#and i called out of work because of how I'm feeling from my diagnosis and that's what i ranted to my girlfriend about

[uwuthomasuwu]

I think I've fucked up

[this-is-exorsexism]

i'm seeing a rise right now of binary trans people saying how nonbinary oppression is very different from trans oppression. spoiler: they don't mean the fact that we experience exorsexism and they don't.

every time in the last few days i've seen this the phrasing has already been deeply exorsexist. "nonbinary vs trans", as if most nonbinary people aren't trans themselves. it's also always "nonbinary = not medically transitioning" and "not medically transitioning = less oppressed", which is not how any of this works. they also seem to think that all medical transition is visible from the outside. it's not. i want a hysterectomy one day. it's medical transition. you can't see it from the outside. firstly, why are you assuming nonbinary people who medically transition don't exist? are you just acting like they're trans men and women? is your distinction between "trans" and "nonbinary" that trans people medically transition while nonbinary people don't? fuck your truscum ass. the amount of scrutiny, discomfort, harassment, violence you face also isn't fully related to whether you medically transition or not. i've been asked invasive questions about my genitals ever since i hit puberty. even fellow transgender people have weird ways of trying to figure out what my "real gender" is, i.e. what my genitals are but you all aren't ready for that conversation. i've been harassed in public bathrooms. i've faced dismissal of my actual problem from doctors due to my gender. people call me he and she in mostly equal amounts. none of this lines up with their narrative of the non-medically transitioning nonbinary person who is always perceived as one binary gender (and that gender is usually female because everyone thinks we're women lite). what i don't (currently) have to deal with is getting a gender dysphoria diagnosis, fight for gender-affirming medical care, worry about my prescription being taken away. this isn't exclusive to nonbinary people though. there are binary trans people who don't medically transition, too, but i guess according to this idea soaked in transmedicalism, these people don't exist, or you're just misgendering them as nonbinary.

a lot of binary transgender people treat us the way cisgender people treat them. many seem to feel threatened that us weirdos who won't choose a side have quite a lot in common with them, actually.

when nonbinary people talk about exorsexist oppression, we're either straight up told to shut up or not listened to at all. we're told we're being divisive by talking about our own experiences (and we have to, because again, research doesn't really include us), when the people doing the dividing are binary trans people going "we have nothing in common with those people", treating us like we cannot be trans etc. it's a tale as old as time: the more privileged people within a group separating themselves from the less "respectable"/more marginalised people within the group and then accusing them of being divisive.

i'm sick and tired of binary transgender people theorising about what it's like being nonbinary. we're not hypotheticals. we're not thought experiments. we're real human beings you can listen to.

yes, our experiences are a bit different. but not because nonbinary people are less oppressed. because nonbinary people experience an extra layer of oppression that binary trans people don't: exorsexism.

[16wolke11]

Clumsy - Oscar Piastri

A/N My first one-shot here! Still figuring out the tagging and stuff, but I hope you like it.

Summary: Oscar's girlfriend is extremely clumsy, always managing to get a new bruise or a new cut just a few days apart. One day she falls down the stairs and needs surgery, Oscar drops everything to be with her.

Words: 2139

__________

Being a teacher at an elementary school was always my dream job, and after finishing my master's degree, I am finally able to do what I love; teaching the young ones and laying the first stones on their path to knowledge. Even though it is difficult at times, to manage the fidgeting children who tend to get distracted easily, it's still what I love. Seeing success when another one manages to read a full sentence, solve a math problem, or write a rather difficult word with the correct spelling is priceless.

But being a teacher also means I'm not able to accompany Oscar that often. It's just not ideal to travel over the weekend; landing late on Fridays and having to leave exactly after the race, while also trying to prepare the classes for the upcoming week and maybe even needing to correct work from the previous one. I love summer break because it means I can be with Oscar more often, but in the meantime, we make the best out of the situation. We FaceTime frequently, chat while the other is occupied, and just savour the time we can spend together.

This week is another one when Oscar left for a race, and I have to stay behind. Luckily, I have a short day at school today, allowing me to go before lunch and finish some things. Well, if it weren't for my clumsy self. Oscar always jokes that I get at least five new bruises while he's away, and he's probably right, but I can't do anything about the stumbling, the brushing against door frames, or knocking my little toe into anything. But today, my bad luck took it one step too far, and I slipped on the stairs at school, hitting my elbow on them and feeling a sharp pain shoot down my arm.

I've fallen down these stairs before, but I've never been in so much pain. One of my coworkers found me, and after a quick look at my already bruising elbow, we decided to call an ambulance. Now, hours later, I have a diagnosis and finally some time to tell Oscar what happened. I already have a few texts from him, nothing too worried, just some updates about his day and a question about how mine is going. With a sigh, I call his number, bracing myself to tell him everything while not even being able to fidget with my fingers for distraction.

It doesn't take long before Oscar picks up like he's been waiting in front of his phone just anticipating my call or text. "Hey, Oscar," I greet him and hear some shuffling in the background before a door closes and Oscar speaks up.

"Love, everything okay? Shouldn't you be at work?" he asks, his voice already laced with worry. I close my eyes for a moment. Oscar didn't even know I was supposed to be out of work early today and just assumes I should still be at school teaching or supervising the little gremlins.

"Please don't freak out," I start, and I hear a nervous chuckle in response.

"This is not a great starting point for that request, but I'll try."

He's right, but I don't even know how to phrase what happened easily, so I just start with the simplest explanation I can think of. "Well, I kind of fell down the stairs after finishing my last class."

"Again?" Oscar laughs, and I can't help but smile a little too, though I roll my eyes at the same time, even though Oscar can't see me.

"Hey, I can't do anything about being clumsy," I protest, but I only get another laugh in return. Usually, I would laugh with him, but the light throbbing in my elbow, down to my fingers, stops the light mood I'm in.

"Sorry, but I reckon you don't just call to tell me that," Oscar apologizes softly, and then he gets back to the reason for my call. I take a deep breath, preparing myself for all the questions he's going to have.

"No, I might've smashed my elbow pretty badly, and they brought me to the hospital." I tell him the first facts, and immediately the laughing Oscar is replaced with a worried one.

"That bad?" he asks, and I can almost hear the pain in his voice. As much as he likes to joke about my clumsiness, he also hates it when I get injured, even if it's just a little bruise or a cut.

"Unfortunately, I managed to break it and need surgery to fix the broken pieces back into place. It'll be a long recovery because I was pretty successful in splintering the bone into pieces," I tell him what the doctors explained, just in the simpler version. They explained a lot about how they need to make sure there are no little bone fragments left in the joint and the recovery process I'll have to go through.

"Fuck!" Oscar curses, and I can hear him pacing, probably in his driver's room. I can only imagine the distressed look on his face and how he's probably ruffling his hair while a thousand thoughts swirling through his head. Well, at least he's giving me an insight into what's going on in his mind, because he starts rambling.

"How are you feeling? Are you okay? Do you need anything? I could send Margaret over or someone else if you need anyone by your side right now. Did they say anything about the recovery? Will your arm be able to move normally or will there be any lasting damage?"

"Oscar, stop." I manage to speak up when he takes a deep breath. It's sweet how he's trying to help me from afar, even thinking about sending our elderly neighbour to me, but I need him to calm down.

"Sorry, kind of freaking out right now," he mutters, and I smile just a little bit.

"I could tell." I still remember the first time Oscar rambled that much and how surprised I was by the speed and number of words coming out of his mouth. Usually, he's calm, collected, and limits his words to the necessary ones, but when he's really worried, everything just comes out.

"Don't worry, I don't need anything right now. Just hearing your voice makes everything feel better," I tell him, which is the truth. There's nothing I need right now, except for him, and he just helps me by being here on the phone, even though it's not the same as having him in person.

"That's good," Oscar says, and I can hear that he's stopped pacing, probably calming down a little.

"Is there anything you know about the surgery?" he asks after a short break, now sounding like his calm self again.

"We're currently waiting for a free spot in the OR. It's not urgent, but they'd like to operate before the swelling gets too bad, and luckily, I haven't had lunch yet," I explain what the doctors told me. This isn't an emergency, but waiting too long isn't ideal either, so they're going to squeeze me in as soon as one of the ORs is available.

"I bet you're hungry," Oscar grins, and I can hear it in his voice. I've learned to recognize that tone through the phone—the soft change when his lips are curled upwards.

"Starving," I confirm with a soft laugh. My stomach is already growling, but there's no way to get food until after the surgery. I can wait if it means my elbow will be fixed.

"I promise you your favourite food as soon as I'm with you," Oscar says, and I know he's not lying. He would probably even order food into the hospital for me if that were possible, but they wouldn't bring it to me, so I'll have to wait.

"Looking forward to it. Hopefully, I'll be home by then," I mumble, knowing it will take some days until Oscar will be back home, and who knows, maybe they'll send me home just a few days after the surgery.

"We'll see," are Oscar's last words about my injury before we start talking a bit about his day. I get the feeling he's trying to distract me, and it's working perfectly. At one point, Oscar needs to leave for some duties, and luckily for me, a nice nurse comes in just a few minutes later to inform me that my surgery is starting soon.

The way to the OR and the prepping feels like a blur, and quicker than I thought, I'm with an anaesthesiologist. Drifting into sleep feels like a relief because I know my arm will be fixed. Of course, recovery will take its time, but I'm sure I'll manage it just fine.

Waking up after the surgery almost knocks the air out of my lungs because it feels like my arm is falling off. The nurse helps me take a few sips of water, gives me some painkillers, and then I drift back into sleep, even though I just woke up from a deep slumber.

The night is blurry, waking up from time to time—sometimes from the pain in general, sometimes from the nurses, and sometimes from the pain of a sudden movement. But somehow, I make it through the night and feel slightly better in the morning. Blinking, I try to figure out what time it might be when I spot a familiar figure sitting beside my bed, watching me closely.

"Os?" I ask groggily, not sure if he's really sitting there or if the pain meds are playing tricks on my mind. But just seeing the soft smile on his lips makes me hope that he's really there and not just in my imagination.

"Hi, love," he whispers, fingers reaching for my uninjured hand, softly holding onto it, letting me feel the warmth of his touch.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, slowly realizing that he's indeed here and not with his team for the race weekend.

"Being here for you," he simply states, like it's obvious that it wouldn't even be a question for him if he had to choose where to be right now.

"Your race..." I whisper, knowing how important it is, not only to him but to the fans, the championship, the team, and everyone else involved. I would like to ask him if he's insane, if they made it hard for him to leave, but no words leave my lips.

"You are more important," Oscar states, and my eyes well up. How can he be so perfect?

"Thank you," I try to squeeze his hand a bit, but my grip is pretty weak. Oscar starts letting his thumb brush over the back of my hand, and I relax under his touch. His eyes wander over me before he asks a question.

"How are you feeling? Is the pain manageable?"

My eyes linger on my heavily padded elbow for a moment. Right now, I don't feel anything but a dull pain. But it seems like Oscar's touch makes it disappear with every soft stroke of his finger on my skin.

"You make everything seem better just by being here," I state, my voice laced with tiredness, and Oscar smiles softly.

"So, I guess they gave you some nice painkillers," he grins. I can hear it in his voice, and I can feel my lips pulling into a crooked smile.

"Yes."

We look at each other for a moment, but my eyes are getting heavier and heavier, and I have to fight to keep them open for a few more minutes.

"Can you come in?" I ask Oscar, who looks conflicted at my question.

"I don't know," he says, gesturing to my body, indicating he's scared of hurting me in any way, but I just need him close now for recovery.

"Please."

Oscar sighs softly before standing up. "Okay, anything to make you feel better," he says, gets rid of his shoes, and carefully shuffles into the bed beside me. I need to stay on my back because of my elbow being propped up in some bedding, and he lays on his side beside my good arm, resting his arm over my belly and searching for the contact I need. I rest my head against his chest before a thought comes into my head.

"Did you bring the food?" I ask, remembering what he promised, and even though my mind is hazy, I realize he probably already knew he was coming home early when he promised me the food.

"Yes," Oscar confirms, and I can only hum the following words, close to falling asleep.

"Love you."

"Love you too, my little crash pilot," Oscar whispers, holding me in his arms while I slip into the sleep of recovery.

[olderthannetfic]

Hi OTNF and everyone,

I am finding that it's harder and harder and harder to get into anything - book, show, movie... most things seem, you know, to just not be doing it for me, be it fanfic or original stuff.

In part, I think, it's a general restlessness and that it's become harder to give anything enough time to get into the stories, the characters, the settings, the narrative voices... I guess you can call it attention deficit on my part, just a need for stories to deliver those sweet, sweet hits quickly, but they're not.

I'm not currently ficcing but I did for years (might again in the future, who knows), and it's made reading, specifically, harder. It's like I've become more aware of what goes on behind the scene, I guess? I feel like I can see the writer giving up on a sentence, skipping a scene because fuck this, trying hard to not repeat a word although it's the only one that fits, etc.

Or maybe it's just the *everything* around us in the world that is weighing on me too much? I could say it's adult life, but then again I have more free time than most (and boy do I need hours of doing nothing to survive the other hours), and no family/partner (all that would put even more pressure on me): what is wrong, to make everything so UGHHH?

I feel like I'm stuck in a rut with a brain moaning feed me, feeeed me, and whatever I try to give it, it spits everything out. (Yes, I've tried hobbies, and nothing sticks there either. I've never really found rewards or satisfaction there, so...)

Decades ago as a kid, I was a voracious reader, although studying literature took the pleasure of it away from me. It took time and discovering fanfic that brought me back to reading, but at the time the internet was starting to be a thing, too, and it can't have helped the attention thing. AFAIK I'm not ADHD but then again, I couldn't get a proper diagnosis (the therapists I saw were either dismissive or just about The Talking, which was pointless for me).

I just wonder how it all disappeared, you know? Sometimes I find something that catches my attention for a while - a book (but I read quite quickly when motivated), a fandom... but it's been a while now, and it's just so frustrating! When is it going to come back? Will it ever? *gulp*

I know that books were escapism when I was a child, and then fandom was escapism, but at the moment I find myself grabbing at air and my empty hands are mocking me. Give me my escapism baaaaack!

So, uh. Anyone here with me?

--

Yes.

I felt like that during part of lockdown. Anhedonia is common in those kinds of circumstances.

Getting your mojo back is certainly possible, but you may need to go see a professional about depression and have some chemical assistance (yes, even if you don't feel sad per se), or you may need to change your lifestyle to one that doesn't have the thing causing you to need eleventy billion hours of downtime.

Aside from serious interventions like that, you can consider a social media detox. Remove every source of doomscrolling and time wasting of that type. When the attention span is zero and nothing brings joy, the tiny and useless hits from finishing a game of solitaire or seeing one more instagram post become very attractive. This is a trap. It will suck what little energy and joy you have and make your muscles flabby for the work of getting into an in-depth book/hobby/experience.

I know the feeling of being able to see how the sausage is made, but... well... first, being in a better mental state will make that matter less, and second, reading prose that is more competent will make that less of an issue. A lot of mainstream tradpub genre fiction is not, in my opinion, very well written these days. Obviously, people are still enjoying it, and that's fine, but if you're noticing writers fumbling around, it might be time to check out some literary fiction or some other category known more for prose quality than anything else.

It's also important to have some structure and some things to look forward to. Even if you feel tired, overwhelmed, and busy, sometimes, the answer is to do more... But it must be things that are distinct and significant and that get you off of the couch, like going to one museum every weekend.

I saw some advice once about this kind of thing that phrased it as "One big adventure; one small adventure."

Every week, you should have those two things to look forward to that matter. Check out a new coffee shop. That could be the small one. Go to an event: a gallery opening, a concert, whatever.

Physical exercise and doing some things that aren't as verbal and conscious thought-involving is important too. Painting is a better hobby for zoning out than writing is. Taking long walks in nature is good for most people.

--

The kind of intense, obsessive love I had for reading as a child and that I sometimes have for fandom requires a lot of attention and some time. It's escapist, but that masks how much work it actually was. It didn't feel like work only because we were in training.

If you've filled your brain and your day up with a thousand petty annoyances or minor and useless attempts to feel something, you won't have the capacity for those deeper things.

Because you are already at a point that's equivalent to a bad sprained ankle, trying to get back to running right now won't work. You have to stay off of the ankle for a bit, then build your strength and stamina back up.

[vulcanvampyr]

'the newsreader' season 3 and bpd rep

note: major spoilers ahead. trigger warning for mentions of self-harm, suicide, and substance abuse.

you don't see a lot of fictional characters with canonical bpd diagnoses in media. the illness is usually ascribed to one-off villains in crime dramas, or in the case of movies like girl, interrupted (1999), largely romanticized. a recent exception was rebecca bunch from the tv series crazy ex-girlfriend (2015-2019), who embarks on a profound journey from diagnosis through treatment and healing amidst the show's musical backdrop.

when i started watching the newsreader last year, i picked up on a lot of borderline traits in helen norville. i related to her mood swings, her protective measures to prevent abandonment, and her difficulty identifying, describing, or regulating her feelings. from there i sort of decided in my head that she had bpd, without the canon confirmation. this is nothing new for me--as someone with the disorder, i'm always quick to catch these traits and run with them, since i rarely see canonical representation of the illness. over the years, i've "headcanoned" fictional characters like david rose, ed teach, and bojack horseman with bpd, among others.

-

when helen starts seeing a therapist in the first half of the newsreader's final season, the therapist, marcia, recommends that helen take in her surroundings and employ breath work during times of stress. i clocked this right away as a mindfulness DBT (dialectical behavioral therapy) skill, but figured given the show's 1989 setting, they probably wouldn't "go there."

but sure enough, i watched helen go to the library, look up her therapist's treatment methods. i saw her burst into marcia's office talking about how the disease is incurable: "it's for manipulative, vindictive, narcissistic, promiscuous, hysterical people. and apparently there's no fսcking treatment for it" (3x03). but DBT is an experimental new treatment, marcia says, and it's been met with much success thus far. finally, she says aloud what i'd been thinking: helen meets the criteria for bpd.

helen storms out of the room, tries to escape her reality with alcohol and valium. she's sent out of the newsroom and isolates herself at home. i watched all this unfold onscreen in disbelief, an uneasy lump settling somewhere deep in my stomach because as surprised as i was to see the words--borderline personality disorder--utttered onscreen, i understood, painfully, what helen was going through.

i was diagnosed with borderline in 2018. by that time, i had been exhibiting self-harm behaviors on-and-off since about 2014. i went through periods of extreme, bone-crushing sadness followed by numbness. i oscillated between flippant communications and desperate pleas for validation with those close to me. several textbook characteristics for borderline.

my therapist told me, "don't look it up online," but of course i did, ducking into the office restroom after our session for an immediate google search. i was inundated with exactly the material helen must've seen, if in a different format: bpd is the hardest mental health disorder to treat; many therapists won't even treat folks with bpd; people with bpd are statistically more likely to attempt suicide. there were online listings for a book frustratingly, reductively called i hate you, don't leave me, the only major popularized work on the illness.

these are all things i read on a first-page search many years after the setting of the newsreader. fortunately, a quick search in 2025 looks different, featuring many landing pages on psychiatry websites focused on debunking myths about the illness.

but in 2018, at the age of twenty-five, i thought: this is it for me. it's all fallen into place. i'm broken, i'm broken, i can't be fixed.

-

when helen's former-lover-always-best-friend dale jennings comes to check on helen later on in the episode, what plays out is one of the most beautiful, raw, and validating scenes for someone with the illness to witness.

we watch helen go through the intense back-and-forth of processing her feelings in real time:

i've been seeing this woman, this, um, this therapist, dale, and she's been really good. she's been really good. she's given me, like, all of these kind of, um, ways to...to handle, um, stuff. and then today she said, um, that i... that... that i just am fսckеd. [...] and it's not like, um...like a, um...it's not like i'm sick. it's just my personality. [sobs]

... blaming dale ...

she said it's a personality disorder, and it's...and it's true, you know? it's just true. and...and, i mean, you must have seen it. [...] why wouldn't you say? you're the only person who's ever told me the truth, why wouldn't you tell me? why wouldn't you tell me?

... and then blaming herself.

i could have done something about it. i could have fixed it. i could have done something about it. and now there's no one! [...] i even fucked up with you, my fucking family, and now my fucking job.

i can't overstate the sheer vulnerability displayed by anna torv in this scene. it's a highly realistic portrayal of an initial reaction to getting this diagnosis. there's the instinct to prescribe yourself with inherent wrongness, to cast a cloud of villainy over your whole life to this point.

it's dale's response that seals the deal for me in terms of marking this an effective, empathetic portrayal of bpd onscreen.

"it's called borderline personality disorder, apparently," helen says, "did you see that?" in other words: did you see that in me? and if so, why are you still here?

dale just looks at her and says, "all i see is you."

to hear a character say that to a person with a confirmed bpd diagnosis is frankly revolutionary for television, even in media's generally progressive view of mental illness today. dale sees helen for all she is and still loves her. with the stigma that still exists around bpd, i don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say that many folks with bpd would give anything to hear those words.

"all i see is you," dale says, "and i don't think it makes a difference. do you feel different?"

and what a question. this brings things into perspective for helen, and perhaps even for the viewer. this diagnosis doesn't change anything about what came before, or who helen is as a person--namely an inspiring, hardworking journalist and a loyal partner and friend. now she just has a name for the strong emotions that color her world. and with that name comes the power to learn, to grasp, to move forward and heal.

in the months following my diagnosis, as i started working on DBT individually and in a group setting, i slowly began to accept this part of myself. i called it by name, and i told it to the world. it reframes a lot of my behavior, past and present. it's helped me put terms to my emotions and how to handle them. and yet it's not all of me.

so, after the diagnosis, do you feel different? helen's answer is mine, too:

"no," she replies after a bout of surprised laughter, "i fucking don't."

-

after her diagnosis, it's clear helen doesn't take to therapy or DBT right away. she's suspicious, stubborn, and in denial about her path forward.

in 3x04, helen challenges marcia in any way she can, saying her fast-paced career doesn't allow for skill work, and summing up the study of DBT skills as "infantile checklists." marcia stands her professional ground, though: "if there were a pill that treated borderline, you would have it, but there isn't. this therapy requires your full engagement. you know what the alternative is." by the end of the scene, helen reluctantly begins trying again to work with her therapist, ranking different DBT skills and their effectiveness in her day to day.

again, i'm struck by the realism in this portrayal. the show references actual DBT skills with care and detail, despite the newness of the method in 1989. there are four major modules--mindfulness, emotion regulation, distress tolerance, and interpersonal effectiveness--and within them myriad terms and exercises pioneered by psychologist marsha m. linehan. several are referenced throughout the season.

helen's resistance is palpable--DBT makes up a whole book, and i can't say i was thrilled embarking on the journey myself. at first, a lot of it did seem trite--splashing my face with cold water, or practicing box breathing in a room full of people.

but what i had to realize for myself--and what helen does, too--is that these skills are an ongoing practice.

later in the episode, helen calls her therapist in distress after an encounter that brings her face-to-face with the uncomfortable reality of racism in australia and her innate privilege. "this therapy is not about denying your feelings," marcia reminds her, "it's about bringing you to a frame of mind where you can better navigate the situation. and right now, you need a distress tolerance skill, so pick one."

sure enough, we see helen doing laps up and down the stairs--employing the TIPP skill to bring her back to baseline. this is one of the many things i love about the newsreader's handling of bpd: it shows the borderline character doing the work. you don't "graduate" from DBT. i've gone through two group rounds myself, and have worked since my diagnosis with various therapists on individual practice. and still, over 6 years later, oftentimes the skills i need the most aren't readily at hand in high-stress moments. i'll never be done doing this, and that's kind of the point.

-

helen's story arc comes to a head in 3x05, when the press reveals details of her stay at a mental institution as a young woman. helen not-normal, the headline says. helen spirals--this could be the end of her career. she panics, begging for it to be retracted. this loops back to the denial of her condition, her emotions, her very self that plagued her for two seasons (and presumably far before). but this time, her therapy work grounds her:

marcia: helen, what can you control? what can you always control? helen: my reactions. marcia: you control what you do next. and what you do next tells everyone who you are.

so helen uses her journalistic platform to talk about mental health. she goes live on her show public eye with a social worker and former psychiatric nurse, who was institutionalized herself and thus became passionate about revamping the mental health industry: "if community were more accepting of people with mental illness, that would make the biggest difference." facing the camera, helen responds:

having experienced anxiety and depression myself, i do believe that...that it is the shame and the isolation that makes it so unbearable. and perhaps if we could change the way that we view and discuss mental health issues, it might seem less impossible to overcome.

this is just the start of helen's self-acceptance journey--and audiences receive it overwhelmingly positively. public eye is inundated with calls after the show. helen even reconciles with her sister, after years of little contact.

helen's choice to be authentically herself, live on air--marrying her public persona with the very real person behind it--is so important for folks with bpd to see onscreen.

-

the sixth episode and series finale, "the fall," positions helen further getting a handle on emotion regulation. in an explosive confrontation between her and her co-executive producer, bill, helen takes a deep breath in response to his slew of insults. she responds to him calmly, setting a boundary:

i don't want to do this with you anymore. i really tried to protect your feelings. i mean, i blamed myself. i blamed your marriage. i blamed our working relationship. but i'm not going to be punished because I didn't want to fսck you.

later, in front of a group of largely male network executives, she sets her terms for the show going forward, delivering an ultimatum. the network pushes back on her terms, saying, "you do not get to control this." but, oh, she does. in establishing understanding and control of her emotions and her reactions, helen is able to fully harness her power as the queen of australian news.

in the end, helen ends up running public eye alongside her trusted co-producer, noelene, with dale serving as the show's international reporter. she's become herself, owned herself and her illness, and is still a wildly successful newsreader and journalist--not despite her bpd and the work she's doing to manage it, but partly because of all that too. because she knows herself, and unabashedly, she lets the world know this part of her, too--if not in name, then in her continuing to move forward with the candor around her experience with depression and anxiety.

i chatted with my therapist about helen's season 3 storyline. i'm still processing what i watched, and i wanted to reflect aloud about why that was. i had a really visceral reaction to helen's story that i'm still moving through, and one i wasn't expecting. and i think it's because this sensitive, realistic, honest portrayal of bpd and treatment and recovery resonated with my journey. seven years out from my diagnosis, sometimes the behaviors and cries for help i exhibited in my early to mid-twenties feel far away. is that really the "person" i was? was the diagnosis accurate? i realized it had to have been, for this season to have pulled at me so strongly.

and i remembered this is just one facet of who i am, and i've worked hard to learn how to manage it. my symptoms may look different now, less severe--but it doesn't change what happened to me, what i've been through, what i did at my borderline "height"--and the work i've done and continue to do. there's no "cure"--but there is recovery (not linear--no healing ever is). it's so clear in the show's final moments that helen is on her way there, too.

having the opportunity to see what i've experienced mirrored back at me through a beloved fictional character, as well as to reflect on how far i've come, is something i've not really experienced until now. i'm impressed with how the writers handled this aspect of the season, and i want to continue moving through how it resonated for me, and i'm sure for so many others.

helen, thank you.

i am so proud of you. (and i'm proud of me too.)

[doin-just-fine]

MAJOR UPDATE: Questioning systems or systems in a doubt spiral pls read.

I recently told my therapist about potentially being a system. This was a scary move because she has previously had some iffy takes about systemhood. But I told her because I trusted that she would meet me where I was at and help me navigate , at the least, the general idea of not understanding my own brain if nothing else which I was ok with. I told her and it went as expected. I explained why I thought I might be a system but also the doubts I had about it and how it was distressing me to not understand myself. She agreed to use the language I was using for it and was happy to help me through (as is her job) and also because whether it was systemhood or not it was something in me that was trying to be seen and we would work on figuring out what it was.

Fast forward a few session, and I was going through another bout of "what the fuck even is my brain". I was starting to realize that my "systemhood" is very different from the things I've been seeing online. In the ways that it's different to other systems is: - I'm always in the front, always in the captains chair - I have no amnesia because I never switch out - My hyper-vigilance never lets me dissociate fully though i definitely "check out" in my own way - Head mates just feel like vague ideas or emotions

But the ways that are similar are: - These vague ideas or emotions have opinions and feelings that are different from my own. - Though they are vague, I can definitely tell they are separate from what I have come to understand as "me" - I become "a different person" in the sense of my attitude, vibe, behavior, and opinions change from where they were 5 mins ago, but I am still me, just a different me.

Anyway, I was already trying to make sense of all of this and was not planning on talking about it with my therapist because nervous... However, my therapist ask me about it first. She asked some clarifying questions about my partners system vs my own and how they are different. When I explained what I just wrote above to my therapist she said "Thats what I thought and I owe you an apology."

Basically, my therapist, like any good therapist should when confronted by something they don't know a lot about, had been doing research on complex forms of trauma and coping. Things in the same vain as CPTSD and Plurality including those two topics. She had specifically been reading a book called "The Body Keeps The Score" (TW it is a book about trauma and studies of trauma so it has details of case studies that some people may find incredibly triggering). I did some research on what exactly the book was talking about in regards to "systemhood" and from what I've found, chapter 14 at the end of a section called "Writing to yourself" and the first parts of chapter 17 have interesting information regarding systemhood and how its not entirely limited to things that are diagnosable like DID or OSDD. It seems to talk about how we all have several selves and trauma can get in the way of those selves communicating effectively. My therapist told me about this book and what she learned from it and apologized to me because the book made her realize that she was wrong and that I was in fact a system....

The session ended and I just kind of sat there... not sure how to feel but definitely feeling relief and validation.

After doing research on the book to write this I have some words of wisdom. If you are a questioning system or are doubting your validity remember this: The human brain is so incredibly complex and no one actually understands how it does anything beyond its basic physical functionality... the conceptual abilities of our mind are a mystery. How we define self is just theory. If you don't fit into boxes, labels, identities, or diagnoses that does not mean your experiences aren't real. You are going to be ok. Understand YOUR mind and how it works for YOU, not through a label or diagnosis. If those things come later, great! Do not let them destroy you just because you don’t fit perfectly. I am a system. Simply. No types, labels, or diagnosis. I am a system. I have a unique experience because my brain is no one elses. I am a system. I may not have people in my head in the traditional sense but I'm also not alone up here either. I am a system. I am a system. I am a system. Nobody has the right to deny me this for they do not live behind my eyes.

As I understand myself: I am a system.

[copperbadge]

Hi Sam! I wanted to ask if you feel lately like you've been getting anything positive out of your therapy, because a lot of your initial thoughts about it kind of mirror mine. I'm very logical (except when I'm upset at myself) and very skeptical, so I feel like a therapist either isn't going to tell me anything new, or that I'm going to just disregard it because I can't trick myself into believing things that I just plain don't believe.

But I'm also starting to come to a realization, two years after my ADHD diagnosis and letting go (without therapy!) of most of the executive dysfunction-fueled self worth issues I was having, that I'm kind of Not Okay in other ways. I'm safe —going to work every day and doing my job so I won't lose my livelihood and have never had a self harm urge in my life— But I'm not really okay. I'm having major self esteem issues related to my personality separate from the executive dysfunction that are putting me in a bad place. I don't want to take antidepressants for reasons I won't go into but that means my other option is therapy and... I don't know if I'm a person that therapy will actually work on. I found a lot of validation in some of your perspectives, about affirmations being bullshit and "mindfulness" exercises feeling impossible and useless, about not having an inner monologue and how that might be causing issues with traditional methods. So I was just wondering, do you feel like therapy is working now that you've been in it longer?

I've wasted a lot of money on "elective" (and ultimately useless, back to square one) medical nonsense this year and I'm not eager to waste more, but I've also met my insurance deductible so it's the best time to try it if I'm going to.

I mean, it depends on the modality a little but I don't think trying basic talk therapy can hurt, as long as you find a decent therapist. And it's better to try it now when you're feeling Mostly Okay than waiting until you are Really Not Okay. But this entire paragraph comes with a lot of context so....

A lot of what I talked about in terms of struggling with mindfulness, etc. was less related to the therapy I am still in than it was to the DBT class I took at Therapist's suggestion. We were both aware that she was basically throwing stuff at the wall to see what stuck, and while it was an interesting class I don't think for me it was helpful. As you mention, I struggled with affirmations and visualization since neurologically I'm not really set up for those; I don't think they're objectively bullshit but I do think there's an assumption within the mental health industry that they will have function for everyone and that's simply untrue, and the expectation that it will is very damaging. I also struggled with the physical-intervention aspects (called TIPP usually) which didn't work at all for me and felt frankly like doctor-approved self harm. DBT can get very culty, which set off a ton of red flags for me -- possibly false flags, but they still waved real big.

And that's because I also have a lot of trust issues surrounding therapy. To the point where, the minute one of the people running the DBT class made actually quite gentle fun of me for asking a question he couldn't answer, I checked out on anything he said. We were learning about a DBT concept called Wise Mind and I asked, "If wise mind is an identifiable mental state, how do we know if we're in it?" and when he couldn't quite answer beyond "It's different for everyone" I said, "But if we know it's real there must be some kind of common denominator, a measurable data point," and he said "Well, Sam, you're not going to levitate" and the rest of the class laughed. Sorry bud, this is almost certainly an over-reaction, but I'm me and you lost me when you came at me instead of just admitting you didn't know. (Also it turns out I just live in Wise Mind like 80% of the time which is one reason I couldn't tell.)

But basic talk therapy outside of DBT is just...you talk at someone about your problems and come up with ways to try and solve them, which is a lot more straightforward and way less frustrating. You have to be an active participant, you have to both have a goal and be willing to discuss reaching it, but that goal can be as simple as just "figure out what my mental health goals should be" at first. You don't have to learn like, vocabulary for it.

The thing is, while I have seen some improvement in regulation issues, I also struggle with basic talk therapy. Most people, and this blew my mind, see measurable improvement in nine to eighteen therapy sessions. A lot of people don't go long-term, they just are having a moment and get help getting through the moment and then can disengage, with their therapist's approval.

I was in therapy consistently from the age of nine to eighteen and only stopped because I reached legal majority and physically refused to go.

Not one minute of those nine years did I want to be there. And, because none of the three therapists I saw across those years actually explained to me why I was there or how therapy worked, for me it felt like "Your punishment for having feelings is to speedrun every feeling you had this week in an hour, to a stranger." There was also what my current therapist believes to be some extremely unethical behavior going on, which didn't help.

So it has taken actually a lot of time to get to a place where I would even allow her to understand what help I need. I've been in therapy for about a year (generally weekly but there have been some gaps) and it has only recently gotten deeper than very basic interpersonal problem-solving.

Like, two weeks ago I told her, "I had a thought this week that I couldn't tell you about something I was doing because then you'd have material on me" (meaning blackmail material) "and that's a fucked-up thing to think." And once I'd actually identified it as fucked up I had zero issue telling her about it, wasn't even nervous as I did so. Who's she going to tell? She's literally legally constrained from telling.

I think well over half of what she does is either validate that whatever emotion I'm having is normal, affirm my reactions so I don't keep believing I behaved weirdly, or praise something I've done that was a positive act. Does this work? Not always, because I'm unfortunately very aware that it's part of her job to do those things. But yeah, sometimes. Even if you don't fully believe it, "Hey that was a really smart move" is nice to hear. Sometimes she helps me come up with a plan for stressful future events or (rarely) behavior modification, and sometimes she either provides me with research or points me towards research I can do on my own. We don't do meditation or affirmations or stuff like that.

Like, last week I brought up the fact that I hadn't really ever thought about how if I have a disability that causes emotional dysregulation and I got it from my parents, they also likely had undiagnosed emotional dysregulation when raising me. So she said I should look into research on children with emotionally dysregulated parents. I was pretty annoyed by what I found (the ONE TIME adults are the focus instead of the kids is the ONE TIME I needed to learn about the kids, really?) but it led to something that was both informative and upsetting, so we discussed that. And when I was stumped about how to move forward with the information, she suggested that my general coping mechanism of writing about it was probably a good plan.

(At which point I just silently advanced my powerpoint presentation to the next slide, where I had a series of quotes from the Shivadh novels where Michaelis, acting as a parent, repeatedly does the exact opposite of the upsetting thing, because I realized even before the meeting that it's an ongoing theme in my work whenever I deal with people being parents. It's a good thing she has a sense of humor and also that I do.)

So yeah. Going into therapy you have to be ready to reject a therapist if you don't like them or if they get weird and pushy, you have to be ready to be a self-advocate, but you are the client; it shouldn't be super difficult to find someone who can at least walk you through what you want from it and agree not to do the stuff you don't want, and if you want to stop going you just...stop going.

Good luck, in any case! I hope you get what you need, whether or not that ends up being therapy.

[sophie-frm-mars]

I'm gonna plural discourse for a bit

There's a video that I saw that proposed changing the diagnosis of DID/OSDD to either Dissociative type PTSD or BPD with dissociative amnesia. I think this is not a wholly sensible suggestion and I get into why in the first half of The Mad & The Mentally Ill (text up on my patreon video out in a few months probably) but without getting into a deep critique of the diagnostic model itself I wanna talk about the merits and problems with that suggestion

So on the one hand, PTSD and BPD are already both dissociative in their lived experience. With PTSD you have both the dissociation of feeling like your trauma happened to someone else and the dissociation of feeling like you aren't where and when you really are when you're experiencing a flashback. BPD is dissociative in all its core mechanisms, and there is a sort of emotional "dissociative amnesia" at play when someone with BPD moves from one extreme emotional state to another, because they shift emotional reality so fast it can give them and people around them whiplash. This is a part of what gets people with BPD called manipulative - they change emotional states so fast people assume they must be faking how they're feeling to get what they want.

Therefore it makes some sense to some degree to say that someone whose dissociative identities are formed out of intense trauma has PTSD and that a system of alters that resemble different "personality states" of one core identity is BPD. Or at least it's a somewhat internally consistent model

On the other hand, the lived experience of plurality isn't like that and the best way to explain the difference is to say "it's like you are several different people". In other words I think that there's something potentially useful in this suggestion for helping plural people understand themselves but the suggestion itself is coming from a strictly singular perspective that wants to insist that the ontological nature of the self is singular and in reality the self is simply plural in all cases. "Singular self" people are radically different people who experience radically different thoughts and feelings at work, at home, with friends, with family, when stressed, when tired, when reminded of childhood. As Richard Schwartz says "parts work is for everyone" and I think this attempt to legislate plurality out of the DSM is philosophically an acknowledgement that in effect everyone is at least a little bit plural and an attempt to reconcile that by saying "therefore no one is" instead of opening up your conception of the self to a little more possibility than previously allowed.

Besides all of this, and now I am getting a bit into my critique of the diagnostic model, trauma works differently for different people, and for some people the minor traumas of simply being alive are enough to have profound psychological effects. In the plural community I've seen discussion of "endogenic systems", i.e systems where "they're just like that" rather than there being a specific root trauma. The trauma that forms something like BPD is everyday and commonplace - an environment of traumatic invalidation - just kinda being gaslit by life. Also I think there's a popular understanding that the way people heal from wounds is not their "natural" state and is therefore wrong, but you just have to accept that you are the shape you are and you have no choice but to love yourself. I guess after writing that sentence I should probably acknowledge that I'm plural and that I've known since I was a teenager but was too scared to tell anyone until about two years ago. Where was i. Okay you need to accept that every experience shapes and affects you some amount and lose the idea that trauma is a unique kind of experience which is bad and makes you somehow bad or less or deformed.

Just because someone is some kind of way because of experiences they had doesn't mean they need fixing. Everyone who will ever live is ways they are because of stuff that happened. My point is that I don't see a distinction between systems being "born this way" or formed through specific trauma as long as they are comfortable and happy existing as themselves in the world, and it's stupid and reductive to try and redefine plurality in singular terms when no one is truly singular anyway

[bloopitynoot]

Reading TGCF: Chapter 67

For those who don't know, I am reading TGCF for the first time and sharing my thoughts!

If you have not read it, there will be spoilers! Consider this a warning.

Also- if you want to follow along, I am aiming to post updates daily. You can find all the posts in the tag Bloopitynoot reads TGCF. You can also check out the intro post for context on my read BUT if you followed along with my SVSSS read, the rules and vibe are the same.

Today's drink of choice is hot water. I am going to the farmers market this morning and I need to be on my A game LOL.

Charlie update things for anyone interested (totally feel free to skip);

So we got a call from the vet quite late last night and totally expected the worst. BUT some good news- it is not lymphoma! We were really worried (and out vet as well) that it might have been lymphoma.

Instead they found that he has Neutrophilia (elevated white blood cells) and that paired with other tests left him with the diagnosis of a bacterial infection in his liver (or hepatitis) BUT the treatment is the same.

Our little guy has a slew of meds but we are hopeful he is on the mend. We were even told his blood work from yesterday showed his liver markers decreasing with the liver support medication he has been on as a precaution the last two weeks (he is no longer in liver failure!) though he is still yellow as hell.

This is much better news than we though <3 it'll be a lot of care work but the vet is hopeful he will get better.

okay now that I have shared the good good news; let's go chapter 67!

Wait, all the ghosts are affected? p273

I feel bad for Guzi going through it this entire time. This kid is going to be so traumatized and confused. p274

WAIT WAIT WAIT I HAVE SEEN THIS ART (points to cover dramatically). AH p276

Yeah, sure, it's the spiritual power, "Maybe it was because Hua Cheng's spiritual power was too potent, but Xie Lian felt filled to bursting by the warmth flowing down his throat, through his chest, and all the way in to his stomach" p277

I would argue that the altar is still a place to worship the divine- [points to cover art] exhibit A. No take backs, I am not wrong. ^-^ p278

My heart! One page Xie Lian is admitting his feelings for Hua Cheng to himself, the next page he is not truthful to Hua Cheng about what happened :( pp278-279

Oh damn. That's what that mountain means. p280

Feng Xin and Mu Qing fighting again. I have grown to love these two so much. The speed in which I will be reading their enemies to lovers/miscommunications fics when I am done reading this series will break the sound barrier. p281

I'm so damn annoyed. How did everyone Xie Lian apprehend (all the very dangerous ghosts) escape. When did this happen? Why is Jun Wu just telling them all now. Seems like a security issue. SO suspicious! pp282-283

I have my eye on Jun Wu

This guys seems suspicious as fuck. He's supposed to be the one in charge but he's done absolutely nothing and doesn't even seem to care about this security threat. VERY suspicious that 1. he didn't tell anyone these people escaped when they did or 2. that they all escaped under his watch at ONCE and he was so casual about it.

BUT ALSO I have lost track and need to know how many times in the past 48 hours these tow have made out but still believe it's unrequited.

[littlelambscandyland]

My Dad (And The Present)

Cg!House x Little!Fem!Reader, Implied Cg!Wilson x Little!Fem!Reader

Notes- If you saw this before I finished it when I accidentally posted it, no you didn't lol

Warnings- Reader likes pink

"Gross! You still call your father Daddy?" Chase criticizes from his seat next to you.

"Chase, just because you have Daddy issues doesn't mean everyone else has a problem with their dad." You tease back.

Thank god he didn't ask you to answer it. Too bad House is going to be pissed you didn't pick up the phone. The duality of decisions.

You continue debating the case. You'll admit you kept making jokes saying it was Lupus, good thing House still wasn't here.

Speaking of House he keeps calling. You've muted your phone, but you see the light peaking from the screen. After the fourth time glancing at your phone Foreman sighs.

"You gonna answer that?" He asks, irritated.

"Yeah..." You glance at the screen as it lights up again. "Yeah, nooo." You say with an evil grin.

"What'd your dad do to you to piss you off." Cameron asks with a confused smile.

"Nothing." Your smile grows as House hobbles into the room. "He's just dramatic."

"What if it's an emergency?" Chase questions concerned.

You look over at House. "Nah, he's fine. Like I said he's dramatic."

"Sounds like you're a bad daughter." House scrutinizes, scrunching up his face.

"Wait," Foreman interrupts. "How did you know we were talking about her dad?"

"Well you ducklings aren't necessarily quiet. Not to mention the only family member she still talks to is her dad." House responds with an over dramatic eye roll.

"What was that about not having family issues?" Chase attempts to call you out.

"Ah. Ah. I said I don't have problems with my dad." You correct confidently.

"And yet you ignore his calls." House teases.

You roll your eyes back. "As I said he's dramatic, and I'm sure he'll forgive me."

House leans forward on his cane. "Or he'll disown you."

"Or you're as dramatic as my dad." You judge back.

"Yeah, House it makes no sense to claim someone's parent would disown them simply cause they didn't pick up the phone." Foreman argues with you.

Chase shuffles uncomfortably. "Can we get back to the case now?"

"What can't handle someone talking about how their dad actually loves them?" You question him evilly.

"What are you implying?" Chase pushes back.

"Nothing really." You say looking away with a grin. "Just that my dad's amazing and yours isn't."

Chase scoffs and House has to hide his prideful grin.

"C'mon, you know it's true." You tease harder.

"How could he say it's true if we've never met your dad." Cameron asks, trying to defend Chase.

You grin even harder. "Yes you have. You just didn't know it."

"Wait, what? When? " Chase's eyes widen.

"I'll never tell." You laugh wickedly.

Despite the confusion spreading on the team's faces, House brings the topic back to the case. The team and you throw diagnosis after diagnosis at House as he insults and teases. After a last call by Cameron to check for Hunter Syndrome House shoos the team out of the door.

He stops you before you can make it out as well.

"Come here." He ushers with his head.

House leads you into his office.

"Now," He emphasizes by hitting his cane on the ground. "First things first. Why didn't you answer your phone?" He glares lightly.

"I was working and I knew it wasn't important." You shrug it off.

"You were working?" You watch him judge.

You shake your head, like you said before, dramatic. "You text me when it's an emergency so I thought it was fine to continue to y'know do the job I'm paid for."

"Well then I guess you don't get your present, and Wilson was so excited for you to get it too." House shakes his head. "Too bad brats don't get presents."

As much as you wanted to get excited for whatever gift House may or may not have brought you, you know your caregiver well and know his tricks. He was trying to get you to regress at work. You assume he does it when he feels the need to care for someone, but he always claims he does it when he sees you need to.

"I don't want the present anyway." You lie poorly. "We have a very important case."

House turns from the place he took at his desk. His eyes narrow at you in a mocking way.

"No..." He draws out. "I have a case and you have a present to open." He lifts up a hot pink bag. "Wouldn't want to upset Uncle Wilson would you?"

The bag did look pretty. You could hold back your regression. You're a big capable girl. Just ignore the fact you're already slipping just looking at the pretty party bag... You'll be fine.

You take the bag dangling from his fingers gingerly. "Just so you know, this isn't going to make me slip."

He scoffs, rolling his eyes. "Of course it won't. Wilson bought it."

You walk over to the couch and sit. You hesitate for a moment before pulling the paper out. A bit of excitement crawled up your spine the closer you got to the actual gift.

After the paper was gone you peeked into the bag. A light pink and white dipped in, cone shape stared back at you. You picked it up and observed the newly discovered snow globe. It had a carousel inside.

"Not really a toy, but Wilson wouldn't shut up about how much you'd like it." House states with faux annoyance.

"It's a carousel!" You shout happily.

You flip the snow globe over to see the glitter shower over the horses.

"You should hit the button on the bottom."

You do exactly as House says and switch the button to the on spot. Music starts to play soothingly out of the mini speaker and the houses start moving in a circle. Giggles flood out of your mouth. It's so pretty, and the music is so nice!

House smiles calmly, a rare but kind sight. "So I should tell him you like it, huh?"

"Uh Huh!" You agree nodding your head enthusiastically.

"Hey, kid." He calls out while you watch the globe insistently.

You hum a response.

"How old are you now?"

[ask-spiderpool]

Ngl ,i love your work,but it rubs me wrong how Peter's discomfort w venom doing sexual things without Peter's consent or knowledge is treated as a joke,or just generally kind of dismissed. Also- I'm autistic and love love love autistic peter parker hc,but the fact he was called 'on the spectrum' soley because he got upset at venom for this and 'couldn't put himself in venoms shoes' also kind of felt really bad.

ough, bless you anon! I really appreciate you vocalising your thoughts and concerns in a really sincere respectful way. I want to respond so you don't feel unheard!

I'd also like to take this chance to say that the actions of one Wade W. Wilson do not reflect the thoughts of the ask-spiderpool moderator. The ask-spiderpool moderator does not condone his words or actions. He is a bad man. The words he's saying are bad.

Deadpool is definitely playing the role of a villain here, and he's kind of intentionally choosing his words with the intention of punishing Peter and invalidating him. He knows what he's doing. And Spider-man knows it too.

I know it's something a lot of people don't like to see from Wade – but it's a part of his character that I find interesting to explore and to see him eventually overcome. His ability to weaponise everything, and his instinct of self-sabotage. It becomes dangerous territory to write sometimes because people generally want to side with Deadpool and believe he'll do no wrong, but - I don't know, to strip him of all his ugliness would be untrue to him. Similarly with Peter – I guess I'm just really interested in parts of Wade and Peter that you don't really get to see explored in fanon very often.

It's kind of a problem though that yeah - when you write this sort of a thing there's the risk of people who don't look at it critically - so you get people idolising or siding with Deadpool when what he's doing is really bad actually. It's kind of a miracle, the sorts of things Wade gets away with, while Peter's attacked for it - and that's something I kind of like to examine, too.

I think I do have a responsibility to make this blog feel safe, but also challenging and interesting - and I think I'll be working hard to kind of find a balance between the two. I'm still trying to figure it out - to write what I find interesting, knowing my own intentions but knowing it probably will be misinterpreted – or writing something else that is easy and pleasing to everyone (not really my bag, and also near impossible!), or just not write at all (also impossible for me! Got a brain-itch to scratch...)

I really appreciate when people read my writing and see what I'm getting at – but it doesn't always happen, and it isn't really anyone's fault. I kind of like to offer explanations and further meta, and the fics, because I love to be understood - and the server where I love to have discussions with people about how they receive these posts. The reason I love running this blog is the discussions I have with people about it. The back-and-forth, and so I really do love people to look at Wade and Peter a little deeper.

I have a genuine interest in autistic Peter and it's something I want to explore further in a sincere light, this is kind of just the first tease of something I want to explore more later, if the asks permit. I think every Peter Parker is autistic-coded - I've written a little bit about it here! I'm no expert on diagnosis - but as fantastical as ask-spiderpool can get sometimes - I kind of always want what Wade and Peter are going through in their heads to feel real and tangible and understandable, and come from a place of sincerity.

The consent issue is a complicated one – (as is the way with applying real-world-logic to the realm of alien sex with what you thought was just a slick space-age onesie...) Peter's relationship with the symbiote occupies more of a realm of metaphor than anything - and I don't think there's any sort of 1-to-1 comparison to the real world. (Has your sex-toy ever gained sentience and passed judgement upon you? Peter Parker's worst nightmare!)

There is a running theme of Peter kind of having his boundaries crossed - and the symbiote is sort of tied to that theme. The symbiote was entirely responsive to Peter's thoughts and didn't do anything Peter didn't will it to do - the real issue is the mortifying ordeal of being perceived. And it's a running theme with Peter - he hides so much and very often his privacy is violated.

It's often played for laughs, because Deadpool doesn't always take Spider-man's boundaries seriously and likes to push him – but it's something that will come to a head, and Peter will be laying down the law very soon.

I'm really thankful for your message anon, and I really hope this response reaches you with similar sincerity that you reached out to me with and that I'm understood! - I love you so much anon! My DMs over on @sciderman are also open if you'd like to talk to me more!

[bidisasterevankinard]

Tommy gets from his shift late at night, basically in the morning. The day was long and night even longer. All he wants now is to fall in his bed and sleep for days.

Opening the door, he's met with silence and a bunch of envelopes near it. He is ready to leave it for tomorrow, but his inner perfectionist doesn't let him leave the mess. He gets it up.

He quickly looks through all of them, noting that all of it's just ads or bills, except the last one. Beautiful baby blue envelope with the handwriting he still remembers as if he saw it yesterday and not a year ago.

Evan.

It's Evan's letter.

Tommy doesn't know why man writers him that way. Using paper and envelope and real mail and not any of their friends. Man knows Tommy has weekly get togethers with Eddie and Chim. Or not on the next barbeque, where they will meet again, like all the time over the last years. Tommy hopes he has to solve his health problem and finally get his weight back. It's sad how Evan was just a ghost of his old self when Tommy saw him over Christmas.

Actually, Tommy doesn't know why man writes him that way. What did he want to tell Tommy that they didn't tell when 118 closed them in the closet in Han's house and didn't let them leave till they got closure? Till they got the understanding why they could never work.

Why does Evan need to write to him?

Tommy weighs the idea about leaving the letter till he wakes up, but his heart is not beating easily without knowing what Evan needed to get on paper and send him.

He opens the envelope. Inside he finds the paper and the photo.

It makes him tear up. The photo is their selfie after they buried Billy. On the outside he can see another handwriting: my happiness.

Tommy swallows, taking a letter in his hands, he sees dried dots if someone was crying when writing.

Dear Tommy,

Hi! How are you? I'm sorry that I'm doing it that way, but I couldn't make myself text or call or come to see you. Because I was afraid. Afraid you would love me just because I'm in pain. Only because I'm in pain. And I had enough of it in my childhood. But I also was afraid you won't be around. It was easier to leave you out. Just as a memory. A good memory. Best memory.

Anyway, if you're reading this, then I'm already dead. Leukemia. Was diagnosed not long before Christmas. It's actually ironic that I'm dying from the same thing that killed my brother and nothing can help.

Ironic and painful. I'm not gonna lie. It's really painful. And not even the treatment or that it doesn't help. No. Painful is that I still have so many things I could live for, try and find, but I don't have time.

But at least I had time to love you. Like I never did with anyone. You're my greatest love, Tommy Kinard. The way you made me feel is unbelievable. Indescribable.

I'm so lucky that I loved and was loved by you. The photo I'm giving you is the moment I had the first “oh! I'm falling for him”, but actually I was falling since you flew us into a hurricane. Thank you for kissing me and giving us those incredible 6 months. I've never been happier. Only with you.

You kissed me and showed me the real me. You showed me I can be loved. And that I can love people.

I know you had reasons to leave. And please know if not for my diagnosis I'd try to call you on New Year's eve, offering you to come and give us another chance. Give you that decision to make.

I hope you forgave me for taking this decision from you. But I can't make you see me dying. See me in pain. See me losing myself. I can't. It could break you, baby. So hard. It's better you find out like that. Maddie or Chim would call you about funerals. Please come. Because I need you to let me go like we did for Billy. I won't be at peace without your goodbye.

But I'm saying it first. Goodbye my love and please remember that I loved you till my very last breath. You were so loved, baby. Please let people love you in the future.

With love,

Your Evan

Tommy falls on his knees, holding the letter close to his heart. He can't see anything. Everything's so blurry. He just cries and cries, screaming in the night.

The sun is rising. The new day is coming. The day he's going to live, knowing that Evan would never call him again.

[the-algebra-thing]

ok listen this rfk shit pissing me off bc the backlash and the backlash for the backlash is like. let's just all think about this for a moment. rfk jr made a generalization about autistic people. he implied that all autistic people have very involved support needs. he implied that they are not functioning or contributing members of society on the whole. he called the growing asd diagnosis rates an epidemic. he also pledged to find the cause of autism. there is SO much to unpack here.

the original backlash that he got for this statement was obvious to me: autistic people that don't have as involved support needs as he was describing started pushing back, saying that autistic people CAN do the things rfk jr was describing them being incapable of. this is true—a TON of autistic people can function and contribute in society, and they can enjoy it and be proud of it, rightfully so. our country isn't built for them, so it's insulting to minimalize or outright deny the hard work they put in to do the things that people that aren't autistic often find come naturally to them.

the response to this backlash was a bunch of caretakers coming in and saying hey wait he's not completely wrong. some autistic people ARE like this, and I spend my life caring for them. perhaps most of these people are not autistic themselves, and a lot of them are coming in with the idea that rfk jr SHOULD be allowed to "find the cause" of autism, saying that any research that's being funded is a win. and because the majority of these people are not autistic, and because of the rhetoric that rfk jr has employed in his announcement, autistic people are rightfully extremely wary of all this—they do not trust a politician who has come in really hot with extreme generalizations and disparagement to set up research that will actually benefit autistic people, rather than you know. being a eugenics initiative.

but what a lot of people seem to be forgetting, and what I forgot before a local autistic activist I know mentioned it, is that autistic people with these highly individualized, involved support needs DO exist. and they deserve support—the individualized support they need, as well as community support and research on how we can better serve their needs. while caretakers are out talking about how autism has ruined their son's life, and autistic people are making memes about how rfk jr says they don't have to pay taxes, there ARE autistic people, the ones that the government is actively disparaging, that deserve all the dignity and research and love that we can provide, and are being left behind right now because they don't have the capability or the tools to engage in the conversation.

and I know that this is likely already in the back of many of our minds as it was in mine before I saw maddie's post, but I'm gonna go out on a limb and say it should be in the front. rfk jr's words bring attention to these people, but they do not show an intent to help them. they show an intent to hide and eliminate them. we don't need to "find the cause" of autism; we already know it's genetic as fuck. but people with complex support needs DO need our attention and support, and it's really easy right now to get caught up in feeling insulted for whatever reason instead of remembering this.

as a final addendum, I'd love to draw attention to a concept I saw a post about sometime soon after the inauguration—it was about those ads that are looking for participation in studies about lgbtq+ youth, and the post said stay. the fuck. away. now is NOT the time. do not give out your information do not let them take it from you. and this was the first thought I had about this whole catastrophe—in the midst of these horrifying threats on due process is THE most terrifying time for the US government to pledge to "find the cause" of autism. so. remember complex support needs do not make an autistic person less, and remember to keep your information to yourself and stay safe.

[softantlers]

Idk if you’ve been asked this before but do you think Nat (or anyone in general) knows about Lottie’s schizophrenia? And is that why Nat doesn’t really believe in “it” because she knows Lottie’s just imagining things?

haven't been asked that before! thanks for asking!

so my thing with this is that- lottie is a bit exceptional?? the idea of a girl that young being diagnosed with schizophrenia and medicated in the 90s is kinda unreal. (this is why i sometimes question her diagnosis, but that's another story.) i'm pretty sure childhood-onset schizophrenia is extremely rare & of course it's often diagnosed as other things in girls (especially back then) for all the reasons you can imagine that people who aren't cis men get delayed/incorrect diagnoses.

so my hc generally is that her father had to have been very aggressive to get her on loxapine; he might have even had to call in favors under the table & my thinking on this is that he likely wanted to go the nuclear option first since he's got a white rich man mentality that has no patience for exploring the care his daughter might actually need.

that said, i have to imagine that lottie was never encouraged to share her diagnosis (as bad as it sounds, i also have to wonder if she even knows in the teen timeline about her diagnosis, besides the fact she has to take these goddamn pills every morning). even if she does know, i would consider schizophrenia to be a pretty unspeakable condition to live with as a young girl in the 90s. i really don't think she would trust anyone (even if we hc nat as a confidant) with that information before the crash...

and also, i think one of the biggest tragedies about lottie's character is that she probably didn't feel confident to tell her teammates about her medication running out before it was too late-- like genuinely, putting myself in her shoes it makes sense. you wanna literally destroy people's perceptions (bc ableism, 90s, you know) of you for the rest of your life when there's a chance y'all might get rescued in a week? and the problem with this kind of thing is that the longer she's off the meds, her insight becomes diminished & the delusions kick in and then... oh what do you know?? she doesn't think she needed to be on them after all. <- this dynamic is why i don't fuck with people who say lottie "knows that she's sick" -- like it's just now how i understand this stuff to work. (sidebar: not an expert at all but i thought i was going to be a social worker before my current job & i've interacted directly with a few folks with schizophrenia tryna get on disability + their medical records, so that's kinda where my thinking comes from.)

but back to your question- because of all those reasons, i don't really think natalie (or anyone) on the team knows. when they call lottie "crazy," i don't think it's couched in any kind of understanding of mental illness but just sort of a teen "what the fuck is happening???" thing to say. what i do tend to think about with natalie is that she, more than anyone else on the team, has experience with hallucinogens. it's hard to say how much pre-crash but we get the sense that she's dabbling. so imo, i think she has a natural intuition about the possibility of tripping & also maybe a firmer understanding (even if she can't articulate it) about fucked mental health since she quite clearly has ptsd/flashback stuff going on herself (again, even if she doesn't have the words for it).

i've always said that the way nat approaches lottie and gently says "this is very real" at the end of episode 8 almost makes me think of someone talking you down from a bad trip?? maybe nat has experience doing that. i think she knows something is going on with lottie--possibly more than the other girls--but i don't know that it means she knows her diagnosis, you know?? i think she has empathy and insight with regard to lottie though, and i find it interesting that she, being the rationalist, is the one to reach out when lottie says she's staying.

this is all my two cents tho!

[xoxo-ren-xoxo]

on the topic of disability, sometimes when Im talking to other disabled people about disability rights and so on, I get this dreadful feeling that's like 'oh, they really do not know how bad it is, huh'. It's one thing to struggle for access to proper diagnosis and medical aid when you *are able to self advocate*, but as soon as some of you come across a person who cannot self advocate, you stop understanding.

my brother has autism, like me. he has ADHD, like me. he cannot write, cannot speak (he is not mute, but he cannot put words together), and needs care 24/7 from experts.

I have had conversations with other disabled people who have called my parents monsters for 'sending him off to be the government's problem' (in reality, he lives in a shared care house with 24 hour professional care, and my parents visit him weekly).

I have had conversations with other disabled people who were shocked that abuse happened at his past care home, and asked 'why don't you just live with him at home?' somehow ignoring the fact that he is a 6 foot tall, physically imposing 25 year old with very few ways to communicate that he is upset beyond physically lashing out.

I have had other disabled people come to me, confused, when I have described how yes, my brother physically attacked me when we were children and gave my parents lasting injuries, but I have never blamed him because he never had another way to express himself, he was on a cocktail of drugs, and he does not have the social reasoning skills to do something like that out of malice. I have had people tell me I am in denial for this truth, and I'm sure some of you will try to tell me the same.

when I talk about disability activism, I don't just mean wheelchair-accessible spaces, better treatment from doctors, and cheaper, easier healthcare. I mean more care facilities funded by the government. I mean more training for staff working with people who have complex disabilities. I mean advocacy and care for people who cannot, and will never, be able to write a plea for help, or voice their opinions in parliament, or ask to go to the toilet.

my brother is one of my favourite people. he has a personality - likes and dislikes, funny expressions and quirks, a silly smile whenever he's up to no good - he understands certain things, but we will never truly know what exactly he can and cant comprehend. he deserves someone on his side. he deserves the same advocacy other disabled people get from our allies.

if you stop caring about disabled people as soon as they stop being a 'full' person in your eyes, you do not care about disabled people.

[ratinacoat]

What's a random take you think you'd get hate for?

Oh where do I begin. I'll just list some lmao

Most sys communities have no idea what introjection is at all. Introjects aren't "alters based off a source", they're alters who internalize the characteristics of something and it's 9/10 times going to be an abuser. It's a defense mechanism and fictional introjection isn't likely, and it's not even a DID thing. Hyperfixations don't contribute to introjection AT ALL, introjection is so much more than just feeling connected to a character. Minor stress while hyperfixated on something is not the cause of introjection. Autism has never been shown to cause larger amounts of fictional introjection in people with or without DID and insisting that it's related is stupid because there has never been proof of that ever

I'm very critical of self diagnosis. I support self suspecting, "I think I could have this", not "I DO have this." If someone is self diagnosed with DID, I don't automatically think they have DID. That doesn't mean I think they can't have DID or they're faking, but I just assume they're suspecting DID and could be wrong. I don't think people who aren't diagnosed should talk about how DID works from experience because there's such a high chance they're wrong. I will not take information based only on experience seriously from someone undiagnosed, and if someone undiagnosed tried correcting me on DID because it doesn't match their experience, I do not care

Diagnosis isn't a privilege. Being able to CHOOSE to get a diagnosis is the privilege, getting it is not. I got most of my diagnoses from therapy that was forced on me because my issues were so severe at such a young age. That's not a privilege. Insisting everyone diagnosed who's anti self diagnosis or just doesn't think self diagnosis is on the same level of an actual diagnosis is classist is insane and stupid

You can tell when someone is lying about having DID. If you understand how DID works at all, it's so easy to tell. I find it so insanely easy to tell when someone is wrong vs lying as well. No I don't harass people over it or out right call it out, but I don't take what they say seriously and I avoid them. I'm not going to assume professionals are just wrong about how DID/PTSD works just because a literal zygote says you can split without any stressor or some shit