil grumbled, but both boys got settled back where they were before, and Patton and Virgil got to choose which movie they watched next. After a quick murmured discussion, they decided on Spy Kids and the new movie started up. Virgil snuggled his new cat and Patton snuggled Virgil.

As time continued on, Virgil could feel sleep starting to stake a claim on him. Much as he loved Spy Kids, sleep sounded really good, too. They had dinner earlier, and now the sugar rush from the M&Ms was wearing off, and Virgil wanted nothing more than to sleep. Anywhere, really. He wasn’t going to be picky.

His head rested on Patton’s and he let his eyes close, just for a minute. When he next opened them, the ending credits were rolling and Patton was gently nudging him. “C’mon, Virge, I need to get up.”

“Hmm?” Virgil hummed.

“You fell asleep,” Patton said. “And I’ll let you sleep more if you need, but I gotta pee first.” And with that, he dashed out of the room.

Virgil groaned and rubbed his eyes. “Wha’ time is it?” he mumbled.

Logan pulled out his phone. “Just about ten. And it is a school night, so I imagine Dad and Ami are going to send us all to get ready to bed as soon as they realize the movie is over.”

Virgil blinked and looked around to find a suspicious lack of the two men in question. “Where did they go?” he asked.

“If I had to hazard a guess, the office in the basement,” Logan said, pushing his glasses up his nose. “But I wouldn’t interrupt them.”

“Wait...” Roman said, staring at Logan in horror. “Last year, when you did that...you never said what you found them doing...”

Logan turned crimson and looked away. “Yes, well, it wasn’t as compromising as I’m sure you’re thinking of, but it was not...pleasant by any means. For any party.”

Roman laughed. “You caught them making out, didn’t you?!”

“No comment,” Logan hissed. “And unless you want to explain to Virgil and Dee what ‘making out’ is, I suggest you shut up, quickly.”

“Oh,” Roman said, glancing at Virgil and Dee, before clamming up.

Dee looked at Virgil, confused. “What is making out?” he signed.

“Uh?” Virgil shrugged. “I think it’s like...kissing? I’m not sure, though.”

“But Dad and Ami kiss all the time!” Dee signed. “Why would Logan be embarrassed?”

“Because making out is kissing for a long time,” Patton said, walking into the room. “Like. Kissing for more than five seconds.”

“Five seconds is a long time to kiss,” Dee signed.

“Which is why it’s got its own name,” Patton said. He turned to Logan, smiling smugly. “You’re welcome.”

Logan stared at Patton. “Where did you learn that?”

Patton shrugged. “I got to talk to some middle schoolers sometimes when waiting for Roman after theatre practice, and they said that, and I asked what it meant.”

“And they explained?!” Roman asked.

“Yeah?” Patton said, shrugging. “They said it wasn’t the worst thing I could have asked, so they explained.”

Roman choked on air and Virgil watched the exchange with confusion. Dee waved his hands and when everyone was looking at him, he signed, “Do you only make out with people you love, like, romantically?”

“Yeah, usually,” Logan said.

“So does that mean you’ve made out with Jack?” Dee asked him.

Logan turned beet red and Roman burst out laughing. “That’s private,” Logan stammered out. “Please don’t ask me or Dad and Ami that.”

“Don’t ask us what?” Ami said, walking in the room.

“We were talking about making out,” Patton chirped.

Ami blinked. “I...who brought it up?”

Roman pointed at Logan. Logan sputtered. “Excuse you, you’re the one who suggested that’s what they were doing! I just said that Dad and Ami wanted privacy!”

“And did you actually explain what it was?” Ami asked.

“Oh! I explained!” Patton said, raising his hand. “The middle schoolers explained it to me, so I explained to them!”

“Explained what?” Dad asked, appearing in the doorway.

“Making out, apparently,” Ami told him.

Dad choked on air and Roman laughed while Logan just turned a darker shade of red. Virgil just felt more confusion wash over him. “This isn’t fair,” he complained. “I know all the swear words, but nobody is teaching me this stuff!”

“Well, it’s generally stuff they don’t teach you until you’re at least ten,” Dad managed to choke out. “So that could be why.”

“You learn about making out in school?” Dee asked.

“You learn about stuff that happens when you hit puberty, and as you get to middle school, you start to learn more and more things, including making out,” Roman said.

“Among other things that definitely shouldn’t be discussed around six to eight year olds,” Logan said, still not looking anyone in the eyes.

“Logan makes a good point,” Dad said. “And it’s ten o’clock, so I think you kids need to get ready for bed.”

Virgil groaned, but Patton just laughed at him. “You seemed to enjoy sleeping just five minutes ago,” he teased.

“But then we started talking,” Virgil said. “I like getting to talk like this.”

“When it’s not ten, you’re more than welcome to,” Dad said. “Until then, bed.”

Virgil groaned but complied. As everyone made their way to bed, or to the bathroom to shower, Virgil and Patton held their gifts close and looked at each other. “I’m really happy we joined this family,” Virgil said.

Patton gave him a shy grin that, in their silent twins-only language, roughly translated to Me, too.

#we'll carry on #sanders sides fanfiction #virgil sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #our creations #danger gays

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kylieryanette · 3 years ago

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SELF LOVE BURIED

So, you've gotten through the beginning years! Buckle up, it gets worse from here. I will be getting into the more severe abuse from here on out, so this is a trigger warning for anyone who may have difficulties reading from here. The next few blogs will discuss years 6ish through my adolescent years and high school, how my self-love got buried under years of being told I was worthless, sexual assault, mental and emotional abuse, among other things.

After we left Wisconsin, my mother once again left Dirk, and we moved to Bloomfield, IA where we lived with my great-grandmother again, and Dirk moved to Omaha, NE, 3.5 hours away. During this time, Dirk started dating a lady named Sandy. My sister and myself went to visit Dirk in Omaha, and we met Sandy and went to Fuddruckers. At this time, I was approximately 8-9 and I was not dealing with Dirk dating another woman, so I called my mother bawling, wanting to go home. Little did I know that Sandy would be a permanent force in my parents marriage (she isn't the villain I made her out to be in my mind).

When my parents got back together, we moved to Glenwood, IA, a bedroom community of Omaha, and my parents were both working in LTL (less than truckload) sales, so they were gone all day, and once again, Dirk was gone on "business trips" all of the time. He was working for Midland Transportation at this time, and brought a couple of shady characters to our home, disguising them as "friends". It wasn't until later that I learned he was involved in a theft scheme with these gentlemen, but alas, he was never caught, only his partners.

There are many shady instances that I remember happening at this time, to include Dirk threatening a backhoe operator, who conveniently passed away less than one week later from "heart issues". I was 12 years old when this occurred, and I had the forethought at that age to walk away from the situation. When Dirk asked me later why I had walked away, I simply stated "because I didn't want to testify against you". Please tell me what 12 year old thinks that way, or has had to make that decision, well this 12 year old, as I knew he had a body count at this point, he used to brag about how no one would ever find the bodies. Something he has recently said about my mother and myself, which has caused us to get security cameras installed around our home. During this time, I also started experiencing disturbing and severe health issues, which were dismissed by Dirk and doctors for over 25 years, but I remained active and high achieving, as to not deal with the abuse at home if I did not perform at peak level at all times.

I remember one time sitting at the coffee table eating cereal from a pottery bowl. Dirk was going through my backpack (one of the rare times he actually gave a shit about what I was doing). I had gotten a B on a math test (I struggle with math), not the class itself, just a test. He proceeded to walk over to me, grab my bowl, and throw it against the wall, sending pottery fragments and cereal flying all over the living room. It was at this moment that I realized the only way I was going to make him happy was to be perfect, absolutely perfect, no mistakes, ever. You can imagine what that did to my 12 year old psyche. He would call me "half-assed Kylie" if things weren't done to his standard, which was unobtainable most of the time.

During this time, my parents fought incessantly. I would hear them at all hours of the night, Dirk telling my mother that he hated her, didn't love her and that he wouldn't have to have affairs if she were a better wife, even though she literally drove herself to the brink of insanity trying to make him happy. She was focused on us, her career and her weight, as Dirk covetted good looks and a slim, beautiful figure, anything short of that was embarrassing for him. This caused a lot of issues with not only my mother, but me and my baby sister as well. Both Kaitie and I had an unhealthy relationship with food; her, not wanting to eat and making sure she stayed slim, me, yo-yo dieting and making myself sick to keep that ideal. One of those instances where parents don't directly instill these ideals in their children, but through watching and listening, we learned. We also learned about alcoholism, extensively, during this time. large

I watched Dirk drink himself into oblivion every single night that he was home. He couldn't have a meal, including breakfast, without a drink. Johnny Walker Red and water was his drink of choice, although I knew how to make a mean screwdriver by the age of 10. If it wasn't hard liquor, it was Bud Light. If Dirk wasn't drinking, I was wondering what was wrong. He once got to drunk that he decided it would be a great idea to take my sister and I on a ride in our Porsche on the icy country roads, after having an argument with my mother, resulting in us losing control and spinning on the ice, something that gravely scared my mother as well as us. Scaring people was something he absolutely loved doing, and would talk about his intimidation tactics and whom he had used them on frequently, violence and intimidation were standard ways of dealing with issues. During this time I dealt with issues of self worth at school as well, trying to fit in and not really knowing where to turn.

My friends at this time consisted of a mixture of personalities. Most of the kids had their groups that they had since elementary school, but I had gone to 5 different elementaries, so I didn't have that core group of friends. I threw myself into basketball and school, trying to be the best at everything I did, not the best I could be, but the absolute best, because anything short of that, in my mind, was unacceptable. The basketball court was my happy place, and I spent every free minute I had at one of the basketball courts in town, playing pick-up games or one-on-one with my mother, which was always a tough game as she is an extremely talented ball player. I dealt with a lot of rumors and nasty comments as my mother was my coach and comments such as "you only start because your mom is the coach" were thrown at me almost daily. Comments like these stuck with me, making me work that much harder. I was constantly trying to outdo myself and my peers, just to feel some sense of worthiness.

Social functions were a huge source of anxiety for me, as I was constantly second guessing the words that came out of my mouth. Something I still deal with daily, at the grocery store, church, wherever really. One school function will never leave my memory, unfortunately. I was at the Corn Festival dance in Glenwood with a bunch of my friends, and their parents who were chaperoning. Dirk had gone out with some of his friends and decided to come crash the kids dance. He came into the church, found me in the middle of the dance floor, and just starting screaming nonsense at me, in front of everyone, drunk, I was mortified. My friends mom jumped into action, shooing me away into the girls bathroom until they had successfully gotten him out of the building, to say I was embarrassed is an understatement. This wasn't the worst thing to happen in middle school though, that would come where I least expected it, and with zero support.

When we lived in Glenwood, a family with 3 young kids moved in across the street. The father befriended Dirk, and we all became family friends. I would babysit for them a lot when they would go out together, this was a very normal thing until one night. The mom was out of town, the oldest daughter at her father's house, and the dad out with his friends at the bars. I went to bed in the oldest daughters bed, waiting to fall asleep. Around 1 am, the dad came stumbling in, drunk as a skunk. He then proceeded to come into the room I was sleeping in, and crawl into bed. I told him that he was in the wrong room, he proceeded to say "I know", and continued to lay there. I was paralyzed, what was I supposed to do? I had been raised to be a people pleaser, how was I going to gracefully get out of this situation? He then proceeded to try to touch me, I finally came to my senses and jumped up and ran home. I cried all night long, waiting for Dirk to wake up so I could tell him. The time came, he woke up and I told him. He told me "He was just drunk and probably thought you were his wife." I was dumbfounded, his wife?! are you serious?! This bedroom was on the other side of the house! I felt worthless, dirty, and that my body didn't matter. This is not a lesson a little impressionable girl should learn. I learned more about sex, unhealthy sex, in the next few years than any young person should.

Ok, I promise I will get to the lighter, easier things, but the only way to get to that point, is to get through the hard stuff. Stick with me! You don't get to appreciate the beautiful light without trudging through the darkness :)

#self healing #trauma #mental health #growth #living with cptsd #bpd

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vipervisionsart · 4 years ago

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I am depression

Have it, lived with it for upteenth amount of years, and only now starting to realize that the depression is but a mere symptom of a larger self-esteem to disciplinary to compulsiveness disorder.

I want a true medical diagnosis besides that of which is a blanket statement of “mood disorder” as my symptoms fit descriptions of too many disorders and no doctor has yet to commit to just one. It was bi-polar depression at first; “it’s what we believe but are not sure of” but still declined for me to be tested for it; then it’s full fledged bi-polar disorder, moving to OCD, schizophrenia, mania, until everyone decided to leave my mental health in the air with the simple blanket statement of “you definitely have A mood disorder” but we’re also not going to run any tests to be sure. Have a nice day! Don’t kill yourself next time!

Pfft. Then the American Health Care System prescribed me medications that hurt more than helped due to the lack-of research and decisiveness of my health.

I don’t take those medications any longer and I don’t plan to. It’s been happening for as long as I can remember, when I tell my stories I always start at the climax of the events, this is the shortened but full version, I moved to the United States when I was 4 about to turn 5. Prior, I lived on a farm with my mother’s boss; whom I believe to this day she was sleeping with. She met my step-father in the Philippians, the true nature I don’t believe I’ve been truthfully told, via newspaper ad stating she was a young woman looking for a husband. My father wrote to her after seeing the ad and took her on some dates. He moved back to the states and they wrote letters to each other; he would send her money and she would send back gifts she made for him. I was told they fell in-love.

Meanwhile, I was being raised by my 7 uncles and my mom’s best friend Z, who I’ve only ever known as my auntie, a Hawaiian islander who came to the Philippians to study nursing. She would show me dancing and my uncles showed me how to work with concrete and clay. I had an uncle that would take me to the bathroom with him. My mother told me when I was 12 she saw me come out of the bathroom with him and “knew instantly” I would be a “bad child.” He was never reprimanded by my family; only by God when he died of a heart attack because of the devastating hurricane. I found solace and peace when my mother left to attend his funeral and visit her family for 6mo.

When I first moved to the states, I wanted to be one of the American Girls I would see on TV and movies. Short skirts, tank tops, ripped leggings, a cellphone, over sized sunglasses, with long, straight, blonde hair, and blue eyes. I wanted glitter on everything and pink streaks through it all. My parents; didn’t want that for me, at first. Because I liked to play in dirt, a trait a child would pick up growing up on a farm with no toys, and attracted many boys as friends; I was a tomboy. My mom cut my hair short and bought me only boy’s clothing. I wasn’t allowed to play with my friend’s outside of school. NO.

I was meant to clean the house when I got home, do my homework, and help my mother with whatever she wanted help with. I felt trapped all the time. I remember asking to have play dates and my parent’s always saying no. My mom would hide me away in her room if I convinced one of my friend’s parents to come over and ask my parents to let me play.

I wore overalls, baggy pants, collared shirts, capri shorts (the colored plaid ones), and sneakers up until I was about 7 years old. During this time, if I didn’t clean up my mother would beat me until I couldn’t scream anymore. If we went out in public and I didn’t stay by her side she would hold my shirt close to my neck and slowly pull it closed until my breath was shaky and I was too lightheaded to run away. I would try to tell her how I felt and she would yell at me until I didn’t want to talk anymore. I learned that speaking up is only going to end wrong for me no matter the situation, if she was involved. She would pinch me if I said anything to embarrass her in front of my father’s high society friends. I would be pinched if I said anything to irritate her in public regardless of who was around. It was always away from the eyes of the public.

She made me fear my home life. She made me fear telling the truth. She made me fear being myself. I was lucky enough to remember my auntie Z; “Someone might throw water on your fire, but never let it extinguish your flame. Burn brighter than the Sun. You are a Goddess by your own rights” and understood that even she is not enough to break me. I knew at a young age that individualism is so important, as it is what allows each human to keep living on, pushing past, and moving forward. I knew to never get stuck in a cycle I didn’t create for myself.

I begged my father to let me join the afterschool program and that he would pick me up as late into the day as possible. I was lucky that he worked a 9-5 and often picked up overtime which would mean as many hours away from my house as it could be permitted. From 7am-8pm I was free, and I took advantage of that. I ditched elementary school all the time with friends and we would take cars and steal things from stores and talk about boys, sex, drama, and our parents. My friends hated my mother more than I did. I knew she was probably a product of something more sinister. I tried to explain to my friends about the other worlds, the realms that things exist and no longer exist, and how religion and how all spiritualistics worked. I tried to explain why everyone should be wanting to push for enlightenment above all else so that we may transcend the human “death” but become creators of those in the past, present, and future.

What 10-12 year old listens to a 7 year old anyway? I picked up tarot reading.

I was almost 8 years old when I found out my mother was pregnant with my brother. I was so happy. Finally someone else. That’s when they started to switch. It wasn’t “lady-like” of me to dress the way I dressed and to play the way I played. I started getting beat for sitting in chairs incorrectly, for eating my food incorrectly, for snoring when I slept, for sleeping wildly in a shared bed, for having nightmares and waking people up, for asking questions a young lady should never ask, and for thinking that I was not responsible for grown people who pay bills tasks. I was taught to cook breakfast, lunch, and dinner for myself and for the family if the family asks for it. I was taught to always clean up at the end of the day no matter how tired I am for at least 25 minutes. I was taught how to balance my mother’s checkbook and how to count money and hide it.

If I didn’t, I was beat. If I didn’t do it fast enough, I was beat. If things went missing in the house, even if they didn’t belong to me and I had nothing to do with it, I was blamed... and then I was beat. She would take bamboo sticks to my legs and elbows, for proper posture, stance, and gait. I would endure hangers; plastic, wooden, and metal, even past the point of breaking them (which caused a lot of scarring on my thighs, stomach, and hips) if my speed and white-gloved-finger-sweep across the wood wasn’t up to par. I would get the belt, the paddle, and the whip if I didn’t understand the task given to me or if I didn’t do it properly. From 8 years old until 12 years old I was repeatedly asked to take care of my brother, cook, and clean or else I would get beat. My beatings were from 3/4 times a week to 3/4 times a day. It depended on the levels of stress she was under. Though she created it all to begin with, but I’ll digress.

I started sneaking out when I was 9. I would meet my friends and we would go off to one of their houses and talk. We all acted like we weren’t getting treated the same at home. Well, I know for a fact one of my closest friends at the time, a Gemini from Louisiana, knew exactly what I was going through. We had a heart to heart where she shared her personal traumas and I shared mine. We became really close.

I started realizing my dad wasn’t one for confrontation. I realized he was so non-confrontational, I snuck out of school and went to my house with some friends and he came home early and saw us; he didn’t care as long as we stayed out of his way. That’s when I started realizing the type of woman my mother was and how her raising me affected me. She’d been manipulating him this whole time. She got whatever she wanted and I would get whatever I wanted if I went to him directly. I started getting closer to my dad and his side of the family because they were givers. My mother and I are takers.

She began to realize that I was smart. So she locked me away. She tried to keep me from my father. She created a false sexual assault allegation against him and moved me in with an elderly couple from church. She wanted me to lie to the police and tell them he had been touching me. I didn’t. It made her really mad so she stopped letting me go to the bathroom and would have me sit in her car until I had to piss or defecate myself. I pissed myself in the front yard of the elderly couple’s home while they watched. They got mad and kicked us out. I didn’t know at the time that a private investigator my dad hired to clear his reputation and prove his innocence was also watching. He had evidence to believe that it was actually my other parent that was abusing me.

It was then that I held some power but my father showed the police all the things he bought me and all the pictures we took of us having a good time and they believed I had a great home life. I begged and pleaded with so many officers to look at the scars on my body because they are all because of my mother. My father is innocent, yes, but my mother is not please take her away or I’ll die!! My first suicide attempt was at 9 years old.

I started cutting myself. I died my hair and wore all black and joined the 2010 scene-kid scene. I wanted to fit in and belong. I started starving myself and forcing toothbrushes, school spoon-forks, and my fingers down my throat whenever I ate. I started to internalize all of the abuse. My second suicide attempt was 3 months after. I then turned 10 years old.

I attempted suicide 4 more times before I was sent to live in a group home for a year and a half. I wanted nothing more than to be home but all of the internalized trauma really did a number on me. I was acting out and rash and I would destroy things and become violent when angered. It was always toward my family, I never acted this way outside of it. Hm. Wonder why.

When I came back from the group home, my dad had my mom moved out and that’s when I found peace. I didn’t act out as much. I started middle school and for the first time ever I had community. I made life-long friends in middle school. This is where I like to say I truly began life. My trauma was a thing of the past. Until my mother decided she still had a say in my life and what I chose to do and I relapsed all over again.

I started using drugs. I became a scholarly drug addict. I felt like I had something to prove but a whole lot of fucks not to give to anything else. It was humiliating, in retrospect. I started using heavy. My first OD was my sophomore year in highschool. My second OD was the summer before Junior year. My third OD was 2 months before Junior year ended. My last OD was February 14, 2019. I graduated highschool in May 2018.

I moved out of the house when I turned 18 in 2017. I moved to the other half of California where I would be rid of my mother and her meddlesome ways. Through all that time, I still had forgiveness in my heart and gave her many chances to show me growth but all it showed me was her stagnation, inability to change, and her simple presence being nothing but a trigger for me. I still didn’t act out. As a direct result of my trauma, I can become extremely verbally abusive when aggravated and, when pushed passed the point of anger, extremely destructive. I tried to explain that to my abusers, whom continue to refuse to understand and continue to subject me to mental abuse on a daily basis since having to move back in with her after the trauma that was my ex.

When one of my life-long friends that I met in middleschool started unveiling the verbally abusive side of me, I had to sit her down and speak with her from my heart to let her know none of it is her fault. That it is a result of a trauma still left to be processed within me and to listen to my warning signs so she might not have to face the hurling bullet that is my mouth. Since that day, she understands and we have never faced a disagreement that turned sour ever again. It is simple once you understand the person.

In March of 2019, a month after declaring my personal war on drugs and staying clean, I fell in love with my ex. We were fine for a while. Then I started receiving boatloads of gaslighting and mental abuse on my psyche. I started acting out shortly after moving in with him. It was unsightly. It was embarrassing. I thought I had a lot more control over myself but I didn’t; I couldn’t have! We were getting into physical altercations and verbal abuse showdowns and it wasn’t doing either of us any good. We were both broken.

I moved out and sought after more peace within myself. Thinking this whole time I had been the abusive one when (while it is still the case) my abuse was a direct result of the abuse I endured. It always has been. Though how I reacted is still not right, it’s not right to pretend that I am the only person who needs to take the blame.

When a child acts out due to a bad home life, a teacher will recognize that and give the child an outlet to use at school. When an adult in a toxic relationship acts out, a good friend will recognize that and give the adult the advice or push or drive they need to free themselves and find a better outlet. I find that my trauma has a tendency to make me relieve the desperation and sadness that I once felt many years ago, on the same days that I was most desperate and most sad. I find that my trauma has a tendency to manifest in obsessive and compulsive thoughts. I find that my trauma has a tendency to be skeptical of all and every one and thing. I find that my trauma has shaped me to be the person I am today and while there are many things I will be taking and learning from my trauma; the homemaker, the tomboy, the forgiveness, and the perfectionist, there are still things I am working to be rid of; the skepticism, the compulsiveness, the abuser that is my tongue, and the violence.

I make clear to anyone that comes into my life and wishes to be close with me that I have these things to work on and to heed my warning signs lest they wish to be caught in my hurricane. I hope that one day I don’t have to give a warning for myself anymore.

#personalblog #trauma #advice #mother #daughter #relationships #truths #traumadump

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bd60mma · 8 years ago

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The Pursuit of Happiness

Sharing my thoughts about anxiety, depression, and suicide

Virtually everyone understands the feeling of anxiety, no matter what the source may be; perhaps you’ve experienced it giving a speech at school, or being interviewed for a job, or when expecting bad news to come. Likewise, most people understand what being depressed feels like, at least to some extent; the grief from losing a loved one, the sadness caused by a bad break-up or the end of a friendship, or any other negative event that has impacted your life has probably left you feeling depressed for some amount of time.

However, not many people understand the immense toll depression and anxiety can take when experienced over a prolonged period of time.

I’d like to share some of my experiences with these issues. I am not writing this post to reach out for help, or to bring attention to myself, nor to gain sympathy from anyone. I am writing this in the hopes that it will help improve people’s understanding on some of these important issues, and to learn about some of the signs that someone they know or care about may be struggling and perhaps inspire them to reach out before it’s too late.

The Roots of Depression

A lot of people that haven’t had to struggle with depression (or in extension, anxiety) often think that a traumatic event has to happen in order for someone to fall into depression, but this is often not the case.

I, for instance, come from a loving and close family: we never had a lot of money growing up, but there was always food on the table and a roof over my sister and I’s heads, my parents were both always around and there to support us and encourage us to do what makes us happy in life, and I’m fortunate enough to have never had any sort of “traumatic event” happen to me (either through abuse, someone very close passing away, etc.)

Despite this, I have been severely depressed for as long as I can remember; the last time I can honestly remember not wanting to kill myself was likely grade 11 or early in grade 12 (I’m currently 22), and even prior to that I had been unhappy. There was no inciting incident, and not even a series of identifiable events that caused my depression.

In my case, my depression came likely as the result of social and general anxiety disorders over a long period of time.

You may have found it strange that I couldn’t remember when I hadn’t wanted to kill myself, and by extension when I first thought of killing myself - suicidal thoughts are definitely an extreme measure and I think it’s safe to say most people would say that thinking you wanted to kill yourself would be a pretty pivotal moment in your life. But that’s exactly my point - the progression of anxiety and depression is often not clearly identifiable, it is a gradual process that does not have a discernible beginning or end for many people.

Anxiety as a Disorder

When I mention anxiety, it’s important to note I’m talking about a level of anxiety that is not ordinary. Humans, like most organisms, have a natural physical response to perceived danger. Anxiety is this response - it’s a crucial element to an organism’s survival (though made less important in modern society’s relative safety). Therefore feeling anxiety is normal - in small doses it can even be exciting and fun, such as the fear you might experience before going on a roller coaster, or when watching a horror movie. However, the difference between normal anxiety and an anxiety disorder is the activation of this ‘fight or flight’ response even when there is no danger present.

When someone has an anxiety disorder, often they find themselves excessively worrying about things, even if they don’t care about what it is they’re worried about. They’ll also (at least in my case) sometimes exhibit physical signs of anxiety and stress even when their mind is occupied with something else and thus not worried or stressing over something - such as excessive sweating, difficulty speaking (stuttering or fumbling over words, losing your train of thought mid-sentence, etc.), or feeling very hot even in cold conditions, among many other possible symptoms.

As this disorder progresses, the anxiety becomes essentially a constant - the queasy butterflies-in-your-stomach feeling is almost always with you, and other problems like difficulty speaking and blushing or sweating persist even in the most relaxed of settings. It often progresses without someone even realizing they have a problem - often they think it’s completely normal. After someone becomes aware of this however, it often increases the intensity - in my case, particularly when nervous, I visibly sweat on my forehead, making my face look “shiny” as one person so politely remarked. After I realized this in high school, it made me worry about it happening which of course only made it worse.

As is the case with most people with a social anxiety disorder, this anxiety caused me to become increasingly anti-social, which not only made my anxiety worse, it fed into depression. I was uncomfortable around people, thus I tried to avoid people and things that I felt anxious about (which is a natural response, but when that leads you to not having any friends and not doing things that you’d like to do, it’s not a healthy response).

I also dealt with being teased throughout my life, though I am hardly innocent - I gave just as much as I received right up until my last few years of high school, it was just kind of the way it was for a lot of us where I grew up (not that that’s a good excuse). I’ve never been particularly attractive and have been overweight since I was little (not to the extent of repulsing people by my mere presence or not being able to fit though a doorway, but enough to draw comments). When my anxiety (though I don’t think anyone recognized it as being anxiety) became noticeable, the teasing started becoming more and more frustrating. On top of dealing with being uncomfortable without being teased or annoyed, I now had additional anxiety poured on from being embarrassed on a daily basis. For a time I’d even go home for lunch in high school (my house was a short walk away) so I didn’t have to be around anyone, which ironically I’d then be teased more for.

These problems contributed to my increasing loneliness and feeling of being an outsider, something I’ve struggled with throughout my life.

The Life of an Outsider

I’ve never really found a place where I feel that I “fit in” - I’ve always seemed to be the odd one out, the “black sheep” if you will. Even when I did have friends in school, they never seemed to accept me the same way they accepted other people in their groups. While sometimes it was obvious why (for instance, when I was in middle and high school, I’d often hang out with a bunch of East Indian kids that I’ve known since elementary school, and thus I was the only white kid in the group - something they didn’t let me forget), nevertheless it’s never a fun feeling to be somewhere you don’t feel accepted.

Even now in my own family I don’t always feel I belong. My mom has had OCD since I was born and struggles with depression, so she understands more than most, and my dad, having supported and been with my mom all these years understands the gist of anxiety and depression and is sympathetic; my sister was also recently diagnosed with OCD following her second child, so anxiety and OCD kind of run in my family.

That being said, being that my problems are directly social and started while I was still very young, I haven’t been able to make the connections and live a “normal” life like they have for the most part. I don’t have a social circle to speak of; I’ve never had a girlfriend or even a girl as a friend that I’ve actually met; I’m graduating from university after 5 years of attending, yet the closest I’ve been to having made a real friend in those years was someone who only saw a picture of my face once after we had already talked for weeks, that I’ve never met and didn’t want to talk to me anymore after a few months.

And then there’s my two little nephews, who are 1 and (almost) 4 - don’t get me wrong, I love them both and want nothing but the best for them, but kids have always made me uncomfortable (since I myself was a kid). I’ve just never been good with kids. My social awkwardness is even more apparent around children, and when they’re around I feel even more like a social pariah, a fly on the wall watching everyone else enjoy life. My family often comments about having kids when I’m older, but I never will even if I did find someone to be in a relationship with.

On top of that there’s having to hide your depression. People hide their depression or anxiety for a myriad of reasons, but often it’s first and foremost to protect those around them or to avoid the embarrassment often associated with mental illness. I can attest to both of those, though embarrassment is no longer really a factor for me personally.

Wearing the Mask

For me, I value honesty and integrity above all else. When I said something like “I’ll never do drugs” when I was little, I was the one kid who meant it. People often confuse self-love with self-respect, but I think they’re entirely different concepts. I don’t like myself, and don’t think I ever really have, but I’ve always respected myself. I respect that I have a moral code and stick to it even when it becomes inconvenient, something that I think is rare nowadays. I have never wanted to or will ever do drugs, drink, or “hook up” with anyone (I like to think that sex should be between two people that love each other, though I realize it’s not exactly a common belief or practice nowadays, but that’s what I’m sticking to). Although I’ve made my fair share of mistakes in the past, I do my best to treat others with respect and fairness, and to not use people as the means to an end. And I respect others that have different opinions on any of these subjects, so long as they don’t try to force others to conform to their opinions or hurt anyone else.

My values make it especially hard to have to essentially lie every day to the people I care about.

Every day I wake up and go to sleep miserable. I go to sleep wishing I didn’t have to ever wake up again, and I wake up wishing I had died in my sleep. Yet every day I pretend that I’m fine, that nothing is wrong, that I’m perfectly happy. I’ve seen plenty of posts on social media about having a “fake skin” which you put on to hide your depression, and I can tell you it is exactly like that. You put on a smile and positive attitude to prevent anyone else from feeling your pain, to prevent the people in your life from worrying about you. In the end, it’s something that I don’t believe I have much choice in. Letting people know how I feel has not helped me in the past nor present, it does not improve things for me, and it does not benefit those close to me for them to know that I want to kill myself when they can’t do anything about it. Therefore, I stay quiet.

Getting “Help”

I’ve gone for professional “help” twice. I hesitate to call it help because it didn’t do a lot for me and does not help everyone, but I do think everyone that suffers from a problem such as anxiety or depression should speak to a doctor and/or psychiatrist as soon as they can after realizing they have a problem. Many people do improve their situation through therapy, medication, or a combination thereof, and just talking about and admitting there’s a problem does help, even if only a little. Similar to many physical illnesses, I believe that mental illness can be treated much more effectively before it becomes a major issue. That being said, the more severe the depression/anxiety is, in my experience, the less effective the treatment.

Like most people who reach out for medical help, I was put on several different SSRI’s to try and improve things - if you don’t know, SSRI’s are a common anti-depressant that tries to combat depression and anxiety disorders by increasing serotonin. Their effectiveness varies wildly and they can have a variety of side effects that can be severe and long-lasting, even after stopping the medication. Essentially, they’re drugs that mess with the chemistry in your head that can be effective for some people, or make things worse for others. Trying to find one that positively affects you is a pain - I only had to try a few (something I’d never do again) before I found one that at the time seemed to help a bit. Whether it was (or still is, as I still take it) the medication or a placebo effect is another matter, but in the end, when it comes to severe depression most medications don’t do a great job - after running out of faith in my treatment (along with therapy, which unfortunately was not effective for me), I did some research on my own and you’ll find that success in long term patients is spotty at best. The longer someone suffers with severe anxiety and depression, the less likely they are to recover - even your brain physically changes after prolonged depression.

I first reached out to my mom for help after I had graduated high school (I didn’t even attend prom or the graduation ceremony - I pretended that I just wanted to get my diploma and move on because I hated school, which I did, but I did wish I could have gone), and that’s when I went to my family doctor and started therapy and treatment.

The last time I went for help was a few years later (maybe two years ago now?). I broke down right before school had started again. It had been a long and lonely four months off of university (like every summer I suppose) and I got severely anxious (even for me) to go back for the fall semester. I talked to my mom again, and I will never forget the look on her face when, with tears in my eyes, I told her I needed to talk to my doctor and get help again. She had thought I had been doing better, and I guess the realization that I wasn’t got to her. I think I could literally see my mom’s heart break in that moment, as if she had died a little inside that day. I went for help again but at that point it was really more of the same, and I gave up entirely on getting medical help shortly after.

It may sound like I’m against seeking help for these issues, but I’m far from it. Seeking medical help has shown to help a lot of people, and just because it hasn’t benefitted me much doesn’t mean it can’t help others. It’s important to reach out as soon as you can though; I didn’t and unfortunately still suffer the consequences, though there’s no guarantee it would have made a difference in my case.

The Twisted Circle of Suicide

I’ve always been an intelligent, logical person - in grade 5 I was tested for being ‘gifted’ and had an IQ of 140, I’ve always done well in school despite rarely trying or being interested at all in most subjects, and rational decision-making is something I take pride in - which might make it surprising that I’d want to do something most people would deem illogical.

In fact, intelligent people are more likely to struggle with depression and anxiety disorders and we don’t yet know why. Perhaps it’s natural selection running its course in such illogical and misinformed times, or maybe it’s simply the brain overheating from thinking too much. My favourite videogame series (Halo) actually explores the latter thought, though not many people notice the insight; a main character in the game is actually an advanced human-like AI (artificial intelligence) which has a very short lifespan because as time goes on, the AI essentially thinks itself into lunacy and eventually its own “death” - a surprisingly deep insight into anxiety and suicide.

The late Robin Williams made a statement in a movie that I heard after his unfortunate suicide a few years back (he died on my birthday no less) that really stuck with me - “…suicide is a permanent solution, to a temporary problem”. It stuck out not only because it rings true for some, but because of the look in his eyes when he said it. Robin was of course acting out a scene from a movie he was in, so it was not his own quote, however his eyes told a story all on their own - the line he delivered felt hollow, as if he couldn’t hide the fact that he didn’t believe it himself. Williams of course brought a lot of attention to depression during his life and particularly after his death, and is possibly the greatest example of the “sad clown” you could find - someone who did their best to make others experience joy and happiness, yet on the inside they found nothing but misery.

It’s this pursuit of happiness which is such a vital part of human nature. In essence, all everyone really wants to do is to be happy. Your dreams, your goals, your wishes, they all generally come down to wanting to make yourself happy. Even if you want to make someone else happy, you do so because them being happy gives you a feeling of happiness. I believe everyone has the right to be happy, so long as they don’t infringe on someone else’s happiness. And therein lies the problem with suicide.

I’ve been trying for years to improve, to make friends, to find something that will change my outlook on life. All I’ve ever really wanted since I was a kid was to find someone that I could love and make happy, that I could be comfortable with and that liked me for who I am. That may sound sappy but that’s truly what I’ve always dreamed of. Unfortunately I haven’t found much success on any front - I've never even gotten to hug someone that isn't family, and I've never even met with a girl outside of class time (in which case the extent of my interaction with them is usually a few awkward words and that's it) - but then the question of will that actually help comes up.

I used to think jealously of people as a kid (as most kids do) - how could someone complain when they have X and Y? I’d kill for that. Now that I’m older, I can apply that same logic to myself. I’ve got family that loves me, a roof over my head, money in the bank, access to a world of information at my fingertips - how could I complain? That’s a question I’ve revisited and have to wonder - what if I did find someone that I love and loved me? What if nothing changed? It’s something that scares me more and more because I honestly don’t know anymore if there is anything that could help.

What happens when no matter what you seem to do, you only manage to feel worse?

What happens when the last flicker of hope you had fizzles out?

And so continues the twisted circle of suicide; the only way you can perceivably stop yourself from continuing to be miserable will bring pain to the people you care about. But at the same time, you feel that being alive is not helping anybody, thus suicide is actually helping them.

Suicide is selfish. That’s something I’ve heard a lot, even from my family. I actually argued with my grandmother after Robin Williams had passed away, as she had made a comment about him being selfish to do that to his kids. While I completely understood her point - leaving his kids without their father, leaving his family and friends to wonder what they could have done to help him, leaving those close to him to mourn his death - but why should he have to continue to suffer so much.

Most people would agree to go through hell to stop their loved ones from having to endure pain - I know I would. But what about having to endure your own version of mental hell, with no seeming end in sight, for months just to prevent them from the grief of losing you? What about years? Decades?

When does the price begin to outweigh the benefit?

Is sparing your loved ones from grief worth a lifetime of depression and misery?

That’s a question I’ve asked myself many times, and every day the answer seems a little less clear.

I think it’s important to take some of these things into consideration when talking about suicide, and when you judge someone else in general - you never know what someone could be going through.

Final Thoughts

It was difficult to write this piece not because I’m embarrassed or ashamed of my thoughts or who I am, but trying to put together a cohesive “story” to illustrate what I’m trying to say was tough. I know I put in a lot of personal stuff that you may find boring or unimportant, but I felt that was the best way to explain my thoughts. It might seem a little convoluted at times, but so is depression and anxiety, so I guess it’s pretty accurate.

Like I stated above, this is not about me asking for anyone’s help or to bring attention to myself; I just hope that someone that needs to will read this. If my story inspires someone to reach out for help, or to make a change in their life, or to try and help someone they think might be hurting, or even just raises someone’s awareness of mental illness, then I can be proud that I took the time to share. Thank you for reading.

#depression #suicide #suicidal thoughts #deep thoughts #mental illness #end the stigma #anxiety #anxiety disorders #major depressive disorders #life story #happiness #pursuit of happiness

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krisiunicornio · 6 years ago

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As a child, Ebony Smith survived sexual assault but didn’t have the tools to cope with the trauma until years later, when she found yoga. Now, she’s bringing the practice to her community, and others in crisis.

Exactly 247 people came to practice yoga with me today. Why is that such a big deal? Well, it means that I’m a badass. But to fully understand, you have to learn more about me and my community.

The practice of yoga powerfully changed my life. I went from being an alcoholic, Xanax-poppin’ college dropout to traveling the world to inspire others to be the greatest versions of themselves.

I was born and raised in Dallas, and was eight-years-old the first time I was sexually abused by my neighbor. That year I was also sentenced to my first in-house suspension. I didn’t have the tools to cope with the trauma, and I was punished for it. I became a menace in my elementary school. Teachers didn’t want me in class, so they placed me in an ESL class instead (English is my first language). The ESL teacher drank cold coffee all day. She spoke in Spanish (which I didn’t understand) and seated me in a cubicle I couldn’t see over or around. Needless to say, I didn’t learn anything that year. I grew more disenchanted with school. Nobody asked what was going on with me.

My dysfunction bled into adulthood. By the time I was 29, I was an alcoholic, married to a man I didn’t really know, and detached from myself. Then I found out I was pregnant. I told my then-husband, and I haven’t seen him since. Watching a Ricki Lake documentary called The Business of Being Born (who doesn’t love Ricki Lake?) inspired me to have a natural childbirth. I found a doula, and the first thing she advised me to do was to start practicing yoga.

My first thought was, “Yoga? Black people don’t do yoga.” But I found a yoga studio, and it went something like this: I’m nervous as fuck wearing too-little yoga pants (of course, people don’t make yoga pants for my kind of super sexiness). The white woman behind the counter actually said, “This is a yoga studio, mama.” No kidding, I’m here to buy donuts, I wanted to say. When I explained that I was there to practice, she told me to pick a beginner class because I was plus-size. This was my first interaction with the world of yoga, at the closest studio to my home, and I had to travel 24 miles to get there.

Despite it all, the first time I stepped on the mat I was introduced to myself. As I practiced more and more, I gained the power to cultivate my life. I also quickly learned that yoga was expensive, so I found a studio that would let me clean up in exchange for free classes. I didn’t understand how a practice that empowers people to heal themselves was so inaccessible.

That’s why I had a dream to bring this healing to my community in southern Dallas. And it’s why I started offering free yoga in Kiest Park. As a child, I spent several summers at this peaceful spot, an anomaly in the area where I grew up. I’m sad to say that my community—plagued with a drug epidemic, under-resourced schools, and poverty—is in crisis.

See also This Yoga Teacher Is Bringing Diversity to the Yoga Retreat Industry

DAILY TRAUMA

On any given day, drive three miles in my neighborhood and you’ll see people slumped over park benches after injecting crack, heroin, or meth. You can visit a corner store openly selling crack pipes. You can witness people yelling down the street or talking to themselves because they lack the mental health resources they need. Everyone in the community is suffering from trauma; nobody has the skills to cope with the level of stress induced by living in these conditions.

I want more for the people living in the hood (definition: under-resourced neighborhoods). In my neighborhood, there is an abundance of food deserts and crime. Families living in these communities experience trauma, directly and indirectly, on a daily basis. If they aren’t victims of violence themselves, they see it at home or on the streets. The area is rife with caretaker instability, including substance use or incarceration. House fires are common. I’ve seen all the reactions to this madness, including PTSD, depression, over-indulging, anxiety, irritability, stress, and aggression, along with health issues such as cancer, high blood pressure, and diabetes. During traumatic encounters, the body’s fight-or-flight response kicks in, either by over-activation (“Too Turn’t Up”) or suppression (“Leave Me the Hell Alone”). When this goes down regularly, you become overloaded, hoarding trauma in your body. It’s like having a cut that never heals, because you don’t have resources to get a damn band-aid.

See also Jessamyn Stanley on Moving Beyond Body Positivity

COMMUNITY IN CRISIS

Needless to say, my hood needs some healing. But here’s the thing: Just because I understand the power of yoga doesn’t mean people in the hood do—or would even be willing to find out. Not only does the community lack accessibility (there are no yoga studios or wellness centers around here), but the idea of yoga itself seems foreign. Wellness is portrayed by the media as a luxury for the rich and the white, even though, truthfully, it is a human right.

Also, deep in the Bible Belt, people often have a false idea of what yoga has to offer. Yes, yoga came to us from an ancient religion, but even medical science recognizes the benefits of it for all. Recently I hosted a summer camp for young ladies at a local nonprofit, and we planned a trip to a yoga studio. Some girls had to stay home because their parents believed yoga was “worshipping another God.” Even one of the staff members sat outside the studio in 102-degree weather. “Yoga is against my religion,” she said.

Many yoga communities are trying to become more inclusive, but we have a long way to go. We must translate what wellness means across cultures, poverty lines, and sexual orientations. The best way to do it is from hood to hood.

See also How Yoga Helped One Rape Survivor Cope With the Kavanaugh Hearings

YOGIC POWERS

So, now you can begin to understand why, when I first started teaching at the park, I spent the first few summers teaching free yoga to invisible (that is, zero) people.

Every once in a while my mother or some of my friends would sit on the sidelines. But I wanted to empower my community. So every time no one showed up, I would still teach the class like there were hundreds of people there. I would still try to inspire, tap into the power of self, and discover the awesomeness within.

Last summer more than 200 people came out to practice yoga with me, the Ghetto Guru. I think people saw how determined and consistent I was on social media.

I’ve seen the power of yoga work in my community. One of our yogis lost 200 pounds because yoga changed her mindset. My favorite transformation so far has come from a 16-year-old African-American male. Like me, Will experienced trauma early in his life, seeing his mother on drugs and his father in and out of prison. When I met him, he was angry, hurt, and confined to the high-school behavioral unit. We began to practice yoga and mindfulness together. At first he was reluctant. But after a while, William got so good that I started teaching him how to lead classes, which gave him a sense of pride. After six weeks of practice, he was released from the behavioral unit and returned to regular classes, where he thrived.

I am guessing you might be saying that shit sounds like some yoga fairy tale—and it is. It’s a fairy tale I brought to life with the power of positive thoughts and perseverance. You can do the same thing with your fairy tales if you believe. My dream (and hard work) crystalized with Yoga N Da Hood, an organization that translates wellness into a language that people in our community understand. We make yoga accessible by teaching in parks, recreation centers, schools, and churches. Last year we reached more than 3,000 people by offering free yoga and mindfulness in ways the hood can relate: We offer Trap Yoga, Beyoncé Yoga, Yoga with African Drums, and so much more. We designed yoga nidra stories written for children of color and we produced a curriculum that teaches children and educators how to eliminate stress, thrive through trauma, and incorporate mindful movement into everyday life. We’ve grown from Kiest Park to five parks, 27 schools, and a mega church.

I’ve also had the opportunity to teach the power of changing your mind to change your life at workshops, universities, schools, corporations, and other cool communities around the world. I relish the opportunity to partner with you in making wellness accessible to everyone.

About our Author

EBONY SMITH is a Dallas-based, trauma-informed yoga teacher and yoga therapist, mindfulness instructor, neuro-linguistic programming practitioner, certified wellness coach, and motivational speaker. She is the founder of Yoga N Da Hood. Visit yogandahood.com for more information.

#sleep sounds #sleep music #white noise app #nature sounds #relaxing sounds #rain sounds for sleeping

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cedarrrun · 6 years ago

Link

Exactly 247 people came to practice yoga with me today. Why is that such a big deal? Well, it means that I’m a badass. But to fully understand, you have to learn more about me and my community.

The practice of yoga powerfully changed my life. I went from being an alcoholic, Xanax-poppin’ college dropout to traveling the world to inspire others to be the greatest versions of themselves.

See also This Yoga Teacher Is Bringing Diversity to the Yoga Retreat Industry

DAILY TRAUMA

See also Jessamyn Stanley on Moving Beyond Body Positivity

COMMUNITY IN CRISIS

See also How Yoga Helped One Rape Survivor Cope With the Kavanaugh Hearings

YOGIC POWERS

So, now you can begin to understand why, when I first started teaching at the park, I spent the first few summers teaching free yoga to invisible (that is, zero) people.

Last summer more than 200 people came out to practice yoga with me, the Ghetto Guru. I think people saw how determined and consistent I was on social media.

About our Author

#sleep sounds #sleep music #white noise app #nature sounds #relaxing sounds #rain sounds for sleeping

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amyddaniels · 6 years ago

Text

Yoga Transformed Me After Trauma and Sexual Assault

Exactly 247 people came to practice yoga with me today. Why is that such a big deal? Well, it means that I’m a badass. But to fully understand, you have to learn more about me and my community.

The practice of yoga powerfully changed my life. I went from being an alcoholic, Xanax-poppin’ college dropout to traveling the world to inspire others to be the greatest versions of themselves.

See also This Yoga Teacher Is Bringing Diversity to the Yoga Retreat Industry

DAILY TRAUMA

See also Jessamyn Stanley on Moving Beyond Body Positivity

COMMUNITY IN CRISIS

See also How Yoga Helped One Rape Survivor Cope With the Kavanaugh Hearings

YOGIC POWERS

So, now you can begin to understand why, when I first started teaching at the park, I spent the first few summers teaching free yoga to invisible (that is, zero) people.

Last summer more than 200 people came out to practice yoga with me, the Ghetto Guru. I think people saw how determined and consistent I was on social media.

About our Author

0 notes

lielisstrange-blog · 6 years ago

Text

I came in with a storm 2182002 straight from the gods to a hospital in Maryville Tennessee

My existance called for change, leaving the couple im told to know as mother and father to divorce

I was put in a family of a brother and a sister and on one side i had mor cousins than i could count and the other seemed to be the ones who brought me here , with so many similarities with me

Growing up i was always smiling despite the constant aruging, verbal abuse, and later on physical abuse. I smiled becouse ,be it the gods, something told me id be just fine, that its all to change soon.

I was right.

Now ages 0-2 where pretty blurry

But from what i remember of 3-6

I met new siblings called step siblings and met this woman suppose to be a step mom. I didnt like them right away, i didnt really know why. But i treated them kindly likely becouse someone mentioned in a movie you should treat others how you liked to be treated. Now at this point i spent all my years in this big house doung whatever i wanted, i knew whats up and in this big house i was a bug but i was the king bee. No one ever stepped on my toes.

Now i didnt have much toys so i used my hands, i named them bith friends.

Which was kinda sad but they provided lots of entertainment when i was bored un school . I also spent my days watching drake and josh,icarly, and basically a bunch of nick and cartoon network shows from the 90s to early 2000s. One night i remember the mother coming to the house to sleep in the gym room. I had told her and my aunt that id sleep with them that night so i kept going back and forth rooms, aunts to the left,the other yo the right. At one point i got sick of it and sat in the middle of the hall looking out the door up the stairs directly obove me. I don't think i ever chose. I remmember mamaw worked for a jewlery company and we attended a christmas ball thing once, thus i descovored i loved christmas

Until around age 5, i realised i didn't care about school, loved christmas, felt lonely on Halloween and that everyone around me wasnt like me. Or perhaps i wasn't like them,,around that age someone who was suppose to be a cousin had me do some griss things with him. When we where cought with him on top of me, we where sat in the courner. Thats all that was done about it. Now ive always been very asexual, so i saw the act as a performance of sorts and truly didnt care as it ended shortly after. Until i was kicked off my thrown and moved out with the step siblings and that father. I was treated unfairly but found it hard to care. The step brother about two years older than me started demanding im to kiss him which i thought was gross. But he said if i didnt, hed tell on me. Given he was the favorite and had actual pull in the house i had no choice but to comply. Which i didnt but hed make me. At this time id go to the mothers house every other weekend to see my sister, eat pizza, and watch 90s cartoons or Madagascar. I swear i memorized that movie. Now the kissing eacalated through out the years into worse and worse things. But i honestly never put much thought in it. I was unattached from each side of the family already so i didnt care. My memory of these years are blurry due to repression. Not the kind youd think though.

See a memory that came back to me i was about age 7. I went outside in a fit and as i walked the wind seemed to kick up and i raised my hands at the side of me slowly making it kick more. I stud on a stump and remeber making a leaf tornado. I was very happy with my work. But at these times i was being told magic was evil from the mother. I figured it was magic, got off of the stump and stomped inside.

From 7-9 i descovored more abilities almost yearly. I noticed id think of a shows episode or a line in the episode and no matter what id see that exact scene the day of or week after. It happened all the time. Id also be sitting in the car on hot days wanting a drink but knowing enough that they'd never stop for drinks. Id think this or a specific question about a person ir thing and some out, like my brain would go silent fir a moment. Then right after, one of the people in the front seat would ask that question, anwser it,or announce we're stopping for drinks.This happend so often that i assumed they had mind reading powers,i even asked them. They always said no thiugh.Another one seemed to be just magic ,like id want something to happen and the moment im not thinking about it, it just happens. Which sounds amazing but keep in mind i was trying to repress these abilities as much as i could along with memories of them so itd build up. Like when you're young and mad you might think about wanting something bad to happen to somone whoes mean to you. Now with this ability if you wanted it, just for a second, its long enough to do damage. Which,wasnt fun. Also one day i had a watch and said out loud that id descovor time... perhaps i have a time ability. I forgot to mention, when you try to repress things like this, you get KILLER headaches all the time. Like yiu cant run or jump or talk loud without feeling like your head was going to expload. I also made killer storms when angry. And i was always angry. But my abilities are fight or flight activated so itd never hurt me. Sometimes id black out and look off in a direction and use one of my powers. Like i couldn't control it, it had to get out. One time i was in a car, got angry, abd looked out a window,my mind went silent as i looked at a truck that was suppose to stop at a red light then looked at the tip of our car slowly until i was blasted back to reality as the truck hit our car. We span to the middle of the road, the two people in the frount seat crying and screeming as i sat their completely untouched with a shocked look on my face.

I remember the mother teaching the brother hiw to ride a bike,she didnt have time to teach me as well so i looked at what they where doing, hopped on my bike and flew down the hill. Now i didnt exactly know how to stop it so i mightve went down the hill straight into a tree. However, i got back up laughing my ass off and learned those little grippy things on the handles can stop the bike when needed. I then knew how to ride the bike and went flying down the hill again.

Now from 8-10 ish we lived in a house on a hill with a creek at the bottom and a church to the side. I spent those years unallowed to get on the internet, loving tv, trying to gather enough food to actually eat, saving pinnies to get 15cent candy and ever ran a little store to cell old toys. We also had an old schoolhouse in our backyeard and woods to play in, which i did often. It genuinely felt like i was growing up in a different time period as i hunted for crawdads and heard the rasist or homophobic rants from the father and step mother.

Now from about 8-11 i was shown back to the future, doctor who, and the joy of mac and cheese by my sister. The 9th doctor was my first him id seen, and i loved him and the show. Because up until this point id felt alone but he made me feel completely not alone. I also descovored i wanted to be a scientist, not even really knowing what that is yet. The gross things stopped for the most part. Also i picked up a camera phone for the first time making a video where i killed a stick and even crushed a berry to make it look of blood.

I thought it was so badass. At this point id visit the mothers house everyother weekend and sometimes go to mamaws every other other weekend. Mammaws being where my thrown originally was, although they moved to this town called oak ridge. Now i loved oak ridge. It was the original time bomb town. Ive also always had a weirdly strong connection to albert enstine whom was there. I swaer i genuinely was Nikola Tesla in a past life, he was an asexual scientist with cool hair and pure sass. The mother also moved to oak ridge. Her house had a tierswing made by my sister. I loved it there, it was a perfect time capsule until one night. We had just got there and i was playing with my binderoos as my sister was started getting yelled at by the mother. She was screaming, i think my sister threw a party or something. Then my sister got up just kinda talking her points out as the mother yelled and yelled then my sister started yelling. Then out if nowhere the one we've been calling mother, we'll now call "T" , slaped the glasses off of my sister. My sister looked shocked then left the house as T screamed. Now everytime id go over to her house shed make it seem like she was the good one, like he was evil. At this moment i knew for sure, neither of them where the good guys. So i grabbed my sisters glasses and fixed them with my bendaroos. What makes it worse is that my sister came to her house after being abused at mamaws. She knew that and still hurt my sister.

I never stopped smiling. I always knew itd get better.

Age 12 , the step brother sent false claims about my sister, leaving it to wear we couldn't see her for months that felt like years

She tought me that no one could tell me i wasnt what i wanted to be, even if it was a ninja . She tought me to fight ,how to get out of trouble, and told me stories of her stealing at my age. I only ever stole food or tiny things as we rarely had any

And now people at mamaws started ordering me around more , getting meaner , or perhaps they where always mean i just didnt care enough to catch it

I also watched harry potter for the first time and related very VERY much.

2012

We left that house with the creek and that step mother and where off to live at mamaws

Which i loved dearly as ut was the only place i was allowed to exist with out being hit or pushed or screamed at and i could go online

I descovored i love 50s music and shane dawson

I also started going to the elementary school across the street. Now with schools over the years, at first i just didnt care because it was easy and boreing, then it began where i couldnt pay attention as hard as i tried. Id look at a book and have a whole movie in my head playing about a magic book or something where ozzy Osborne came to my school to sing crazy train and hug me ...which i thought about a lot. Then the teacher would call me out for not paying attention, but it was never on perpous id just check out.i also had a habbit of always having teachers who hated me like one time in like first grade a teacher said i was in trouble and moved my car back (which was a paper car on a paper road that youd get rewarded for if you got far or punished if you got taken back). When she did that, i made it obvious that i gave no shits by sitting and saying nothing as she yelled. Hen she moved it firther back when seeing no reaction from me. Then further. Then straight up just called the father who we'll now call V. To another teacher who lout laud to the class said her dog writes neater than i.So my grades where never too good

From 2012-2014

Every morning for school at mamaws id get a little coffee, watch a little of the morning news, then head off

Every night i could, id watch boondocs or family guy with my little cousin who was basically my little brother at this point and drink some chocolate milk

Every other week, i think, we'd get our allowance and go to the same walmart on fridays to spend it

It was the most like a family sitch i think id ever had

I remember my first day of middle school, and listening to "makes me happy" by drake bell on the bus, even coming back to do homework and eat butterscotch chips for cookies

That being said after being there until middle school me and the other brother was taken by V to see his new house

I didnt want to go nor stay and i made that very clear. Something seemed,,off.

Then sure enough on the way there v told us he got back with the step mother we'll call the L (hehe)

And that they're now renting the house we're going to together

It was hell, i had to share a room with that step sister , it was back to rarely having enough to eat, virbal abuse, and general bullshit all the time

On top of that, because in oak ridge the age for middle school was one year below the requirement for this new town , i was sent back to an elementary school

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somethingineedtodo-blog · 8 years ago

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About me?

My name is *E* I’m a 20 year old male and this is my very first time here on Tumblr, this is also my first time online in almost a year*

I would currently describe myself as a very quiet, reserved, intellectual yet very insecure guy.

My interests are music (drums and piano), languages, photography, singing, psicologhy/human behaviour and helping as much as I can to other people.

Well, I’ll keep it super brief, but this is an overall resume of my life starting at 8 years.

8-10 Years.

- First of all let me start saying that I do not live in the prettiest place of the world, there are lot of gangs and is a common occurrence to get mugged, beat up, threatened or even killed. -

Due to the nature of the place i was brought into the world and other things, my parents were always very dire with me for me to do excellent in school from the very beggining.

My father comes from a bad place-family, he ran away from his home at age 10, didn’t even finished elementary school but yet he managed to learn a decent job (he is a mechanic), he is a class A- worker, an old fashioned man.

I have nothing but the outmost respect for him for what he has accomplished with the very few tools that he has... but that’s it.

My mother on the other hand comes from a decent family, yet she didn’t finished elementary too, she has had a lot of “jobs” during her life, nothing serious.

Despite their excessive pressure i managed to always be on top of every class, i was super participative in all the school activities, yet didn’t had any friends, sometimes i felt like a robot, but a very intelligent and cool robot.

Even at that short age i remember constantly spacing out and getting lost in my head for a lot of timel, having a lot of thoughts and questions about life, existence and things that i believe right now are were not a common thing at that age. The things that i remember asking myself the most at that age are: “Is being good at school really going to guarantee me a succesful life?” ”what does“succesfull” mean? does it mean having a good house, car, material possesions or does it mean being happy with myself while at the same thime contributing something positive to those around me? “are succesful and happy two different things?” “what if im not happy?” “how do i know if im really happy?” I remember in vivid detail watching other kids playing football and then out of nowhere they started to fight while i was just... away, away in a corner just observing.

I had two things “clear” in my mind.

I had to be good at school and nothing else, i couldn’t afford to lose focus on some other thing because i would get in trouble with my parents.

The place were i was living wasn’t a place for someone like me, I didn’t wanted to do “bad” stuff nor having to do with those things in the slightest way (As a result of this i pretty much stoped talking with everyone in the area and that got me into a lot of troubles even back then, constant threats, stealing my money, bullying, etc etc, but i didn’t even minded it, it felt somehow natural and i developed this state of insensibility and numbness toward those psicological abuses and the people (15-20yr old guys) that were doing it)

And then it was my house... Things were not okay at my house. My dad despite being an awesome worker and always providing what he could to the house... he was an alcoholic and abused my mother physically and verbally all the time in front of me, my mother on the other hand was just “numb” and didn’t even cared, she only cared about serving him and doing good in her “job”. One of the “fondest” memories that i have of my “family” was in one christmas... They were arguing... badly. My father was drunk an started yelling while my mother was just preparing the dinner... and i was just watching them... not knowing what to do... nor understanding what was exactly happening because from my perspective they had nothing to be figthing for... Thats when i turned on the Tv and the first thing i saw was the “Tom And Jerry” show... i looked up again to my parents and i don’t know why but i found such a resemblance in how how “Tom and Jerry” and my parents were acting...

I just thought to myself... “Tom and Jerry hate each other right? So that means my parents must hate each other?” And i toldto my parents with a cold dead face but with tears in my eyes... “Why are you even married...? Went to my room... and cried my way to sleep... at age 9. The days passed and nothing changed drastically...

My parents noticed that i didn’t go out and that i was turning into a (in their words) “very weird and lonely kid” so they decided to buy me a PS1 for me to do something else besides just studying and “mumbling, humming, and hitting things with my hands making senseless noise”. I played for quite a bit and loved it... not because i liked video games in particular but because it was a chance for me to develop my hand-eye cordination and to learn another language (Yes, english is not my primary language, in fact i learned everything i know through video games and music, i have never had a formal -english ed in my city is a joke- or decent class, but i plan to enter one in this year”) I played with that thing hoping to be able to understand everything that was on the screen, understand the music, and be able to hit things as fas and precise as i could (rithym and figthing games). It served me as an escape from the arguments and the screaming of my parents too, another thing that i remember quite vivid is my father and his cop friends being drunk and shooting some guns (that are supposedly for cop use only)... he was too drunk that he ordered me to shoot the gun, i couldn’t say no despite knowing that was such a dumb and clearly dangerous thing to do. I did, but i was so upset that i called another cops, he found out and well... throwed me a cup at my head and ever since... he and I... well our relationship since that day is complicated to almost inexistent (I’ll elaborate more on that later...). 10-15 Years. Despite both of my parents losing their jobs and us as a “family” starting a “family business” -food truck at a flea market- and me having to work almost everyday i managed not only to be the best of my school but also securing a place in the middle school of my choice due to my grades... but most importantly me asking directly to school principal. I felt very happy with this achievement in my life... seemed like i was finally going to escape from various things such as bullies, drugs and such and i WAS FINALLY GOING TO BE ABLE TO TALK WITH SOMEBODY ELSE, to have “friends”, to go out and play and not feel like a total weirdo because of the constant words of my father. Talking about him... he and i drifted away completely... as i grew older and started to voice my opinions a lot more he was more and more convinced and expresed that i was (and I quote) “Not like him,and not his son at all”. What kind of opinions am i talking about? “It’s okay for people to be homosexual, a certain preference (that does not even affect us directly) should not affect how we see or think about those who surround us, being homosexual does not imply that you are a bad or a “distasteful” person... i think that kind of judgments are far beyond race, color, sexual preferences, likes, dislikes, etc. It’s your actions and the way you affect society what determines if you are a “bad” person. This lead my dad to think that i was starting to (in his words...) “transform” into an individual with sexual preferences towards guys, so he immediatly started to talk to me about sex... in such an uninformative and rather rude way... objectyifing women almost all the time and using words like “fuck” or “cunt”. (On a side note, my father is not religious at all, so his (quiet obvious if i must say so...) hate for homosexual people has nothing to do with religion at all... he really hates gay people, he calls them by such horrible and disrespectful names sometimes...wich bring us to the other opinion... “I dont really see what’s the point on being excessively rude with words, I don’t see what’s the point on cursing so much, wouldn’t be better if we could talk and express our thoughts without the use of such pointless words? wouldn’t we sound better?” This led my father to believe that i was giving him orders. And as a result it deteriored our relationship even more. And then... the final straw. I started to voice my opinions on how he treated my mother and women overall. I was starting to defending her if you like. He obviously didn’t liked that and this lead us to so many arguments and fights where the phrases “What the fuck do you know about life” “What the fuck do you know about women” “You don’t know anything you don’t even have any friends, you don’t even have anyone to talk to” were pretty common. Despite all this i loved him and i was hoping he someday would start to change, not even for me or for my mother... but for himself. His words obviously hurted me so bad everyday, i cried... a lot. And crying for him was a weakness and he didn’t hesitated to say it whenever he saw me crying over one of our figths. Our allegattions got to a point were i didn’t even tried to say a word... i just was listening to his words and i didn’t even cared... thus i stoped talking with him. There’s where my mother started to genuinly worry about me, because i always looked so tired and beatdown, she started to talk to me a lot more and whenever i returned from school she always asked me “how my day was”... i don’t know if it was too late or what... but it felt werid, like it was forced or something, so i just said the strictly neccesary. I started middle school and things were different for a change... The whole zone was different, there were guards, there was order and “peace”, also the guys and girls over there seemed different... like they had interests and did some other “cool and interesting things” like sports, playing an instrument or things like that. I loved that. And for once in my life i felt quite at peace, but i couldn’t talk with anyone. I didn’t knew how to do it, i felt anxious all the time and i had nothing in my head... “just do good in school” “you are returning to your home regardless...”. Fortunaly for me there was just one guy and one girl that were somehow able to go trough the mix of my insecurity and me not talking at all... i don’t know what they saw on me or what lead them to talk to me... one ended up being my 1st girlfriend (trough 12-14) (i don’t talk with her anymore due to how things happened...) and the guy as of today remains my best friend. That girl was very special for me... She was my introduction to so many new things. Trust, actively talking with somebody, a lot of new stuff (music, sports, knowledge etc) that i was totally ignorant of, sex and of course “love”. I GOT TO OPEN A VERY BIG PARENTHESES HERE. (Yes, i know that those things might seem totally rushed for a 12 year old child, and yes, i do agree, in fact if i could i would do things totally different, but i think i did things like i did because i didn’t had a good guidance, i didn’t had good advice per say, i didn’t even knew how to act or what to say... i just kinda went with the moment with the best of my judgment and the logic that i had, do i regret it? maybe some things, but others taught me valuable lessons at such a young age. Do i think it is right for a 12 year old to get introduced in such things as sex, “LOVE” (*big laugh*) or such complex topics as those? Absolutely not, i wouldn’t want my kids to experience those things. Now i know that i might sound super ridiculous talking this way about my 12 year old self, maybe i didn’t word things like i do now back then, but the feeling remains the same. So yeah.... back on. This girl and i developed a quite unusual relationship, mainly because we understood each other so well (his dad died because of alcohol poisoning and her mom was the only family she had) so as soon as i heard her story i could relate, i had this feeling that i should protect her, i didn’t quite knew why, i just felt it, and so we became “very close friends”. The time moved on and she helped me to get out of my shell, to start talking with more friends, we spent so much time together alone doing homework or listening to music just laying in the floor in her house, because her mother was working and my parents thought that i was with my other friend (wich they got to know, but as of this date they don’t know a thing about this girl) The things in my house were just falling apart, to the point were i made up excuses like “i have to do extra homework” in order to be as little as possible in my house and more around my friends and her. Despite all this i still maintaned excellent grades and i was still very participative in extra curricular things in my school such as poetry, music and such, but it was around 12-13 were something started to feel weird, i started to gradually lose interest in school and started doing it “just because i would get into serious trouble with my parents if i didn’t deliver them good grades” and that feeling was growing stronger and stronger, to the point that i was in a bad mood all the time, i once again stoped talking with everyone except this girl. This thing got into my head so bad that i yelled at my biology teacher (wich was my favorite assignment) one day without any apparent reason and started crying desperatly in his arms as he was trying to comprehend why i was acting like that all of the sudden... he asked me “Are things in your house ok?” And i just didn’t respond. That day something snapped in my mind. I’m not quite sure what, but ever since that day all i can think about is how the things that surround us, everything and everyone, all the words, all the actions, all that we see and hear, from music to tv, everything that we are exposed to... how those things have such a big repercussion in how we act and feel and mostly who we end up being in life. Time passed and to sum things up... i got my heart broken. The girl ended up being with somebody else (i don’t like the word “cheating”) And end of story. This is where i found out that i could be very extremist with people that let me down, to the point were i just... pretend that they are dead and that’s it, nothing more, nothing less, i end up denying any kind of relation-story and existence of people that have let me down, in fact, this is the first time that i talked about her “in depth”, with other times just being a “yes i had a gf before...” “Yes, i’m not a virgin” “Yes we were such good friends” and the “tragic story about how all ended”, to my friend and inevitably to my next Gf. It does take a lot to let me down though, i don’t tend to hate on anyone, i like to respect everyone as much as i can, all their ideals, their decisions, preferences and such, but when somebody hurts someone without any reason... without even saying a word, without even caring about how much it could affect somebodys life... i just lose it, those type of people are not worthy of being called “humans” because humans are not supposed to be like that, not even animals are like that. This obviously added up to the issues in my house into my head, made me feel not wanted or not worthy at all, without even an explanation of what i had done wrong or anything like that, it was painful, yes it was, but at the same time the thought of “this was your first time, this was just your first love, it was obviously not going to work out” remained in my head... the thing is... i do know that things are not supposed to work out the first time... but it wasn’t the fact that didn’t work out what messed me up, it was the “how” things ended up not working out what really affected me. Either way, it cost me a lot to got over that but thanks to a couple of friends and a new hobby i got introduced to thanks to one of them (drums) i could do it. Fast forward to the end of the second year of middle school and there i was.. Still being the best in the school, but without any kind of fullfilment or sense of actual pride for it, not even doing it for the sake of “learning” or enjoying it. -Even though it never got clinically confirmed or anything like that at that time (mainly because my parents never had interest in therapy/dental care plus we couldn’t quite afford it at the time) i think i have been suffering from severe depression from that point up until this day (were i can now say that yes, i’m seeing a neuropsycologist and im under treatment)- Thing’s got way worse when i broke my wrist one day playing football outside in the flea market where my parents and i went to work on the weekends, i took that day “off” and started to play football with some random strangers in an open field, i fell off and landed badly and broke my left wrist... i quickly went back to the food truck with my parents expecting to leave as soon as possible because my “S” shaped wrist... But no, they told me that i had to wait 2+ hours until they finished some stuff... and yes... i waited there, in pain and trying not to scream my lunges out. All that was going trough my head was “I’m not going to be able to practice the drums ever again”. But then a random thought poped in my mind, it made me very angry and turned all my pain into straight up burning anger and discomfort and yet again numbness and it goes like this... “WHY AM I WAITING TO RECEIVE ATTENTION FROM MY PARENTS FOR A BROKEN WRIST, IS IT REALLY MORE IMPORTANT FOR THEM TO WAIT? SHOULDN’T I BE THEIR NUMBER ONE PRIORITY AT LEAST NOW? 2+ passed until i was finally receiving some medical attention, the rest is history, that injury rendered me useless from practicing guitar (it’s not that i can’t play it, but it hurts a LOT) and i stoped playing drums due to a mental block that i self imposed in my brain. I felt so bad that whole year i was in a cast, that was my first birthday that i didn’t feel like celebrating, in fact that was the start of me feeling certain aversion or repulsion towards my birthday, i spent that day alone, just listening to music all day and laying in my bed. 15... That age marks the age that i had my first beer. Why? I don’t know. I certainly didn’t do it because i was feeling ok. Like i previously said... my dad was an alcoholic, i’ve seen how it can change somebody so quickly, making them senseless pieces of meat or straight up useless sacks of organs. So let’s just say that i’ve always had a certain depiction of alcohol in my brain since i was a little kid... it’s bad and there’s nothing benefitial about it... sure it can help you to socialize with certain kind of people but yeah... it’s not my thing, i even used to call beer “the devil’s piss” when i was a little kid... So how on earth that very fabric of myself got broken that day? Easy. I wasn’t feeling alright, i felt like i wanted to cease to exist or just go to sleep and never wake up again. Even my friends (who were super cool about me not wanting to drink a drop) acted very surprised when i just grabbed a 40 and chugged it all without even hesitating. All of them asked almost at the same time... are you ok? I just responded yeah, i just wanted to know what is it about it that you like it so much,nothing else. One of my best friends (who knew just a fraction of the things that were happening at my house and how i felt overall just looked me in the eye and prounonced a sentence that i think i will never forget: We both now why you are drinking... and it’s not the way.) I just kept drinking. And so i started (without knowing) to be an alcoholic at the age of 15. I was known for being a “tank” a term i think is associated with how fast can you drink or something, i don’t know. But something very weird happened, i never got a hangover, i never passed out, i never even went to bed, i just remained silent watching everyone sleep and once again getting lost in my thoughts, istarted to have problems with my sleep schedule some days only sleeping 2 hours, and i was not longer spacing out... i was straight up “blacking out” (having episodes or lapses of time were you don’t remember what you were doing or saying)and i started to have delusions of somebody following me, started to talk with myself as if i was another person and overall just drifting away slowly. 15-20 years. ************************************************* It’s been 4-5 hours since i started writing this stuff. It’s exhausting to say the least. I’ll cover up this time-span some other day... It’s the roughest i think, especially last year. If someone actually reads this... thanks for your time, if you want to say something feel free to do it, whatever it is. Do know that I’m in a “not so bad” place right now. I’m still dealing with some old and some pretty new stuff (that is actually the reason why im creating this thing in the first place...) but the point of all this is for me to get to know me a little better, re-learn from myself and my mistakes and hopefully improve with my life from now on, i certainly don’t want to feel like i’m feeling right now forever. And if i feel this is “something i need to do ™” (hahah) to make me feel better, then so be it... I’ll do anything to feel happy for once. But as of right now I’ll go to sleep. ...Aequam memento rebus in arduis servare mentem...

#introduction #introductory post #my life #beggining #tumblr #psicologia #psycology #vent #thoughts

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