#and that's also something that makes me really anxious to need to do

[reidmania]

soon, you’ll get better | s. reid

summary; when spencer decides to get help for his addiction, you are right by his side the entire time, even when you are both more scared than you’ll admit.

warnings; fem!reader, early seasons spencer (s2) mentions of addiction, withdrawals, getting help, hurt x comfort, its kinda really fluffy though, mentions of tobias hankel, references possible overdosing, (nobody overdoses, reader is just afraid of it happening) this is comfort, pure spencer comfort tbh.

an; heart BROKEN guys. this one hurt. remember you are not alone.

‘I'll paint the kitchen neon, I'll brighten up the sky, I know I'll never get it, there's not a day that I won't try. And I'll say to you, soon you'll get better, soon you'll get better, you'll get better soon, 'cause you have to. And I hate to make this all about me but who am i supposed to talk to? What am i supposed to do, if theres no you?’

You sit beside him, your hand resting gently on his, feeling the tension pulsing through his skin. Spencer's fingers twitch, as though his body is having a silent argument with itself—one part of him wants to hold on to you, to feel your comfort, and the other part is restless, needing something more than your touch can provide. You know what that something is. It’s been between the two of you for weeks now, an unspoken weight that has grown heavier with each passing day.

The hospital waiting room is quiet, but inside your head, it feels deafening. Your eyes flicker to the clock on the wall. The seconds drag on, and you know he feels every single one of them. You squeeze his hand lightly, drawing his attention back to you. His eyes meet yours, wide and anxious, a storm of emotions swirling in their depths. You see it all—the fear, the shame, the self-loathing. But beyond that, buried underneath, you still see the man you love.

"You're doing the right thing," you whisper, your voice soft, barely louder than the ticking clock.

He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. His lips part, but no words come out. You don’t push him. You’ve learned that sometimes, silence is safer for him. His mind is always moving, always analyzing, always thinking ten steps ahead, but right now, he’s fragile. His brilliance can’t help him here. And that’s what scares him the most.

You lean in, pressing your forehead against his, grounding him in the moment. “I’m so proud of you,” you say, and you feel him exhale, just slightly. The warmth of his breath touches your lips, and for a brief second, you feel that connection again—the one that always makes you believe everything will be okay, as long as you're together.

It was difficult, sitting here and pretending like you weren’t scared. You were, you wondered if you had a right to be scared. Spencer was the love of your life, you had never once questioned that — and seeing him like this, well it wasn’t easy. Being here, wasn’t easy.

Spencer closes his eyes, a shudder running through his body. He grips your hand tighter, the pressure almost painful, but you don’t pull away. You want him to know you’re here, that you’re not going anywhere. Not now. Not ever.

A nurse walks by, and Spencer's eyes snap open, his body stiffening. You can feel his heart rate spike, the anxiety flaring up again.

“I can’t,” he mutters, shaking his head. His voice is tight, strangled, like he’s holding back something that threatens to choke him.

“Yes, you can,” you reply gently, running your thumb over his knuckles in slow, soothing circles. “Please.”

It was a plea, a genuine plea. You tried to be strong for his sake, he needed someone. You were his person, you would always be. But he was also your person — and the idea that if he didn’t get help you could lose him one way or another terrified you. It caused a genuine ache in your chest at just the thought of him not being him, or not being around at all. You couldn’t lose him, not at the hands of tobias hankel.

He stares at you, searching your face for something—maybe reassurance, maybe strength. You aren’t sure if he finds it, but he nods, his breath coming out in shaky bursts.

The doctor calls his name. The sound makes him flinch, and for a moment, you think he might bolt. You can see it in his posture, the way his muscles tense, his body preparing to flee. But then your hand tightens around his, and he looks at you again. And you know he’s staying because of you.

Together, you stand, and you walk beside him as he follows the doctor into the office. His steps are slow, reluctant, but each one is a small victory. When you sit down in the small room, the doctor’s eyes flicker between the two of you—taking in Spencer’s pale, trembling form and the way you hold onto him as if he might disappear.

The doctor speaks softly, his voice calm and measured. You hear him explain the treatment plan, the options for managing withdrawal, the therapy that Spencer will need. It all sounds clinical, distant, like the words are coming from a place Spencer can’t quite reach.

You glance at him, watching the way his jaw clenches and unclenches, the way his eyes dart around the room, not settling on anything for too long. His mind is miles away, you can tell. But you’re here, anchored in this moment for both of you.

“Spence,” you say softly, turning to face him. He doesn’t respond at first, lost in the cacophony of his own thoughts. So, you reach out, brushing your fingers against his cheek. His eyes snap back to you, and you see the vulnerability in them, the sheer weight of everything he’s been carrying.

“We’ll take it one step at a time,” you remind him. “We’ll get through this. Together.”

His lower lip trembles, and for a second, you think he might cry. But he doesn’t. Spencer’s never been one to break easily, even when he should. You wish he would sometimes, just so he wouldn’t have to hold it all inside.

The doctor gives you both a moment, stepping out of the room to let the words sink in. Spencer drops his head into his hands, his shoulders slumping as though the world is pressing down on him with all its weight.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispers, his voice barely audible.

You scoot closer, pulling him into your arms, cradling his head against your chest. His body relaxes, just a little, as if the touch of your skin can quiet the chaos in his mind.

“You deserve everything good in this world,” you tell him, stroking his hair gently. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’m broken,” he breathes, the words thick with self-reproach.

You shake your head, holding him tighter. “You’re not broken, Spence. You’re just…hurting. And that’s okay. You’ll get better. You have to.”

Maybe it was a plea, maybe reassurance, you weren’t even sure. Spencer was single handedly the strongest person you knew, he didn’t deserve what had happened to him — nobody did. The signs had been there for a while, you noticed the change instantly and you tried to brush it off as him coping, but when it got to the point where you knew there was more, without a doubt — you had the conversation.

It took some convincing, and a few weeks before he even approached the idea — he denied for a while. You let him. You could only help him as much as he allowed you to, but then when he nudged you gently in bed one night and broke down — he wanted help, and you were happy to provide him with as much as you could, which also meant getting more help.

His arms wrap around your waist, clinging to you as though you’re his lifeline. And in a way, you are. But you know he’s yours too. You’ve never loved anyone the way you love Spencer—so deeply, so completely. He’s flawed, yes. But so are you.

When the doctor returns, you help Spencer sit up, though he keeps one hand resting on your knee, as if needing to stay tethered to you. You listen carefully as the doctor outlines the next steps, and this time, Spencer listens too. He’s scared, you can tell, but he’s fighting. For himself. For you. For what you both have.

And when you leave the office, walking back through the waiting room, you feel a shift. It’s subtle, almost imperceptible, but it’s there. Spencer’s steps are still hesitant, still burdened, but there’s a determination now. He’s facing it. He’s facing himself. And you’re right there beside him, as you always will be.

As you step out into the crisp evening air, Spencer pauses. He turns to you, his eyes soft, vulnerable, but this time, there’s a flicker of hope.

“I love you,” he says quietly, the words shaky but sincere.

You smile, your heart swelling. “I love you too.”

And in that moment, with the world quiet around you, “You will get better Spence.”

[harbingrs]

I haven't posted a proper update since I remade, and I don't know if I'd really posted anything for a while before that, besides something about travel photos. I'm also wary of bad faith takes, and it's not something that makes me very proud, but I've been pretty frank since I remade my blog so here's what's happen happening:

Was suffering from burnout and a ton of work-related anxiety, couldn't get any help for that and had to keep getting through it until I got laid off out of the blue in December. Had the most stressful few weeks of my life (up until that point) trying to wind up all the work in time

Spent 6 weeks in the US visiting my sysmate's fiance & then my partner at the time, which was 100% the greatest experience of our life

Got back in January set to do freelance work - my disabilities mean feasible jobs are rare (anything fully remote in my industry is typically contracting, not employment). I think it took about a day and I had a complete breakdown - it was definitely the worst derealisation episode of my life.

I wasn't in a position to actually look after myself OR hospitalise myself (no income to keep rent paid, no one to look after my cat, not even able to coordinate anything for myself, etc) so I've basically just had to drag myself through life in that state four months, with whatever help people could give me and selling everything I own, plus whatever work I could get/do.

It's been the most stressful and nightmarish experience I've ever had, honestly, every single week I've come close to being evicted with nowhere to go, and I haven't had food consistently since I got back. I've been on and off meds since I can't always afford them, and most of the time I can't think clearly enough to actually take care of myself.

My anxiety was already a daily issue but since then it's been at a level where I'm just non-functional as a person. The panic is near-constant and I struggle to cope with literally anything that happens or stay calm on my own. I've been suicidal literally every day because I just can't manage my own life or find a way to fix everything, so it doesn't feel like there's any other choice.

All of this completely destroyed my relationship, which is devastating, but it was definitely more than anyone can be expected to deal with. I've been so erratic and frantic every day and panicking when I'm left alone at all because I can't cope with anything, and it's a complete mess.

It's just been a downwards slide of everything getting worse and worse financially, my relationship falling apart while not being able to stop it, not having the capacity or time or energy to try and find resources/charities/etc that can help me, etc. The past few weeks I've also had a lot of pain and general unwellness from gallstones which has tanked even my ability to do the little bit of work I was doing before, or to keep finding resources to help me.

I still have the same issues with being able to hospitalise myself that I had back in January:

I don't have friends/family nearby to help, which means no one to look after my cat and no one to advocate for me outside the hospital. I'm fucking terrified that if I go in there being honest about how badly I can't take care of myself, I'm going to end up under guardianship of the state or my abusive family, and I don't even know which is worse.

I also don't have any money or income, the overdue bills and rent are piling up, and being away for even a few days will mean losing my home and all my things while I'm away. It also means I couldn't pay someone to feed my cat while I'm gone.

I'm also going to lose the few regular writing clients I've been able to get on board on the past few months, including one opportunity that's my ideal career, but I'm not keeping it together well enough to do the work.

Honestly, I'm at the point where being put under guardianship etc or in some kind of facility is starting to feel like more of a relief than a threat, because at least I wouldn't be battling this hard to take care of myself each day. And that's not said lightly because it's my worst nightmare, but I've been completely overwhelmed for four months just trying to make it day by day and I can't see myself surviving like this.

I know the risk is a lot higher because I don't have support people or advocates etc here, and if it sounds like I'm just catastrophising, I'm really not because I know the extent to which I can't manage my own life right now. If I lived with a spouse/family/etc I know it's not something they'd do as long as someone was looking out for me, but especially without a home or possessions when I leave the hospital, I don't think they'd just release me into the wild after a few days. Again, if they did, it would only be because I lied about my capacity to actually look after myself, which won't help me.

This isn't where I ever pictured my life being - I've always been the kind of person to stay externally functional no matter what. But this is unlike anything I've ever experienced and it just gets more and more terrifying, and the more I panic, the more I just alienate whoever I'm talking to because I'm being a crazy person. And somehow I'm still out here having to fend for myself each day, and I don't know how much longer I can survive like this - every day feels like I'm not gonna make it through.

I feel like I'm either in complete panic mode or physically ill from it or completely exhausted from it or it's taking all my energy and focus just to keep myself from panicking, and in none of those states am I actually capable of running my life and making a living. I think I find the new meaning of 'rock bottom' about once a week and I am really, truly stuck.

[deoidesign]

.

[ant-diary]

I think I have maybe decided to tell someone I no longer want to be friends with them, but I'm wondering if I should give it a few more days before I commit to it

[catsfanboy]

.

[nearestend]

btw i just want to throw this out there. like it's okay to not reply to my dm or disco message even if you're active on the dash. i think people tend to get anxiety about whether or not they should be active on the dash if they haven't gotten back to private ooc stuff, but i think it's okay? posting stuff publicly takes a whole different kind of energy than a one on one convo so i don't expect anyone to ever give me more than they can manage. i'm saying all this because i do this too and i see folks sometimes apologize for being active on the dash but not answering dms. literally don't worry about it at all and don't let people make you feel bad about that

[gxtzeizm]

.

[katyobsesses]

It's 2:20am and despite my wants I didn't write anything. Did some edits though, which is kinda writing. But wow that stupid argument really leached all of my energy huh?

[savage-rhi]

✨️Magenta✨️

[pepprs]

ok so. today i am going to

fly (and travel at all) by myself for the first time since making the emergency return home from br!ghton bc of c0vid 4 years ago (extremely distressing and scary experience). and fly by myself two weeks after a mixed bag of a conference experience / plane ride home that included a massive scary depressive spiral that i had someone there to help me through as much as they could but it wasn’t enough which was absolutely not their fault but was deeply distressing to me at the time. so im about to be in a very similar environment but this time that person won’t be physically with me and it’s going to wreck my brain in multiple directions in part bc i have not yet recovered from the depressive spiral. i am still in it. lawl <3

ride in an uber by myself for the first time. ride in an uber at all for maybe the 5th time. as a very short young woman. which i have been expressedly warned by my parents not to do. lol <3

check into a hotel by myself for the first time

walk in a big city by myself for the first time (technically slightly untrue bc wjen i was last in ch!cago 5 years ago i did power walk from the hotel to the conference venue (like a block away) on the last day bc i was pissed about a situation but that was like… a block and i saw ppl i knew walking in that area. this time i will be in the same city and know no one at least for today

give myself a self care evening at the recommendation of my therapist…. for the first time. (maybe after i take a walk which i will do specifically when it’s still light out to see what the area is like). tonight no one i know will be in ch!cago yet and i have no plans to do anything. im going to play video games and draw and sing and give myself space and time to just enjoy being by myself and see how it goes

[immortalsins]

feels like i'm stuck in the hellscape that i left after covid but it's just living alone with my dad for more than a weekend

[perths]

struggling again 👍

[sschmendrick]

Gotta write a production report for two songs we recorded and I'm gonna have to do at least a third of it for a group of 6 after having done about half of the recording and editing work for one of these two projects...all that cause I still haven't found an internship so I can't just say : do it without me.

It's a little exhausting. I know they will work if I really push them but they'll do it super late and I'll have to revise it when I get back home from the small concert I've allowed myself to go instead of my portuguese lesson (brazilian artist so it's all good my teacher said, I still feel bad) and I'll have to run around tomorrow morning to print it and I'll assume the cost again.

It's...yeah it's exhausting. And my thesis is so far behind, and I still have no internship. I wanna keep strong but man that diploma is slipping away from me. I'm not even sure I have good enough grades at my exams now !

[autism-corner]

whoever decided that a mental illness should have negative effects needs to DIE.

[steampoweredskeleton]

Every time I need to cut my hair I get super excited bc I know I'll love it and EVERY TIME right after I cut it I fucking hate it and feel so uncomfortable I have to avoid looking at myself for a bit bc I look suddenly different and something about that makes me feel nauseous until like two days later when I'm used to it and love it again

This time is the WORST ITS EVER BEEN

What the fuck is the deal with that bc it really makes getting my hair cut a fucking trial

[transmechanicus]

It is sunday night. I remain exhausted.