#and as someone with an anxiety disorder that got so severe i couldn't leave my room for a whole year (am now medicated) retail workers dont

[okidokitokki]

The greatest act of hypocrisy I've seen lately is adults telling their children to ask for help whenever needed, "you need to use your words if you want help/I can't help you if you don't speak to me" and "don't be afraid to ask" yet they themselves have the audacity to stand and stare at retail workers, expecting them to read their minds and immediately run over to them without prompting instead of asking with words for assistance

[agirlwithdemonblood]

Through The Shadows: Chapter 2 - Breaking Barriers

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader

Series Summary: A hunter's Journey through despair and recovery is guided by Dean Winchester's unwavering love, leading her to reclaim her strength, voice and hope for their shared future.

Chapter Summary: After Dean confronts Y/N in the kitchen, he realizes there is more than meets the eye.

Series Masterlist here!! & Main masterlist here!

Dean Winchester slammed the door to his room, frustration bubbling over.

It had been a week since Y/N moved into the bunker, and she had been a ghost herself-quiet, distant and always slipping away when he entered a room. He couldn't make sense of it. Why did she act so differently around Sam, laughing and talking easily, but turn silent and withdrawn around him?

Dean paced the room before heading to the library where Sam was buried in research. "Hey Sammy," He began, irritation clear in his voice. "What's up with Y/N? She acts like I've got the plague or something."

Sam looked up from his book, his expression thoughtful. "Have you talked to her about it?"

Dean scoffed, running a hand through his hair. "Talked to her? How am I supposed to talk to someone who won't even look at me?"

Sam closed his book, giving Dean his full attention. "There's something you should know. She's not avoiding you because she doesn't like you. It's more complicated than that. But it's not my place to explain. You need to talk to her. Listen to her."

Dean frowned, Sam's words echoing in his mind. "Fine, I'll talk to her. But if this goes south, it's on you."

Dean found Y/N in the kitchen, quietly making a coffee. She didn't look up as he entered, her focus on her task. The sight made his chest tighten with a mix of irritation and something he couldn't quite name.

"Hey." He said, leaning against the counter, his tone sharper than intended.

"Y/N'S hands stilled, her eyes fixed on the countertop. "Hi." She replied softly, not meeting his gaze.

Dean took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm. "Can I ask you something."

Her breathing hitched and she nodded in response.

"Why are you always so cold towards me? You're fine with Sam, but you act like you can't stand to be in the same room with me."

Her face paled, her hands trembling slightly as she set down her coffee mug. "I'm not-" she started, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's not that. I-" She stuttered, clearly struggling to find the words.

Dean's frustration flared. "If you don't want to be around me, just say so." He snapped, turning to leave.

"I have a disorder!" She suddenly blurted out, her voice cracking in embarrassment and emotion.

Dean stopped in his tracks, turning back to her with a look of confusion. "What?"

Her eyes were filled with a mixture of fear and determination as she forced herself to speak. "I have severe anxiety and depression. It's not that I don't like you. It's just... hard for me to open up especially around someone like you. You're... Brave and strong and.... amazing at what you do." Her voice faltered on the last word, and she looked away, her face flushed.

Dean felt his own cheeks warm at her unexpected compliment. He took a hesitant step towards her, his anger evaporating. "I didn't know," he said quietly, his voice softening in understanding. "I thought... I thought you just didn't like me."

She hook her head, tears brimming in her eyes in embarrassment. "It's not that, I just get so anxious around you because you're intimidating, and.... because you've been kind of cold to me too."

Guilt washed over Dean as he looked back at his behaviour towards her. He had misread her completely, letting his own insecurities cloud his judgement. "I'm sorry." he said, his voice thick with regret. "I shouldn't have confronted you like this."

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes wide and vulnerable. "It's okay. I'm sorry for making you feel like I didn't like you."

Dean took a step closer, his hand reaching out instinctively to touch her arm. She flinched slightly and he pulled back, curising at himself for his insensitivity. "I didn't mean to scare you." He said softly, "I just... I didn't know."

Y/N nodded, her shoulders relaxing slightly. "I know, and I'm sorry too, for everything. If you want me to leave I can."

He met her gaze, his heart aching slightly at the raw honesty in her eyes. "You don't have to leave. I don't want you to leave," He said, his voice gentle. "Stay. We will figure this out together."

She gave him a nervous smile, the tension easing from her face. "Okay. I'll stay."

As they stood there, an understanding formed between them and Dean realized just how wrong he had been about her. And maybe, just maybe, this was the beginning of something better.

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! Chapter 3 coming soon stay tuned!

Like, comment, and reblog, feedback is my fuel 💕

[tom-bones]

hiya. sorry to bring this to you, but apparently that's where the discourse is happening.

i'm M, i hate social media and i've known Nosferatu for roughly 15 years now. IRL. and i made a blog/profile/account/whatever it's called because the amount of dumbass propaganda being spread about them is fucking ridiculous.

they are severely traumatized, suicidal, have a terrible view of themself because of mental and emotional abuse they've endured for years. and they have multiple fucking personality disorders without a way to get to a professional because their mom can't afford it and their dad is a neglectful asshole who couldn't keep it in his pants and decided to abandon them at age 4, doing only the bare fucking minimum since. and trying to get out of even that however he can. their parents flicker between loving and self-centered to the point where they can't fucking talk to them without their anxiety spiking up.

we've grown up together. i know and trust them with my life. they were the one fighting my homophobic grandmother when i came out. they've been my anchor for years before my family had to move abroad for unrelated reasons, which only let us get on calls and text. i've seen them at some really serious fucking lows. and they are hitting one of those right now because some assholes never bothered to communicate with them and blamed them for everything wrong that happened to them on this fucking website. and because you idiots never bothered to actually ask or talk to them, choosing to believe said assholes.

calling them manipulative is absolutely ridiculous. i've been on call with them multiple times, trying to talk them out of hurting themself while they were screaming and crying. i've got a text from their mom, in a rare "loving mommy" moment at 2 AM last night about how they tried to fucking skin their forearm to get rid of their ghost tattoo. a tattoo that they were so excited about, it was like seeing them healed for the first few days after they got it. but you claim it's "suicide baiting" because they didn't fucking succeed? because they were fucking stopped?

there was one person Nosferatu ever manipulated. a teacher in their high school, who mentally abused his students. despite being one of the favorite students, they put themself against him and then managed to make it look like he was being overly dramatic, making him leave the students alone until they finished school. they only time they ever manipulated anyone, all to defend their classmates. but you idiots would rather believe jackasses who never bothered to try and reach out? seriously?

they're autistic and poorly socialized. they're social awareness sucks, especially with strangers. what they saw as "bullying" was just friendly banter to Nosferatu. and none of them ever bothered to message them and fucking say they feel off. they need to be called out, yes, but not like this. simply informing them that they sound mean to them would solve the fucking situation. but no, it's easier to make a big exit post and claim they abused them and manipulated the rest of the group (who can think for themselves, btw) because it fits your narrative, doesn't it? you people will jump at any opportunity to bully someone, and then when they manage to get pulled back from almost ending it all, you claim they're baiting. and when they try to explain themself, not fucking knowing what exactly they're accused of, you call them a fucking narcissist? for a completely reasonable reaction?

and you know what they did after they found out why you all suddenly started spamming them death threats? reached out to the other group in an attempt to explain the situation. and they did so via discord group chat that i watched through a shared screen, trying to calm them down. and guess what, assholes. they apologized, owned up to everything and explained themself to them. and in return, they got acknowledgement, but nothing else. no apologies for painting them to be this evil mastermind, no clarification, nothing. so i'll throw an accusation of my own and say that they actually wanted Nosferatu to suffer. all because they were too bitchy to communicate, and Nosferatu wasn't. they reached out to them, because suddenly after months of not interacting, suddenly people were accusing them of being abusive and making people quit.

i'll throw in another accusation, actually. in the group chat, they claimed they're not quitting because of Nosferatu, but rather the backlash they were getting from anons. but they failed to mention that in the post, just to make sure Nosferatu ended up looking like a monster who ruined everything for them. they wanted you to hate Nosferatu, all because they got the wrong impression and never bothered with talking to them.

Nosferatu is absolutely fucking harmless unless they have an actual reason to be an asshole. they act terrible to people who hurt their friends, such as when you idiot anons starting shit with the Sister Rose person. they do so because it's the only defense mechanism that works with their family and their own abusers. they do it whenever they break down mentally. they push people away. they act terrible to make sure nobody can hurt them at their moment of weakness.

they had to turn off the ask function completely. they had to back out of roleplay. they're scared of talking to anyone because there's a risk you fucking idiots will go out of your way to abuse the person they spoke to or you'll start spreading more lies like you did here. i'm not going to tolerate shit like this about the person who already struggles with their mental state and emotions and who is only finally getting the help they need because they earn their own money through a summer job. that they have to work for 12 hours a day.

go fuck yourselves, all of you. you lead to Nosferatu almost ruining all their relationships out of fear. you made them want to skin themself, and if it wasn't for their mother, they'd be in the hospital because of all of you now. if not dead. you've ruined a hobby, a passion and a fandom they loved so dearly. you made them despise their special interest, because you've made them feel unwelcome. and why? because the people you've been fighting for decided to manipulate you and make Nosferatu look fucking evil.

funny how you all defend actually manipulative people by calling someone who barely interacted with them a manipulative narcissist. if you ever actually spoke to them, you'd know they're not a monster you all seem to want them to be. they're scared. defensive. because they're getting a bunch of fucking accusations out of nowhere, with everyone expecting them to know what happened when they have no fucking clue.

fortunately, i'm gonna be able to come to visit them relatively soon and you bet your sorry asses i will get them to roleplay again. because it made them happy. they would go on about new storylines and how excited they were. i'm not gonna let you take my friend's happiness away like this again, all because you clearly don't have functioning brains and can't think for yourselves.

you're all abusers. you're all bullies. and the fact that you just believed those people without using your abilities of critical thinking is fucking unbelievable. people like you are why i avoid social media. a bunch of brainless assholes, jumping at an opportunity to be pieces of shit to people just because.

PS: learn how to tell apart a fucking character from a real person. they literally stopped using a name and assigned it to their roleplay character just to avoid confusion, and yet you morons still can't tell it apart.

// please read with caution. i won’t add much commentary, but i feel this post is very important to share so people, especially the anon haters, can get a clearer picture of what’s been happening in both nosferatu’s life and the rp community in the ghost fandom. tobias would be appalled by all this. the people who sent nosferatu death threats should be ashamed. you guys claim she’s evil when in reality you guys are acting like fucking jerks toward them. anyways, this post explains itself pretty well. the anon haters need to get a fucking life.

[fentrashcat]

Tourettes Awareness Month, June 6!

Had a tic attack for the first time in a while today, and a post from thatdudewithtics (idk how they feel about tags so the post I'm talking about is here) got me thinking.

I want to talk about the frustration that comes with an unsteady disability, as well as my experience applying for disability. Today might get heavy. I'm also still exhausted despite taking a 4hr nap so I'm not sure how clear this will be 😅.

⚠️everyone with TS or tic disorders will have their own experience, this is just mine.

Disability Process

So I started my application on line, but was sent paperwork to do in person. My tics don't like paperwork. I only had one black pen and had yet to find the last one I threw the previous week (btw been almost a year and STILL haven't found it), so I was suppressing my fling tic to do this paper work. It took 3 hours to do 8 pages, the whole time fighting against my own body. Suppression HURTS. It also leads to a heavier retaliation later. The day after I did the paperwork I had a severe tic attack and had to leave work after only an hour.

After this they said I needed to meet one of their doctors. I expected this, had to rearrange my work schedule and find someone who could drive me. The day of was actually a good day for my tics, and the doctor seemed really nice and it was a good environment so while I was ticcing it wasn't extreme. I noticed the doctor focused more on my depression and anxiety, but thought we'd get to my tics after. We never did and I was a bit too anxious to be like "I'm here for my Tourette's". Ik it's kind of dumb, I need to advocate for myself better, but I just can't sometimes.

A few days later I see a file uploaded to my clinical notes at my GP. I hadn't visited them in a while so I was confused. Checking the letter showed that it was from the disability doctor, and showed that he not only barely listened to me, but that he hadn't even paid attention to the tics that happened in his office.

My disability was denied, of course. I appealed it and had to do some honestly VERY confusing online paperwork, in which I attach a copy of the doctors letter highlighting all the things he had wrong. Appeal was denied and to appeal AGAIN I'd have to find a lawyer. I can't drive, and I wouldn't even know how to start on that stuff so I kind of just dropped it. It was around this time I had issues at work so severe that my hours were cut to maybe 12 a week? I'm extremely lucky in the fact that I live in a house owned by family and my mom could cover my bills, but I know that won't last forever. The year before last I was covering my bills by paying my mom back over the month but I couldn't even do that now. I need to reapply but I know I'm not taken seriously, and I'll be denied again.

Semi-visible Disability

Tourettes is one of those things that when it's bad it's clear you have trouble, but when it's good it's almost unnoticeable. I've probably mentioned before my grandpa saying "talking to you like this, I would never know, but I've seen it when it gets bad." And that's probably the best way to sum it up.

On a low tic day people don't believe you or tell you it's not so bad, "you don't look disabled". On a high tic day people treat you Different. Either babying you or being afraid/anxious about your tics.

Not to mention the stigma around saying you have Tourettes Syndrome. Like I've been in a job interview and I usually avoid mentioning TS but my tics were acting up a bit so I had to explain. I could just feel the change in the interviewer, like they had been liking me but the moment I mentioned TS they were suddenly rushed to finish the interview and of course I never heard from them again. This happens in other situations too, but the job shit is what causes issues more in my life.

So I feel stuck in a limbo of "too disabled to work regularly" but "not disabled enough for disability" and it really really sucks. It's also frustrating knowing that no matter what I can't stop my tics fully.

Today's attack happened at my house, no obvious triggers or anything different, it just happend. I feel like I don't have control of my own body. I try my best to manage and prevent bad tics but I can't. I don't get to chose to not throw shit, or not do something painful. I just have to live with it, and it sucks. Obviously I try to stay upbeat, I cope with humor and I even think some of my tics are funny or kinda cute but it's still a disability. It still makes life so much harder than if I didn't have it. I'm tired.

Thanks for reading, sorry for today being heavy. I'm still really tired so I might be going back to sleep. Asks are open if anyone has questions.

[bleedingmusk]

I don't usually like to share my personal experiences on social media but this thought is bugging me for quite few months now الله المستعان.

Mental health in Muslim community is been ignored and rejected so badly it's more like a taboo and you're tired of hearing that you get depression because of low Iman and what not.

Few years ago when I was much younger and quite naive I really didn't knew about anxiety, depression and mental disorders in depth I was not in denial but kinda never really experienced anything like that or anyone closer to me suffering from it. Until in 2019 I saw my ex brother (who left Islam) suffering from servere depression, he wouldn't eat, would just force himself to work, couldn't sleep in nights and there was something on his face which would shook me but as I didn't interacted with him so never bothered about it, infact I used to mock him (I know I was wrong) I used to make fun of his mental state because I believed that his depression is because he became atheist it could be true but Allaah knows best why he was depressed, one time my kitten died I was very upset I cried for days and didn't ate for days or turned on lights of my room, apart from praying I basically didn't do anything so he came into my room and said why you're crying over your kitten ain't your Allaah al Hayy ask Him to give back her life (he was mocking my Lord) I fumed with anger and couldn't say anything but crying more I wanted to run away at that moment, then he continued saying oh sorry Muslims don't go into depression right though at that moment I didn't really thought I was depressed in fact I was just upset and after some days overcame my grief Alhamdulillah. But I always mocked his mental health not realising mocking someone is not good even if he's kafir, Allaah would test you with similar situation some day. Fast forward into 2021 I was diagnosed with clinical depression after being in denial for at least 7 month, Alhamdulillah by the help of Allaah and right Islamic counsellor I battled my depression, healing journey wasn't easy at all I would always remember that how I used to mock my ex brother I would remind myself you see the way he couldn't sleep you were unable to sleep too, he couldn't eat you are not able to eat too, etc I repented to Allaah sincerely (May Allaah accept it from me Ameen) Alhamdulillah as I was still in the process of healing I had very low days I still remember one time my neighbour (she was also a Muwahidah) called me one time and asked me why I never join them and stay alone in my apartment, she taunted me and said you don't even have husband or kids you have no responsibility you must be living a happy life, you see I have husband and kids I have many responsibilities still I manage everything I've never been depressed I silently endured her words though they were cutting me into million pieces after she end the call she sent me a text image which reads as follow "A Muslim never gets depressed, try to read Quran, work on your Iman, help others around and something I forgot..." I was really offended but I was patient I didn't said a word but Allaah was witnessing my pain.

After 6 months I was going to move to a different place I visited her before leaving and she said stay over at her place for a day or two who knows when we'd meet again, as her kids loved me so much and I loved them too I didn't hesitated and I stayed for 3 days, By Allaah second day as I was working in her kitchen and kids were playing I hear screams, and cries I got panicked I ran and saw that sister was having a severe panic attack (being a therapist myself at this point) I tried to calm her down I asked her few things and she started to speak that how from past 2 months she's suffering from severe anxiety, she's very depressed but she doesn't know why she's depressed she was crying.. Wallaahi at that point my mind was blown up I couldn't stop but thinking about how she mocked my mental health few months back, that thought wouldn't leave my mind I somehow tried to control my emotions and helped her to feel relaxed.

Wallaahi brothers and sisters don't ever make anyone's fun, don't mock anyone or ridicule anyone's suffering by Allaah you never know when Allaah would test you with exact same thing. If you cannot be kind at least don't be rude, if you cannot understand at least don't misunderstand. Now I understood the depth of the hadith when Rasulullah صلى الله عليه وسلم said "Kindness is the mark of faith."

May Allaah protect us all and grant shifa to all those suffering mentally or physically Ameen.

[descaladumidera]

On High-Functioning Depression and Why It Sucks

People with High-Functioning Depression (aka Persistent Depressive Disorder (PDD)) experience depressive symptoms, but much less severe. They can still do their daily tasks, like going to work, cleaning their homes, taking care of themselves, but it comes at the cost of feeling completely and utterly drained afterwards and all these tasks being incredibly hard.

The defining factor is that the people experience a depressive mood for most days for at least two years.

Symptoms for said depressive mood include but are not limited to:

• insomnia or sleeping too much • feeling sad and/or hopeless • fatigue or no energy • lack of self-esteem • changes in appetite (decreased appetite or overeating) • suicidal thoughts

Now. This is my dunno-how-many-th attempt at writing something about this. Haha. Depression, amiright? Anyway. Just. Scroll past this if you're not interested in reading about my own experiences. I just need. To scream this into the void. And maybe it'll help someone else to recognize that they are not Just Sad™ and get the help they need.

I'll put everything else under a cut. Because. This got long.

To preface this: I'm officially diagnosed with depression and anxiety and I'm trying to get some other stuff checked out, but that's not important right now. (It's a lie. It is important, but if I start, I'll go down a rabbit hole, rant for a few paragraphs, and then break down crying. So. We leave that out. It's not important regarding this post.)

When I first got diagnosed, I didn't know that PDD was A Thing™. And I don't know if my therapist did, either, 'cause I think they were kinda doubting that I was depressed at all. Which. Fair. If you go by the classic depression symptoms and severity (even though depression is not a one-size-fits-all kind of thing).

I was not depressed enough to not get out of bed or take care of myself. I was not depressed enough to not go to work. I was holding down a steady (albeit shitty) job at that time, I showered regularly, I cleaned the house, I walked and took care of my (now deceased) dog, I did everyday tasks. But, and that's the crux of the matter, I was completely drained afterwards. Taking a shower and going to work on the same day? Killed me completely. Going to therapy and to work on the same day? Yeah, no dice. On those days it was too much to eat a dry slice of bread, but I forced myself to anyway.

And then. Well. You have to know that my job required me to work from 5:30 p.m. to 11:30 p.m. So I got home around midnight. I was always bone tired, but. I. Couldn't. Sleep. Just couldn't. Still can't. Body tired, mind exhausted, but when I could finally fall asleep at 3 or 4 a.m., I would wake up every half hour or so. And then it would take me up to an hour to fall asleep again. Rinse and repeat. (I got a weighted blanket now and it got a bit better, with my sleep being uninterrupted on most nights for about three to four hours. Not ideal, but so much better than what I had before. Believe me. I lived with that horrid sleep pattern for years and it had me on the brink of crying each time.)

And then I stumbled upon the term Functioning Depression on a Clint Barton/Hawkeye post on Tumblr of all things. Turns out it's not functioning but high-functioning, but that's neither here nor there. Fact is, it helped me to understand my particular flavor of depression.

I did a Google and. Well. This high-functioning depression stuff fits me to a T. The sad part is that I had already stopped therapy by then (which is another whole other story in and of itself, which will also make me break down and cry if I start to think about it). But at least now I knew that I was not not depressed enough. I simply have a different type of depression (well, this part is a self-diagnosis, but whatever).

It's nice to know that for myself, because no one else cares. They just see me functioning like a normal person in everyday life and assume I'm fine. Because for most people depression comes in the form of being "too sad to take care of yourself".

"You don't look sad." Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. I don't go around and proclaim my permanent suffering, because my brain chemicals are whack, to the world. It's none of your business. My parents know I have depression (they accept it, so why would I confuse them with the sub-type?), and my friends do, too. Some of those friends also know about the high-functioning part.

But yeah. It's hard to get acceptance, because I look fine. But I'm not. I stopped therapy (for unrelated reasons), I'm not on meds, I don't have any officially taught coping mechanisms. I'm just trying to do my best. Sadly, that "best" is. Slugging through. Existing. Just. Existing. And crawling from day to day and not thinking about how to best kill myself. Because. Yeah. That has been an intrusive thought lodged in my head for months now. I would have bouts of suicidal thoughts in the past, but this one has lasted the longest and it's so damn hard to fight it each and every day. I'm just. So exhausted.

I'm not fine. I'm not. But I appear to be and it's so hard to get help for a mental illness that's even more invisible than usual. I just want to give up. I'm so tired. And the most infuriating part is that I could do something about it, but I just. Don't.

I'm not a child anymore. My parents should've gotten me help for my anxiety when I was a kid, but everyone always said that I'm just shy (well, I thought so, too, until I learned about anxiety when I was an adult—fun times). I don't blame my parents. It's not their fault. I grew up in the 90s and 2000s in a small town in Germany. Mental health? What's that? I don't blame them. But I mourn the opportunity, 'cause everything is so much harder if you're an adult (for example getting an autism or ADHD diagnosis, which I'm looking into, but … yeah). Kids get help easier. Because they're kids. As an adult you're fucked. And not in the fun way.

It's not like in fiction. Nobody will come and save you. Nobody will be your hero and drag you out of your pit. You can only save yourself. It just sucks when you're too tired to do so.

[greyves-under-fire]

My whole problem is i was BOTH

The thing about gifted kid syndrome is it can still severely impact you and leave you broken long before you're out of the school system

I was "gifted" until sixth grade when i then had to spend almost every recess inside in study hall "finishing" papers that i could never finish.

I had it all, the undiagnosed adhd, and autism, and dyscalculia, had undiagnosed mood and personality disorder, and was starting to develop arthritis and fibromyalgia on top of developmental depression and anxiety.

I started barely making my grades, being lucky to make it above a c, forgetting what it was like to see an a

But my reputation was there. It had been thoroughly developed as "the smart kid" and the one who had the answers to everything. If we're splitting into groups for a class activity, nobody liked me- but everybody wanted me.

But then, every other answer became "i don't know" or followed by "i'm probably wrong" and often was.

I still remember what it felt like to be looked at with such confused disappointment from people i didn't know very well, who treated me like i owed them my knowledge.

Like i had betrayed them and their image of me.

I just got worse, i was put into so many credit recovery classes, i couldn't *do* anything at all, and i was tortured for it by teachers who knew of my "potential" and were disappointed in me when i'd only had them that year.

When gifted kid burnout happens before you're out of high school, it's a level of shitty that is built upon this expectation that people you don't even know are placing on you.

It's having current teachers brag to the next one you'll have about how talented you are, how amazing you'll do next year. It's walking into that new classroom and watching every day as you disappoint this teacher a little more every day bc "you're wasting your potential. I know you can do better than this."

there's no breaking it to them at the start that you're gonna be no good in their class and not getting their hopes up. It's watching their hopes be taken down, brick by brick, every day, just by existing the way that you are right now.

It's your parents hearing how amazing you're doing, how brilliant you are, then watching you to pick up on every single moment that you aren't "trying" hard enough when being alive is so hard, you barely are. You never stop hearing, "what happened? What changed?" and even if you can put it into words, it's knowing they aren't listening.

It's constant reminders of how disappointing you are as a person, to those around you, in the state you are in right now.

And all the while, while the adults in my life are all being little bitches about a kid they're projecting all their failed dreams on, i am in miserable, godforsaken PAIN every single day. I woke up every morning feeling like i'd been hit by a truck, and by the time i got home, had to actually crawl to a chair before i fell down from the exhaustion and pain i was in. I was cracking my wrists every hour to stop the fluid from building up in them, and couldn't keep my mind off of how brutally it feels like my lower spine was being crushed in someone's large fist.

While all the adults around me were saying, "if you just *applied* yourself", I was experiencing manic rage and my fourth sobbing panic attack in the bathroom over the terrifying h*micidal images swirling in my head bc i was MANIC and under so much fucking pressure, now terrified of myself.

While i was getting the "look" again of, "oh what happened to this pathetic kid"- I was IN THE MIDDLE OF RECOVERING FROM HOW INTENSELY PAINFUL IT WAS TO STRETCH MY ARMS A SECOND BEFORE, AND HOW I FELT LIKE IF I CARRIED THAT BACKPACK FOR FIVE MORE SECONDS, I WAS GOING TO BREAK DOWN AND START MANICALLY SOBBING WHILE PUNCHING A TREE BECAUSE EVERYTHING WAS SO SORE AND SO PAINFUL AND MY BODY WAS SO UNBELIEVABLY TIRED, AND AT 15, THE JOINTS IN MY HANDS WERE DEFORMING BEFORE THEY'RE EVEN FINISHED FORMING- (op i want to clarify that this is rage directed at the adults in my life at that time and not you, lol)

And then after all the (take a shot for every time i use the word "disappointment") that you've already caused, asking for accomodation when you desperately need it is a complete joke.

You get treated not only as an inconvenience, to put it lightly, but like you've somehow slighted your teachers and the adults around you by letting them down and giving them the experience of watching you fall so far *ACADEMICALLY*, that they act like going any farther for you is so incredibly unjust.

They act as if you have asked so much of them by failing already, that they treat you as absolutely selfish and unaware for requiring more, like a break from typing to sit in the hallway bc the joints in my hands are so stiff/painful/swollen that i'm starting to cry from overwhelm.

I then did have to drop out. Idk. I just wanted to make the point that everything you mentioned AND gifted kid burnout syndrome don't have to be, and often aren't mutually exclusive. I still fully get the point, but i wanted to offer that perspective, too, because when you are already dealing with all the other details you mentioned ON TOP of a bunch of adults being absolutely PATHETIC about how "sad" you make them bc of some stupid expectation they put on some kid they hardly know, it is just supremely shitty bc it tells you where your values lie to the adults around you.

I spent my entire teen years coming to wonder why it even mattered so much that i couldn't get my papers finished but that no one cared when i told them that i felt like i was actually dying every day.

Maybe i just wanted this post to exist for the kids who experienced both sides of the spectrum of people mentioned in your post, or maybe i just wanted to talk about mine, but idk

Kinda fucked up that we all coo and sympathize with "former gifted kids" but never talk about the students who had to stay late after school or over the summer for remedial classes/clubs, who struggled to get above a C, who were given up on or punished. Who tried so hard to understand or just couldn't. Who were grouped with the "stupid kids" (a classmate called us that in remedial math btw)

Autistic kids and adhders who can't relate to their gifted peers and are constantly alienated by them. Kids who struggled in school due to dealing with a chronic or mental illness or physical/learning/developmental disability. Those of us who have had to drop out of highschool or college. Kids who worked so hard and wanted to be seen as smart, but never were. Who watched as their peers seem to fly by them in school, while they were left behind. Who were bullied and put down by those in the gifted and honors classes. Whose confidence was absolutely destroyed by education.

I love you all and I'm so sorry the school system failed you. I'm sorry you weren't properly accommodated and given the education you deserved. I'm sorry people put you down for something that they never had to fight for.

[lanawinterscigarettes]

1. Can you go to Canada? Or even like…a liberal state like California? If trump hands stuff back to the states you should be okay if you live in a liberal area

2. Didn’t mean to rush you on the ask or anything there was no pressure just wanted to check in and no rush on ficmas everyone loves you and wants you to not be stressed take your time 🫶

(Yap Incoming)

3. They (Samuel and Jenna) did work together before Doctor who! My family have always watched Emmerdale because the village is set in the area they’re from, I only got into it recently as I saw Jasmine and started to have a big crush on her which I will not be telling my family as the reason for why I’m suddenly obsessed with the soap I’ve hated for most of my life haha shh they’ll never know. Also yes! I knew Clara was canon bi I remember seeing it in a magazine and being so happy - makes me feel less bad about crushing on Clara and Jasmine, although still feel a bit bad about Lindsay but romance is never mentioned in WR as she’s only in it for 9 episodes 🥴 stellar performance in Waterloo Road though, genuinely her court scene made me cry and I NEVER cry at shows - it’s on YouTube if you’re interested :)

If you want to escape from reality to a village from 20 years ago then this YouTube channel records the eps of Emmerdale - this is the playlist from 2005, but you can look for previous or next ones (https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLHyCZLXpRZZdgCHyUzKswWAb3N_I7ikfJ&si=IXuhaG2O65-arv_1). Her first appearance is 30th June 2005, and currently ITVX (the channel it’s streamed on) is at April 2006, where she has her wlw romantic storyline. They release 2 episodes a day each weekday and she’s in it until 2009 so that’s what I get up for on a week day now haha.

Anyway, just trying to lighten the mood as I know things are not good for you right now and I’m sorry :(

If there’s anything us crowd of anons can do to help (I know there’s a moon anon out there shoutout to you) let us know - ⭐️

Unfortunately I don't think I'd be able to do that. Not only do I not have a driver's license (I have a fear of driving) as well as zero funds I also live too far south, not to mention I'm someone with a severe anxiety disorder who can't even go into stores by myself. Maybe if I was a braver, more confident person I could take that risk, but everything I've ever known has been in the area I've grown up in. There's also the fact that I have several cats/kittens and couldn't bear to leave them behind. Luckily I think they're looking at doing a recount as well as investigating the possibly of tampering/voter fraud because of how suspicious things looked with the way Trump "won" but until then I'm not really sure what will happen

And thank you, you're so sweet for saying that 💞 sometimes I put a lot of pressure on myself to finish stuff but right now I'm really just trying to take a breather and calm down some before I get to working on my current projects again

You're so amazing for trying to make me feel better so thank you so much, I'll definitely have to go check out that YouTube playlist 🫶🫶 honestly it always makes me so happy to hear from you and that alone is enough to make me feel better, even I'd it's just by a little bit. I'm not sure if I've said this already or not but you're literally always welcome to yap or tell me about your day or even just pop in to say hi 💕💕

[qianinterprises]

WayV Reaction: finding out their S/O has Borderline Personality Disorder

Pairing(s): WayV x Reader Genre: angst, fluff Warnings: mention of mental health, depression, anxiety, symptom's included in BPD. Trigger Warnings: depression, anxiety, hostility, mention's of self-harm, self-doubt, low self-image Word Count: 3.9k

Author's Notes: I'll be honest and say that I had to research Borderline Personality Disorder. I knew what it was/had heard of it before, but in order to write something accurate, I tried to educate myself. If you believe that you have BPD, please don't be afraid to go to a doctor or a trusted friend/family member. Your mental health is important.

Author's Note 2.0: I also want to mention that (as per earlier request), I am also working on a YangYang fic that features a reader with Borderline Personality Disorder. I'm not entirely sure when it will be posted (soon hopefully), but it is in my WIP's.

Author's Note 2.0: Kun's is a little different, I apologize for the difference and the shortness. Tagging:@treasuretaeil

Kun:

Kun was in the middle of dance practice when his phone began to ring. At first, he let it go to voicemail, but by the third ring, Ten paused the music and Kun grabbed his phone out of his coat pocket, expecting to see your name popping up on the screen. You were at home today after a particularly rough week at work that had left you feeling spent. Kun longed to be home with you, holding you tight in his embrace. As his eyes met your next door neighbor's name on his phone screen, his stomach dropped. Mrs. Huang only called when it was really serious. "Hello?" he asked into the receiver. "Oh thank goodness!" she cried, voice laced with anxiety enducing agitation. "What's wrong?" "It's (y/n)! They've brought me five big tins of muffins! I can't possibly eat all of these! And they've gone to the store twice with ingredients! I think something's wrong! Kun sighed. This morning, you had been so happy. You were practically singing to the birds. He knew it wouldn't last though, especially with the week you'd had. "I'll be there soon!" Kun left practice without another word and when he got home, he found you in the kitchen, covered in flour, vigorously mixing a creamy liquid in one of your metal mixing bowls. The kitchen was covered in ingredients; flour puffed on the counters and floor, broken egg shells on the table, a half empty measuring cup of milk teetering on top of the fridge. It was bad this time. Kun knew you had borderline personality disorder. It had been something you'd told him in the beginnings of your relationship. He had seen you at your worst, and at your best, but it still broke his heart every time he witnessed you at a breaking point. "(y/n)?" You paused in your vigorous mixing, eyes glancing up to meet his. He didn't say anything, eyes locked on yours, but his eyes held no pity. Instead, they held pure, unfiltered love that had you putting the whisk aside. "Do you love me?" you whispered. A small wisp of a smile reflected across his face as he crossed the room, arms wrapping around your body. "More than anything," he whispered.

Ten:

You and Ten had only been together for a short amount of time; three months to be exact. It was an exhilarating three months. Time you wouldn't give for anything in the world, even though you didn't get to see each other often with Ten's very busy schedule. However, after the "Kick Back" album released, WayV was allowed to take a break as SM turned their attention to the scheduled release of NCT Dream's first album. Normally, Ten would then be whisked away for some SuperM promotion, but with Baekhyun's enlistment, SuperM was also allowed to take a break as the company decided what to do. Which ultimately meant you got to spend more time with your boyfriend, which, most would deem as a good thing and, you were happy he was there, however, it became a lot harder to hide your little secret from him. Your best friend, Kun, had introduced you to Ten (and the rest of the members), when Kun officially became a member of NCT. Kun and Ten had immediately hit it off as friends, which meant you also spent a lot of time with Ten, thus leading to a blossoming friendship and later attraction. So Ten lying in your bed snoring softly wasn't that far of a stretch from a common day encounter. The difference was, today, you didn't feel like yourself. Being in a friendship with Ten meant that, yes, you saw him often, but not often enough that you couldn't keep parts of yourself private. Which is exactly what you did, especially as your tiny crush on Ten grew into something mutual, eventually leading to a relationship. The truth you were so afraid of revealing was your disorder. Borderline Personality Disorder. A disorder you'd been diagnosed with since you were a your teenager. You'd been teased and bullied for it when a classmate you'd once called a friend announced your disorder to the entire school. This, in turn, had terrified you of ever telling anyone, which you had gotten away with. Ten didn't know and, if you had it your way, he'd never know. He was an idol. What did he need with a girlfriend with this disorder. However, with him hanging around a lot... "Hey? What's wrong?" Ten's voice snapped you from your thoughts. You'd been so distracted you hadn't realized his soft snoring had ceased. "Nothing," you said softly. His lips pursed, perplexed as he softly reached a hand up to brush across your cheek, something he'd done several times. But today, you didn't want it. You shied away from his hand, curling yourself up on the opposite side of the bed, cursing yourself for acting different than usual, but you couldn't help it. Ten didn't bat an eye. He simply gave you a soft smile and sat up in the large bed, but he didn't try to touch you again. "Feeling sad today?" he asked. You nodded meekly. "Would you like to talk about it?" he asked. You paused for a moment to think it over. You truly didn't. You wished you could keep it a secret forever, because Ten might leave you. But you also knew that the stress was taking it's toll on you. "I have Borderline Personality Disorder..." you whispered. He didn't say anything at first and you were preparing yourself for him to call you a freak and leave. Instead, he stretched his arm out and softly wrapped his pinky around yours. "I don't know much about it. But I promise I will learn," he whispered. Tears brimmed your eyes because finally, someone wasn't going to leave you.

WinWin:

You had never been much of a touchy person. Holding hands was one thing, and even then, something you weren't wholly comfortable with, but hugging was completely different. You didn't care much for hugs, especially from complete strangers that often found you rude for rejecting their hug. You barely even hugged your own family, let alone a total stranger. This was possibly what spurred on your relationship with Sicheng who, also didn't care much for physical affection, despite the fact the other members of NCT practically drowned him in it. Your relationship was just... different. At least in the minds of society because you didn't cuddle against Sicheng's chest constantly or plop down on his lap just because he was sitting down. Instead, you preferred wrapping your pinky around his or draping one of his sweaters over your shoulders. This worked for the two of you though others found it strange. However, there was an anomaly that Sicheng, though you had been together for a little over two years, had no idea about. This anomaly included the fact that sometimes, you liked hugs. Sometimes, all you wanted to do was drape yourself over your boyfriends lap and let him hold you until your mind screamed at you for the overload of affection. Sometimes you wanted him to wrap his arms around you in bed and fall asleep with you on his chest. That's what happens when you have Borderline Personality Disorder, and it wouldn't have been that big of a deal if Sicheng had known, but he didn't. It started out you longing to keep it a secret in the early days of your relationship. It wasn't something you advertised very often. However, as your relationship progressed, you knew you should have told him, but as five months turned into six, it became a crushing weight of guilt for not telling him in the beginning. Sicheng had already invested a lot of time and love in the relationship when you had not been wholly honest with him. And the more time that passed, the harder it was for you to get the words out. At this point, it wasn't even your fear of rejection because of the disorder, it was a nagging fear that your dishonesty about the disorder would drive him away from you. That would truly be a crushing point. However, as Sicheng began spending more nights at your apartment, it was getting increasingly harder to hide, especially as your mood dropped or when you suddenly began to crave affection. Times like today. The moment you'd rolled out of bed, you knew you needed some type of affection, but as Sicheng made no advance to give it to you throughout the day, your mood dropped. It really wasn't his fault. He had no idea how you were feeling, but as you finally had had enough and wrapped your arms around him from behind while he was washing the dishes after dinner, you felt him stiffen before grabbing a towel to dry his hands. "What's up with you today?" The question was an honest one, but it still felt as though you were making him uncomfortable by touching him. As your arms slacked from around him, a tear sprang to your eye but you were quick to wipe it away as he turned to face you. "I need to tell you something..." Your voice was wavering. You had no idea how he would respond. He nodded for you to continue, one of his hands gently taking hold of yours, playing with your fingers as a soft sense of relief washed through you. "I have Borderline Personality Disorder." His once blank face morphed into one of confusion. "What's that?" he asked tentatively. You sighed. You had been expecting the question but that didn't make it any easier to define. "Its like having mood swings. One day I feel happy the other sad... Sometimes anti-hugs, sometimes super affectionate." You could tell he was still confused, but as he nodded and wrapped his arms around your body, drawing you against his tall frame, you let out a shuddered breath, body relaxing against him.

Lucas:

Books were never Yukhei's strong suit. He preferred numbers and basic information plotted out clearly in front of him. Books were too all over the place with too much information. He wished they could be like websites that gave him the briefest of explanations with a "read more" feature. Yet here he was, flipping through slightly crinkled pages because he wanted to truly understand, and books were always credited with having the most information. "I have Borderline Personality Disorder," you had explained earlier that day when you had ducked out of the way of one of his mega bear hugs and proceeded to slump your shoulders and beg him to give you time alone. You'd locked yourself in your shared bedroom after that and, although you had texted him to apologize for your behavior, you added that today was just an off day, your disorder really affecting your mood. "Well how can I help?" he had asked. It was your response that prompted him here, pouring over books in the local library hoping to find anything that would help him understand Borderline Personality Disorder in the best way possible. As he flipped through pages and learned, he had begun to feel several different emotions. On one end, he felt sorry that you'd had to go through the disorder alone, but on the other, he questioned why you'd never told him, even after a year of being together. However, a big part of him wondered if maybe you had been telling him, just without words, especially because you'd never tried to hide any of your mood swings. He'd just always assumed you were on your period. As the hours ticked away, Yukhei's eyes remained glued to the startlingly dry books stacked up around him, but as he learned more about the disorder and, by default, more about you, he couldn't seem to stop. At least not until his phone vibrated in his pocket and, as he fished it out, your smiling face met his eyes. He answered the facetime request and gave you a tired smile that quickly morphed into concern when he noticed your bloodshot eyes. "Baby? What's wrong? Did something happen?" "My boyfriend left me! That's what happened!" Were you... pouting? "I didn't leave baby, I'm at the library." Confusion flashed across your face. "Why?" "To learn more about Borderline Personality Disorder." A giggle erupted from your lips and Yukhei sure was glad to hear it, especially after reading texts about BPD leading to depression. "Why didn't you just google it?" His mouth gaped open as he dramatically clutched his chest. "Googling something so important in my significant other's life?! That's scandalous! I should do enough research to write my own 20-page essay!" This time, it was a full blown laugh. "You're a dork!" "I'm your dork!" "Well come home, dork! There's a lot we have to discuss!" Your smiling face alleviated any fears that may have been swirling around Yukhei's chest. With a nod, he slammed a book shut so hard it send a loud, slamming bang throughout the library, prompting nasty looks sent his way. Sheepishly, he waved them off and stood up. "I'll be home soon," he promised, blowing you a kiss before hanging up. Yukhei had taken the hastily thrown news a lot better than you'd expected. You knew he couldn't have learned everything, specifically because it varied person to person, but you knew that he would be there for you, even on your bad days. And that was all you could ask for.

Xiaojun:

Dejun was incredibly perceptive, even if he was incredibly dumb sometimes. He could tell when you weren't quite feeling yourself, even though he often didn't know what was causing it. It was at those times that he did everything he could to put a smile back on your face and make you feel "normal" again. He didn't understand how counter productive that actually was. It was really your fault. You were the one keeping secrets, but as the smile fell from your face the second Dejun traded the couch for the shower, you couldn't help but think that maybe he simply preferred you to be happy rather than deal with you when you weren't. Somewhere in the back of your head, you knew he was just doing what he thought would help, but now, especially in your state of mind, you couldn't shake the aching feeling in your head. "Hey, are there towels- are you crying?" Dejun's voice yanked you out of your thoughts and you brought your hands to your cheeks, rapidly trying to wipe away the clear droplets painting your face, but it was too late. Dejun had already seen. He was shirtless when he perched on the couch beside you, face etched in concern. He opened his mouth, likely to retort off some lame dad joke or tell you some funny story you'd heard a thousand times. "Can you not?" You hadn't meant to snap. The words had simply flown out before you'd had the chance to them. His face fell into a pout that you knew you often fell for, but today, it only upset you more. "Stop Dejun!" The pout fell away. "Stop what? I'm not doing anything!" "You're trying to make me smile!" He blinked, staring at you for a moment. "That's a bad thing?!" You sighed, slumping against the couch cushions, resigning yourself to the fact that he didn't understand. Then again, you didn't let him understand. "Just tell me why I'm upsetting you," he begged, all traces of bad humor gone, replaced with sincerity. "I have Borderline Personality Disorder! My mood fluctuates! And when you try to make me smile when I'm sad or mad makes me feel like you don't like me when I'm not always happy. But I can't always be happy." He stared at you in shock for a moment, mouth opening and closing as if he didn't know how to respond. An appropriate response, you supposed. You'd been friends for a while now and dating for several months, yet this was the first time you'd told him. You were about to get up from the couch, sighing as he didn't respond after several minutes, when he placed a hand on your thigh to stop you. "Why didn't you tell me?" You shrugged. It wasn't that simple. "Can you tell me the best ways to comfort you?" Again, you shrugged. A sigh released from his mouth and your head hung low. "I'm going to do some research. As your boyfriend, I want to make sure I'm making you feel better, not worse. So, while I'm doing that, I also need you to tell me if something I'm doing is making you feel worse. Can you do that for me?" His words were sincere, his intentions true. Another tear fell from your eye, dropping against your cheek, but a smile broke out across your face. "Thank you for caring," you whispered. He pulled you onto his lap and pressed a soft kiss to the nape of your neck. "Always."

Hendery:

Waking up this morning had been such a struggle, even as the delightful scent of your boyfriends cooking wafted under the cracks of the door, greeting you. Usually, this would rouse you from your slumber, prompting you to creep into the kitchen and sneak a taste of the delightful breakfast. Today, however, you rolled over in the blankets and pulled the duvet over your head. Today was a lay in bed day, you just hoped your boyfriend would accept that. "Come on sleepy head! It's time to wake up!" Kunhang's annoyingly chipper voice spouted, pulling you from the confines of sleep in a less pleasant way. "No," you groaned, rolling over, burying your face deeper into the pillow. "Come on! Breakfast is ready!" He pulled the blankets off your body and you let out a loud hiss, eyes turning to bore into him. "I said no!" He dropped the blanket and backed off, lifting his hands in surrender, but you could tell he had questions. You never acted like this. "What's wrong?" You grunted, not responding, turning away from him, but he wasn't having it. "Yah! I asked you a question!" he pouted at being ignored. A growl whipped it's way from your throat. "Go look up BPD," you snapped. You could tell that he had more questions, but, after a long moment, he seemed to think better of asking them and, instead, made his way out of the room, leaving you to fall back asleep. It had to have been a few hours later when you were waking up on your own this time, the anger you had felt earlier completely gone now, replaced with your normal, chipper self. You turned over to look at Kunhang's side, releasing he wasn't there and the memories came flooding back to you along with a strong wave of guilt. You shouldn't have treated Kunhang the way you did. There was nothing out of the ordinary with the way he'd reacted to your sleeping for. With a sigh, you threw your legs over the side of the bed and stood up, padding over the floors to the door. You made your way out of the bedroom and down the hall, finding Kunhang sitting on the couch, television with the volume turned down, playing some movie he didn't look too interested in. As the floor creaked slightly under your feet, his attention shifted from the television to you and he was quick to shut off the device. "How are you feeling?" he asked. Your heart dropped into your stomach. Had you really affected him? "I'm sorry for how I reacted..." you mumbled. A sigh rolled past his lips as he patted the couch next to him. You made your way to him, flopping beside him, but keeping your distance, at least until he pulled you against his side. "I understand why you did after looking up Borderinel Personality Disorder," he said. "But you couldn't have expected me to know without knowing." With a nod, you hung your head. "Why didn't you tell me?" "I thought you wouldn't like me if you knew I had a disorder..." you mumbled. Saying it out loud, it felt ridiculous. You knew he loved you. The fact that he waited for you to wake up even after how you'd treated him proved that. But it had been a fear nevertheless. "Now that I know, I can help you rather than making things worse. But in the future, please let me know. I hated watching you so upset without knowing how to help." You leaned against him, burying your face in his chest as you nodded.

YangYang:

(full fic coming soon) YangYang's youth was what truly scared you the most. He still had so much to learn. He was so naive, about some things at least. He could make you feel so good, so loved, when he'd hold you in his arms and kiss your head or when he threw himself across your lap and begged to be pet. You were scared that the second he knew the truth about you, he'd leave, or worse, treat you differently. Your older brother, Kun, had advised you to just be honest with him. To let him know when you had bad days. Yet, here you were, hiding out in your brothers bed, hoping practice would run late so YangYang wouldn't see your crestfallen face. It seemed luck wasn't on your side that day, not entirely anyway, because the door to the room opened and Kun walked in half shirtless, belt unbuckled. "Please don't strip anymore," you'd begged. The boy nearly jumped out of his skin at your words. "(y/n)?! What are you doing here?!" "I missed Yang..." "So why didn't you come to practice? You know you're welcome." Your silence was his answer and he sighed, sliding on another, not sweat-soaked shirt, and sat on the bed beside you, reaching out to gently stroke your arm. "You really should tell him," he whispered. "But what if he rejects me?" "He won't. Sis, I know him. He's not like some dirtbags you've dated in the past. And he might just be able to help you better than I can," he whispered. You knew he was right. He was always right (as annoying as it was). "Will you send him here? I don't want to get out of bed..." "Of course," he said, patting your arm one more time before getting out of bed and making his way out of the room. It was a few minutes later when a sweaty YangYang walked in, searching for your figure before sitting down beside you on Kun's bed. "You wanted to see me?" he asked. "I have Borderline Personality Disorder..." The words just rushed out before you could stop them, but you were thankful. This saved you from yourself. For a long moment, YangYang didn't say anything and you were beginning to think Kun had been wrong for once. "So that's why Kun had me do all that research..." Ok, that definitely wasn't what you were expecting. "Not long after we started dating, Kun made me do all this research on BPD. He even quizzed me once a week! I just assumed it was punishment for dating his sister!" A loud laugh fell past your lips. That was absolutely something Kun would do!

"Are you mad I didn't tell you?" you asked.

"Well, why didn't you?"

"I was afraid you'd leave me like my exes..."

"Then yes, I'm mad!" he said.

Your face dropped.

"I'm sorry..."

"I'll just have to teach you a lesson!"

With that, he threw himself on top of you, pressing his sweaty clothes against you as you shrieked, attempting to get away.

"Guys... not on my bed..."

[weebsinstash]

I'm sorry you're going that :( idk if this will be helpful but as someone who is chronically suicidal as well it helps me to think "okay I'm going to wait until I'm 35 before making a decision on whether to stay alive or not and focus my efforts on building a life worth living". If you succeed, you have an happy life. If you fail, that's ok, you have an exit. This thought helped take me from being a 21 y.o. 8th grade dropout with severe disabling BPD to a semi-recovered CompEng/Physics undergrad

That actually is pretty inspiring so thank you for sharing your story ❤

Something that I've been thinking about a lot recently since my therapist brought it up is that I think I quite possibly have a really significant mood disorder or something that just went undiagnosed and unmedicated for too many years. I mean, in the present it could be because I smoke a lot of weed and taking any drug in excess can cause certain issues, but I've always had certain mood swings. I had a period as a young child where if there was going to be a substitute teacher I would stay home that day because I would just be?? Very defensive and hostile towards substitute teachers specifically? Like literally I would be kept home sometimes and at the time we chalked it up to me not adjusting to change really well, something something problem with authority figures, but I also had a period where I got a lot of school suspensions and was even physically fighting with other kids sometimes. Mom shared with me a detail about how her and my sister used to think I would grow up to be a school shooter or something which.... bitch why would you even tell me that, that's rude as hell and i had a lot of trouble at that age, leave me alone 🥺

I always had a lot of issues with depression and anxiety and they were kind of attributed to things and traumas I had gone through, when I'm wondering if there were other causes that were just not considered. I didn't actually even start getting proper therapy or medication until I was in like, middle school I think, and by that point I was having such massive truancy issues. I would literally think about cutting off one of my fingers so I couldn't properly hold a pencil and hope that would mean I wouldn't have to go to school anymore. I mean, the whole reason I never finished high school was partially because we kept moving and I would wind up being yanked from one curriculum to the next and it was hard if not pointless to try and follow, but eventually my anxiety got so bad that I just refused to go and eventually aged out of the system

My therapist kinda keeps swinging around from "is it bipolar? Maybe you should be assessed for bipolar. Then again you have a lot of BPD symptoms, maybe you should be assessed for that" which i understand because psychology is tricky but uh. Yeah. I feel like maybe there's some sort of extra component or factor that isn't being addressed because even as I keep changing medications I still have certain issues 🥺 I actually have a mental health assessment to see if I need a social worker today so. We'll see where that goes!

[thebatbaes]

The story behind that Batman tattoo I got

TW: Anxiety, depression and suicidal thoughts.

I’ve always loved tattoos because they're a great form of self-expression; People can share their stories and commemorate important moments in their lives through tattoos, but they can also serve as constant reminders of something (or someone) important. This tattoo is no exception.

I wasted almost 3 years of my life stressing over a career that I hated because I felt obligated to make my family feel proud of me.

I dropped out of college after having a severe nervous breakdown, and as soon as I dropped out of college my generalized anxiety disorder started getting REALLY out of control. It got to the point where I wasn’t able to leave my house (not even to buy groceries, not even to walk my dog) and this lasted almost 3 months.

I couldn't feel happiness, I couldn’t leave my house. Life was pointless to me, so I contemplated suicide on a daily basis.

I was really depressed and my family wasn’t being supportive because "I wasn't trying hard enough to get better" (but after years of therapy, seeing psychiatrists and dropping out of psychology (lmao)- I really had no interest in trying online therapy...)

I didn't want to keep wasting money and time in meds that made me feel worse 90% of the time, but there was something that I had always wanted to do, and -as silly as it may sound- it was reading all of the Batman comics in chronological order... so I did.

I would read, and read, and read, and that’s when I started noticing that I was getting more and more excited with every issue.

I could laugh and cry again. I could enjoy something again, and that empty feeling slowly started fading away.

At some point I started feeling the need to share my love and passion for the Bat-Universe, but I didn’t know anyone who cared enough to listen to my rants without laughing or saying that I was "too childish" and "spending my energy in stupid things". That’s why I decided to start this blog.

I wanted to interact with people who wouldn't judge me or make fun of my fangirling and excitement for fictional content like my family and friends unintentionally did, and I found so much strenght and motivation in sharing this passion with you

I've started challenging myself to go out more often with short trips to my local comic book store and other geeky stores near me, and I love this feeling enough to carry it with me forever~

I’m not gonna sit here and tell you that everything is good now, that I feel great every day and that I’m always feeling motivated and ready to go because that would be a lie; but I’m just trying to take days the same way I read comic issues.

Sometimes stories are well written, sometimes they’re not. Sometimes you laugh, sometimes you cry, and sometimes you’re left with a “What the actual fuck did I just read” sensation, but no matter how shitty a story is, you'll always wait for that next issue hoping that it gets better.

I want to be here when things finally get better...

P.S: I love you, my precious babies. Thank you for sharing this with me, and thank you for giving me a space where its safe to be myself 💕

[xxkellsvixen19xx]

I Am Not Living, I Am Surviving Hug Me Michael x Reader

Warnings: this theme deals with depression and thoughts of suicide which could be triggering for some.

A/N: as someone that deals with depression I felt compelled to post this. Michael helps Y/N during her depressive episode, the reader (much like me tends to shut people out especially when things get difficult so I feel this on a personal level). Hope you guys take the time to read this as it is kinda personal for me, thanks guys and please let me know what you think. Note the lyrics used are from Britta Phillips version of the song Drive

//who's gonna tell you when

it's too late

who's gonna tell you things

aren't so great

you can't go on

thinking nothing's wrong

who's gonna drive you home tonight//

I was not alone, that there was someone somewhere who was able to articulate the seething, jumbled, brutal, pre-linguistic, thrashing, writhing, hazing, dulling pounding in my head. It wasn't just me. That single thought was the most important thing in the world to me, sometimes the one thing that kept me alive – a single false note of optimism would have shattered it all for me, left me thinking yes, it really is just me – the words people offer me really are just that, words, the hope they contain utterly irrelevant because they relate to an experience that is not mine.

‘I put on a brave front' it had been so easy to hide how I truly felt, laugh, joke act like I was completely fine. But truth was I knew deep down inside I wasn't masking it would only work for so long. I was rapidly sliding deeper and deeper into a very dark space. My symptoms got worse and soon I found it too difficult to even get up and out of bed in the morning.

‘You feel nothing. You shut down completely. There is no happiness, no sadness, nothing. You feel zero.’ Depression is not something that can be brushed away with a smile, or shooed away with a pat on the back. It’s something more deeper and profound. There’s no gadget to test which person is suffering from what type of depression, and there’s no instrument to measure the extent of depression.

Statistics say that as many as 1 in 4 of us will experience a mental health problem at some point in our lives. That means you know someone—probably several someones—with depression, anxiety, an eating disorder or something else. Isolation can have a crushing effect on a lot of people. Some people thrive on it, but humans on the whole are a social bunch and need to interact with others. When that isn’t possible, it’s easy to feel that the walls are closing in. But honestly all I was good at doing is pushing people away, I am afraid if they get to close if they see really see what I am going through that they might abandon me because it may end up being way too much for them.

I kept a diary somehow it felt safer to write down my thoughts, the one person I should be honest with is Michael but I honestly couldn't bring myself to do it. Would he be hurt? Would he hate me? So many thoughts in the back of my mind I pushed them away. I scribbled furiously in the journal and tossing it aside. Normally I hid it under a loose floorboard in our bedroom but on this night not giving it so much as a second thought I feel asleep journal wide open. Y/N didn't hear Michael when he walked in, he looked at you you were fast asleep. He noticed the leather bound book that laid open by your sleeping form. He didn't want to invade your privacy but something alerted him that something was on deed wrong. He looked at the small paragraph scrawled on the page, his face froze in fear at the words before him.

Dear Michael.

I've been thinking about ending my life. I don't know why I can't talk to you in person, so I bought this Diary in the case that I do end up killing myself you will know why I did what I did and that you cannot blame yourself. Michael you are the reason I am still here. for now. But the voices in my head are so strong and the pain that it is inflicting on me everyday, one more thing and I feel like I won't be able to hold on, but I will for you Michael  I will try my best for you.

Yours Truly,

Y/F/N Y/L/N

Depression is a hole and I'm slowly falling in trying to claw out and everyone I love is just standing there watching. Honestly I wasn't sure how much longer I could keep 'acting’ like I was ok when deep down inside I wanted to end it, quiet the voices leave the pain behind that quite frankly I felt like I was drowning in.

I opened my eyes I don't know how long I had been asleep or even what time it was. I looked to see Michael's concerned expression his piercing blue eyes felt like they had penetrated my soul. There my journal sat in his lap, Michael let out a breath attempting to steady himself. “Why won't you talk to me Y/N, tell me that something was wrong?” I couldn't even open up my mouth to speak it was like I lost all nerve to even respond. My first instinct was to bolt, I sat up quickly turning my body away from him. I wasn't able to even make it to the edge of the bed, Michael grabbed my arm “Y/N please talk to me don't shut me out!”

Michael's breathing started to get heavier as his eyes started to well up. Y/N  looked at Michael, saying nothing. He wondered what she was thinking. Finally, after a few moments, she started sobbing, and she leaned into him. Michael immediately pulled her into his arms, letting her cry on his shoulder, and struggling not to cry himself. ‘I was tired of feeling helpless. I had to do something, anything.’ ‘I remember that exact moment as the one where I started to feel good about myself again, I just wish it could've lasted longer…

There was another moment of silence, this one longer than the last, "I tried to tell myself that you'd get better, that you would get back to normal  but the truth is I didn't know that. I didn't know if you'd get better, you can't keep doing this to yourself Y/N, what if I never see you again! And the thought of everyone else just going on with their lives made me sick! So yeah,I am angry, and I am scared…  I didn't know what the fuck I am supposed to do!" Michael's voice finally broke as tears streamed down his face. Y/N, with tears in her own eyes, finally stood up. She pressed her forehead against Michael's and placed her hands on the sides of his head. ‘But most of all, I knew, come what may, I had at least one safe harbor.’ I looked up at Michael the look was unmistakable.

‘I'll never forget what I saw at that moment, looking into Michael's eyes.’

‘He loved me. This sweet, perfect man… loved me.’

After staring at him for another moment that seemed to last forever, she finally leaned in and kissed him. He quickly began kissing her back. The two of them continued this until it started to grow more heated, with the two of them running their hands over each other, and Michael kissing along the side of her neck.

He pulled back after a minute and looked at her.

"Are you… are you sure this is okay?" he asked, breathing heavily.

Y/N gave Michael a smile.

"I'm sure," I  said.

‘That wasn't entirely true. I wasn't sure, or rather I wasn't sure if I was sure.but I didn't know if that made a difference. I knew I wanted it to be okay this time.’

The two of them resumed, even more passionately this time. They began removing clothes and letting their hands roam over more of more of each other…

‘More than anything, I wanted it to be okay this time. I remember thinking, please, please, let it be okay this time.’

Michael continued kissing Y/N, who leaned her head back as the feelings came over her…

‘But it wasn't okay’

I inhaled sharply…

‘It was perfect.’

2 weeks later…

"How is Y/N?" Gallant ask, suddenly looking at Michael with concern on his  face.

Michael hesitated. He  came here to help Gallant with an issue with his salon , not unload his  own worries onto him. Still, lying to him didn't feel right either.

"I don't know, really," Michael  finally said. "She just doesn't seem to want to open up. I know she's been having a really hard time." Michael gave Gallant  a slight smile. “I think it's just going to take time.” Gallant responded softly.

‘The day were getting... bearable.’

‘So were the days after that, and the next after that.’

‘Michael found me a new doctor. A bit further away, but worth the trip. I was able to open up to her a little.’

‘Still, I couldn't shake this feeling that there was something I was supposed to do, but at first, I couldn't figure out what it was.’

‘But gradually I started to notice something…’

‘...something I couldn't shake once I noticed them.,

‘The signs.’

‘The ones most people didn't see. The ones no one saw in me until it was almost too late.’

Michael  wiped one last tear rolling down his face and closed his eyes.

“Please live for me Y/N," he said, softly. “Stay with me, I love you."

Y/N sighed in relief.

‘All I could do after that was live.’

Michael pulled me close to him tightly I could hear his heartbeat, a steady reminder to live

//Live as if you were to die tomorrow. Learn as if you were to live forever.//

Mahatma Gandhi

[lifeafterturbulance-blog]

My BPD and Mental Health Journey (an introduction to me and my family) WELCOME :)

Hey guys and welcome to my blog/vlog!

So this blog is going to consist of a lot! First here's a bit about me and my family.

My name is stormi and I am 23 years old. I have been married for 4 years to the best man I've ever met. I have 3 children ages 3, 2 and 1. Yes, we were busy as they say, Haha. I have two dogs one is a black lab named Noah and the other is a shih tzu named Oliver. I have struggled with mental illness for as long as I can remember and I struggle with depression, anxiety, BPD or Borderline Personality Disorder and Bulimia. If you aren't familiar with BPD I will have a video at the bottom of this post for you to check out. This has caused a lot of problems with relationships and normal daily life which I will talk about in following posts. I can also post videos if it is requested from you guys :) I will be posting about beauty and hair as well as I am in school for cosmotology which I LOVE.

Please feel free to leave some requests on stuff you would like me to talk about on this blog/vlog as well.

Here's a bit more about my journey with mental illness...

Since the age of 14 I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety. I went a lot of years not getting the proper treatment and self medicating with drugs and alchohol. My depression was brought on by a series of traumatic events including being molested from the ages of 12 til 14 by my first cousin. My parents got divorced around this time as well. My biological father had not been in my life since age 2. My brother was in and out of jail and my household was not very stable. When I entered my 20s I started to realize something was not right. The feelings I was having felt more severe than just depression or anxiety. I felt like I was losing my mind, literally. My moods were and still are at times extremely erratic. I was on a never ending rollercoaster of emotions and I did not want to live anymore with the way things were. I couldn't breathe. I was just a cloud in a never ending storm.. I became bulimic (which is also a part of borderline personality disorder) 2 years ago and am still fighting through self image dysmorphia and stressors that bring on my bulimia. My bulimia has been my friend. The one thing I can control when everything I felt was uncontrollable. I am the smallest I've ever been and it's not from excersize or healthy eating it is because I am sick and working on getting better. Last month I started searching for help and went to 2 clinics who did not care about the individual but more what medications they could put you on and a quick diagnosis without listening to you and hearing your symptoms. Well, I decided not to give up and keep searching and I finally went to a wonderful psychologist and psychiatrist and they finally gave me answers. I have Borderline personality disorder along with depression and anxiety. Breath of relief and tears of joy. Finally someone listened to me. Finally I no longer feel crazy or like I'm just being attention seeking, I have something that can be managed. I am happy to say since starting my medication and doing work on myself I am no longer hopeless. I am ready to do the work it takes to be truly happy. With the right medical team I am headed in the right direction. I wanted to share this story with you so if you are struggling you can also see hope and a light in the tunnel. You aren't alone. It is not easy but you do not have to do it alone. You are worth it and you are not worthless or crazy. It's okay to not be okay.

Below is a video about borderline personality disorder if you don't know what it is, educate yourself and maybe you or someone you know has these traits and doesnt even realize it. Well that's it for me. I hope this helps someone.

[dgarski]

Time does not heal all wounds.

Two years ago today, March 6, 2019, my life changed forever. Recovering, healing, processing...all of these things have fully encompassed me every day of those two years. Mental healing however, has been another thing altogether. There is so much that I don't remember. Mostly, I see flashes and pictures in my mind, of me in the hospital. I remember almost nothing of the night that I collapsed. Even waking up in the hospital, there is so much I still don't remember. It was like watching life unfolding through the eyes of someone else. I do remember the desperate feeling of being trapped and completely lost. I remember the feeling of imminent death. I was so close, but somehow, I lived. I was awake, but I didn't really know what happened to me. The doctors, the nurses and family all tried to tell me about my collapse and how I had survived a stroke, a heart attack and a seizure. I thought they were kidding. I thought they were talking about someone else. Nothing made sense. I couldn't account for time. My entire life had dramatically halted.

After the first week, I was brought out of I.C.U. to the physical therapy floor. I finally got my own private room. It was mostly quiet. I remember looking out the big windows of my room, at the city of Orlando. "There's my city." It was a view I had never imagined before. I was in a hospital room, looking out at the view of downtown Orlando. At the time, I had no idea how long I would be there. I wanted to leave. I knew that if I didn't get out soon, I would snap. Decisions were being made by my family, that I don't think I will ever completely understand. I have had a lot of time to think about all that; and I concluded that, at the time, I must have believed that I could die at any moment; and that it would be best if I just agreed with anything and everything I was told. I think that I must have been convinced that I was in the hospital for two weeks because they really needed to keep an eye on me; because I could maybe have another stroke or another heart attack at any second. I don't think I've ever felt so weak, so scared, so numb, in my entire life.

Once I was released from the hospital, the very next day, I found myself on an airplane to Chicago with my mother and my brother-in-law. I remember looking out the window, as the plane ascended over downtown Orlando, and thinking to myself, "Hey, there's my city!" This time, it was from a much more profound point of view. At that moment, I wasn't sure if I would ever see it again. I still didn't really know what was going on inside my head. I must have thought that me going to Wisconsin was just a weird sort of unplanned vacation, and that I would be back in Florida in a week or two. I remember the immediate cold of Chicago, as we walked to my brother-in-law's truck from the airport terminal. There I was, standing in a parking lot at O'Hare airport. It made no sense to me. It was night, and we were on a freeway headed to Racine. I hadn't been back to Wisconsin since Christmas 2002. A lot had changed in 17 years.

For the next several days, I slept and slept. I was still so weak. I was initially on so much medication, it was really wreaking havoc on my body. Within a few days or so, my mental faculties began to become more and more lucid. Being scared that I might die at any moment, was quickly being replaced with depression, anger and frustration. I started to piece the puzzle together. I began to realize that in the blink of an eye, I literally lost just about everything.

The actual physical recovery took very little time for me. I remember still having almost no strength in my arms or legs. Walking took some effort. Once I got myself motivated, I began to get the strength back in my legs. Within a few more weeks, I was walking to the lake and back. It would still exhaust me, because I was on so much high-dose medication at the time. I always seemed to be light-headed. The doctors regulated the prescriptions and I began to feel better. I was still very weak in most areas of my body. Over the summer of 2019, I began to feel more and more physically normal. In September, I began working again. The job didn't require a great deal of physical strain. I certainly did a lot of walking though. I pushed myself to work as many 12-hour days as I could. When I wasn't at work, I mowed the lawn at my parents house. When it snowed, I even shoveled the sidewalks. I honestly don't know where I found the strength to push myself. Perhaps it was an extreme instinct to get out of the place where I was so that I could get back to the place where I belong.

Even though my body was healing, my brain was still trying to recover. I mean that in a sense that, my mental faculties were still reeling from all that had happened to me. Some call it "post traumatic stress disorder." I don't know if that's what I actually had or maybe I am still dealing with it. I don't really know what constitutes someone having P.T.S.D. Whatever the fight was, I was in it completely on my own. I remember each day as sort of a movie that I was actually living. None of it ever seemed real to me. It was very much like a nightmare. I would go to bed, hoping that I would wake up and it would all be a terrible dream.

Time does not heal all wounds. Some scars just never heal, especially the ones you cannot see. I remember feeling angry, frustrated and confused. Luckily, I had a couple of people that I could turn to, to help support me emotionally. Unfortunately, there were others who chose to kick me when I was down. Maybe they simply didn't understand what I was going through, and it was easier for them to criticize, condemn and judge me. I've had to let all of those people go. It sucks that it has to be this way. I certainly didn't choose it. I didn't ask for this to happen to me.

So many questions still remain. Can forgiveness ever be a part of the healing? Will I ever be able to completely let go of the pain of so much loss? How will I feel about all of this, in another two years?

I think about so many things that have happened in the past two years. I think about those days in the hospital and how long I was there, and how very little I remember about any of it. I remember being in Wisconsin, freezing almost every day. I was never warm enough to be comfortable. I remember how much I absolutely hated being there and how much I wanted to leave and go back home to Florida. I remember working at the hospital, trying to convince myself that working 48 hours in four days each week, was the only way I was going to save enough money to get myself out of Racine and back home to Orlando. I remember laying in a bed in a very cold, damp basement bedroom, wondering how my life had dropped to such incredible depths of despair and loss. I was alive, but what was I supposed to learn from all that had happened to me?

It is so very true that desperation will make any human being do just about anything to survive. I found out what I am truly made of, way down deep in my soul. Yes, I had a lot of help in the process, but I learned that I am a real survivor, in every sense of the word. I don't think that most people ever get to experience the realization of their own mortality and the unknown inner strengths. So few ever get to find out what they are truly capable of, deep inside.

When I hear stories or talk with someone who has been in the hospital or has had their life dramatically changed forever, I can feel the pain they feel. I know that I feel a sense of new found wisdom and appreciation for the little things in life. I find myself watching the sunsets more often, taking more pictures, watching the clouds change into strange shapes. I can sense so much more now. When you've come close to death and you live, there comes a profound new type of knowledge that is impossible to define. It clarifies and enlightens everything.

If you are close with someone who has had a stroke and survived, you must learn to treat them with patience, kindness and understanding, and do so unconditionally. After a stroke, the brain, in all of its entire complication, is a slowly healing brain that has been through one of the worst types of change. A stroke survivor may heal physically on the outside, but it's the mental and emotional healing on the inside, that may take much longer.

A stroke survivor will feel anger, frustration, anxiety, fear, depression, and may even become emotional without ever knowing why. Some emotions may be intense reactions to the environment or people. Outbursts of crying for little or no reason, may happen occasionally. There may even be personality changes. You must learn to allow these people their time to heal and process their life after a stroke. It may take a few weeks, a few months or the rest of their life.

After two years of healing, I am more in tune with my mortality now, than I ever was before.

[callicalliope]

Okay so

I did not plan on writing this one, but I feel like I have to share it at this point.

I used to be in a relationship with a guy, let's call him Nathan.

We got together May 2019 after a trip to Budapest. Everything was picture perfect.

Now, I suffer from anxiety, and I was extremely worried of being abandoned as I have been before, but turns out it was not the case with this guy. He was sweet, charming, caring, and he obviously loved me very much.

I went to an other trip, also in Hungary, which he refused to participate in.

While I was there, Nathan's puppy got really sick, turns out she was born with a disease which I cannot explain in English. The puppy died while I was away. Nathan had an arguement with his best friend and cut off contact.

Now, Nathan was always a kind of weird guy. He never really had friends and was extremely antisocial. It was not a problem in itself of course. But when I got home from the trip a week later, I found him severely depressed. He only talked about negative things and often scared me. He told me he was unsure if he even loved me, which wrecked my heart, but I ignored everything and tried to help him the best I could. I did everything a 16 year old could have done in that situation. He refused to get helo, which worried me. He also had some physical problems, but he refused to see a doctor. All in all, he got better sometimes and went downhill again. His mood changed in 0.01 seconds. I ignored everything. I wanted to help him, I loved him. I also noticed that I was unable to bring him along when I was with my friends. When he did show up, he barely talked. It stressed me further, but in the end I let it go, because I knew how it felt. I only had those 3-4 people in my life and I had an extremely hard time making friends.

School started again, he was in his last year (Nathan is one year older than me). He is an extremely smart guy, but he refused to study. I was worried about him, because his parents were rich and he had everything, but that will not be the case forever.

I came over once to tell him that he needs to study and think about his future. He became extremely angry, told me to get out of the house and refused to talk to me. In the end, turns out he was going to break up with me because of this. Anyways, we did not part ways. I went to an exchange student program. When I got home, everything was fine for a few weeks.

There is a school tradition that every 11 grader goes to a trip to Budapest. I was preparing for the trip and asked Nathan to come with me to shop for food. We went by foot, and I accidentally missed a street so we had to walk for 5 more minutes. He became extremely mad and refused to talk to me. It was nighttime and extremely dark, but he turned around and started to walk away. I threw a tantrum and he told me he is breaking up with me. He called me awful names. Well, we talked for hours, turns out he felt like he was too sick for me. So we stayed together once more.

Things got better, and I started to blame myself for everything that happened in the past.

Nathan did not hide some of his awful traits anymore. He lives with his grandma, but he treats her like shit. He yells at him all the time. He also yells at his mother, and it gets physical sometimes. I became terrified of my own boyfriend.

The holidays passed and as Nathan began to show more and more of his true colours, I slowly began to develop some sort of panic disorder. I blamed it on my mother, I was scared of him.

Quarantine came, and I started to feel empty. Like I did not love him anymore. He was angry a lot, too, but I blamed it on the exams.

When the lockdown was lifted, he began to attend classes again. One time my mother allowed me to go to his place after singing class which I attended. Nathan told me to wait for him at his place, but I was anxious about being there alone, so I waited for him at the park. For 2 hours. He was extremely angry, he told me he expected to get home and find his loving girlfriend waiting for him in his bed. Well, he did not speak to me while we walked home, then he shut the door in my face. I had a panic attack, one of the worsts. I knew I could not go home because my mother would not let me meet him again. I stood there, terrified and begging him via texts to let me in because I'm sick, which he refused. I was in an awful state, but I managed to call my best friend and she came to the nearest park to calm me down. He soon forgave me and I did not talk about the accident again.

The summer was awful. He spent it arguing with me and hating on my friends. I tried to conceal everything, but my mom discovered some bits. She couldn't do much so she had to let it go.

It became harder and harder for me to fall asleep. One night I was feeling pretty decent and ready to actually rest, but he told me he needed a break right before bedtime. I was shattered.

Earlier he told me he did not like the fact that I was pansexual, because he felt like I was part of something he was not. So I told him I was no longer that.

He instantly regretted asking for a break and I once again felt pained and powerless.

He threw a tantrum via text during my mom's birthday, ruining my mood. Next day, when we were celebrating with friends and he attended too, he was mad that I did not greet him happily after the incident. He once again wanted to break up.

My mental health was circling down the drain by this point.

He hated my friends. He did not even try to hide it anymore. He even wanted me to drop them, but he was careful to not speak that out loud.

I invited him to another get together and he ruined the mood. He did not talk to anyone and accused me of degrading him when he thought I told something to my best friend. He was also offended by a joke: when my best friend said something about me being stupid in a joking way, my boyfriend agreed, once again joking, so I pretended to be mad and moved from him to her side. He was furious. He argued with me all the way home, calling me awful. He said he was only with me because he did not have other options.

He continued degrading my friends and me. He was also extremely jelaous. He also threw terrifying tantrums. I woke up once to him throwing a printer on the ground, slamming the table, screaming. He even broke a door once. All while perfectly aware that these things triggered my panic attacks. But this was not the worst.

TW: sexual abuse and self harm

After lockdown ended, I allowed him to tie my hands behind once. He became addicted and one day he showed me he purchased objects like a whip etc etc. I was scared, but I also knew he would be mad if I refused, so I instead set boundaries. Sometimes I had to be the dominant one, but most of the time it was him. I did not enjoy either.

On his birthday, he decided there were no boundaries. I do not like pain, I do not like to be hit, I do not like to be degraded, but I tolerated it. But that night was different.

He told me a safe word which was so ridiculous I knew it would ruin his mood, causing him to hurt me more. That night will haunt me.

It gets blurry, but I remember being put against the window, no one could see us, but I saw a car and a man in it. I wanted to scream down for help. I remember crying the whole fuckin time, asking him to stop. I remember collapsing and him getting mad at me for it. I remember nearly breaking my leg. I remember him pulling my short hair behind so much he nearly broke my neck. I remember me finally refusing something and him getting mad, telling me to take over, which I could not, because I was horrified. I remember him getting mad and telling me I ruined his birthday. I remember the pain, the humiliation, the disbelief that this happened to me.

And I hid it. I did not tell anyone. I harmed myself, I had panic attacks, I had anxiety, but I did not tell. He did not have anyone in his life, just me.

In early december, he called me a degenerate bitch, a slut, he said he hopes I'll die. Because I, someone interested in history, told him an other perspective. By this time he became alarmingly anti-woman, anti-anyone who disagreed with him and so much more. I did not dare to tell him when I went out with friends. He was obsessed with being right, and he was suffocating. So he degraded me to this level, and I stormed over, dropped his stuff and broke up with him. He came over and began begging me to take him back. I agreed. I was scared. I was also having a panic attack because my mom thought he might do something to himself.

I fell in love with my classmate in the meantime. It was nothing serious, but being with him comforted me. I knew we could never be together, but I clang onto the feeling and pulled myself together. Three days later he called me names once more for refusing to allow him to call my best friends sluts. I broke up with him again. My mother told me I won't be able to break away from him this way. I decided to change tactics. I reconciled with him and decided to distance myself instead. One thing Nathan is good at is manipulating people.

My birthday was coming up. I celebrated with my family earlier. As I was cleaning the house, my boyfriend texted me. He told me he almost killed his mom. Because of a stupid arguement about cookies. I was horrified. When family came over, I called my aunt to come with me to my room and I I told her everything. She was in an abusive marriage before. She only told me to run. With this courage, I told my father and my uncle (who is like a second father to me). My father was diabolical, nearly crying. I had to block Nathan on every platform. My father told him to never be around me again. So he started harassing me. The night before my birthday he started pulling up the shades, leaving messages that he would come back an hour later. My father threatened him. After my birthday, his mom called us and begged me to visit Nathan. She wanted to get me to go to couple therapy with him. I am only 18. 18.

We had to go there because he began to cut his arms. It was a horrifying sight. But he did not have any serious injuries.

He wanted to coerce me into resuming the relationship 2 months later, saying he would get help. I knew he was not taking his meds. I knew he was lying. And I left. Now, I cannot walk the streets alone.

On New Year's Eve, I got together with another man. I love him. So far, he makes me feel like a real person, a valid person, and I never felt safer than around him. He makes me happy and I feel like crying whenever I think about the fact that this nightmare is over and I can still be loved. It's hard to heal and he understands. And I am truly happy.

Solid advice: do not stay. You are not your lover's psychologist. You help them, you are there for them, but in the end, it is up to them to grow. Have power to let go. Do not let them manipulate you like Nathan manipulated me. And never be afraid to get help, to talk about it.

[spooky1980]

@vodka-and-some-sass they do calm me too. You see it most with Tom when he's doing the more spontaneous stuff where he's able to talk more freely. When he's on stage you don't see it because his minds totally on the job, he's not worrying about the audience as such. So essentially when he's acting his mind is completely focused on everything else.

But yeah I've heard Tom saying that he has a fear of mass hysteria, so it could possibly be an outward sign of his anxiety of the volume of people around who he has no control over how they're going to react.

With me mine is also ramped up by the amount of people around, as my anxiety disorder is stressed induced and it stems from when I was working retail and ended up having two mental breakdowns. But as I was repeatedly a solo cashier I often had big crowds of people around me and it felt very much like it was closing in on me. The first time it happened I honestly thought I was having a heart attack, the pains in the chest, the feeling nauseated the hot flush, feeling light headed etc. Mine didn't help with me not being believed by my bosses. It got so bad I couldn't leave the house, I couldn't go out without someone with me. In the end after 2 breakdowns several years apart as I made it back the first time, with the promise that things would be better, I'd have therapy and it would all be OK. But yeah it lasted all of about 3 years ish. I ended up back in therapy again and I was forced for my mental health to give up my job.

Then when I thought I'd got it all under control and got a new job a few years later, it happened again, and again I had to leave for my health. This one was worse because they made up shit about my personal life, which wasn't true. I couldn't even go near the building.

I have had therapy, I'm on medication both for the day and the night and have been on it on and off for the past 11/12 years. Now I'm much better than I was, but a supermarket at Christmas, a crowded train or bus, ramps my anxiety levels up.

I don’t think anyone is feeling sorry for you.