#and later on my therapist realized she was abusive and when she called my mom out i was immediatly out of therapy

[yannaryartside]

Carmy will have to decide between two types of love

I keep thinking about why Carmy (possibly) deciding between Claire and Syd is taking so much time on the overall plot of the series. We have used a entire season of him falling for Claire, and my theory is that in this season the Syd vs Claire is gonna be toe to toe, and then in the final season he goes for Syd.

Now, if that happens this way, I have been analysing it from a writers perspectives, how this love stories create Carmen ultimate character arc. I am gonna propose to you two narratives and why I would go for the later. Character analysis ahead.

The Claire option

Walk with me here. If you ship Claire and Carmy and believe the trailers, you could say this whole thing is about Carmy learning to accept love and good things. That is why the last season ended with him rejecting the relationship out of trauma just to realize that Claire loved him. This season could be about him healing to a point where he learns he deserves love, apologizing to Claire, and getting back together. And you know what, that does make sense, writing this show as an exercise for learning to heal childhood wounds. It is clean and makes sense. Then in s4 his new self can make all the good decisions, have a couple of kids, bum you have an arc.

But the background noise, or the clues floating around, to call it something, doesn't make sense. Here insert all the Sydcarmy clues the fandom has talked about.

The show is trying to tell us that Claire is the love Carmy wants because he is trapped in his wounded self mentality.

As I said in this post, Claire's behavior looked extremely naive but manipulative sometimes. Her relationship with his family and the trauma surrounding it. How everybody seems more enthusiastic than him about the relationship at times.

The reason: the wound.

Claire is uncomplicated love, love with no expectations or boundaries, with only space for his needs, never hers. That is the kind of love a child expects from a parent. My theory is that Carmen, being with Claire, wanted to experience that kind of love, the one he didn't get from Donna. with a touch of his teen self fantasies and sex included.

And that also makes sense. Everybody that has been abused, particularly in childhood, will tell you that picking a partner without relying on your wounded self is very difficult.

A little bit of TMI on healing from abuse when you look for a romantic partner: One of the reasons I got into therapy is because I was terrified to end up marrying a man as abusive as my dad was with my mom and me. I had a problematic episode with one of my exboyfriends that made me realize I was repeating specific patterns, even when consciously, I thought I was picking men who didn't act like my father. It is something difficult precisely because you are not aware of it. It is all happening subconsciously.

So maybe that is why the writers want to give Carmen the chance to choose a partner as a healed person (Syd) and not as a wounded person desperate for love (Claire)

You cannot choose a romantic partner looking for the love of a parent, because parent to child love is the only type of unconditional love that can exist. Some therapist will tell you that the only way to cure that lack is with self love and forgiveness, but that is besides the point of this post.

Romantic relationships cannot be unconditional, it is a partnership. There needs to be expectations of grow, sacrifices and compromises, the two people need to get their needs met. You may heal together, but you partner may trigger your wounds sometimes, the same as your other relationships.

Syd definitely forces Carmy to evolve, while Claire enables him and keeps him in his past self.

Now here is where I think the twist of the series will come.

Remember when I said that Carmys core wound is ther he felt he was not good enough for Donna to love him? Because he could not be like Michael? This is the post

Syd is Carmy’s anchor and his peace. She is also characterized as someone who helps people to grow, who gives grace and sincerity when mistakes are made. She is the actually healthy woman/parent he never experienced.

Carmen has not healed his core wound. The lie he believes that he has to go the extra mile to earn people's love. The way he became the best chef in the world, dreaming of just getting a “good job” from his older brother.

But because his wounded self doesn't feel like he can be enough for somebody he actually wants (Syd), he felt for a woman that didn't asked anything of him (Claire).

That (never giving but always receiving) dynamic is what allowed Carmy to accept the relationship in the first place.

Thinking of all this made me realize that not only has Syd been the only person Carmy had chosen for himself (as other posts have brilliantly pointed out), but Syd is literally the only person who can make a relationship with him work. She had seen the worst of him (Donna) and had the capacity to make him think of himself beyound all that, hence the peace that she brings him “you are the best cdc” as in “you are great, you are good, a good partner, a good leader, you are my friend” you are not just the bear (your wounded self). He smiles because the person that he wants can see this even if he doesn't dare to belive it yet.

So I don't know how they could make Carmy realize all of this. I also could be wrong and the meaning of all of this could be something completly different. I also don't know of this opinion is controversial. Let me know what you think. Thank you for reading.

[wheelie-sick]

Hi! I’m just curious why you’re anti-psychiatry and the reasoning behind it if you’re comfortable sharing? I want to take care to specifically learn the reasoning so I can educate myself upon them, I’ve wanted to be a psychiatrist since I was a kid and so I’m wary of making any mistakes in my profession that could damage others or perpetuate harm. Thank you so much for your time. /genq

okay, first of all I'd recommend reading my post here which talks about why there are no good psychiatrists and this post here about how some people being helped by the system does not make the system good. they're long but the first is pretty foundational to my beliefs on psychiatry and the second covers the most common rebuttal I hear for antipsychiatry.

putting the rest of this under a cut because it's really fucking long because I wanted to provide some context to my beliefs and there's a lot of context

my foundational reasoning for being antipsychiatry comes from listening to other's experiences. I did not have a traumatic experience with psychiatry directly. I'm not going to repeat other's traumatic experiences but if you look through the antipsychiatry tags you can definitely find some of the repulsive things the psychiatric industry has done. my belief in antipsychiatry also comes from my experiences with therapy.

I have been cycled through many therapists who dropped me for being "too complicated" for them. my second most recent therapist I dropped after constant abuse from him.

-> TW for therapeutic abuse until "why I'm antipsychiatry" <-

my issues with my old therapist began when I first started seeing him. I was being actively abused at home and every time I tried to talk about the physical and emotional violence I was experiencing at home from my former father he would shut me down and tell me it was not abuse.

-> TW for descriptions of physical abuse for the next paragraph <-

I told him about the attempts to shove me down stairs. the times I was dragged around. the times I was thrown into the couch. the times I had my face slammed into a wall. the restraint. the hitting. the punching. the grabbing. I told him in detail. my mom has since admitted that I was abused by my former father.

He did not think it was abuse. he had an obligation to report this to CPS and he never did. he told me it was not abuse the minute I brought it up, before I ever even tried to use the word abuse. I could never talk about the violence I was experiencing because I would get shut down every time and eventually I gave up.

-> TW for emotional abuse for the next 2 paragraphs <-

several years later my former father disowned me. (that's why I call him my former father) he told me that he did not see me as his child anymore, that he hated me. he said some other rather disgusting things about me, most of which I will not repeat, but one sticks out. he told me mom that she should handle my being trans as if she was dealing with a dog; when it (and yes, he used the word it) misbehaves you should ignore it. this all happened in a single conversation.

in my next therapy session I was distraught. I didn't like my former father but it never feels good to be disowned. I was trying to talk to my therapist about this and I said "he hates me" my therapist doubted me and asked me "did he say he hates you or are you just perceiving he hates you" trying to, dare I say, gaslight me into thinking this was all my perception. he did this to me frequently when I brought up the emotional abuse I was experiencing. I said "yes, yes he did say that" and things got really quiet because for once he couldn't tell me it was all in my head. in that moment I lost all faith in him because I realized he was wrong. that he was manipulating me into believing I was the problem. that all these conflicts were my fault. but they were never my fault.

-> TW for mentions of self harm for the next 2 paragraphs <-

the final nail in the coffin came about 2 years later when I finally decided to open up about my self harm. I had relapsed on my self harm about 8 months prior, usually it was just a one off but this time it had spiraled out of control into the beginnings of an addiction. I wanted to stop, so I decided to open up to my therapist about it. he got angry at me. I was scared, and vulnerable, and he was angry. he asked me why I didn't tell him sooner, I said I was scared of hospitalization. a week later he threatened to hospitalize me multiple times after promising he wouldn't.

what actually made me drop him was 3 weeks later. I was tired of talking about self harm and I was feeling the same if it all. he asked me about it and I said I don't want to talk about it. he pressed mex accused me of avoiding therapy, threatened to hospitalize me if I didn't spit out adequate details. when I said I hadn't even self harmed that much he accused me of lying to him to avoid therapy. he crossed many boundaries that day and then pressured me into agreeing to fill out a form every week detailing all the information about my self harm down to how many cuts I made. that was my final straw. I was done.

why I'm antipsychiatry:

after that I started reflecting and realizing the whole thing was fucked up. from the starting point in 4th grade when I saw my first therapist to the ending point where I saw my second to last therapist (I had a therapist after the nightmare therapist, her name was Sara she was Deaf and amazing but largely unhelpful) the system was designed to produce bad therapists. the nightmare therapist was not the only bad experience I had with therapists, just the worst. they all liked to abuse their power over me, they all liked to deny my experiences and gaslight me into believing all my problems were my own perception rather than a real outside factor. this wasn't one bad therapist is was one bad system.

and I'm done. I'm so done. therapy has never helped me but it has hurt me and I don't think I can find a good therapist because the whole apple tree is rotting from the inside. I'm sticking with my psychiatrist because he has done minimal harm to me but my experience with therapy has thoroughly cemented that abuse isn't an exception it's the standard and therapists who aren't abusing their clients are breaking the rules. my experience is the norm and it shouldn't be but you can't reform a rotting tree you have to plant a new one.

that's what antipsychiatry also seeks to do. it's cutting down the apple tree but it's also planting a new, different fruit tree. a tree that respects autonomy of patients, that acknowledges patients' realities, that seeks to support not control and manipulate.

if you want to help people with their mental health I urge you to look into the alternatives to the psychiatric system and consider working there. the tree will turn you into a bad apple too because the tree is rotted but there's a new tree growing and you can find other ways to support people. admittedly I'm not the most familiar with alternatives to psychiatry but I know they do exist and they're becoming more common as people realize the damage the psychiatric system is doing.

sorry this was kinda a trauma dump but my antipsych beliefs largely stem from trauma so I wanted to share that context

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

tw for child abuse

AITA for guilt tripping my friend to make her hang out with me?

background:

this is about me (16X) and my childhood friend "eve" (16F)

eve had a habit of being late (every single time we hung out) and cancelling plans at the last minute (we only hung out 1/5 times planned, she'd cancel the day before/the same day for the other 4). this went on for literal years with varying degrees

i've always been patient and forgiving with her, never blamed her for it. except for this time

we both knew about our home lives. our families were kinda shit, with my mom being particularly insane. it was mainly verbal/emotional abuse, i can't explain too much because blog rules but my therapist agrees. (eve's parents were strict but mainly with school and health, i'm not sure it matters here but worth a mention)

my mom would freak out when eve messed up our plans, especially if they involved my mom too (ex. driving us somewhere). this was very stressful and scary for me, so i did my best to hide it from her, which happened like every week at this point

the actual event:

eve and i decide to have dinner together a few days before

our parents are involved because they're handling the reservation, they're paying and we need permission to stay out late

i ask eve several times if she's sure she'll be there before i even ask my mom if i can go, and keep checking on her afterwards. every time she assures me she'll be there

in between the morning and afternoon of the reservation's day she suddenly texts me saying that the weather sucks (note: we're seated inside and the restaurant is within walking distance, our parents could also drive us) and that she wants to cancel

i get upset at her and tell her my mom will give me hell for it. i remember being pretty pushy about this, insisting she'd come because i didn't want to deal with my mom's tantrum. this is the guilt tripping i was talking about

we ended up going but it obviously sucked. a few months later she called me toxic for guilt tripping her and said i was an asshole

now that i'm older i realize it wasn't nice and that there were better ways to go about this. i also understand that eve had her own mental/home issues, as did i. that's why i tried to be patient with her, and for a long time i thought i was the one at fault here. but i've been thinking things over and this situation is kind of different. i'd like to hear other people's opinions on this

What are these acronyms?

[eldritch-queern-magicat]

I got this over a month ago. At first, it triggered nothing that wasn't already active beforehand. It was just a surprise and delight to get one of these at my local retailer.

And then it triggered absolutely everything in the last few weeks. I got into Bleach in high school, since my local library had a fair bit of the manga for the time. Though it took me at least a year to get through a bunch of the other manga before I finally checked it out. So, putting this squarely into the period of being abused by family. It was almost the greatest escape I'd found at that time.

I attached so hard to it, and all the characters whether I liked them or not (but I do like most of the recurring characters). I had crushes everywhere, and I absolutely incorporated things right into my unstable something of a self. And of course, this manifested in my imaginary shenanigans, externalized from my fragmented mind.

So the reason this is a big deal is because shortly after getting it, I moved right on into dealing with my trauma from that time. The clarity regarding my unstable behavior in general came at an interesting time, out of pure luck. Having unpacked foster hell and being partially raised by my great-grandma, I saw my time living with my dad's side of the family in a new light.

Hello walking disaster. I'm not even joking about this one. I had no idea how to even hang out with my cousins in a normal way. I barely knew how to hang out with people anywhere near my age at all.

The only thing I really knew how to do was escape into fictional worlds. And outside of Grandma, the other adult family that was immediately there just mostly cared about appearances. Grandma did her best for what she was capable of, but she was older (the often forgotten Silent Generation) and in declining health. But the other four adults left me feeling like an extra, or just forgotten.

And now, after nearly fourteen years and several things happening, I'm trying to cope with how betrayed I was. Call it naive, because it was, but I moved in with them believing that my family would never intentionally hurt me. My parents believed I'd be safe, too, which makes it worse. We couldn't trust the system, but we could trust one side of the family. Right?

It made me escape even harder into my imagination. I'm starting to open up through poetry on my other social media. But it's hard because I'm also forced to come to terms with what they may be calling me now.

I brought that up with my therapist yesterday. It's what I'm currently working on unpacking and letting go of. But it's a lot harder now. I wasn't a small child anymore. I was fourteen when I moved up, seventeen when I moved back. My behavior was a problem, and it went far deeper than anyone realized, even for those who did care.

It's still impossible to hold very much of what happened against myself, alone. But I know chances are good they mostly won't care why I was a wreck of a person. At least two of them all probably still blame Mom and Dad, because they made Dad the black sheep for superficial reasons and never even liked Mom. And I have very good reasons to suspect they were playing 'sins of the fathers' against me.

I'm not going to deny, if asked, that I had a lot of behavioral problems growing up. But I survived horrific things that left me struggling to adjust to a normal family life, and my parents still did their best to help me. It's all just, the only way to survive was suppressing things to the degree they went on mostly undetected. Except for the fact they also influenced all of my behavior subconsciously, for obvious reasons.

I don't even know what the hell this post is for anymore. I'm just rambling again. But the Soul Candy helped trigger a lot of this just because of the period of time it helps to represent. And I'm still figuring it all out, since I've only brushed over it in the past.

But now, after this long? Well, I'm on a roll in terms of recovery. And I've got college classes starting later in August. I'd like as much of my behavior figured out as possible by then.

-Lilu 🫐😺

[reminiscentsoftomorrow]

A couple of reasons why I just don't care about my parents anymore.

(Apathy is safer, and anger is really tiring at this point.)

I can't believe I didn't realize this until it was explained to me, but my mother used therapy against me. She and my father would pint out that they "were trying so hard" but my mom always sat in on my sessions. The cycle was literally this:

Talk to therapist for three-ish minutes

I say something that ruins the "image" or that Mother just doesn't like

"That is NOT what happened, [deadname]. What have we talked about-"

Mother continues talking to therapist and I can't do anything but sit there for like half an hour

When we're out in the parking lot, Mother complains that I "never participate in therapy" and "you just need to try, you never try"

She also implied I was a whore when I told her I was pansexual. She asked what that was, and naïve 12-year-old me got really happy and explained it to her. Her fucking response?

"Oh, so you'll just sleep with anyone then."

I WAS TWELVE YOU PSYCHOPATH

I lost my virginity later that year to a 16 year old. Never told her, never wanted to. I didn't tell her anything anymore, to be honest.

My father was... also really bad. Physical abuse was always a thing, because of fucking course it was, but there's a few that stand out.

I was talking to a friend on my phone that he didn't like. Simple enough, right?

My father is 6'1" tall and built like those Scottish guys that lift boulders. He clocks in about 230 pounds.

HE FUCKING CRUSHED MY PHONE IN ONE HAND, PICKED OUT THE GLASS, AND TOLD ME TO GET HIM A BANDAID.

TW: Suicide Attempt

I was 10 when I started cutting, and 11 when I first tried to kill myself. This was when I was like, thirteen.

I tried using a cord to strangle myself, and he caught me. This man began yelling at me, berating me as I'm still suffocating. Then, he yanks the cord off and accuses me of wanting attention. Yeah, Robert, because I want that from you.

Then they both gaslight the fuck out of me until I ended up hospitalized and removed from the home. I went no contact at 19, because I needed the money. But once the bag was secured, I called my mother.

I was listening to "Hustle" by P!nk, because if I was changing my life, I'm crashing with style. Here's the play-by-play:

"Amanda?" I knew that she knew I was up to something.

"What is it?" The fakeness in her voice still makes me want to vomit.

"I don't want to see or hear from you or Robert ever again."

"...and can you tell me why?" There's loud and quiet anger. My mother is the second, and I inherited that. I know she's seething. But my parents have impressive masks.

I think that was the first humorous laugh I had let her hear, actually. I knew she was trying to bait me, trying to gaslight, and I was so fucking tired of it. Years of my life were lost to this bullshit.

"Figure it out." I hung up before she could respond. My parents always told me to do better, to take responsibility, to try, because clearly if I wasn't what they wanted, I wasn't doing enough.

So it's been exactly one year since that phone call. And I am thriving. I want everyone who's been in my shoes to know that you can make it. I still consider "Hustle" my theme song. I still flinch at quick movements, and have days I punish myself before someone else can do it. But I'm safe, and I'm getting better.

[blood-loving-leech]

Reasons why @/deadvxmp was a shitty boyfriend

He was my best friend from fall of 2021 until fall of 2022

Last october he tried to kill himself, when i freaked out and started crying my sister heard me and told my moms friend who was watching us that night who then tried to call emts like ANY PERSON WOULD WHEN A KID IS TRYING TO KILL THEMSELVES

And so he said I was “making his attempt about me” yeah my bad for worrying about your fucking LIFE AND SURVIVAL DAMN he just wanted me to not feel any emotions abt his death ig

After that everything kinda went downhill with my then-girlfriend and I wasn’t sure about if I should break up with her since she was my only friend and everyone else was just friends by extension through her but he convinced me to break up with her knowing full well she was my only irl friend

In january, he ghosted me for a week and a half when I visited california, when I got back I tried to kms and he decided without talking to me that it was his fault and that i’d kms if he left which he is now using against me saying I explicitly threatened to kms if he left me and claiming that that was emotional manipulation on my part

At this point I think he was only friends with me because of that and he was supposed afraid of me, then in february he asked to call me his boyfriend?? which why would you ASK THAT if you don’t even like the person fuck you

After my attempt, my mother grew suspicious of the college student we were both friends with (for some reason, Misha seems to think I had something to do with it but I have no clue what her though process was) and effectively ended up getting them (college student) cut out of our lives, said student was regrettably Mishas fp and so when we found out it was my mom back in june he blamed me and spent months guilting me over it and making it very clear that it was “all my fault” for trying to kms in the first place until we broke up

sometime in the spring he literally taught me how to purge and yet he blames me for worsening his eating disorder despite me telling him not to abuse the laxatives when he first got them and trying to convince him to eat more and telling him i’d love him no matter what he looked like but SURE i’m the one who encouraged his ed because he thought i’d only like him if he was skinny even though i never said anything of the sort

he also blamed me for treating him like a child every time he misunderstood something and I tried to explain myself because he said it made him feel stupid and generally just told me to shut up every time i tried explaining myself

he never said he loved me first, undoubtedly because he never actually loved me, and he said he didn’t believe i loved him so i spent our entire relationship trying to prove my love to him until finally i realized he was putting in no effort to love me and i stopped trusting him (he broke up with me like literally one week after i said “i don’t believe you anymore”)

when i realized i had issues that were affecting our relationship i went to therapy for them and my therapist said “yeah you could work on some stuff but he also has to learn to trust you as his boyfriend” and i told him that and he said he could try and then like two days later said “yeah i lied actually im never going to trust you i just wanted you to think id try” like WTF

when he broke up with me he said it was to “take the strain off our friendship” since we’d been arguing almost all the time and i said he’d have to give me some time because DUH he was breaking up with me and that fucken hurt but then i literally had no other friends so i went back to him and said we could be friends and he told me basically to fuck off and take some time to figure stuff out while he talked to his friends about stuff and so two days later when he blocked me everywhere i asked what was going on and he was like “my friends all say you’re a shitty person and i prefer not talking to you so leave me alone and never talk to me again” and then blocked me some more

so in heartbroken confusion i wanted to figure out what he thought i did that was so shitty by waiting for him to post stuff abt it on his tumblr but then he started going off about how i was ableist and encouraged his eating disorder and physically abused him even though he lives in alaska and i live in washington and its literally closer to mexico than it is to him but yeah sure i totally did all that

so i got angry and did dumb things and went off on him and called him names i knew he hated and all sorts of shit to which he responded by telling all our mutual friends that i did all those things that i didn’t unless i have complete fucking amnesia so there goes the few sorta friends i still have and i still wanted to know what i supposedly did wrong and obviously i did more dumb shit that got out of hand and now he’s sending people to tell me to kms and people to threaten to kill me which i actually wish they would do but he chose to be mutuals with cowards who won’t actually hike butt over to gig harbor and stab me

are we both terrible people? maybe yes. i know i’ve made mistakes but he certainly isn’t innocent

i’ve done things wrong but the whole time we were dating i hand made him gifts and jewelry and sent him tea bags and told him i loved him multiple times every day and wrote him poems and drew fanart of his ocs and fawned over how cute/handsome he was and how good his sense of fashion was and encourage his career dreams and assure him i loved him and i planned to move with him to college and then canada and get shots to fix my cat allergies so we could have cats and i broke the rules and almost got kicked out of my favorite summer camp because he asked me to and he never said he loved me and the only compliment he could ever muster was “v snazzy” so i don’t think it’s much of a question of who loved who here

the difference is i only ever wanted to figure out my mistakes while he decided it was appropriate to send people to tell me to kms

[eazy-group]

Tashia lost 69 pounds

New Post has been published on https://eazydiet.net/tashia-lost-69-pounds/

Tashia lost 69 pounds

Transformation of the Day: Tashia lost 69 pounds. Her journey began when she had several serious health scares related to high blood pressure, anxiety, PTSD from an abusive relationship, and agoraphobia. She put in the work by focusing on her mental health, improving her eating habits, and working out at home.

Social Media: Instagram, Snapchat, & Tiktok: @Shiatrubeauty94

What was your motivation? What inspired you to keep going, even when you wanted to give up? Honestly, I wanted to have a future and live and be around my family. My mom, family, and friends are what inspired me. I guess you can also say I inspired myself, as weird as it may sound, because I usually never give myself enough credit for anything that I do. So now I’m giving myself credit and loving myself more.

How did you change your eating habits? To be honest, when I tried to work out and lose weight, I could never really lose it. Then, on March 31, 2023, I was in my bathroom, and suddenly, I had this rush feeling, and my heart started beating so fast (like I was scared about something, but I wasn’t scared of anything at the time). 

So I called 911 and took a Bayer aspirin. They came and said my heart was good, but my blood pressure was 225/118. I asked them to take me to the hospital. They checked me out and sent me home. A week later, it happened again in the middle of the mall. I returned to the hospital, and they said my heart was good and my blood was high again. They sent me home, and stayed with my mother for almost a month.

I stopped eating because I was scared to eat. I was going through a lot. I had cut out all junk food, restaurant food, sodas…I cut out all of it at once. I think that was dangerous, but I was scared. Eventually, I started eating again and realized I lost 20 pounds.

One day I was visiting, and I had to have my brother stay with me to help. I went to the hospital again for the same symptoms, and everything was fine. However, my primary doctor gave me high blood pressure meds. She said she thinks all this results from anxiety, panic attacks, PTSD, and agoraphobia. Also, I had a really bad case of vertigo.

So I started praying more and attending my church services on Sunday online. Eventually, I started researching what I can eat and what to avoid. That has helped.

I lost a little of my balance, but I got it back. Now I’m talking to a therapist to help me learn more about mental illness and what to do to help with it. The reason I have those illnesses is that in 2019, I was shot by my ex-boyfriend in my left leg. I was with him for six years, and there was a lot of mental and verbal abuse. In the end, it got physical. He was playing with a gun, it went off, and I got shot.

Currently, I eat a lot of fresh fruit and veggies. I cook my own food using avocado oil, and bake or air fry my food as well. 

What is your workout routine? I started doing a walking routine at home for 20-30 mins and a standing exercise routine for about the same amount of time.

How often did you work out? Every other day 

What was your starting weight?  My starting weight was 367 pounds.

What is your current weight? My current weight is 298 pounds.

What is your height? 5’8″

When did you start your journey?   Been on this journey for years, but March 2023 is when this part of my journey started.

Is weight loss surgery part of your journey?  No, it wasn’t.

What is the biggest lesson you’ve learned so far? I learned to love myself more, put myself first, and that God has my back. 

What advice do you have for women who want to lose weight?  Do it for yourself and love yourself. Don’t let anyone or any situation change your natural you.

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[ellerie-lee]

TW: death, Mother’s Day, parent death, abuse, hospital, medicine,

Mother’s Day was Sunday. It kind of snuck up on me. I was actually okay all of the day. Put flowers on her grave. Looked at pictures of her. Read her letters to me. I thought maybe it was getting easier until yesterday I was so wiped out I slept all day. And then I had dreams about her last night. Not bad ones. Just dreams where I was young and she was just being my mom.

As I move through adulthood I begin to understand her perspective and wish we could have had the parent-child relationship into adulthood. I wish I could’ve been out of the reach of her abuse and sat with it and forgiven her while she was alive. She had narcissistic personality disorder and probably some level of sociopathy, something that my therapist has only realized now that she’s gone. She was unable to show empathy and it must have frustrated her that she couldn’t. She must’ve been running herself in circles trying to figure out how to love and support me when she just didn’t know how. She didn’t know how. I wish we could’ve sat down and I could’ve said “stop pushing yourself so hard, we’ll figure out how to communicate our love in another way. I know it’s there. We’ll figure it out.” But she was taken right on the cusp of that understanding. I thought she hated me. She was just loving me the only way she knew how and it never got through. I’m not sure my love ever got through to her either. I pushed myself through school and wrung myself inside out graduating summa cum laude to show her I loved her. I don’t think it ever got through that I pushed myself so hard for her because I loved her. She said I stressed her out and that the stress of me existing would kill her. And then a month later she died. I *know* logically I didn’t kill her, but it’s the thought that she might have believed it that haunts me at night. I think that even though I gave up my life to follow the path she chose for me, gave up my friends and hobbies and interests and identity and sexuality to please her and show her how devoted I was, I think she thinks I killed her. I think she thinks as she laid there dying the fact I knew enough about medicine but couldn’t save her meant I wanted her to die. I tried to save her, I did everything I could. I stayed up 3 days straight and didn’t eat and held her right hand and comforted her. The nurses almost admitted me to the ER because I lost the ability to stand from being weak. They couldn’t pull me away from her. My body was so wracked with stress. All I could do was watch her monitor while she slept and watch her stats slowly drop. She was in so much pain she’d cry out randomly and I’d call for a nurse and they’d administer a cocktail of pain meds at once until her whimpers stopped. She told me years prior that if this ever happened, to never give her all those pain meds that knock her out. But she screamed and cried and even though she was barely lucid when I’d look in her eyes and ask her if she wanted pain meds she’d nod and whimper and I couldn’t tell her no. She started having brain damage and I watched her consciousness slip away. She was gasping for air and making a gurgling sound which I only found out was a death rattle weeks later. Did I kill her by administering the pain meds? Did she die still holding animosity towards me? After she passed I quit the career she chose for me, shaved my hair, pierced my ears and nose and nipples and did everything she said not for me to do, out of the sheer anger that she went and died on me. I was 24. It was a month before my wedding day. I needed my mom. I still need my mom. Does she hate me in the afterlife? Does she see how much better I’m doing without constant fear of abuse and hate me for it? Sometimes the guilt outweighs the joy of my freedom. I’m doing my dream job, I have bodily autonomy, I’m out, and I can make my own choices without her approval. Does she see that and hate that for me? Does she see me laugh and smile with my friends in a way I haven’t in my entire life and resent me? Does she see me have a stable relationship with my dad and sister now that she’s gone (something she worked very hard to negate) and get enraged? Is there an afterlife? Does it matter?

I put flowers on her grave and said hi. I wish I could’ve done more. I wish I could fix it. It kills me I can’t.

[yesitszora]

Trauma

I never thought that I would ever be traumatized by all the bad events that had occurred in my life. Because even when those events were happening, I didn't bother much on in. I mean some events are there where I cried like hell. But there are these other events, which had happened but I never thought they had an effect on me. I came from a "broken family". My dad is very fake and abusive, whereas my mom is very manipulative. Till grade 10, I'd never seen my parents talking to each other. It may be hard to believe. We all live under one roof but dad and mom never talked and even if they do, they'd just fight. Dad used to beat mom a lot and call her names. My mom would just bear them all. Their behavior towards me was different though. I don't know whether to consider my dad a good father and my mom a good mother. My dad wasn't abusive much to me but he would constantly make fun of my weight and he was a very demotivating person. He used to try to make me turn against my mom but that never worked. My mom, on the other hand, used to blame everything on me. So does my dad but it was more from mom. They both constantly back talk bout each other to me, my brother, and other relatives and honestly, it was so tiring. The good side I could say about my parents are my dad buys me things I like and my mom takes good care of the family. But whatever comes from their mouth was honestly not so bearable sometimes. I didn't know their problems had an effect on me until my grandma talked bout me getting married someday in the future. I freaked out so bad. I told grandma that I would never want to get married ever in the future. She asked me the reason and I was like HAVE YOU SEEN HOW MISERABLE MY FAMILY HAS BEEN. She tried her best to make me change my mind but nothing she said changed my mind. Later on, I realized I had commitment issues. (One of my therapists pointed it out to me, that's how I came to know) When any of my exes brought up bout marriage I would immediately try to break up with them. It all changed when I met my bf that was 3 years ago. I still get scared thinking bout the idea of marriage but my bf reassures me a lot. So, slowly-slowly I am changing my mind bout it. If I'm getting married, I will only marry my bf.

[randomshyperson]

Wanda Maximoff x Reader - Sorry for your lost - Part I “I will grieve”.

Serie Masterlist here || Part II|| Read on AO3 

Summary: When your wife Natasha passes away in a car accident, a part of you dies with her. It takes a few months of mourning for your psychiatrist thinks the best alternative is for you to join a grief group. And there you meet Wanda Maximoff, and learn to live again.

Warnings: (+16) mentions of death, panic attacks and anxiety, grief, self sabotage, mentions of abusive family background, mutual attraction, explicit consent, therapeutic conversations about death, self-deprecation, healthy methods of coping with grief, possible triggers about anxiety, hurtful behaviors, domestic wanda.

Chapter warnings: Heavy angst, death.

Author’s notes:  Hello readers! I'm finally back to posting something, but I disappeared for a good reason, I was writing three new series. And here is the first of them. I really enjoyed this work and it's something I've been trying to write since I watched WandaVision, and only now I've managed to put it into words. I am not finished yet, but there is only one chapter left, so your reading will not be affected. Pay attention to the warnings, and good reading!

Tag list (let me know if you wanna be tagged) 

@mionemymind​ / @abimess​ / @stephanieromanoff​ / @yourtaletotell​ / @tomy5girls​ / @justagaypanicking​ / @thegayw1tch​

//-//

Chapter One - I’ll grieve.

You wished you could go back to sleep as soon as you opened your eyes. The sound of your alarm buzzed loudly throughout the room, and after putting it on snooze mode at least four times, you finally got annoyed enough to grab it and throw it across the room. But the sound continued.

Letting out a grumble of dissatisfaction, you pushed the comforter off you, and sat up in your bed. Your room was a mess, but you just skipped through the clothes on the floor to reach the phone, turning off the alarm through the new crack you made in the screen.

"Honey, are you up?" you heard your mother's distant voice calling you through the door, probably from the living room or the kitchen. "Don't forget your therapy today."

You sighed impatiently, running your hands through your hair. The damn group therapy. 

Grumbling lightly, you forced yourself to take a shower, not wanting "poor hygiene" to end up on your progress report card. 

A while later, when you were finished, you went into the kitchen. Your mother was using her laptop on the counter, and just waved at you.

"Are you going to take me?" You asked her with your hands in your pockets. Your mother took her eyes off the screen to evaluate the sweatshirt you were wearing, and you rolled your eyes at her disapproving expression. 

"You know, you could try driv-"

"Mom" You cut her off in earnest, your heart racing momentarily. You don't drive. An she knows. Your mother sighs, putting her hands up in a sign of surrender.

"It was just a suggestion dear." She retorts as she stands up, reaching for her car key on the key rack exiting the kitchen. "But I'm busy with the store, you'll need to take the subway next time."

"Thanks for the support." You grumble as you step out in front and your mother lets out a wry chuckle.

You frown and let out a dissatisfied exclamation as you step outside feeling the sun's rays on your face.

"You're not a vampire, cut the drama." Mocks your mother by pushing you lightly to get you out of the way. 

You grumble  as you walk to the car. And when you are sitting on the seat, your mother is starting the vehicle and she asks:

"Are you sure you're not going to eat anything?"

Looking out the window, you just mumble that you're not hungry, and she shakes her head in disapproval before you back the car up. You don't speak any more on the way.

//-//

Your mother dropped you off in the parking lot of a gymnasium where the therapy group would be meeting. You sighed as you got out, and thanked her for the ride and the money she gave you to eat, even though you probably weren't going to use.

Resisting the urge to run away, you forced your feet to walk toward the place.

There were a few people at the door, but you didn't smile at any of them, entering the place with your head down and your hands in your pockets. 

And then a woman greeted you, and put a little sticker with your name on your shirt when you gave her your papers. 

Then she signaled the way you should go, and you ended up on the gymnasium court, where there was a wheel of chairs, and a table with food and drink, and several people scattered around, who you thought were part of your therapy group. 

Sighing impatiently you made your way to the bleachers of the venue, hoping to be alone until the session started and you could leave.

Fortunately it wasn't long before the leader signaled for everyone to sit in the circle, and you sighed as you stood up. You ended up with one of the chairs on the far left opposite the therapist, which could be bad since he would see you clearly.

"Thank you very much for coming." Said the therapist smiling gently as his gaze roved over everyone in the circle. You kept your gaze on your shoes. He made a noise with his throat. "Who would like to start today?"

The silence lasted for a few seconds, but then someone was speaking. You forced yourself to come back to reality and pay attention.

"[...] and this is my fourth week around here." Said a woman in a leather jacket. You noticed the army lanyard around her neck. She was talking about an accident when you got distracted again. Lightly poking your eye with your finger, you tried to focus again, letting out a low sigh. And then the therapist was talking again.

"We have new faces today." He said and you felt your heart speed up. You absolutely did not want to talk in front of strangers. "Why don't you share with us, miss?"

You raised your gaze to meet that of the therapist, smiling gently at you. The rest of the group looked at you as well. Taking a deep breath, you began to wiggle your fingers on your leg.

"I don't... I've never been in a group." You say clumsily. "What should I say?"

"Whatever you wish to say." He answers with a smile. You swallow the urge to tell him you didn't want to talk at all. Realizing your lack of response, he is quick to add. "Why don't you tell us why you are here?."

You let out a dry laugh. 

"I really didn't have much choice." You retort wryly. The therapist looks slightly surprised, but makes no mention of interrupting you. You let out a sigh before clarifying. "My psychiatrist, she...she didn't approve of my social ratings. She wanted me to talk to other people. People who... went through the same things I did." You count staring at the floor. When you look up again, the group still waits for you to continue, and you sigh, running your hands through your hair. "I haven't... I... I haven't talked to other people outside of my family in six months. Not since..."

You move your head, sniffling slightly as you straighten your posture. The therapist clears his throat.

"You just need to share whatever you are ready to tell us." He says gently, you nod slightly feeling extremely vulnerable. "But remember that this is a safe space. There is nothing to fear here."

And then he is talking about methods of easing the guilt, and dealing with the pain and you were distracted again. You would like to go back to bed. It must have taken a while, but the session is finally over.

The group dispersed around the room, and you went toward the therapist's desk to have him sign your schedule. He smiled as you approached.

"Miss Y/N/L, I was happy to hear that you would be joining us today." He said greeting you with a handshake. You nodded, taking the paper from your pocket. He chuckled, but accepted it. "You know, I'd like you to try to have a partner in the group, it's recommended for cases like yours."

"What do you mean cases like me?" You ask snidely, but he doesn't care.

"Doctor Harkness gave me your chart." He explained as he signed the paper you gave him while you frowned. "Extreme Social Anxiety in the first few months of treatment. Tendency to complete isolation, introverted..."

"Yeah I know my problems, buddy." You interrupt him with irritation. "You don't have to list them for me."

The therapist gives a lopsided chuckle, and holds out the signed paper to you. But he adds with a serious look:

"I'm here to help you, Y/N." He says. "Don't forget that."

You don't respond and take the paper, turning toward the exit. 

//-//

Your week passes slowly and tortuously. Which is surprising because you barely get out of bed. And then it is group therapy day again, and you are making a new crack at your cell phone screen.

Your mother greets you with a pat on the back as you enter the kitchen, and she is walking past you toward her own room.

You know you have to take the subway today, and you are trying not to think about it too much. As you are walking out the door, your eyes pass quickly over your car key, and you think you have a flash of memory, but you shake your head quickly, pushing the thought away. And then you walk forward.

And you are late for the session, because you can't take the bus to the station, since your feet simply didn't obey you. But that's okay, you don't really care.

You weren't the only one who was late. When you went to enter the door, a red-haired woman bumped into you, also running to get in. She smiled slightly as she apologized, and you just made room for her to enter first.

"Sorry Stephen." She said to the therapist as soon as you two entered the gymnasium, "I had an emergency with the kids."

The man just shook his head with a smile, and waved for you both to sit down.

"And why were you late today, miss Y/L/N?" He asked you. You shrugged your shoulders.

"I didn't wanna come." You retorted and the group giggled, and the sudden sound startled you slightly, but you just sat with your arms crossed. 

"Do you want to try again?" He retorted with light humor in his voice. And you bit the inside of your cheeks. And then you looked down at the floor.

"I couldn't get on the bus." You confessed next. Stephen looked at you tenderly, though, and you didn't like the feeling of your chest heaving slightly.

"And why do you think that happened?"

You shrugged, uncomfortable. 

"I don't know. I... There were too many people." You said embarrassed. And then you started twiddling your fingers, feeling all eyes on you. "I just... I knew I'd have to say hello to the driver, and the conductor. And then I would pass strangers in the hallway, and one of them would sit next to me. And I just... I couldn't."

Stephen nodded slightly in agreement.

"It's okay, Y/N. " He stated. "No one is judging you here."

You let out a dry laugh, and Stephen blinks in surprise, which spurs you to explode.

"Everyone is judging me, Doc." You say through gritted teeth, swinging your leg. "It's as if I can hear the gears in people's brains forming opinions about me." You state with a sigh. "Like my mother for example. She...she...acts like I'm past the time of mourning." You explain with tears in your eyes. "Like there's a limit, and I'm extending her goodwill. Because it's been six months, and she doesn't want me to be sad anymore. But guess what? I don't know how to move on!" You state angrily. "I can't! If I don't miss her, what's left for me? If I don't... God, I can't do this."

And you stand up, wiping your tears away, and walk out of the gymnasium, heading for the restrooms. You feel your heart racing, and it's hard to breathe. 

As you rest your hands on the sink, your brain starts to wander back to the day of the accident again. You choke, because it feels like you're sinking again. You see the water rising through the metal of the car. Your hands on the steering wheel, and then on the seat belt. You shake your head, pushing the images away, and rush to turn on the faucet in front of you and pour the water on your face.

You take a deep breath, trying to stop the tears. And then there is someone entering.

"Are you okay?" Stephen asks and you nod lightly, ignoring the trembling in your hands as you stare at him through the reflection of the mirror. "I gave a break to the group, wouldn't you like to walk with me?"

"I'm not good company right now." You grumble but he smiles, nodding slightly as if to repeat the invitation. You take a deep breath before turning around.

You walk silently and slowly to the outside of the gymnasium, and then he is speaking again.

"You were very brave today."  He comments, and you let out a dry laugh. "Why don't you believe me?"

"I panicked today." You say. " It doesn't sound very brave to me."

Stephen smiles guiding you through the gymnasium entrance toward the parking lot.

"You talked about a trauma to a group of people." He says. "That takes a lot of courage, even if you don't believe it."

"I don't believe in anything." You grumble, but Stephen doesn't mind your hostility. He stays with his friendly posture.

"I would like you to accept my request from before." He said after a moment. "About a group partner."

You let out a sigh.

"I don't even know what that means." You retort with slight impatience as you reach the edge of the parking lot. You notice the garden a few feet ahead of you.

"It's like a therapy buddy." He explains with a smile. "We encourage socializing here. That's why Agatha recommended this group to you."

"Oh, of course you do. Agatha is a bitch." You wryly wipe your hands across your face. Stephen laughs lightly. "How does that work anyway? Do I have to hold someone's hand? Exchange friendship bracelets?"

"No, it's much better." He says with a chuckle. "You talk to that person. You exchange experiences with them. You learn to trust somebody else again."

"My god, it looks like a fucking Disney movie." You retort with irritation and Stephen lets out a laugh. And then you let out a sigh, shrugging your shoulders. "Okay, I'll do it. I have nothing to lose, and it seems that neither you nor Agatha will leave me alone if I don't agree."

"We want you to feel better. Don't take this as a punishment." He says, guiding you back to the gym. You nod slightly, thinking that it really does feel like punishment anyway.

//-//

You see Agatha the same week. Your appointments have been switched to monthly meetings instead of weeks as they were at the beginning of treatment, and while you appreciate the familiarity of seeing her, you can't help but feel irritated with her.

"Someone's grumpy." She comments as soon as you sit down on the couch in the room, to which you roll your eyes.

"You are always so very tender, Agatha." You mock as you cross your legs, hoping the time will pass soon.

Agatha laughs lightly, finishing tidying up a few things on her desk. And then she gets up and sits down in the armchair a few feet in front of the sofa where you are, carrying a small notebook in her hands.

"So, why don't you tell me how your your first two sessions in group therapy went?"

You let out a dry laugh.

"Like Stephen didn't tell you everything." You sneer and Agatha just smiles, waiting for you to speak. You let out an impatient sigh, before stating wryly. "It was amazing, doc. It only took two sessions for me to have a panic attack, so thank you for that."

"Why do you think that happened?"

You squeezed your eyes.

"I have no idea." You retorted. "I'm not the doctor here." Agatha laughs lightly, and then opens her notebook and starts writing something. You sigh impatiently. “Really, you're going to start that again?”

"If you don't talk, I write." She states simply, and you roll your eyes, shifting on the couch uncomfortably.

"Agatha, I just... I couldn't get on a bus, okay?" you tell her, and she closes her notebook to look at you attentively. You take a deep breath. "There were a lot of people. I don't mind walking anyway. It helps me think."

"You don't mind walking eight blocks?" She asks with a slight irony. "That's pretty athletic of you."

"It's weird that you know my address off the top of your head." You play lightly, and she just laughs, straightening her posture. 

"Why don't you just tell me what you want to tell me?"

"Why don't you ask me what you want to ask?"

Agatha blinks slightly in surprise, and then she shakes her head slightly, opening her notebook again. You sigh.

"Okay, sorry." You say, and she looks at you for a moment before closing the object again. I... I thought I was drowning again.”

"Are your nightmares back?" She asks seriously, and you deny it with your head.

"I feel too anxious to sleep." You tell. "And then I black out from exhaustion in the night or in the morning. I don't dream anymore."

"Have you been taking your medication?"

You sigh.

"Of course I have."  You say. "I don't... I'm having trouble keeping my mind still. Like the first few months, you know. Everything seems so noisy now."

Agatha nods slightly, becoming thoughtful for a few moments. 

"I know it may sound strange to hear that, but that means you're getting better." She declares and you frown in surprise, then let out a dry laugh.

"How is my peak anxiety a good thing?"

She opens the book again, but before you can ask what you said wrong, she is reading.

"The first day you were here, you said you felt like you were empty." She narrated and you swallowed dryly. "During your first two months, you continued to describe that you felt like an empty shell. And that you no longer had any dreams, thoughts, or opinions. Without your wife, you said you were no longer here."

You felt your eyes fill with water at the mention of her. But you swallowed your emotions. Agatha turned a page, and read for a few seconds, and then looked at you.

"With your history of anxiety, your mind was remarkably quiet after the passing of your wife." She says. "But now that you're on medication, and therapeutic treatment, plus you're socializing even superficially with the world again, you're starting to feel things again. That's progress."

You look away from her, nodding slightly, trying to believe her words, and trying not to be so terrified at the thought of learning to live again. Without Nat.

You choke slightly, holding back a sob, and then Agatha hands you a box of tissues, but you refuse with a nod, wiping away the tears that have slightly escaped.

"What do you want to talk about now?" She asks after a moment. You take a deep breath, still trying to calm yourself.

"Last week I took a cold bath." You count. "It was snowing."

Agatha blinks in surprise at the information and then lets out a giggle.

"You want me to write it in the book don't you?"

You laugh, wiping away the last of the insistent tears. You just hope Agatha could help you.

//-//

You hate coffee. But you barely slept last night, and now you need to stay awake during the group meeting, so instead of walking to the chair in the corner like you used to, you detour your way to the food and beverage table as soon as you arrive at the gym.

There are a few members around, but you don't look at them, just sidestepping as you extend your arm to the coffee bottle. You pour some, and as you touch the cup, you notice. It's cold.

"Hey sorry about that." Said a girl you thought was named Val or something, as soon as she saw you touching the cup. "We mixed up the shifts yesterday and nobody made new coffee."

You rolled your eyes, picking up the cup and throwing it in the trash. Then you forced a wry smile on the girl and walked outside. 

It was cold, but you are boiling with rage. It was just a damn cup of coffee, you thought as you closed your eyes and tried to reduce your anger. Just coffee. 

You stumbled with fright when Stephen called out to you.

"We'll get started in a minute." He said looking at you curiously. You just nodded, following him after a few seconds.

You bit the inside of your cheek when you noticed the same coffee girl as before, now sitting where you usually sat. The universe was testing you today. 

You just sighed, twiddling your fingers inside your pocket, and walked over to one of the free chairs.

After Stephen gave the briefing, he asked if everyone was all right, and the group lied in unison. You were almost asleep when he called your name.

"I would like to choose your partner today." He says and you feel your heart racing as you straighten your posture. "But I want to know if you have any preferences."

You blink in confusion, and roll your eyes.

"I don't know anyone here, but I'm sure they will all hate me equally, doc." You tried to joke, but Stephen only looked at you with concern.

"No one does or will hate you." He says and you swallow dryly, looking away as you mumble that it was just a joke. Stephen pauses momentarily before continuing. "You know that everyone here has their own experiences of loss and they are unique in their own way, even if they have similarities." He begins and you just wish he would speak soon who your partner is at once. "Usually we don't put new members together, but with the release of one of our members, the number ended up getting odd." He explains. "Anyway, I'm sure you and Mrs. Maximoff will get along very well together."

You frowned slightly at the whole explanation. Then you looked around the group, and realized that this Maximoff woman was the late redhead from the previous session who looked at you curiously. You looked away from her to Stephen.

"Thank you, doc." You said with a slight irony and Stephen just nodded smiling.

"Partners are grieving companions ladies." He says. "We will assess your progress at each session, and then switch partners once the necessary improvement has been achieved."

You grumbled in understanding, and looked away to your lap. When Stephen began to ask about the stories, your mind wandered to the departure time.

And when the session was over you wished you could go to sleep. But Stephen made a slight movement of his head in Maximoff's direction, and you understood that you should talk to her.

Ignoring the urge to show Stephen the middle finger, you just sighed as you got up from your chair and lazily walked over to the woman at the exit. She was talking to a man, and you were even more anxious to address not one, but two strangers.

"Hi." You greeted awkwardly, and both of them turned to you with mild curiosity. 

"Hey, you're Y/N, right?" Said the man with a smile as he held out his hand to you. "I'm Bucky. James Barnes actually, but everyone calls me Bucky." He said and you shook his hand, smiling awkwardly. Then he quickly pointed at the woman.  "And this is Wanda Maximoff, your grief partner."

"Hi." Wanda said shyly as she offered her hand to greet you. You accepted as clumsily as she did.

"Sorry, I don't know how this works." You say. "Should we exchange numbers or something? Or is that just a therapy thing?"

Bucky gives a little chuckle.

"Oh believe me, they'll know if you're not making it work." He counters. "My first partner was Sam Wilson and we wanted to jump on each other's necks whenever we saw each other. And then Stephen asked us to move in together." He says and you blink in surprise. "We're married now, but that's not the point. I guess I'm getting off topic..."

"Bucky." Wanda interrupts with a smile, and he smiles half-heartedly as well. You frown, annoyed by Bucky's story. You didn't want to marry anyone. "I guess we'll make it work, I hope you don't mind having the company of two tiny restless creatures on our walks."

You look at her with confusion and then you understand, smiling shyly.

"No, it's okay." You say. "I like children."

"Really?" She asks in surprise.

You nod slightly. "Unlike adults, they tell the truth."

Wanda seemed to be thoughtful, but then Bucky lets out an exclamation.

"As group guide, I have to pass the to-do list to you ladies." He says pulling a small notebook from the back pocket of his pants. He pulls out a sheet of paper and hands it to Wanda. "Partners need to develop these habits of socializing and coping with grief together. And yes, there is a test."

You sigh impatiently, tucking a loose string behind your ear. 

"That sounds fun." You mock lightly making them smile. 

"Anyway, good luck to you two." He says tenderly. "And Wanda, call me if you need help with Tommy. I know a good therapist."

You frown slightly, not understanding what he is referring to, but you prefer to stay out of matters that are none of your business. And then Bucky kisses Wanda on the cheek in farewell and waves to you smiling before leaving. You switch foot weights when you are alone with Wanda. Talking to other people is not exactly your strong suit these past few months.

"So..." You start clumsily when she turns to you. 

"So." She repeats equally embarrassed. You then clear your throat and rush to pull your cell phone out of your pocket and hand it to her.

"Give me your number." You say. "That way we can arrange...whatever this is." 

Wanda smiles weakly as she accepts the device, and you ignore the curious look when she notices the cracks in the screen. A moment later she hands the cell phone back to you.

"I gotta go." She says. "I need to pick up my kids from school."

You nod slightly and force a smile to say goodbye, and Wanda copies your movement before leaving.

You stare at your cell phone next, noticing the slight anxiety in your stomach as you read the contact "Wanda Maximoff" on the screen.

//-//

By the weekend, you are miserable. Just like the first few months.

You spilled some tea under your bed, and when you went to clean it up, you ended up taking the objects that were lying there. And then you found a crumpled piece of paper.

It was your farewell speech. The words you wrote down to speak on the day of the funeral. The paper you pulled out of your pocket when you got home from the ceremony and probably fell under the bed when you collapsed on the floor from crying so hard.

Suddenly your chest tightened and you couldn't breathe. But you didn't want your mother to worry, so you concentrated on remembering the exercises your therapist had taught you.

And when the room started to get too small, you left.

But because it was cold and rainy, you had just taken a hot shower and had decided to brew tea before you finished putting on a sweater, you had bent down to pick up your socks, and the liquid fell on the floor. 

You went outside without your shoes, and your mother let out a worried exclamation when she saw you standing outside, staring at nothing.

"Honey?" She asked walking out the door after seeing you through the kitchen window. "Honey, what is it?"

You didn't answer. Your face was wet. Your mother's hands wrapped around your shoulders, and she gently pushed you inside, worried that you would end up getting hypothermia.

"I'm fine." You gasped as she led you inside, but she just shook her head. "I'm fine."

"No, honey." She retorted making you frown. "You're not."

"Mom."

"Sit down." 

And then there were blankets around you, and socks on your feet. And your mother was in the kitchen, on the phone, but everything seemed stuffy. You began to be absent again. Thousands of memories flashing through your eyes.

An image of yourself on that living room floor, laughing while your girlfriend had her arms wrapped around you. Your mother was pouring a glass of wine for each of you, and you were happy to tell her about your engagement.

Then an image of you running across the room, trying to dodge the tickles your father tickled you while you laughed.

Then a puppy in your hands on the floor. You looked at it fondly, laughing at how cute it looked. 

Looking down, you saw a hand on your thigh. It was your wife's, the ring on her finger. She smiled at you. You were happy because that was the day you told your mother about the house purchase.

You gasped slightly when you felt someone's hand on your shoulder suddenly.

"I need you to tell me three things you can see." It was Agatha. God, you should have been out of reaction long enough for her to get here. Wiping away your tears, you took a deep breath, trying to reason straight.

"I... I..." You started, but your brain didn't seem to obey you. You took another deep breath. You could see the carpet, so you told her so.

"Two more." Agatha asked tenderly, her hand caressing your back from top to bottom. 

"The... table." You replied crying. "I can see the table."

"That's right, honey." She said. "Just one more now. Tell me what else?"

"My feet." You add breathlessly. "I can see my feet."

"Now breathe with me, okay?" She asks. "Like I taught you."

The exercises help you to calm down again. You apologize for scaring your mother, and for making Agatha drive to your house, but neither of them is upset with you. You feel exhausted, but the doctor wants to talk to you after she accepts the cup of coffee your mother offers her.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" She asks as you sit on the covered porch, fluffy pillows around you.

You lower your gaze to the floor, sniffling lightly.

"I found my grief speech." You count. "Under my bed. The next minute I was outside."

Agatha sighs.

"You ready to talk about the accident."

You raise your eyes quickly, frowning, because it wasn't a question.

"W-what?"

She takes a deep breath, crossing her legs.

"It's suffocating you." She clarifies. "You need to talk or these attacks will happen again."

"I-I don't..."

"It won't be today." She interrupts with a tender smile. "Tonight you need to sleep. But we won't prolong this any longer. You need to talk about it, even if it’s only to scream."

Clenching your jaw, you hold back your tears as Agatha takes one last look at you before getting up. She murmurs that she will see you on Monday, but you don't look at her.

//-//

You don't sleep well on Sunday. And it's definitely because you can't stop thinking about your appointment.

And it goes well for the first twenty minutes. Agatha doesn't pressure you, and agrees to hear about your week, without mentioning the incident on Thursday.

There is a pause after you have told her about the dog barking noise in the early morning and then you know it is time to speak up.

"I was driving." You say softly suddenly, ignoring the feeling that your throat wants to close up. Agatha has her hands folded in her lap as she listens to you. "She...she was sleeping in the passenger seat." You swallow dryly, trying to count and not get caught up in the memory again, your heart racing. Talking is almost like going back there. "I looked at her for a moment and I got distracted... and then... we just..."

You only realize that you are crying because tears fall on your hand. You blink, sniffling. Taking a deep breath, you continue.

"We fell into the water, and Nat...she just...I couldn't get her belt off." You gasp breathlessly. "The water just...kept coming up around us. And she looked at me, and... she just shook her head like she knew what was going to happen." You tell between sobs. Agatha's eyes water, but she doesn't interrupt. "I just...she pushed me. She pushed my hands away and she told me she would follow me. And god... my dumb brain believed her!" You confess angrily. "She told me she was right behind me! And I swam out and when I came up she wasn't with me."

You shut up, not being able to tell anymore through the sobs. You can't even see the office clearly because of the tears.

It takes a moment for you to speak again, your head down.

"When I swam back, the car was completely covered with water everywhere" You recount. "I...I was going to dive again.... I wanted to get her out of there. But the people who saw the accident jumped in after us. And they pulled me out of the water. And I kept thinking that if I hadn't been distracted, she...she would be...."

"No." Agatha interrupts by offering you a tissue. "Natasha had a stomach injury, don't you remember?" She counters and you gasp, the words echoing in your brain. "That's why you couldn't remove the belt."

And then you were remembering clearly now.

Soft music echoed in the car as you hummed the tune and drove to your friends' house. Your wife mumbled softly beside you, making you smile as you watched the sleeping figure. The red hair in front of her face.

"Hey sleepyhead." You called softly, looking away from the track for a moment. "We're almost there."

Nat muttered in agreement. You bit your lip, thinking she looked beautiful. And then you heard a noise, and a white light in the window. You barely had time to frown when the impact threw your car off the road.

Your body tensed immediately as you sat up, looking around with desperation. The car was sinking fast and you turned to Nat.

A wound on her forehead was bleeding, and she was clearly disoriented as you touched her hands. You hurried to unbuckle her belt, but it was jammed tightly in her waist, and you gasped in shock at the wound.

"N-no." You grumbled, trying to move the metal, but Nat gasped in pain, pushing your hands away. You could barely breathe in desperation. Your feet were freezing, because the water was already at your ankles. "Babe, move please. We have to get out."

Nat advanced toward you, taking off your belt. You tried to touch her, but she pushed your hands away again, intending to guide you out.

" Sweetheart, go! Open the door! " she commanded and you shook your head, the water on your knees. Nat forced a smile, the tears in her eyes made your stomach turn. "Don't worry love. I'm right behind you."

As you opened the door, the water moved all the way into the car, and you held your breath Nat repeated the words "I'm right behind you" one more time. And then you swam out.

When you reached the surface, you were alone.

Sobbing, you couldn't say anything else to Agatha, and she proceeded to stroke your back, trying to soothe you with words of affirmation.

"I need you to remember some things honey." She says tenderly. "You couldn't have helped Natasha. She got stuck. You have to stop blaming yourself for what happened." Agatha whispers to you, and you sob. "Remember the investigation, okay? The police said that the driver of the truck was drunk and hit your car after he fell asleep. It wasn't your fault." Agatha says trying to remind you. You gasp, countless memories flooding your head at once. "Say that for me, will you?" She asks and you gasp. "Tell me it wasn't your fault."

You sob, burying your face in your hands. It takes a moment, but you repeat the words.

"It wasn't my fault." You whisper breathlessly. "It...it wasn't my fault."

When you leave therapy that day, you feel different.

You think that it is the healing process that is beginning to work. You still have a long way to go, but you have the feeling that a weight has been lifted off your back, because you have started to believe your own words. You could not have saved Natasha.

There is still a deep sadness in you, but you still buy your favorite drink on the way home, and try to stay in the living room for a few hours before going to your room when you are inside.

[my-undeniable-truth]

I'm Still Here

I am a Millennial. At least that's what the media labels me as. Apparently I am to blame for a long-suffering economy, a sharp decline in religious belief, a lack of home ownership, people not wanting to work, etc.

I am 30 years old. The schools told us we could be anything we want. My parents alternated between "you can do anything you put your mind to" and "be realistic".

I was taught to stand up to peer pressure but speaking my mind at home was considered a form of disrespect.

I was taught to use my "common sense" but never to question the religion I was raised in.

I was taught that marriage was sacred and between a man and a woman. But my parents later divorced when I began college.

My mother met another man on Facebook. My father withdrew emotionally and began sitting on the porch, in a chair, the empty beer cans scattered about.

My father is a veteran with PTSD. He would become angry with my mom over the smallest incidents. For instance, he snapped at her because she asked him if he needed dandruff shampoo, a little too loudly in Walmart.

Mom felt like she was doing more than her fair share; dad felt neglected. She "hardened" her heart as she put it; he drank too much. In church, we sat in separate pews.

She was unknowingly going through a midlife crisis. He was neglecting his mental health. Neither communicated, and neither went to therapy.

She cheated on him; he took his frustration out on the family. Yelling at her, at my two sisters, and me. Mom used me as her therapist/sounding board, dumping everything on me.

It started my senior year; their marriage ended my first year in college. They raised me to believe gay marriage was wrong, but here our family was suffering because their marriage self-destructed.

Both neglected their responsibilities and yet refused to drop their expectations of me. And they wonder why I suffer from anxiety, depression, and PTSD.

I was hit as a child. In the Bible Belt, they call it "spanking". Just another word for abuse.

My parents said they did it to teach me respect. Respect who? You or me? So you violated my personal boundaries because you felt like I didn't respect your authority? All I did was learn to fear you and hate myself.

My parents said they did it out of love. Well that's where I call bullshit. I am an empath. I feel the emotions of others. All I ever felt from them in those moments was frustration and anger.

I fail to see how it is done out of love when you as the parent are willingly inflicting pain on a child who can't defend themselves.

In later years, I would suffer anxiety attacks whenever I saw a child being spanked. Whenever the topic of spanking came up in a conversation, I would do my best to change the topic or find an excuse to lave the room.

Whenever I heard my sisters being spanked, I would experience flashbacks. I would find myself back in time, in those moments where I was assaulted. I would feel the pain again.

I was told I was "too sensitive". My dad would tell people he was trying to "toughen" us up.

We weren't allowed to cry much. How many times have I heard "I'll give you something to cry about"?

My parents were also overly critical of us. If my opinion didn't suit theirs, I was automatically wrong. Their response was often "I didn't raise you that way". Teaching me to be honest and then attacking me for thinking different, for making a mistake, or for failing. No wonder I lied, cried in private, feared the disapproval of others, suffered from low self-esteem, etc.

My best friend, who is gay, has saved me countless times. He's helped me realize that I don't have to live up to others expectations. He's helped me learn self-acceptance, embrace who I am, and embrace self-care.

To Christian standards, I might be selfish. With each day, I'm learning more and more how to be myself.

I am recovering from another mental breakdown. I've struggled with my mental health and suicidal tendencies for most of my life. Not to mention self-harm.

Recently I struggled with opioid addiction and with being in a toxic relationship.

I'm a college dropout, a job hopper, a disappointment, the family fuck up, mentally ill, a recovering drug addict.

I'm numb. Angry. Lost. Confused...

But I'm also

A survivor. A fighter. A loving person.

I'm someone

Who wants to make the world a better place

Who tries every day

To be better

Than my parents were

Than my ex was

Than who I was

I'm tired

of feeling

inadequate, useless

To quote Linkin Park:

"I'm tired of being

who they want me to be"

But

despite

it all,

I'm still here

[lisacypher]

This is sort of a vent piece and a cautionary tale of social transition, Trigger warnings for sexual abuse (nothing explicit) and suicidal thoughts (In passing)

When i was six, I went through a severe trauma of a mother of a friend abusing me. I never told anyone about this until recently. Then when I was twelve I was abused by a woman teacher sexually. Afterwards, my friend who I will name as Adam came out to me as transgender. I didn’t really know what that meant at the time. I had never met a transgender person. So I went home and looked it up, and suddenly, I had the answer to all my problems, since I was repressing what was happening to me with my past sexual trauma, I was transgender.

After sometime I met a friend group of all trans people, including someone who taught me what non binary was. One person in particular, later ended up online sexually abusing me, who let’s call Nem. Nem was transgender, and uses xe/nem. All of this caused me to believe my feelings about my body, my periods, my discomfort with the places they all touched or violated, was dysphoria. It was not. Regardless, from sixth grade on I began ID’ing as a trans boy. I began craving T, wrongfully, and craved binding. About a year later I came out to my GNC mother. At first she was hesitant, and told me it’s a social contagion. I was 13. I didn’t believe her, no, she was wrong! She wasn’t. So I told my therapist, who instantly told me Yes I am trans, my trauma has nothing to do with this. Fast forward and I read about a man named Walt Heyer, a detrans man, and it made me realize Maybe I was not. I joined a detrans server, and I cut off my trans friends. I was shortly after diagnosed with PTSD and OCD by my doctor.

But as my mental health dipped, I began wondering wether being trans was truly going to make me happier. So I left the server and perused full transition. I came out to my family formally, to which my mom, who as a kid passed as male and pretended to be male, embraced this time and encouraged, my grandma was hesitant though. I diced my hair off completely, bought all boys clothes, began wearing exclusively sports bras, stopped wearing makeup, and even told my new high school to call me Wil in private and that I plan to transition. I was so absorbed in being trans. I was ready to buy a binder. My closest friends were all trans, even all my irl friends. I began slacking off on my hobbies, began feeling disconnected from my own identity as a person, even to a point I began worrying I had no personality. I was obsessed with passing, and being trans enough. I had taken every warning my detrans friends gave me, and tossed them out a window. And that was a huge mistake. My depression got so much worse. My friends are toxic and encouraging this. My school thinks I’m trans. My OCD got much stronger. My mama was fine with me wearing he/him pins and rainbow masks and I painted my shoes the trans flag. I came out to everyone. My best friend is non binary as well, which didn’t help. I began having suicidal thoughts thinking I was never going to live as a girl. I was a broken girl. I’m a boy, after all. But I’m not. I’m never going to be a boy. Last night I in a breakdown, realized I am in fact NOT trans. I want to desist. I want to stop being a boy. I felt trapped being a boy, and craved to be a girl. A home maker. The only club I participated in was the LGBTQ club and I felt so disconnected I began splitting my personality, compartmentalizing who I am based on what I was doing (not alters, but unhealthy disassociation of self) it was bad. I was trying to get my parents to let me get T.

And I’m saying this all, to A, say, that social transition can very well ruin your life too, though it’s more reversible then medical, I still would not advise it. And definitely not medical. B, im desisting. I am Lisa, I am now 15, I am free, free of all my abusers, and tomorrow I’m wearing a dress, and buying a wig. I am a girl. A girl with an identity. My personality. I am free. I am a girl.

[sariahsue]

I just saw your take one Lilo&Stitch's approach to child protection and I was wondering if you could give some advice on how to write realistic stuff in this matter? I've been meaning to write a foster care/adoption fic and I do know the system in France must be at least a little different - and I will get down the research hole once I have a bit more time - but do you have any advice on how to write the kids reactions, the way parents deal with everything, the bonding part... things like this, so I can avoid clichés.

You don't have to answer though, feel free to ignore all this akdjwja I just figured there's no harm in asking XD

Yeah, sure! (To anyone else reading this who has a fic, feel free to send me a message if you have questions!) I’m definitely not the most knowledgeable person, but I know quite a bit. And I’m sure things are a bit different in France (hopefully their court system is better - yikes!) but I think the human element would be pretty similar, so here we go. 

First off, know that everyone is foster care is having a rough time constantly. Foster kids, workers, parents, foster parents, foster siblings. And no one knows what’s going on long term. There’s always a lot of uncertainty. Will the kids go home soon? Are parental rights going to be terminated at the next court date? Who knows???

The birth parents, at best, are going through a really tough time in their life, made worse because their kids were taken away from them. Some care about their kids, but they’re extremely self-centered and have zero parents skills. Some are manipulative and see foster care as free babysitting, and as long as they get to see their kid for an hour or so a week, this arrangement is fantastic for them! At worst, they’re just horrible human beings who abuse children. In general, most parents are clueless and selfish and pretty manipulative. They say they’re good parents and have no clue why their kids were taken away, even though their kid has cigarette burn marks on their back, or had to eat out of the garbage to survive because the were left alone for hours at a time when they were four, or worse. They have no clue at all what their behavior does to their kids, and they refuse to listen to anyone who tries to explain it to them.

No matter what type of parents they were, their kids ALWAYS love them and want to go home. Every single one of them. No matter the age. No matter what their home life put them through. Some of them aren’t old enough to understand why they can’t go home. Some have been in foster care for years and hardly remember living at home but still want to go home.  

It makes for complicated foster relationships sometimes because the kid will be attached to both birth and foster parents and feel guilty or conflicted or disloyal, or they’ll try really hard not to be attached to the foster parents in the first place. (I can think of only one exception to this. Two sisters who had been put into another home and liked the foster family and decided that they were going to be adopted by this family and were very excited about it... except the foster family had no plans to adopt them. I never learned what happened there.) 

And this is before accounting for the mental health struggles that often accompany the trauma most of them have been through. Some kids come in with anxiety that makes it difficult to trust new people. Some kids’ behavior is so extreme that it’s difficult for foster parents to take care of them, and so the kid moves around constantly. (If their behavior is too bad, they can sometimes be put into either a group home or residential, either temporarily or permanently.)

Parents are also entitled to visits, usually either weekly or every other week, at least while the goal is reunification (which is always starts out as). Before the pandemic, these usually took place in the DCF (Department of Children and Families is what it’s called in my state) office or in a visitation center. Sometimes the court orders that the visits be supervised so they don’t start promising their kids that they’re coming to get them next week. Often the workers think that sitting down the hallway not listening counts as supervision. 🙄 

With the pandemic, kids have been meeting over Zoom. That’s being phased out pretty soon here. Kids are almost always triggered by these visits. I mean, they look forward to them usually. Some kids are mad at their parents and don’t want to talk to them, but almost always, they want to see their parents. And almost always whatever behavior problems they had before is extremely worse for the next 2-5 days. (Which is terrible if you get a visit every week.) Some parents bail on these visits regularly. Some consistently bail on only birthdays and Christmas. We’ve learned not to tell the kid that they have a visit coming up until we know it’s definitely happening, or sometimes only right before we’re planning on leaving to go, because the anticipation of a visit is triggering or because getting stood up by your own mother is traumatizing. Sometimes you can get the kid’s therapist to write a note asking for the visits to be less frequent for the kid’s sake, but often that just means every other week instead of every week.

For foster families welcoming kids into their home, it’s a little different. They’re often more stable, and their whole life isn’t shifting around them. They’re just getting one or two kids into the family. The home dynamic is going to be a little different. Nothing huge, compared to what the foster kids are going through. It often depends on the kid how fast you get attached. Sometimes you know kids are only going to be there for a month because their normal foster family had to deal with an emergency, but the plan is to take them back soon. Sometimes they’re adorable babies and you get super attached really, really fast. Sometimes they’re so unhappy and scared that they make your home life completely miserable. Sometimes you’ve seen so many kids come and go over the years, and they’ve all left eventually, and your heart becomes guarded to protect you from that pain. But you get attached eventually anyway. 

And sometimes your parents are given a newborn whose goal is reunification and it’s love at first sight even though you don’t know if you can keep him, and then he’s put up for adoption when he’s two and you adopt him SO HARD. And then you make future foster kids upset because you can’t adopt them too. :( And even though they get adopted by friends of yours, they still feel conflicted over it four years later. 

You would think that a kid raised completely in their adoptive home from birth would have no problems, and sometimes that’s the case. Sometimes they still get upset about the adoption when they’re older because the foundational belief they have about themselves is that their mother didn’t want them, even though it’s not true. 

(This is the real-life story of my brother. We are the only family he’s ever known, and he’s 13 now, but he still has issues over being adopted. The other boy is 16 and is doing much better with his new family now, though he still has some issues. We had him for a very long time, and we were all happy that we know his adoptive family well because we stayed it contact with him, which almost never happens when a foster kid leaves.)

Oh, I forgot one thing. Usually when kids first get to your house, they are perfect little angels for a while. Depending on the kid, it’s either a couple days or maybe even three months. It’s called the “honeymoon period.” Once their subconscious realizes that this is a safe place to work on their issues and they aren’t in physical danger, they start to process what they’ve been through. It comes out in a variety of ways. Behavioral issues, bedwetting, explosive anger, nightmares, etc.

A note about social workers: All the workers (at least in my state) constantly have too many cases. Like, double what they’re legally supposed to have. Most of them try hard to keep up. Some DO NOT CARE. Some are fantastic and put extra time in to go to the kid’s end-of-the-school-year recitals and build a relationship with them. They’re in charge of organizing visits and making sure the kids have everything set up and are generally important in the kid’s life. They’re required to visit once a month and make sure foster parents have all the right paperwork and arrange dentist visits and bring them to all their therapy appointments. (FYI, You get a piece of paper that says you’re the legal guardian. You have to show it to schools and doctors when you make arrangements for the kids. My mom also keeps a copy in her purse, just in case a kid starts screaming “HELP! SHE’S NOT MY MOM” in the middle of the store or something. It’s never happened, but you know, just in case.)

Also, you would think that they’re the constant in the kid’s life, but if the birth parents move, the case gets transferred to another office in the state, and so the social workers switch. I sincerely hope that’s not how things are done in France because it’s garbage for a lot of reasons.

Okay, I’ve written you an essay, but I hope it was a useful essay! Let me know if you have any more questions!

[lady0mandy]

I'm so fucking frustrated

They've pushed me to my limits over and over again and the second I blow up I'm the crazy one and I'm the unstable one and they have to "walk on eggshells" around my when my mom is a borderline and narcissistic Jekyll and Hyde who raised me to fear her

I don't understand how she can't remember the things she's said to me. The way she screamed and yelled while I hid in the bathroom sobbing and the way she made me feel worthless and inadequate when she could have just sat down and had a civil conversation with me and used genuine parenting tactics to help me regulate my emotions.

The way she gave me a literal eating disorder for the way she handled meal times shouting at me and forcing me and getting in my face instead of helping me form a positive relationship with food so now I fear trying new foods and have such a limited palette and get genuine anxiety when I have to eat things I'm unfamiliar with and binge on safe foods

The way I poured my heart out to her at age 10 in the car telling her about how I was being bullied and harassed at school and instead of going to the school and helping she shouted "YOU KNOW WHAT, ARIANA IT'S NOT MY PROBLEM" and she can just forget that ever happened but 11 years later it's still engraved in my brain

The way she called me a slut and a bitch when I was 13 years old and threatened to hurt my 13 year old boyfriend just for kissing me.

I don't care what the circumstances are I would NEVER call my child that I would NEVER make her feel worthless and flawed and only deserving of conditional love.

The way she told me I had fat and needed to lose weight at 16 because she was 109lbs going into college and I tried to explain body types and bmi to her and she said "I don't believe you" and she told the guy who did my senior pictures to edit them to make me look skinnier.

The way she still sexualizes me based on the clothes I wear when they're barely revealing and I'm a grown woman.

The way she's blamed me for my mental and chronic illnesses and told me that the car accident was my fault and I did it for attention and I always have to play the victim and can't just "let" myself be happy.

She never taught me to regulate my negative emotions because she never knew how to do it herself and my kid brained soaked up all her bpd and npd traits and even after years of therapy I still haven't unlearned them all

My friends in highschool used to tell me she was abusive and I didn't believe them and it wasn't until I got a highly skilled therapist that I realized this wasnt mother daughter drama but mother daughter trauma.

And to this day she thinks she can speak to me with the most disrespectful tone and demand I cross my own boundaries and then when I match her tone I'm the bad guy and I'm the shitty unstable disrespectful and ungrateful daughter.

And I'm literally locked in my room right now because I can't be near her I can't see her because it makes me feel sick and burning mad because she will never understand and she will always be like this and I just want a mother who will speak to me with respect and help me through my problems but instead she makes them worse and then gives me money and acts like everything is fixed I DON'T WANT HER FUCKING MONEY I WANT HER RESPECT AND UNDERSTANDING

And she can go on and forget what she did this weekend but it's been 4 days and I'm still crying over it and I just wanted to die so bad on Sunday and I just can't take it anymore I can't fucking take it why the hell did she have me if she was just going to make me feel this way.

I'm 4 days away from moving across the state but I still feel so trapped physically and emotionally and financially and I hate this and I hate myself and I just feel like the 7 year old girl locked in the bathroom getting screamed at for something that could have been resolved with a calm voice, reasoning, and proper parenting

I wish I was never born I wish she didn't try for 5 years for me just to have me and make me feel this way I wish I didn't feel like I have 0 value but I do and I don't even have anyone to vent to so I'm taking it to goddamn tumblr when I haven't made an original post in years

[inawickedlittletown]

Buck and Maddie in 4x03 - meta

Notes: the first of my meta for this episode...obviously there be spoilers here.  

-

There are all these secrets surrounding Buck. First we have the whole thing with the “covid crush” and the reveal that it’s actually a therapist. And I really really love that for Buck. I love the perspective that this is given in normalizing therapy and in Buck having realized that not only is it healthy and normal, but that it would help him. And we can see that in how despite hiding it for a while, Buck does come clean about it to Maddie and Chimney. We’ve seen that this is something he wants to keep close to the vest, that he isn’t fully comfortable talking about and I like to think that he gets to the point of wanting to come clean about it due to the therapy. 

The response he gets is interesting. 

Chimney’s makes sense, he points out that all of them have been to therapy due to their jobs and it isn’t something to be ashamed of. We know that Maddie has and Chimney implies he too has had his time in therapy. But also, we know Buck has as well. Back in S1 where he was sexually assaulted and in S3, he heavily implies that he had gone to see Frank at some point or at least knew him.  

Maddie, however, immediately grows concerned. It’s understandable because for someone to need therapy there must be something wrong and Buck was hiding it. But Maddie immediately asks “why did you lie” instead of “why didn’t you tell us” which makes it seem like Buck was the one to tell them he was dating someone whereas the past couple of episodes have clearly shown us that it is Chimney and Maddie that keep pressing Buck about his “covid crush” without him confirming it and outrightly denying it. He never lied. He just didn’t tell them what he was doing. He’s an adult and he has a right to his privacy especially with something this personal. So right off the back, Maddie’s response isn’t the best. 

“It’s not about the job. It’s about me...everyone has issues,” Buck says and Chimney makes light of it by pointing out that maybe parents should have a fund for therapy instead of school for their kids. 

I really love what Chim says here because he is trying to lighten the moment, but he also brings up the idea that parents screw up their kids and that they’re the ones likely at blame for those kids growing up to need therapy. Chimney at this point doesn’t really know anything about the Buckley parents and yet he is insightful. He’s right on the nose on all of it. 

The moment is tinged with awkwardness that mostly seems to come from Maddie. Chimney is acting normal and Buck is acting as normal as someone that shared something major and personal should be. Maddie, though, is bothered. And for someone like Maddie who was a nurse and who personally knows how therapy can help and who has gone through multiple different therapies, she is very put off by Buck speaking to a therapist. It’s very unlike Maddie. 

And then Maddie goes to see Buck at his place. She shows up unexpectedly, seems to have some idea that Buck wasn’t comfortable talking about the therapy thing with Chimney even though it was Buck that brought up the therapy thing in the first place and the whole scene just seems like Maddie is waiting for Buck to come out and tell her that there is some real traumatic reason for it. Even when Buck tells her there is nothing to tell she expects something and then Buck says “It’s all your fault” and Maddie’s face gives away some surprise. Her “what” is full of shock and she’s expecting something other than Buck saying that she called him “sad and lonely”, but she relaxes then. 

Buck explains himself. He talks about Abby and about how he didn’t stop being sad or lonely after talking to her and about how he does know he has people but that it doesn’t stop him from wondering if he won’t have them at some point. He can’t trust that he’ll keep his family which says more about the people that have been in Buck’s life that have left him than about Buck even if Buck might see it differently. 

Then Buck says: “The world is an uncertain place. You have to protect yourself. Thanks, mom and dad.” And all of that is connected, right? So is this something that their parents taught them? Not by trying to protect their kids from the world but by they themselves being the thing they needed to be protected from? 

I have never subscribed to the idea that the Buckley parents were abusive and in this episode we are told they were not. But we know from Buck later on that they weren’t good with kids, that they were more interested in each other, and so it seems obvious that what Buck feels is abandonment from the two people that should never have made him feel that way. Buck has expressed feelings of being left behind before when saying to Maddie that he’s the one left behind in S3. So, he’s learned to not hold onto people or trust that they will remain because he’s used to being left. All of this is very consistent with his character. He’s been left by his parents, by Maddie, by Abby, by Ally...and who knows who else during the time before the 118. 

Maddie seems insistent on wanting to help Buck which is great except that it’s also strange that she almost doesn’t seem to believe that therapy is the right answer. It makes me wonder about what Maddie thinks Buck will find by talking to a therapist. She asks him if he’s told their parents about the therapy which implies that both Buck and Maddie are at least communicating with their parents regularly enough. It also gives us this idea that Maddie expects a certain type of reaction from their parents about Buck seeing a therapist. Which leads to the question of what type of thing — perhaps some sort of buried memory — Maddie expects to come out. 

Buck says, “You know how they are” to explain why he hasn’t said anything and the parents and goes on to explain that he’s fine and wants to be “finer”. Maddie isn’t reassured and Buck tells her that she can’t fix this for him and goes on to tell her that they are the same and that he always thought she was sad too. This implies that whatever this big secret is, it has a big impact on Maddie too except that she actually knows what it is. 

This scene is a little strange. It’s very clear that Maddie has info that she isn’t sharing and very concerned with and also that Buck doesn’t suspect a thing and that he just wants to be a better person and find himself. To be honest, Maddie’s concern is very strange to me. I don’t know what to expect in terms of what kind of thing Buck could uncover by going to therapy? There can’t be much that fits the bill. 

“What everything you do to protect someone, ends up hurting them?” Maddie asks Chimney later on and this is very clearly about Buck even if she frames it to be about fear in what she will be like as a mother and a fear of not doing right by her kids. Obviously that fear is real, but it’s all connected to Buck. The Buckley parents do get mentioned and we get a repeat of what Maddie said in S3,  “They’re not bad people, just bad parents” which sounds like a rehearsed line that Maddie has been using her entire life. Chim is quick to reassure her and the moment is lovely in terms of their relationship and yet it leaves Chim wondering what he can do for Maddie to really reassure her so much so that he goes to Buck to ask him about his and Maddie’s parents. 

Chimney’s approach by letting know Buck that he doesn’t have to answer speaks to how much Chim cares about Buck and respects him despite all the teasing he imparts on Buck. Buck says that his sex life is more interesting than his parents. It’s news to Buck that Maddie fears being like their parents with her baby. Buck explains that it felt like their parents were miles away, absent, not great with kids, and that they were an average dysfunctional family. In many ways very normal and yet it is so clear that Maddie knows more about this. And we get Buck telling Chim they weren’t abusive, we’re back to the “good people but bad parents” thing. 

Maddie calls her mom. It’s a bit awkward and Maddie immediately gives us the information that they usually text or e-mail, so clearly Maddie felt this was important enough to warrant a phone call. Maddie is very defensive the entire phone call and clearly uncomfortable. What irks me is that Maddie expects her mom to either be in better communication with Buck and already know about the therapy and that when worried about her brother she talks to her mom who has been established as distant and not a part of her or Buck’s life. And then, Maddie tells her mom about Buck being in therapy and I wish we knew what the mom is saying, but Maddie is clearly unhappy about it and yet just like Maddie, the mom expects therapy to bring out new information for Buck in some way unrelated to him being told directly. 

I do wonder at Maddie deciding to tell her mom about the therapy when she was aware that Buck was only just recently comfortable with her knowing what he was doing. It’s such a breach of privacy for Maddie to share that information. And while there is context for why she is doing so, I just don’t find that necessary. Not when Buck clearly doesn’t know what the secret is and when Buck in that earlier scene told her he hadn’t spoken to their parents because of how they are? So how does any of that tell Maddie that it’s okay for her to share that information?

I wonder about Maddie needing her mom to approve Buck finding out the secret or feeling like she needs permission to tell him about the secret. All of it is fishy. All we know is that Buck has been lied to his entire life because that is what Maddie says to her mom over the phone. 

There are a lot of theories as to the secret. So far all we know is that Oliver Stark debunked the idea that Maddie was actually Buck’s mom. There are theories about Buck maybe being adopted, about Buck repressing something traumatic that happened when he was young, and there really are a lot of possibilities but the main thing I wonder about is what kind of thing would be unearthed in therapy. 

After all, Maddie’s reaction is more about her fear that Buck already knew and that was his reason for therapy, but the fear goes deep enough that she actually believes him in therapy will bring this up and I don’t know if this is just Maddie’s guilt for keeping something from Buck or the pregnancy hormones, but it really feels unnecessary. If she really wanted to keep protecting Buck and keeping him in the dark, she shouldn’t have been talking to her mom about Buck or letting the whole thing get to her in a way that makes Chim want to ask questions. 

Maddie does, by the end of the episode, decide to fill Chimney in on what she’s hiding by immediately saying that she’s trying to protect someone. Buck. Maddie tells Chim because they’re going to be a family and so she shouldn’t hide things from him and depending on what it turns out to be I hope that it isn’t something that Buck should have had the privilege of hearing first before Maddie went and told anyone else. Also interesting is that Maddie says family shouldn’t hide things from each other when there’s been a giant secret hanging over the Buckley family with everyone but Buck being aware of it. 

Ultimately, I am very very curious and I love this focus that Buck’s gotten especially when it concerns his past since this is everything that the fans have wanted. We’re getting this build up towards Buck Begins and I am so here for it.

[satrangee-ray]

Meet my MC: About the Past

Inara Hepburn (she/they)

Trigger warnings: Mentions of queerphobia, bullying, loss of family member, sexual harassment.

More below the cut—

All characters and events depicted are fictional, any resemblance to real incidents are purely coincidental. The writer has no intention to throw allegations on, or hurt the sentiments of any community.

Background and family dynamic:

Inara Hepburn was born in 1992 at Los Angeles, California, to Manimala B. Hepburn and Thomas Hepburn, mainly as a last attempt to save their drowning marriage. Their birth merely delayed the inevitable, and two years later Thomas split with Mani for another woman, leaving her free from a toxic and abusive relationship.

Jobless in a big city all on her own, Mani decided to move back to her paternal residence in Kolkata with her two year old, to ensure them a happy and safe life. She took up a teaching job at a government school to cover for their expenses.

Growing up, Inara had a fairly good relationship with their mom, even to the extent of calling her their best friend. This, however, changed drastically when Inara came out to their mom. She was highly disappointed in them for "turning out" the way they did, and she kept searching for means to try and "change" them. Inara, on the other hand, had never felt more misunderstood, and hence, the easy dynamic between the two turned into a rocky one, with both of them dancing around the queer topic for years.

When Inara was 16, she was first diagnosed with anxiety and depression. Unfortunately, her therapist too turned out to be quite tentative in their approval towards her identity. They believed they could make her feel differently with pills and a couple of sessions. Feeling alone in a huge fiasco with no cooperation whatsoever from her family, friends, or doctor, Inara took to flushing pills down the toilet, and channeling all her feelings into journaling in her diary. It was from here that she found an idea forming, and two months into it, she started writing her first novel.

For one and a half years, Inara secretly worked on this novel, pouring her heart and soul out into perfecting every word. Finally, when it was done, Inara asked her mom to give her one last chance to explain everything, and gave her this book to read. Conditions being, no questions should be asked until the entire book has been fully read. Mani agreed, and by the end of it, she was in tears. The book had successfully managed to change all her inhibitions regarding people of different identities. Touched by Inara's talent and dedication, she helped her publish the book under the pen name Indradhanush.

Things had started to change for the better in the Hepburn household. At 21, Inara flew abroad to attend medical school. Four years later, a week before their graduation, they found out that their mom had passed away in a car accident on her way to the airport.

After their mom's demise, their aunt from Northern Irelands re-established proper connection with them, as she was their only parental figure left. Their aunt, uncle and cousin still keep touch with them, through occasional chats or video calls on Whatsapp.

Education and career path:

Inara completed her primary and secondary education from St. Jonathan's Convent, Kolkata (fictional). Throughout her school years Inara was equally good in science and literature. History-geography was not her forte, and the only reason she took up physics-chemistry-bio after her 10th boards along with the compulsory literature subjects is to avoid those two. 

Outside of strict school studies, Inara had always been an inquisitive kid, questioning and introspecting everything in and around them to the degree that people called them crazy. Their mom had a masters in Bengali, hence they grew up in the environment of understanding and appreciating fiction. This led them to write poems and short stories from a very young age. They had almost decided on pursuing a literature based career.

In her school days, Inara was bullied for being "different"; aka both partially white and queer. She found it difficult to fit in, and hence the constant taunts became a part of her childhood trauma. She was also groped and sexually harassed by her math teacher in his office when she was in the 9th grade. Inara and her mom tried to report, but couldn't file a complaint as they were threatened by the said math teacher who held an important position in the church.

After 12th, Inara spent two years pursuing a bachelor's degree in English literature, and writing their second book. But by the first year, she had already encountered her life changing medical book 'Diagnostics Principles' by Dr. Ethan Ramsey (source: her family friend/physician), and her mind about her main career plans had begun to change. As soon as she made a decision, she quit college and took a year off to prepare for a medical entrance examination.

Having obtained a scholarship to study abroad, they took up their seat at a medical school in Boston, and completed their 4 year MBBS course. In the second year, their mom got another book of theirs published, this time a spy thriller, and that too recieved an overwhelming response. No one in their school or college knew it was them, cause it all happened under their pen name.

After graduation, she took up an internship position in Edenbrook Hospital, Boston.

Personal life:

The only best friends Inara had in school were Ayan and Vaani, a family outside of family. They were the ones to always defend her and have her back whenever they would get bullied. Later, Ayan too came out as gay, and Vaani is still questioning her sexuality, but between them three, there are never any judgements. 

Inara fell in love with their classmate Pranani when they were 14, and they dated secretly for 4 years. Pranani's mom was a teacher in the same school and had an influence in the administration. Inara looked up to Pranani's mom a lot, until they realized she was the one to deliberately put them under that math teacher, to replace her own daughter's seat and transfer her to another section. Pranani knew, and did nothing to change it. On being confronted, Pranani tried to gaslight Inara and forcefully kiss her to dissolve the situation. Soon after, Inara broke it off.

Inara always had feelings for Vaani, and they had a short fling in their college days after she confessed. It mutually ended after they realized Vaani wasn't ready to commit, and they were better off as friends.

Inara held a key position in the LGBTQ+ committee of their med university. They ran several campaigns funded by the college over the four years, in and outside of the campus, to spread awareness, as well as aid and advocate for people of the community.

Childhood obsessions timeline— (in order of which one started first, cause none ended till date).

Disney musicals, Barbie movies, Tinker Bell

Akbar-Birbal

Rabindrasangeet 

Sherlock Holmes

Western country music

Bio-chem (started early on, distinguished later, reignited at the start of their medical career)

Agatha Christie

Shakespeare

Queer fanfiction 

Diagnostics Principles :).

About the books:

Phoenix– The first book by Indradhanush, based on an NRI queer couple in California who after several life turmoils find themselves and have a happy ending that the author felt she and her then girlfriend deserved.

The blurry insides of Truth– Second book by Indradhanush, and the last published till date, about a woman whose marriage gets interrupted due to attempted murder of one of her guests on her wedding day. Her to-be husband, a CID officer, stands accused. To what lengths will she go to defend him? Is she really defending him though, or is nobody who they seem to be?

That was my entry people! I had to change the name of my MC's school, because I can't put allegations on any real and existing one.

Hope you got a good insight into the past of my dearest Inara's life.

Tagging: @openheartfanfics @adiehardfan @barbean