#antidepressants never made me do things either they just stopped me from killing myself which is you know great

[tenrose]

It's cool because I'm no longer really depressed. Not exactly, I think.

However, I still have this problem I've never been able to get rid of. I have the idea of doing a thing but then my brain goes blank and I don't do the thing. If it's a mandatory thing I will at some point do it but like with guilt, anxiety, stress and quickly and badly. But the worse part is for hobbies. I do have ideas, desire but still I don't do the things. It absolutely make zero fucking sense. It's like my brain is lacking a connection between the thought and the execution of it. It's draining all of my energy. I don't know what to do with it.

Honestly as much as I don't like working, it's kind of a good thing that I have a job, obviously for money, but also to have a somewhat healthy pattern. It's not that healthy because I go to bed later than I should be and so I'm always tired. What I mean is that I have to cook, shower etc. And I do this because of work. I know this because every weekend everything fall apart from Friday to Sunday 18:00 when the guilt finally kick in. Like, I do enjoy cooking but somehow it's easier for me to cook for work than the weekend when I barely eat anything and at weird hours. So yes I perfectly know that if I didn't have a job I would be a total mess. And that's why unlike some of my colleagues I can't quit and give myself two months of rest before actively applying for a new job, I know it won't happen (also obviously money and even though I saved some I suffer from what I call "ex poor syndrome" so even though I know I could technically survive a few months without a salary my anxiety will never ever allow me to quit without having something to bring me money at the end of the month). So yes the plan is to apply to stuff till I have a the certainty to have a new job, then quit and take all my vacation days and maybe a few extra days. Problem is the energy needed to search for a new job. Similarly I kinda think about trying once again to do something about my driving licence, because I know I will have more chances to find a job, I could go live more in a suburb less expensive area and also the reality of adulthood since my grandpa hit me that I will need to be able to drive to take care of my parents someday. But then again my brain don't want to hear anything about it. So obviously I'm like, well then let's chill and let's do something we like. Writing about the books I finally read, collages, gif making, writing, I don't know literally drawing ugly doodles in a notebook? But even for this my brain shut down. It's exhausting I really don't know what to do with it anymore.

My brain literally lack the "click" thing that activates the whole process.

[earthlyyan]

Organic Antidepressants

(Slight Yandere Ferid Bathory x Suicidal Reader) originally posted on my AO3

Warnings: Ferid being touchy, suicidal depression, intrusive thoughts. Reader is of legal age

first person pov (ew)

(Originally Posted on AO3 On 1-9-2020)

The days were far longer than they were before… at least it felt that way.

I knew I should’ve died that day. I wish I had died that day. The day the trumpets of the apocalypse decided to ring gloriously over our god forsaken planet.

Anyone younger than thirteen? What a fucking joke.

The cot stuffed with hay was one of the few things that brought me comfort in the day to day. The odd number of children allowed for me to be alone. I liked it that way. More me time. And the most I wanted to do was return to it. But instead, my feet dragged down the busy streets, making my way to the blood bank.

On my way though, I could hear the guards making excuses to their superiors. Apparently three humans on the register were found dead in their terf. 

“They committed suicide. You know how they get when they’re cooped up. I didn’t touch them, honest.”

 “They got sick. Died of their illness I guess.”

Bastards took them for themselves. Everyone knew it. But were they going to confront them? They weren’t protected. The vamps just thought they could get away with it.

“Hey we have enough. Three won’t make a dent.”

Not even caring that those children had futures. Well, would’ve had futures. Those were stripped away as quick as the adults were.

I wanted to be happy. We all did.

But in this place? Laughable. You had a better chance of being an astronaut. Well… maybe not. But it sure felt that way.

You know how to be happy right?

 “First and Last name?”

I answered.

“First open table.”

No matter how many times I’ve done this already, the dread won’t leave. The feeling of their eyes. I could see the barely restrained hunger. If anyone was left alone, they’d take a bag for the rations and the kid for themselves.   

You could ask the vamp to take extra.

I shuddered and plopped myself on the medical bed. “Good morning.”

An unamused grunt was my reply. I was the scum of the earth not worth talking to, apparently.

He’s right, isn’t he?

The needle was quick. He hadn’t even bothered to give a warning. It was a pinch, a wave of nausea, and then it was over. He tossed the pouch of their nasty sustenance formula in my hands and pointed to the door.

“Thanks.” I walked out and threw myself on the floor beside the benches. I opened my disgusting capri-sun wannabe and began to suck on it. I cringed at the taste.

There were two boys on the stairs. One obviously more displeased about the situation than the other. He crinkled the full bag and threw it across the clearing. If I had the balls and the same cripplingly low amount of braincells as he did, I would probably do the same.

The other boy, far more mature than the other, stood up after chugging his to throw his pouch away. He seemed to be taking the situation much better than the other. He had beautiful blonde hair and deep blue eyes. If he wasn’t in this hell hole, he could’ve been a child model.

The thought made me sad. What could’ve been. I could’ve been somebody.

Maybe you’ll get a fresh start in the next life.

 Apparently, I had zoned out far longer than I thought because the next thing I knew, a fight had broken out.

 If you could call a young boy threatened to be chucked off the ledge a fight anyway. He was soon thrown to the side with enough force to send him reeling.

 A well-dressed vampire walked with purpose down the stairs. Shoulders back, chin up. He seemed regal.

He certainly looked like royalty.

“Lord Ferid!” The little blonde boy ran up to him. The two seemed close enough, which sent my mind reeling.

How does a kid get that close with a nobleman like him? They seem friendly.

“Ah~ Mika!” The noble -presumably named Ferid- gave him a kind smile. “What on earth seems to be the matter?”

He talked like royalty too.

I couldn’t stop staring. After a few minutes of banter, the noble took his hand from the blonde’s face and sent him on his way. He had said something about meeting at his mansion. I brought myself up from the floor and chased after the blonde.

*

Two days after the talk with Mika, I stood at the noble’s door.

“If you give your blood, he’ll give you anything you want!”

I rose an eyebrow. “Really? Anything?”

Mika nodded proudly. “Yup! Though he’s busy tonight. But the day after I’d try it.”

Maybe he can take the pain away.

 I took a few controlled breaths. This screamed danger. It’s a vampire. They kill people

Why are you so scared? It’s not like your life could get worse.

I knocked on his door.

It swung open, seemingly on its own accord. The motion invited me in. Once I was past the threshold, I gently closed the door and looked inside.

There he sat, lounging on a tasteful white couch with gold accented frames. In the dim candlelight he almost resembled an angel.

An angel of death, perhaps?

He looked up from his book and turned his attention towards me. My body froze. I felt my self-confidence leave. Not like I had much left anyway.

He called my name, somehow. Mika must’ve told him or something. Though, something nagged at me. I don’t remember telling Mika my name. Mika hadn’t even told me his. It was all overheard. Then how?

“Come, sit.” He patted the seat next to him on the couch.

 I sat down on the chair across from him instead.

“Over here, my dear.” He patted the spot next to him louder, trying to coax me over like I were an animal.

Though, that’s probably how he saw my species anyway, isn’t it?

“My dearest Mika had told me about your visit a few nights ago. I wouldn’t have thought he would’ve told anyone about the little arrangement I have going on here, but I’m not complaining.” He sighed, seemingly content. “I wasn’t expecting someone of your age to be here, how are you still here? You have me curious.”

“If I’m honest, milord, I don’t quite know.” I said, trying to keep my voice as steady as possible. But the calculating feeling of his gaze made it harder. “Luck? Possibly?”

“Luck?” He leaned back and turned himself towards me. “Is it truly luck?”

“With all due respect, what’s that supposed to mean?”

You know what he means, and you know he’s right.

He smiled at me, not meeting my eyes. Ah. Okay.

“So, what are you hoping to get out of this?” He scooted closer. “As much as I’d like to think you’re here out of the kindness of your heart, we both know that isn’t the case, now is it?”

I nodded; heat crept its way up my face. “Yeah, but I suppose that doesn’t make me irregular.” I grumbled. “But I suppose that also makes me boring doesn’t it?”

He shrugged. “That entirely depends on you, my dear.”

I tugged at my uniform and cleared my throat. “Yeah I guess that’s fair.”

“Back to the topic at hand, yes?” He smiled and placed a gloved hand on my shoulder.

I suppressed a shudder. “Right. I guess I should cut to the chase.” I finally had the courage to look into his eyes.

Those damn eyes, despite the almost ravenous look in them, I couldn’t help but find them entrancing. Like shiny rubies in where his irises should be. He raised his eyebrows, awaiting an answer.

“Antidepressants.”

And I would’ve never thought his grin could get bigger. “Antidepressants? Now that’s something I haven’t heard before.”

In a place like this? Really? “I’m sure you would’ve heard everything by now.”

“And I thought I would’ve heard it all by now too. But I suppose not.” He ran his hand down my back

I gingerly grabbed his hand and put it back on his lap. “Sorry.” I mumbled.

“No~ Don’t apologize. It’s quite alright.” He folded his hands in his lap, he smiled at me. “If I were in a situation like yours, I don’t think I’d want to be touched either.”

My gaze fell. “Right. A situation like mine.” I slapped my cheeks gently to liven myself up. “Back to the deal though.”

“Actually, before we continue, what do you need them for? Medicine isn’t allowed down here unless regulated, considering how it effects the blood. Someone as old as you should know that.”

“Yeah, but why else would someone need antidepressants?”

He stared at me. His expression left no room for argument. He wanted an answer. His lips tugged into a smile. A kind looking one, but it left something unsaid.

“Why do you really need them?”

It’s not like you have anything else to lose, right? Tell him. You’ll feel better. He can make you better.

I sighed and ran my hands through my hair, leaning back onto the couch. “Look, how old do you think I am?”

“Too old to be here at this age, certainly.” He shrugged and made himself comfortable next to me. Close enough to grab me, but far enough not to invade my personal bubble.

“And why do you think that is?” I looked to the wall, hoping to find a distraction to focus on anything else but how close he was. But found nothing but pristine white.

“This world’s god is cruel.” He said. “It seemed they chose to bless you instead of damning you to the fate of your elders.”

I laughed. “Bless me?” I ran my hands faster through my hair, tugging at the ends to ground me. “What kind of blessing is this? I’m stuck down here to live until old age, vitamin deficiency or illness takes me? I’d rather be with my friends and family.”

You could join them. There’s plenty of spaces to do so. You could fly like an angel.

“You could always make your situation better.” His voice softened.

“That’s why I’m here.” I took my hands from my hair and began to fiddle with my identification tag. “I thought if I struck a deal with you, I’d get the opportunity to make things better. To make things as they should be.”

“But if you were to make things as they should be, then I know the real reason you want those pills, don’t you?”

“I didn’t mean it like that I—” I felt my throat close. Tears stung the back of my eyes, I fought desperately to bite them back.

This didn’t go unnoticed.

“You did, and it’s okay.” His hand made its way to my hair. I couldn’t find the strength to fight him. It’s not like he was going to harm me if he wanted this deal to work. “You know your very existence is a burden to you. And you want to fix it. You humans were always so independent.” He whispered. He paused to take off his glove and used his sharp nails to comb my hair. “But you know it’s okay to ask for help, right?”

 “Nobody would give me help. They wouldn’t understand or wouldn’t care. I’d rather just…” I swallowed hard.

“End it? Now don’t be ridiculous.” He placed my head on his shoulder, presumably for easier access. “What if there truly isn’t a happy end if you end it? You’d lament not fixing it while you could. And suicide isn’t beneficial to anyone, little lamb.” His hand reached to touch my face. Despite his hands being cold, something inside me warmed.

This can’t be right. It isn’t right. He’s a vampire he’s just like the rest of them—

But he cares.

No. He doesn’t he just wants me to think he does.

But what if he truly does care?

“Why are you even trying to talk me down? Wouldn’t it be better for you to just give me the pills and then you get a drink?” It’s not like I didn’t have a plan B if he said no.

“How selfish do you think I am? I’m wounded.” He pulled my head onto his lap, his hands playing with tufts and braiding the longer pieces. “Who would want someone else to take their life for the sake of a meal?”

I averted my eyes. I sounded like a dick now. “I didn’t think of it like that. I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize. That seems to be a nasty habit that you’ll have to break.” He said. “And I have an idea that could be beneficial to both of us in the long term, if you’re interested.” His hand moved my head to look up. I could see his furrowed brow and soft smile. I felt the remaining fears I had slowly dissipate.

“Yeah?”

“You can stay with me. I think I would miss you if you were gone.”

“You… You would?”

“Of course, I would. You’re full of untapped potential. And I think I could help ease those pains preventing them from coming to fruition.” He smiled. “All you have to do is say yes~.”

I slowly sat up, taking in his words.

He could make you feel wanted. You didn’t need to run anymore.

“I…”

You could have someone take care of you and like you for you, isn’t that all you’ve wanted? Someone who knows how to make things better? Someone who can save you?

“I think… I would like that.”

His smile reached his eyes. “As would I, my dear.” He hoisted me onto his lap. “Now, to seal the deal.” He unbuttoned the top few buttons of my uniform and removed my identification collar. “Have you ever been bitten directly?”

I shook my head.

“Now don’t worry. It won’t hurt for long. Like a pinprick.” He gave my nose a small bop. “Like a more organic needle. Just, try not to squirm too much. I don’t want to accidentally rip your internal carotid, and I’m sure you wouldn’t want that either.”

I took a deep breath. “Okay…” I tried to calm my nerves. “okay I can do this.”

He placed his hand on the small of my back and gently pushed me to his chest. “On the count of three, alright?”

I flexed my fingers, trying to ease my nerves. “Alright…”

“One…”

I felt his warm breath on my neck, making me tense.

He rubbed my head with his free hand. “Two…”

I squeezed my eyes shut.

“Three.”

It was much more painful than he had said. It felt like two spears digging perpendicularly into my skin. Slow and agonizing. I gripped his coat tightly. His hands continued to attempt to soothe me.

“Shhh~ The pain won’t last much longer.” He cooed. I could feel his lips moving on my skin at he talked.

The pain didn’t go away, but something arose within. The area where his fangs pierced me grew numb. I could still feel his fangs in my skin, its presence foreign. But it wasn’t uncomfortable.

It felt like warmth and welcome, if those feelings could resonate inside. My mind grew foggier. Pleasantly ignorant. I couldn’t hear anything else but the faint slurping and my own heartbeat. It was nice. I felt my eyes roll back and my body grow weaker. I gave Ferid’s coat a fatigued tug.

He pulled away slowly, and I whined at the loss. I slumped against his shoulder, the last of my remaining strength left along with his fangs.

His hand moved from the back of my head to my shoulders. He stood up with me in his arms. My eyes fought to stay open. I saw the faint image of Ferid’s face with a small stream of blood falling from his lips.

The light from the candle illuminated the space behind him, bathing him in a heavenly glow. He seemed a little livelier than before, too.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

I tried to get a word out, but it came out a strangled whimper.

He smiled and shook his head, tutting softly. “I think I took too much, don’t you?” He walked down the hall with my limp body in his arms.

Ferid arrived in a large bedroom and placed me neatly under the covers and tucked me in. He sat next to me on my left side. He brushed a few stray hairs from my face and gave me a small kiss on the forehead.

“I do believe you need your rest. I’ll be back when you wake, my dear. I promise.” His hand moved from my forehead to my cheek as he gave it one final caress.

In my failing consciousness, I heard a gentle laugh

“Sleep well my lamb you’ll feel better in the morning. You’ll never feel empty again.”

And in the enveloping darkness, I saw him smirk.

[sera-cb]

My vaccine experience has been terrible and stressful and it’s put me in a really weird spot where I 100% believe everyone should get this thing if they’re at all able, but also am terrified to try again myself. Which I have to do, it turns out! Because even with this capitalism’s efforts to do things cheaply and as automated as possible has just absolutely fucked me apparently.

Like first off, I have a day job five days a week and every other weekend I am scheduled to do art streams, one for backers and one for comms, which both are typically needed to make ends meet.  Work won’t pay me to miss time for side effects, and I’m finding it very difficult to do these big-ass seven hour streams two weekends in a row on top of my usual work weeks, so finding the right time to get the first dose was a nightmare, but also

that nightmare began with like an hour wait inside of a Walgreens to see if the last appointment would show up or not, because “walk-ins open” is sort of only half true I guess, but largely because if they just gave it to me they’d need to open a new set of the things and they’d all go bad for my sake and that sucks.  Fine, I get it, but the dude didn’t show so they scheduled me for the next day.

Then, as I was walking away, the dude shows up, and the guy flags me down and goes “hey let’s do it now after all.”  Rad, I thought. Progress.

Another hour waiting in Walgreens.

I finally get the shot. She hands me some papers. I need to wait around for 15 minutes to be observed, they said. Alright, fine. I read the papers while I wait; the side effects of the shot possibly killing you are basically 1:1 with what happens to me during a panic attack. I’ve developed this weird history with needles where I get panic attacks or something adjacent with some weird and mildly random delay after getting any kind of shot.  Now I’m thinking about that and the room is spinning. I call my wife hoping she’ll talk me down. I get about two sentences into that call before I wake up to my phone ringing on the floor.  Nobody on staff notices.

Three hours after getting there, I hobble out of Walgreens. I’m basically wiped out for three days - even without the shot, the weird lightheaded shit I get from these pass-out sessions does some vile stuff to the rest of my body that lingers for a day or two sometimes.

I was advised that since I got the shot day-of after all I’d need to reschedule my appointment, though, and this led to problems.  Walgreen’s vaccine setup only does appointments in pairs; if you missed the first, you won’t get the second, and there was to our knowledge no way to do just the second, especially via their robo phone tree. Kaz deals with Walgreens all the time for her meds, so she knows how to get through the phone tree - it’s by being so hostile that I feel bad for the robot, for the record - but when asking if we could schedule just a second shot either they hung up on us or the line went dead.

I said “screw it, I’ll just show up in a few weeks,” but then I just never did, because I didn’t have a hard deadline to my knowledge and I was quite stressed out from the whole experience, but it turns out that the day I finally worked up the will to get the second dose? Where I had people willing to be there for me in case things went south again?

Three days after the six week deadline before the whole thing is moot, which nobody told me about.

So now I’m back to square one, barely able to work my will up for one more shot but staring down two, wondering if this means I now have the option to go somewhere else or if that counts as mixing vaccines, which even I know to be bad, and feeling incredibly lost and frustrated with the whole thing.

And the brutal truth is that none of these places have accommodations for Kaz that would allow her to get the damn shot anyway! She can’t stand around a Walgreens for hours. She could barely walk back to where the pharmacy even is, and all like two chairs back there are made for skinny little asses so she’d have nowhere to sit while her spine declares war on her. (And this is all ignoring that she basically can’t go out during daylight without a bunch of excess precaution since her antidepressants have rendered her some sort of vampire in the skin department, by which I mean the amount of time it takes for her to get sunburnt is less than the time it takes to walk to the car from the house.)

So I’d still need to act like I haven’t had the shot, because even though it’d stop me from getting sick, I could still bring something home and transmit it to her. Nothing about my life would change. I cannot go back to “normal.” At this rate, ever.

So on the one hand I’m with everyone going “hell yeah get your shot”

but on the other I am effectively one of the people who hasn’t, with someone else who hasn’t and seemingly can’t (I do not understand why we can’t just set up an appointment with her doctor, who does have accommodations, for this??? Why does it need to be some retailer pharma??), and the whole thing is both deeply frustrating, confusing in implementation, and leaving me feeling like a hopeless statistic that’s here just to frustrate everyone else.

Like, I’m probably never going to have a group of people over again? Game nights are gone. Socializing is gone. Web calls never replaced it, we’re not that important to anyone. Holidays are well dead. My family has tried to talk us into attending church for several things, including Christmas and Mother’s Day, and just doesn’t understand how not plausible that is. Kaz is high risk; I have been assured that if she gets COVID, she almost certainly will die. I can’t play fast and loose with this shit like everyone around me wants to. I’m forced to come into work every day as it is and still dread coming up the stairs and being forced to be within five feet of another person, none of whom have ever masked during this thing. If I thought there was a safer job available to me that wouldn’t leave us homeless, I’d take it in a heartbeat.

Sorry for the long post. I just feel so defeated by this whole mess and I keep seeing post after post saying anyone who doesn’t get the shot is an idiot, basically, and while I realize we’re outliers I feel terrible all the same.

[caffeinated-chaos-bean]

Mid-2021 Blog Update

Hey guys.

So... It’s been a while. Quite a while... and I want to lay some things out as to why I’ve been gone and the blog has practically been dead in the water for half a year, if not for a whole year. 

I want you to know that what I’m going to say will be in heavy detail. I’m comfortable speaking on it, and what information doesn’t just include me will be using either public details that I know I can share or will be put in a short and sweet manner.

This is your trigger warning: If you need to click off or scroll past due to the mention of extremely bad mental health, toxic relationships and households, the mention of depression, anxiety, and suicidal thoughts, please do so now.

. . .

First off, I’ve lessened the amount of time I’ve been online due to my mental health. I was put on antidepressants as well as told to take anti-anxiety gummies in November and will be weaned off of those starting this October. A lot of my family and relationship drama on top of the world practically shutting down and going into chaos thanks to COVID-19 just took a major toll on me. With so much on my shoulders, stress from living with said things on my shoulders, unsupportive family members, and an emotionally distant partner, I was at one of the lowest points in the life. I’d never had to be on mood-related medication in my life until last November. I’d always been able to handle what was thrown at me, but mid- to late-2020 was what knocked me down that low for the first time in my life. Suicidal thoughts came and went (they weren’t often, only when I couldn’t bottle my emotions up any longer but didn’t have a way to express them either), but even when they did, I knew that it was just in my head. I never once chose to act on them, because to me, that is not a way to solve a problem or escape your inner demons. All it does it put your personal suffering onto those around you -- your friends, family, and those who cared about you even when you don’t see it -- and it doesn’t do anyone any good. When my doctor asked me about suicide, that’s the very explanation I gave her. Yes, they happened, but I’d never act on them; it’s not a way out and it puts your pain onto others and only worsens the situation for the long-term.

Aside from that, though... I move on to other personal reasons for my absence that helped trigger what was mentioned above. Mid-August of 2019, my then fiancé's mother was murdered by two 17yr old boys of whom she and their family knew. Going off the information that was made public, one boy had mixed meth with marijuana prior to the killing. He claimed that my fiancé’s mother mouthed off and made a derogatory comment about his deceased mother, thus sparking the incident. While he claims to have only stabbed her once, the autopsy report shows that her head/face and upper torso were “hacked, slashed, and chopped” repeatedly with “various sharp, bladed objects”. Not only did they murder her, the two individuals also set the grass around her body on fire along with her home. When we found out about this having happened, I had no idea how bad it would have turned my relationship upside-down. My now ex-fiancé didn’t come from a great childhood, there was abuse and CPS, among other things. But he had managed and was a good person. He could make me laugh and tear up at his jokes, sang beautifully, and did everything to make those around him happy. When he lost his mom, it broke him. It shattered his very being, because not only did he know the two who caused it to happen, he also was unable to reconcile and make amends with his mother for what he went through as a child. He was robbed of being able to forgive and be on good terms with her, and it broke him. He stopped communicating with family, he took bereavement after being pulled from work by family the day it was confirmed to be his mother only to to fired 3 months down the line when he tried to go back (fuck Walmart for that btw), and was slowly becoming a hypochondriac. He stopped talking to me, he would cry in his sleep, and grief made him lash out as was expected. But as the days dragged on, his motivation and care towards finding a new job dwindled. He and my mother would fight endlessly and I was caught in the middle of it, as we all were in one household. There were times in which I would keep my phone on my leg and record for my own personal documentation should I need it due to how bad my own mother would belittle me, belittle my ex behind his back, and just scream and go off. When I’d turn to my ex for comfort, he wasn’t much help due to his own deteriorating mental health. He took to discord, specifically the Vampire the Masquerade community, as his escape from reality. He eventually would hardly talk to me at all, show no compassion, and at times I tried to speak with him about getting a new job or suggesting part-time ones that I felt would be easy and as stress-free as possible for him, I would be shooed away without a word; if I tried to further my attempt to have the conversation, he eventually got an attitude and would just say “Bye!” over and over again while shooing with his hand to get me to leave. There were many days where I’d get off work and sit in the bathroom for an hour and cry because of my frustration and how I felt stuck between two people I cared about deeply (ie. my ex and my mother).

My ex has since moved out and no longer lived with us. He and I are no longer together, and he has cut off all communication to me along with his family. He isn’t living in California anymore, really. He met up with discord friends and is in another state. That’s the last I heard from him. That’s the last his family heard. He doesn’t talk to us or attempt to reach out or respond when his family reaches out. I still very much care about him and want him to get better, but if he has to do so by being away from everyone, then so be it.

While I was letting - or shutting out, rather - the emotions I was feeling once he officially moved out, I relapsed with my anxiety tick; with my trichotillomania. I have a good number of smaller, thinned out spots in my hair from unconsciously pulling out strands of hair when my emotions didn’t know how to regulate. I’m still fighting to get this under control, as I do still catch myself doing it and so does my mother. It currently is not as bad as when my ex first moved out and I had to adjust back into sleeping alone and without someone next to me, but I do still pull. I am looking into trying to get my sister to order me a HabbitAware bracelet for me this Christmas in order to help get my tick back under control. I know its something I will live with forever and go in and out of doing, as there is no cure or medication to curb trichotillomania, but its something to help me be more aware of how often I do pull and to train it to no longer be a muscle memory response.

Most recently, I’ve had to stop taking melatonin. I’ve had bouts of insomnia since my ex left, and eventually I took enough melatonin to not only build an immunity to it but also a slight dependence. I was taking more than I should have been, and I noticed the signs of it and have stopped taking melatonin altogether. Due to this, I have switched to hempseed oil gummies. I take 2 before bed and they have helped wonderfully. But, due to how easy it was for me to become dependent on melatonin, I do plan to take brief breaks from the gummies to avoid a similar situation. I also do not plan on seeking an insomnia medication due to the same reasons. I knew what I was doing was wrong and I knew i was becoming addicted, and due to this I do not wish to risk it happening with a prescription sleep medication. I will deal with my bouts of insomnia as they come.

I also am conquering my insecurities towards others knowing I am a fan of Michael Jackson; a moonwalker. In elementary school (5th grade, 2009), I went through a heavy obsessive phase when he passed. I’d never heard of him, and when I listened to his music that firs time I was instantly hooked. I was ridiculed at school after I performed “Thriller” during a talent show; I had classmates going as far as saying that I must want him to kidnap and r*pe me if I enjoyed his music so much. I didn’t understand the gravity of those comments back then the way that I do now that I’m 23, but I still knew to an extent that what they were saying was in now way a good thing. I shut out his music from mid-6th grade all the way until this year. I hadn’t listened to a single song aside from hearing “Thriller” on the radio during October. For my birthday this year, I had a friend take me out of town and get away for a day. The entire time, she surprised me by playing hours of his music when in the car with her. It has since reopened that connection to his music and I’ve been listening to his songs with a fresh take, with the mind of an adult who can comprehend his words and understand finally what he’s saying for each song. As such, I’ve become more comfortable with others knowing I’m a moonwalker. You can have your opininos of the man, you can choose to believe the tabloids and junk media or make your own conclusions after assessing the details and documents of his life, but I will enjoy the same freedom of opinion.

I know this is getting pretty long, but I wanted to fill those who still might be checking up on this blog for any sort of update or spec of life coming from it in on what’s practically killed the blogs for a good chunk of time.

I do plan to slowly start doing stuff again after Halloween. I have a video made that I plan to post for Halloween and I look forward to letting Kikumi and the others be open for asks again. Until then, may the wind guide you all. I hope everyone can have a safe and wonderful rest of August. I will see you in October.

[mcrmadness]

I’m just wondering about ADHD again and how the doctors here say that there’s no need for testing me for ADHD because I had “no signs of ADHD in my childhood”. Well, I was born in 1991. The whole terminology and the knowledge over ADHD was different back then.

I was talking about this with my mom a couple of days ago and she said that I had troubles with homework - not that I would have not understood them, I just had such a hard time focusing on them. She said that she constantly had to remind me that I need to focus on the homework and not draw doodles or do other stuff. She sais she asked even from the school how deal with a child who cannot focus on their homework and from school they just said “Make sure the table is completely empty so there is no distractions.” but my mom told them “Do you really think that helps? All they need is a piece or paper and a pencil.” and those were the tools I had - my school books and pencil. I didn’t need distractions on the table in order to get distracted from homework.

She then also said that back then no one even talked about ADHD. It was still known as MBD aka Minimal Brain Dysfunction Syndrome and since I was not “stupid” and definitely did not show signs of learning/developmental disabilities - in fact I was learning faster than other kids - there was no need to worry about this syndrome. (Nowadays it’s apparently removed from the Finnish list but can still be used as an umbrella term for things like ADHD etc.)

I was trying to google this term now, to understand when was the term replaced by “ADHD”. I only found that this was done in the US already in the late 80s but I could not find anything about Finland, but I know for sure that what comes to things like mental disorders and neurodiversity, Finland has always been running late when compared to e.g. the US... I could only find some sort of Finnish ontology and thesaurus website and it says that the article about MBD was created in 1986, but the article about ADHD only in 2000. That would mean I was 9 years old (and my social anxiety and selective mutism were starting to really grow), and ADHD was still considered very much the “disorder of hyperactive boys”. This website does not even know the term ADD so I have no clue when did they start using it for the first time (in Finland). I just know that my sister got the diagnose along with an Asperger’s Syndrome somewhere in the mid 2000s. Now I’m starting to feel like I want to go find some old books about psychiatry just to see when did they start talking about ADHD and ADD in Finland and how did they describe it as BEFORE they discovered it exists also in girls (and since I’m afab, I most likely have the inattentive version), because this is just driving me so crazy.

I just... I don’t know. I just feel stupid because why is it me who needs to read about the history of psychiatry? Shouldn’t it be the psychiatrists doing so? But I do wonder what would he say if I went to him and really said that “no wonder they never suspected AD(H)D in me as a child when the term literally did not exists in Finland yet”. I just feel like I need to start writing down something like a book about my experiences. Collect EVERYTHING I can find that I have written over the past 15 years in the internet and copypaste them into a file and print this out to him. My brain just empties itself when I’m supposed to talk to a doctor but then I just face these things in everydaylife 24/7. And he just wants to give me antidepressants for anxiety. Okay, he did offer me occupational therapy too but I am afraid that it will just... kill my creativity again. I mean, look at my “timetable” for one week if we think I’d have a random person visit me once a week, let’s say e.g. on Tuesdays:

Monday: Nothing - the resting day after weekend aka no way I’m gonna get anything done. Know that there will be occupational therapy next day - don’t get anything done because mentally trying to prepare yourself for that. Tuesday: Hypothetical occupational therapy. Not possible to get anything done beforehand. Afterwards you’re so tired and the day is done so just sit around the flat and feel like going crazy from bored but be unable to do anything because TIRED. Wednesday: Nothing - the resting day after the therapy. The next day is a grocery store day. Start mentally preparing for that. Can’t do shit because of that. Thursday: Grocery store day. Can’t do shit before or after. Before because can’t start anything in case unable to stop in time - and when having to force a hyperfocus to stop when it’s not stopped on its own, it makes me so irritable and absent minded because can’t think of anything else but that one thing I was hyperfocusing on. Friday: Nothing - rest day after grocery store day. Mentally prepare for the weekend on which I usually always visit my parents on both days. They live in the same city, just less than 2km away but I still can’t start anything before that really, and I come back home so late I won’t be able to do much. Weekend: Visit parents on both days.

And then repeat. So when am I gonna draw? Edit videos? Write? I always do the creative things at night because PEACE and because my brain just works better at nighttime - ALWAYS has. I even found a diary entry I had written when I was 13 or 14 and I had been fighting with my parents because I always did my homework so late and my dad didn’t understand that, and I was then screaming in my diary that they just don’t understand that I am not ABLE to do my homework earlier than in the evening/at night, it’s just not possible to do them right after school.

Already now as I have about 3-4 free days in a week, sometimes even 5, I feel like I need more free time from my free time. I’m constantly thinking about how I want to do this and that, like I want to draw, write, edit videos, write... they are on the top of my mind 24/7 but still it takes weeks or months to get anything started. I just wrote about this yesterday that I feel like I have two moods: either too little time AND energy or too much time but a plenty of energy. There’s no in between. Now I am lucky to have too much time for myself but it also means I have all the time in my hands so I can always procrastinate and do everything the next day because I have time. Which means I won’t do shit, because I have no deadlines, and I start doing those things only when everything lines up perfectly. It’s never a decision to take my sketchbook and start drawing. It’s more of an impulse - I just feel like now it’s the day for drawing and suddenly find myself holding the papers and pencils in my hand.

Same happens with chores, chores just never make me feel good unlike doing one of these fun things. Oh and chores are also something that will make it hard to do the fun things because I kinda... don’t let myself start doing the fun things if I have the not-so-fun things undone. Which means again procrastinating and postponing something like dishes for days. I am not sure where have I got this mentality. Because like... wouldn’t it be a lot smarter to let myself to draw instead when I KNOW I can’t start doing the dishes, instead of punishing myself with “no washing dishes, so no drawing either”? Because as a punishment it does nothing. It does not motivate me with the dishes. They will be there for days or weeks anyway and they will be done only when I get that impulse to finally do them. Or, usually it’s not an impulse even. It’s just me needing food and in order to get food, I need to cook and in order to cook, I need clean pots and pans and in order to get those, well, I need to do the dishes.

I think this mentality partially comes from my school time. I aways knew how to prioritise my homework so that I get them done the most efficiently I could. Which meant that I always made the less-interesting homework first and the homework from subjects I liked, the last. I did this because when I started with the stuff I had harder time focusing on, it made it easier to focus on the interesting stuff. If I had started with the interesting stuff, I’d have had a lot less concentration and energy left for the less interesting homework and the chances of understanding a word of what I read would have been very minimal.

I still pretty much use this with everything I do - work first, fun later. I guess for neurotypicals this is not a big deal and probably something they all do, but my brain really wants to do the fun first and the work never. (By work for myself I mean things like chores etc. When I was actually working, it actually went: work first, fun never - because I was so tired after work I could not do anything that involved brains.) If I start with the fun, I literally will never do the work part. So I have to have the work first, even when it means I will procrastinate with EVERYTHING else too. But that is the only way to get it done at least at some point. It’s just that I feel like my life is nothing but work. I always have to shower, do the dishes, clean the kitchen table or start cooking. (Let alone the rest of the stuff like cleaning the HOME.) It’s a neverending worksite. I barely have time for fun because I don’t let myself to do that because the work is not done yet. But it just... never ends.

I think the reason why I hate chores is because no matter how many times I do them, I still always have to do them again soon. I shower, but I need to shower again in a few days. So it feels like it’s a waste of energy and time! Why to shower now when I have to do that after a couple of days anyway??? I do the dishes but there they will be again in a few days as I keep eating from them! Washing a plate after every use is also not an option - then “it’s just one plate” so it’s easy to put it in the sink because it’s not a big deal to wash it with other plates after a couple of days. Until it’s been 2 weeks and there’s again the rest of my plates in there and I hate my life again because I never remember how much washing the dishes also makes my back hurt but I need clean utensils because food.

But when I create something or play a video game, there is always a finish line and once you get past that, you don’t need to start over UNLESS you want to! When I draw something and it’s finished, it will stay like that! It’s not going anywhere, it won’t fade, I don’t need to draw it ever again if I don’t want to! So it’s not waste of my time, it’s something that will last almost forever. And I love the dopamine rush I get when I look at a finished product, but I don’t have the dopamine rush when I look at my cabinet with clean plates because I know they won’t stay like that forever. They won’t stay like that even for a few days. And that literally kills my motivation with every chore I need to do.

[pochapal]

rank every year of the 2010s from best to worst i want some pochapal lore

[warning for discussion of my fucked up mental health and my myriad traumas. we’re really opening the pandora’s box here gang]

ok time for me to overshare on the internet again! super long post because i can’t shut up and you asked for it. anyway, by objective ranking: 

#1: 2012 - halcyon era, my personal peak. spent the whole year writing hunger games oc fics with my deviantart fanfiction besties whom i still think about all the time and always hope are having the best possible day. if you were here for this era understand i still hold you so closely and dearly in my heart <3. 

#2: 2013 - god i was such a good example of a human being back then. was the year my writing like actually took off and i had a healthy balance between creative stuff and a social life (said social life consisting of spending lunchtimes at school breaking into classrooms and discussing fandom shit with five other people. reading homestuck updates in the music room on one person’s really shaky mobile data...legendary). highlight of the year and maybe my life was in the april of 2013 when i got out of failing to submit a hard deadline essay by telling my english teacher i wrote a whole novel over the two week break and then producing said novel. god i wish i had that level of like. fucking confidence back me back then knew what i wanted and how to get it. 

#3: 2010 - the last year of childhood. i was 12 and played pokemon all the time with my friends and went places and had a moderately successful youtube channel and it didn’t matter that i was bullied so badly at school because i was basically high off life. summer of 2010 was so good specifically. i’d used to get the bus with a friend and go see movies and break into historical sites and get into normal childhood mayhem and maxed out my pokewalkers twice a month and i was buzzed because i had two (2) whole friendship groups to choose from and that was such a huge deal to me the terminal social outcast. it was so simple and carefree and even though everything and everyone involved in this era grew up to suck except for one specific person i kinda really miss it.

#4: 2018 - this was the first year i wasn’t depressed to the point of nonfunctioning. it was 20gayteen, i was on antidepressants, i was as close to thriving as i got at uni (going into town with people once a week, attending art and culture events, getting good grades across the board), i started to write for fun again, i got my cat whom i love dearly, i was exhibited in my uni’s city’s literature festival, GOD i actually nearly attended a pride event that year can you imagine. this year was basically my life’s second peak. miss getting the 8am train and daintily sipping on a cherry coke to keep me from passing out. wish this time could have lasted longer.

#5: 2019 - kinda absolute middle of the road year not for lack of anything happening but because the overwhelming amount of good and bad things cancelled each other out. so like there’s the fact that i was at the top of my uni game this year, was basically making the first steps into a professional writing career (covid i will never forgive you for killing all that dead </3), finally saved up enough to buy myself a gaming pc, and the summer after the homestuck epilogues, but equally 2019 was the start of the Pochapal Gender Fiasco which is by far the most horrible thing i am still currently undergoing and i burnt myself out mentally about halfway through the year (being stuck overnight in a hospital for a panic attack absolutely horrible horrible irredeemable) and then got like super death plague flu that i was sick with for three months (literally recovered less than a month before rona hit. god’s cruel karma.). so like...it kind of averaged out? the good shit was good but not as great as other years and the bad shit was awful but nowhere near as terrible as it could have been. gotta give a shoutout to 90% of my current mutual cohort for following me in 2019...omelette route gang make some noise !!

#6: 2014 - oof. this year essentially marked the start of a four year long downward mental health spiral because everything fell into awful alignment. i’d just turned 16, finished secondary school, had all my friends up and ditch me at once, was home alone for a whole summer, and was hit with Sudden Intense Body Image Issues that i couldn’t explain until uh. after very recent developments lmao. this one goes out to the me of july 2014 who did nothing but lay in bed and listen to the same two marina albums on a loop because fuck i’m attracted to men and also my facial and body hair are really starting to come in and if i think about this for too long i will literally kill myself because oh god i can’t handle getting older which is clearly and definitely the issue going on here. my brain fucking broke super hardcore and it’s a miracle that an overeating disorder was like the worst thing i walked away with. 

#7: 2015 - downward spiral year two!! i was so volatile this year it was such a mess. i was totally socially isolated after a brief stint of falling in with a group of people at the start of my first year of sixth form until january where in quick succession a) it turned out every single one of these people was friends with the person who sexually assaulted me whom i obviously had a lot of complicated feelings towards and b) baby’s first crush came out as bisexual but in the “women and also trans women” kind of way which tore me up so terribly in ways i couldn’t begin to understand. no words for the experience of seeing a girl kiss a boy and crying so hard at night you threw up because you could never be her no matter how much you wanted it. actually kinda get the sense what was going on there was bigger than just some crush lmao. then after that i was so mentally ill i basically attended school less than half the time and it was the only year in my life i failed my exams. i ended up having to resit my entire set of first year a level exams because jesus christ was i in such a bad way it was a miracle i even showed up to them. all i did was either have anxiety attacks or enter bedbound depressive slumps for weeks at a time. but it’s okay because it gets worse.

#8: 2016 - downward spiral act iii: the spiralling. prefacing this by saying that i actually had two whole good months (april - may) in that i was functioning enough to do my exams and finish school with decent grades. the rest was super extra mega terrible. my school attendance for year 13 dipped below 65% and literally the only thing that kept me from being kicked out was the fact that i was naturally smart at the subjects i took and also because the school would have a lot to answer for after letting me get to that state despite having a hefty file on how damaged i was. keep in mind every single part of this was fully untreated btw - i was just floundering around and letting it all fester. i spent three solid weeks going to school but locking myself in the bathroom all day every day and having mental health episodes then going home like nothing else happened only to continue the breakdown that night. then things got kicked into fucked up overdrive when i moved out to uni and was cut off from what little support structures i did have. it was so bad all i did was cry all the time and never went anywhere to the point where three separate sources recommended me to the wellbeing and crisis counselling service that i stopped going to after two sessions because i was fucked up in ways cbt techniques could not even touch. at least i tried to make an effort for the first two months of uni which like. good for me?

#9: 2017 - what lieth at the base of the spiral. helltrench year. i was at literal rock bottom. i stopped going to class, i didn’t hand in a single piece of work. i lied to my parents and would book trains each day only to go back to my student flat and sit there and contemplate suicide. like i would just slump on the floor in a catatonic state and vividly contemplate one of four or so ways i could end my own life. i only didn’t because i wanted to wait until the summer to collect my last student loan and transfer it to my parents as an apology for my death which obviously didn’t end up happening. honestly i can’t remember much of the first half of 2017 that’s how bad it was. i remember taking a gender studies class and the teacher made it Weird that i was the Only Male Student in the room and then she sent me a scolding email after i walked out halfway through a class and never returned. apparently i got into a lot of online discourse in this year but i don’t remember anything other than being put on a blocklist by the milkfic author over ace discourse which is funny if you have the context. mostly i just baited terfs and weirdo freaks to get them to say horrible things to me as what i guess amounts to some kind of digital self harm. anyway breaking point came in late august when i got kicked out of university and then nobody could ignore it any more so there was no choice left but for me to seek out help and recover enough to function which luckily i did. i really Do Not remember 2017. you could tell me anything about that year and i’d probably believe you.

#10: 2011 - extra circle of hell for this little fucked up gem of a year. on the surface it wasn’t actually that terrible, until the Summer 2011 Domino Effect Of Bad Shit. up until like may/june it was a pretty all right year! i was 13 and had a surprisingly successful youtube channel uploading pokemon soundfont remixes to an audience of i think ~350-400 subscribers at my peak? anyway then i got hit with the early summer triple combo of childhood friends moving away, cute and quirky sexual assault at the hands of a person in my friend group, and then having some Really Great and Super Appropriate interactions with adults on deviantart. like obviously there’s the actual ptsd-inducing event which totally disrupted and killed the person i was right up until that moment and reshaped every facet of my life for better or worse (there’s an alternate timeline where that didn’t happen and i got into electronic music and/or coding instead) but really it’s the events that followed in its wake which were kind of more fucked up. so like all of a sudden i was super aware of my body and me growing my hair out and being mistaken for a girl in class suddenly became this Less Innocent thing and i ended up spending hours overnight going to transgender questioning forums and looking up hrt timeline videos and having the wikipedia article on tracheal shaving saved because it was a life raft to me whose voice was imminently gonna deepen and i was simultaneously reeling with constant trauma flashbacks and the whole thing was so so fucked up. then i was on deviantart and i don’t remember exactly how but a small group of furry guys ten to fifteen years older than me started messaging me and encouraging and requesting me to produce nonsexual fetish stuff for them and talking to me about stuff like if i’d ever thought about growing up to be gay and i didn’t think anything of it for a long while because they called me a very talented writer and it felt so good to have someone be nice to me after being so alone and isolated for months on end. anyway the only reason i got out of that before it got bad was because they invited me to one of the big furry sites and i was weirded out because i thought it was a porn site and thinking about sexual stuff was a huge trauma trigger so i just ended up blocking them all and pretending like it didn’t happen. at the time half this shit didn’t bother me but in retrospect holy fuck 2011 was such a damaging year. to think if like three events didn’t happen i wouldn’t be the fucked up mess you see before you today.

god fuck this turned out super long but i’m not apologising because this was a therapeutic exercise for me and also constitutes as one of the biggest pochapal lore dumps of all time. come get your food or whatever.

[lxvesickreality]

fix you

Request: Bucky x reader just absolute raging angst with the promise of a happy ending? ✨♥️

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: angst, swearing, mentions of suicide

Word Count: 1866

Add on: song being used is called Fix You by Coldplay 

gif is NOT mine, credits to owners

Please do not read if easily triggered by talk of suicide and dark pasts. If you are feeling in that way at all even if you didn’t read this, my inbox is always open and you can private message me anytime. 

When you try your best but you don't succeed

When you get what you want but not what you need

When you feel so tired but you can't sleep

Stuck in reverse

You never had an easy childhood and you had no role models to look up to as you grew. Your parents got into a fatal car crash on the way to get induced to have you since your mother was almost two weeks past her due date. You almost didn’t make it because your mom was dying quickly. You were born on a street that 12 minutes away from the hospital and you were taken away from your mother the minute you came out. Your parents passed away that night. As you grew up, you were told this story by many social workers that made you jump home to home to live with foster homes. It devastated you and sent you to a dark place.

Many homes you grew up in weren’t very nice to you. When you were 8 years old, you were struck by the male figure in the house for not finishing your peas on your plate. He called you ungrateful, selfish, and even a bitch. You were sent to your room that was as small as a bathroom. Each time your social worker came, they put on a front and wouldn’t let them know you lived in a small room, not in the normal sized bedroom like they said. From 8 years old to 13, you lived in that place until you were able to get on the phone with your social worker to explain what had been going on. You left the next day to a different home. The next couple of years was like that until your 15th birthday. You found a home where they wanted you and made you feel welcomed by embracing you with open arms. They adopted you and gave you a better chance at an education so you can do what you wanted. You had everything you had ever wanted but something wasn’t right. You would try your damndest to show how happy and appreciative you were to find someone like them because you knew kids in the foster system either never made it out or stayed in a really bad home until they were considered an adult. You just missed your family.

You ended up in a really dark place by your 16th birthday. You caused your adoptive family a lot of money with the therapist and psychiatrist they provided you with. They knew how sad you were. Who wouldn’t be sad? What they didn’t know was you were depressed and developed PTSD along the way. Your psychiatrist put you on several different medications to help you stay focused in school, let you sleep properly, and feel okay for once. One day, you tossed and turned all night because that day was really bad for you. It was your birthday and though your adoptive family went all out for you, buying you a car and your own laptop so you could write down your thoughts, you were feeling weighed down. You felt sorry that you disrupted their lives and blamed yourself for it. You continuously would blame yourself for your parents’ death. You should’ve felt happy but instead it felt reversed so you did something you regretted; you took half the bottle of antidepressants.

When the tears come streaming down your face

'Cause you lose something you can't replace

When you love someone but it goes to waste

What could it be worse?

The person who wanted you to call mom came to check up on you when you unexpectedly left to go to bed at 8pm a few weeks after you attempted suicide, she caught you crying into your pillow. Her heart clenched at the sight of a girl she desperately wanted to be her daughter. She wasn’t able to have kids so she felt incredibly lucky to have you by her side. Your sobs were loud enough to draw her husband and their small Cockapoo, Pilot upstairs so the small family of theirs comforted you in every way they possibly could. 

You told them, “I feel so alone. I miss my parents. I barely even knew them but I remember the safeness and security I felt around them. I was a baby, a newborn and they passed away. I didn’t even get to know them.” they wanted to know more but didn’t want to push you. You eventually continued, “The first family I lived with was a good family. I lived with them for 5 years I believe and it was so great. I was loved but they told social worker back then they no longer wanted me. Their explanation was they finally got pregnant. With twins! Three kids were too much so they let me go. I lost a family I loved but I guess they didn’t love me back, you know? It just went to waste. When I got to my first abusive home, I lost a part of my self-respect that day and I never got it back. I lost so much the first time that asshole struck me. He made me think the worst of myself at 8 years old up until I was 13. Did you know he beat me till I passed out because I started my period for the first time?”

You went on for awhile and they all listened to you until you fell asleep on your adoptive mother’s lap while she stroked your hair gently to get the knots out. That day was memorable for you because you started to feel more loved. 

Lights will guide you home

And ignite your bones

And I will try to fix you

At 18, you felt different. It was as if you had this electricity surging through you dying to get out and to be used. You didn’t know what it was until you got into a fight with someone on the street for trying to pay you for a certain action no one in their right mind would want to do to some random old guy. He was found dead in the morning inside of a dark alley you dragged him to. Their diagnosis was that he was killed by 12,000 volts of electricity which must’ve been from the telephone pole near him. The police didn’t think anything of it but you did then a few days later, S.H.I.E.L.D. found you. It seems as your adoptive parents knew exactly what was going on. You became an agent that night with every intent on controlling and managing your powers. They called you Carmina, Latin word for electro. 

Years rolled by in a blur but time stopped when you met him. 

But high up above or down below

When you are too in love to let it show

Oh but if you never try you'll never know

Just what you're worth

Bucky Barnes was in no way perfect, in fact he was probably the most imperfect guy on this entire universe. His past was dark and foggy to him but he knew what had happened, of course, he did. Nobody would forget the murders they committed and he didn’t wish to be a part of anyone’s life. He barely let his best friend back in because of the things he did to him and his team but you were the most unique, gorgeous person he had ever met. He didn’t know what drew him in, maybe it was the sweet smile you gave everyone that you knew and didn’t know; or the twinkle in your eye when you talked about something you were very passionate about; maybe it was the same mutual darkness in the back of your brain that matched his. It was something and it made a change for everything. 

You were the first to ask him out. It was a pretty big risk for you seeing as you didn’t trust people very often given your past but he had something separating him from every guy you’ve ever met. He was perfectly imperfect to you. Oh god was he imperfect. It just made you fall even more for him. 

You both were very closed off people making it difficult to talk to one another without giving too much information about yourselves but you were a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent so you had a file. Bucky didn’t think twice to look at it and you did the same with his from H.Y.D.R.A. You both weren’t ready to mention the files you took a peek at because you wanted it to be told in your own way from the heart so it took a while to warm up to each other but eventually you did and it was epic. You fell head over heels in love with each other from one date, the very first date. But the moment you opened up was tragic.

5th date and you were crying but he didn’t understand why. Your past was nowhere near as bad as he was yet you felt like you were barely worth anything. He didn’t understand why you were crying so hard because you worth everything so he told you his past in bits and pieces. You cried in each others arms together, comforting and kissing each other to make yourselves feel better. You felt happy and content to find someone who loves you for you and vice versa. 

Lights will guide you home

And ignite your bones

And I will try to fix you

From the very beginning, you felt unlucky and like you were bad luck because nothing good ever happened to you. Your parents passing away was the beginning of a tragic story or that’s what you thought before you found your adoptive family. The loneliness and constant worry about yourself followed you every home you went to. Your depression was something you never imagined you would have and it was the worst thing you imagined. You would never wish that upon your worst enemies because that was real and it controlled everything you did. You didn’t try to kill yourself because of it, you did it to get away from the pain and you were so lucky to still be here because you wouldn’t have died feeling loved. You would’ve died feeling sad and alone. You weren’t alone. You survived. 

Bucky Barnes helped you through your journey of recovery after dropping your therapist and psychiatrist for good. He and your family guided you through the tunnel that you couldn’t see in. Your family taught you to love. He taught you to open up. Life wasn’t all that bad anymore. You weren’t unlucky nor were you a bad charm to anyone. You started that way but it didn’t define who you were. 

Bucky and you tied the knot 6 years of being together and had the biggest family. You felt at peace. That’s what life wanted you to have. It just gave you a dark tunnel in the beginning and you found your way through. You were finally happy. 

[foxglove-and-fireflies]

Schizophrenia

Schizophrenia is many things.

To me, it is terrifying, enormous and all consuming.

But Schizophrenia is frustrating most of all.

I was recently diagnosed with Schizophrenia after an 'episode'. It's the second 'episode' I've had, and this one hasn't gone away.

The first time was in December of 2015. Stress in my life had been building for a while, and I felt thrust into a life I wasn't prepared to deal with. I was not mature enough to handle my life, not nearly prepared enough to manage the stress I had.

I was 19. I got married just shy of three months prior. I planned a wedding, moved into a house I never asked for (after spending my wedding weekend repairing it), and I was a full time student. Prior to my wedding I was working part time as well, but I quit after I felt too overwhelmed.

But it was December, and I was out of classes until January. I tried my best to be a 'good wife'. Wake up first, wish him well as he left for work, do laundry, make a lunch for him to take to work the next day, do the shopping, pay the bills, clean up after his aging dog, tidy up, welcome him home, cook dinner, mow the yard...

I did my best. I failed often. Many days I couldn't do everything, and some days I felt powerless to do anything. I went to my mother for advice and asked her "How do you be a good wife? I feel like I'm not enough. Should I get a job?"

My mother advised me that I should make it my job to be a good housewife and take care of all of the things I mentioned before, and that Bret was too good to me. She boasted about how good I had it, how good my husband was, and how I should be grateful for what I had been given. She felt I was ungrateful for my home, that I wasn't taking good enough care of it.

I left feeling more guilty about my failures and less clear about what to do next. I went to her unsure, hoping for encouragement and guidance, but I only felt more guilt.

The stress I felt got worse. The more stressed I felt, the harder it was to accomplish anything. The pile of dirty dishes felt like a monumental task. The laundry felt endless, like I could never catch up. I  would lie in bed, so anxious about not having the energy to fix my problems that I stopped sleeping. I stopped eating.

I stayed awake for almost four days, and ate maybe twice in that time. I knew I was depressed, but I didn't know how to reach out for help. It's not like Bret would have reacted badly; he was always supportive of me. All the same, I couldn't.

Thoughts of suicide began to creep in. What if? I wonder what people would think. What nice lies they would say about me at my funeral, and what terrible things they would say in private. How would they judge Bret? He'd be the young widower to the crazy woman.

These thoughts became intrusive. Slowly I realized this voice narrating the thoughts in my head was not mine. I don't know how long this persisted before I realized, but when I did, I was terrified.

I had no idea what to do about it. Should I keep it a secret?

I became distant, in a sense. Like I wasn't really there, like it wasn't really me in my body. I felt very far away, detached from reality. I lay laid on the couch one night, the voice inside my head terrorizing me. Taunting me.

"He knows," she insisted. "He knows I'm in your mind."

The voice echoed inside my head; It came from inside my right eye. I thought about gouging it out to silence her.

Bret must have noticed my distress, as he came to comfort me. He reached out to brush a hair from in front of my face, reaching right towards my right eye.

I slapped his hand. "He knows." the voice echoed again. I was shaken. I wanted to throw up. Bret didn't know what to do to help me either.

I can't remember how many days passed after that, or even if it was the same night. Bret had gone to sleep, and even though I couldn't, I joined him in bed to be a good wife.

"He likes me more." The voice taunted me. "You're weak, you know. He's going to help me."

I got up to wash my face. I stared at the person in the mirror, hoping to see something in my eyes.

"I'm going to steal your body. He's going to help me because he doesn't love you anymore. He likes me better; everyone will. Don't worry, no one will miss you. Everyone will like me better. So why don't you just disappear already?"

It was my voice, but stolen from me. My thoughts no longer mine.

I closed my eyes. "No, I don't want to die. You can't steal my body. I don't want to disappear! You can't take my body from me!"

I searched for a shaving razor. I could dig my eye out. I could get a blade and silence the voice, even if it meant dying. I had to silence it.

Then I realized something that changed my life.

I had a choice. I had one very important choice. Two options only. I could either kill myself right now in this bathroom, or I could get help.

I was so scared. Crying, hyperventilating, unable to see straight, collapsed on the floor, I was so tired. I had to die, or I had to walk through that door and tell Bret what was happening and ask for his help.

The voice was so loud. I struggled to think. I made my choice.

I stood up, I opened the door, and I screamed the only thing I could think of.

"Bret, help me! I don't want to die!"

I had made my choice. It was a bad night. I don't remember much afterwards. He went to the doctor with me, and I got on anti-psychotics. I was embarrassed and ashamed. The doctor gave my prescription to him, and told him to hide my pills. She told him to give me one every night, but not let me know where they were.

I was just a crazy person who wasn't to be trusted with anything. I felt awful.

But things got better after that. I started therapy, and I was scared of my 'diagnosis'. Schizophrenia? Clinically Insane? What would the Psychologist tell me I was?

Depressed. I was depressed, and stressed. I also had an underlying thyroid problem, which can make you hallucinate. I got on antidepressants and adjusted the dose. I worked through some things and built some coping strategies with my therapist.

I was doing so well. I was proud of my progress. I got a job working at a place I loved. I was becoming an independent person with friends and things I did without Bret. I faced fears, I tried new things, I had fun. He was happy for me and I was growing and maturing. Life was so good! Five years passed since I made my choice, and I was so glad I made it.

It only took one day for it to fall apart.

Or... maybe it was longer than a day. I can't remember anymore. Why can't I remember? It was less than two months ago. Or three? I can't remember, and I'm frustrated by it.

I wasn't particularly stressed. I mean, work is hard sometimes, and I'm always worried about something. I've been dealing with anxiety for years, but it was managed by medication, and I no longer needed therapy. I wasn't worried about anything in particular.

Until I was. Suddenly I was afraid. The suddenness of my paranoia also scared me. What was happening? Why did I feel this way? Why did it feel like a leech on my mind? I had no idea, and that only made things worse.

I began to lock all the doors in the house all the time. I would be stricken with the need to check all the rooms in my house because something was telling me to. I was scared of what I would find. I would open the door to the upstairs bedroom and peer into the darkness, waiting for shadows to move. Waiting for the movement to tell me someone was hiding in there. When there was no movement, I flipped on the light.

Nothing there, but my mind was not satisfied. No, I turned the light off again, waiting for them to appear in the dark.

Flick off. Wait. Flick on. Flick off. Wait. Flick on. Flick off. Wait.

Over and over, until I was at least somewhat convinced it was empty. Then I would move to the next room and do it again. I did this for every room in the house, and the closets, too. I knew this was tedious and pointless, but I couldn't help it. I had to.

After I had checked through the whole house, I would hide behind the curtains and watch the world outside. I waited again for movement, for something to validate my fears. I knew there was something out there, and when there was nothing, I grew frustrated.

Sometimes there was something. A figure, taller than my fence, staring at me. I could see it, but distorted. It was there and at the same time, it wasn't. Still, I stared at it, and it stared back at me. All the while I felt a sort of pressure in my mind. This wasn't right and I could feel it. Something was wrong with my brain, but I was helpless to stop it. Frustratingly helpless.

After a while, my husband asked me to come to bed. I tore my eyes away from the figure and went to bed. I locked my dog in the room with us that night.

I woke up for work the next day, and I was paralyzed with fear. I couldn't leave the house, and wasn't really sure why. I called in sick.

So I talk to my doctor. She is very kind and understanding, and prescribes me Seroquel again. An anti-psychotic.

Now, before I go on; I am not a doctor. I have looked this up out of curiosity, but I am not a doctor. This is my understanding of how this works, but have I clarified how much of a doctor I am? Because its 0%. Do not take my advice.

Seroquel works by blocking dopamine receptors in the brain, preventing excessive amounts of it which can cause hallucinations and psychosis. Dopamine is a type of neurotransmitter. Your nervous system uses it to send messages between nerve cells. Dopamine helps you feel pleasure, think, plan, focus, and find things interesting.

Seroquel has side effects. For me, it made me exhausted. All the time, with no letup. I was sleeping 20 hours a day. I lost so much time, and I felt like I was disappointing those who depended on me.

My husband, my work, my pets. Here again is the recurring theme of frustration.

Maybe you think I'm just being lazy; I should set an alarm and throw my feet on the floor and hop out of bed.

I wish I could, but I felt prisoner to the bed. I would be awake, and as I felt my medication begin to work, I would begin to feel a little drowsy. A few minutes of that, then I'd get a little dizzy, but I'd be okay. I'd keep working, or reading, or whatever. Suddenly it would wash over me, almost painful.

My eyes would blur, refusing to focus on anything. My stomach would tighten, pulling my head towards the desk. I could feel my temperature falling and my breathing slow. If I fought it, I grew nauseated.

It's like my body was in control of my brain; it was demanding I go to sleep. My brain would stop responding, and all I could think was "go to bed before you fall asleep right now." I was a hostage to the demands of the medicine.

So I would crawl into bed and sleep for hours. I'd wake up to my alarm; 12pm: time to take your next dose of Seroquel. Still groggy from the last dose, I'd put it off for an hour or two; I needed to eat, shower, and be alive for at least a little bit.

But I wasn't working. During this pandemic, I've been working from home. With my medication like this, I couldn't work. I was struggling to stay awake for 4 hours a day and I felt guilty about not spending those hours working.

When I am awake, I feel shielded in a way. I feel like something is protecting me from delusions, like I'm on the edge of a cliff with a rope holding me back from falling. I feel slower, like my brain just can't manage to access information that I know I have.

How old am I? Um…. … 23. No, 24? Yeah, 24. I think. I should know this.

The information is there, so why can't I recall it? Thinking becomes exhausting, trying to force myself to remember things and think through basic ideas. It feels like walking through mud.

So I started skipping doses. Yes, I know, mistake, mistake…

But I was doing okay! I was getting some work done, only sleeping half the day instead of the full day. I was feeling okay, too. Thinking a little easier. I was okay!

Until I wasn't.

I walk upstairs to take my meds (after having skipped a couple doses) and suddenly I don't know where I am.

Has the kitchen always looked like that? No, I don't recognize it at all. Why did I come up here again? Where did I come from to get here? Where was I? Where am I?

It was so fast. Panic set in in a minute or two, and I was so confused. Why was this happening? That dog… looks like mine. Sort of. Cheddar, is that you? No, that's not her!

"Bret..!" I call out, hoping he can hear me from wherever I am. "Help me!"

He replies "I'm in the bathroom." but I don't hear him. I don't hear him, so I'm convinced he isn't there.

I'm not in my house anymore and now I'm alone. Panic. What is going on?! So I begin to talk.

"No, no, no non ononono no nO NO!" I muttered to myself in disbelief.

I couldn't understand why this was happening. I begin to hyperventilate. I can't breathe. Is there air?

I'm suffocating.

I begin to scream, unable to contain the fear any longer. My cat walks up to me and I recoil, scared by the unfamiliar creature.

It takes me a bit to even realize that I'm screaming, and when I do, it only fills me with more fear. "The neighbors will hear me if I keep screaming, and they'll call the cops." I think. Maybe I said it out loud, I'm not sure.

"The cops will show up to see me screaming. They'll lock me up. They'll put me in mandatory psych! They'll kidnap me! I can't go! I'm scared to leave!"

My thoughts keep spiraling to worse and worse scenarios, so I force myself to stop screaming, returning to the muttering. "Quiet, quiet, quiet… you have… to stay quiet… or they'll come…." I mutter between heaving sobs.

I don't remember when, but I threw some things in my panic. My feet dug grooves into the carpet as they tried to push me farther and farther against the wall.

I look to my left and see a man standing there. When did he get there? Did he just say something to me? I thought I was alone in this strange place. Who is he? I push myself into a corner. Wait, that stranger looks like Bret, but why is he here?

I don't remember much else. Did I lash out at him, or simply pull away? I remember both, but also neither. He brings me to bed, checks all the rooms in the house for me, and gets me my medication. He brings my dog and helps me realize its her.

I am forever grateful for him. He is kind and patient, helping me as best he can. The next morning I am still shaken, the feeling still there, but milder. I call my med provider and change to Seroquel XR, which makes me less drowsy. I'm still working on getting used to it, and trying to find a schedule that works with it. I can't not take it.

So I log into work and hop on Zoom. Should I pretend I'm ok? Should I be honest and tell them how scary the world outside my bedroom is? My coworkers greet me with the normal "Morning! How are you?"

I'm not sure how to reply. I go between a generic "I'm ok, you?" and being a little more truthful "I'm not doing well."

Either way, I don't feel like myself. My brain feels like mud, and with the perpetual fear of the pandemic going on, It feels pointless to even be here. What does advertising matter? We don't even have product to sell right now, we're sold out. So why am I here?

But I push that aside, my mind too muddied to work through that. I float through the day, often sleeping through much of it.

But what other choice do I have?

I'm so frustrated.

[selfmademen]

Top Surgery Experience

Okay, so I said I would do a write up of my top surgery experience and I’ve finally gotten around to it. Uni started right after so I’ve been fairly frazzled.

Please feel free to ask any questions you may have! I’ll do my best to answer them.

To start with, I currently live in NSW, Australia. There are a few Australian top surgeons, but as a NSW resident my best bet was Dr Steven Merten, with Pure Aesthetics in Sydney. Because Australia has a public healthcare system I was able to get my top surgery under that scheme. As far as I’m aware Dr Merten is the only top surgeon who offers this surgery through the public system. He works in partnership with Concord Hospital in Sydney, and that’s where I had my surgery. If you go privately there are other options for the hospital you stay at. There are pros and cons to the public system, which I’ll detail below.

Pros:

I paid $500~ out of pocket instead of between $5k and $10k (if you have private health insurance it may cover some)

Since he’s in my state I didn’t have to travel far

He’s one of the most experienced top surgeons in the state

there’s two places for appointments, either at his clinic or at the Macquarie uni rooms

Cons:

because I went publicly he didn’t perform the surgery personally, rather a registrar did. However, he was in the room the entire time overseeing the operation.

because he’s so popular I had to wait a full year from the first consultation to the actual surgery date

 it was extremely hard to get onto the wait list due to how popular he is.

the public system is only available to NSW residents over 18

I was lucky in that my GP at the time knew him professionally and called in a favour so that I knew the moment his books were open, and I am forever grateful for that. It is MUCH easier to get an appointment with him through the private system, but that’s a lot more expensive. For me, the pros far outweighed the cons here, and I decided I could wait a year for my surgery. I had also intended to lose weight beforehand, but that didn’t happen. Woops.

Prior to my first consultation I needed a referral both from my GP, and a registered psychologist or psychiatrist detailing my transition and documented dysphoria surrounding my breasts. The first consultation was $300 iirc, and I paid a $100 deposit, so only paid $200 on the day. Medicare also gave me a $100-something rebate.

The first consultation was fairly quick. He asked some questions about my transition, what my expectations were regarding surgery, detailed my options, and explained the procedures. He measured my breasts, but never touched me (I kinda just picked them up and moved them where he asked). He also took a photo of my chest, with my consent.

I didn’t actually hear from them until about three months before my surgery because my details got lost, but USUALLY the hospital will get in contact with you regarding your surgery date, what you should expect, and when your pre-op consultation is. I also had to fill out a pre-op health questionnaire and personal details. Due to my high level of haemoglobin as a side effect of T, I was required to provide them with more recent blood test results, but you may not have to do this. Usually there is also a pre-op appointment with the nurses and anethetist at the hospital, but the nurse I spoke to said that I didn’t need to go if I didn’t have any pressing concerns.

My pre-op consult with Dr Merten was a couple of weeks before my surgery, however, it’s usually around the same time. This one was $100, and I also had to pay $130 for a medical compression vest which I have to wear for up to three weeks post-op. Again, Medicare partially reimbursed my consultation fee, but not the vest.

During this consultation we basically covered the same things, and I also saw a nurse who told me what medications to avoid, and briefed me on post op care. She also gave me my medical vest, wound tape, and some pamphlets.

Some things she covered:

smokers should stop smoking 12 weeks before surgery

 you should limit your alcohol intake the week before surgery, and don’t drink alcohol AT ALL during the two days immediately prior to surgery

no herbal medications, asparin, ibuprofen, or other blood thinners for two weeks prior to surgery. IF YOU ARE ON BLOOD THINNERS FOR MEDICAL REASONS THIS MAY BE DIFFERENT FOR YOU.

do not eat or drink anything from midnight the night before your surgery. Morning medication (antidepressants in my case) can be taken with a sip of water.

 the night before and morning of surgery I had to shower with a special soap that was provided in order to kill bacteria on my skin.

I did have to call the admissions centre the day before my surgery to confirm my appointment time. For me it was 8:30. Before going in I had a brief interview with a nurse, who took down my details and checked me for allergies and medical conditions. I was given my wrist bands (red, since I have a codeine allergy), and directed up to where I would meet the nurses. There I changed into the operating gown (you can keep your undies on) and compression socks due to my weight.

I was taken to a prep room before the operating theatre where Dr Merten marked my chest. Basically where things would be cut, lipo’d, etc. I was feeling nervous so the anethetist also came in, did my canula and gave me something to relax (don’t know what it was). He was extremely kind and friendly, and said he was honoured to be included in this part of my journey, which I honestly thought was an incredibly sweet thing to say, and I’m very grateful for how he looked after me.

The relaxation shit kinda made me dopey, and pretty much immediately I was wheeled into the theatre. They had me wriggle from the bed onto the table, I nearly fell off, but it was all good. I don’t really remember much from here, but there was some music playing, and the nurses and registrar were setting up.

At this point the anethetist put the mask on and told me to take some deep breaths. I remember it tasting and smelling really weird, and the next thing I know I was waking up in recovery.

I’m not sure how long I was in recovery for because I kept drifting in and out, but they gave me something for the pain and then wheeled me to the ward. I started waking up properly around this time, had a chat with the people transporting me, and by the time I was in the ward I was fully alert (and really needed to pee).

Because of my size and the way the surgery worked out, I did have a few staples at the ends of my incisions, and I also had to put the compression vest on. I also had drains, with bags that needed to be changed every twelve hours. Nurses would also come and take my blood pressure and check that everything was okay and that I wasn’t in too much pain. They were all extremely welcoming and accepting, never misgendered me once, and even double checked my name and pronouns to ensure that everyone knew. My mate was also allowed to stay with me pretty much the whole day until dinner, which really helped me cos I’m bad with hospitals.

After surgery I was stiff and ached a little, but there wasn’t too much pain. I was able to go to the toilet myself, although wiping was very difficult for the first week.

I stayed overnight, and was discharged the next day. They gave me anti-inflammatories, antibiotics, and some opiates to help the pain. I should note here that I do have an extremely high pain tolerance, so outside of days where I pushed myself a bit too far, I generally didn’t need to use them.

I’m unsure if my experience is unusual, as I was able to do pretty much everything immediately post-op. Of course, I’ve been taking it easy, but dressing, sleeping, cooking, moving, has all so far been generally okay. I have had some pain on days where I moved about too much, or sat up too much, but that’s also partially chronic pain flaring up due to my bad back.

I was discharged with my drains still in, as I’m a bleeder. Usually with Dr Merten they’re removed before discharge, but I was sent home with some bags and instructed to change them every 24 hours and keep a record of how much had drained. I think I wound up keeping my drains in for around a week before they were removed.

I went to the medical centre twice to have my dressings changed and drains checked (and eventually removed), and was sent home with a sterile staple remover for my GP to remove my staples with. They’ll be coming out at the end of the week. The drains didn’t hurt when removed, it just felt like an odd tugging sensation. The stitches Dr Merten used are dissolving ones, so no need to get them taken out.

I do have to change my nipple dressings every three days, and the tape on my incisions can stay on for up to a week. The stuff I use is extremely strong and has glue on it, so I’m a bit hesitant to change it on my own (nearly ripped a staple out last time I changed my dressings).

I’m roughly three weeks post-op now, and I have pretty much all my mobility back. Showering is difficult, as is bending over or reaching to one side (tugs on my incisions). There is pain when I do things, but unless something actively tugs at, touches, or puts pressure on my wounds I’m not in any pain. Mostly its just an annoyance at this stage.

I’m still sleeping on my back, although I can lie on my side for short periods of time. There’s some bruising around my armpits where I had liposuction, and there is a small numb patch on my left side. I can’t feel my nipples, but I also couldn’t feel them prior to this so it’s not a huge loss.

I’ve seen some people say that they felt depressed post-op because of a hormone fluctuation, but personally when I saw my chest it felt natural and right. I didn’t cry (not a big crier) and I wasn’t surprised or shocked or… overwhelmed. To me it was my outer body finally reflecting my inner self. I already looked like this in my own mind, so it was just natural that it looks the way it does post-op.

Unfortunately some dysmorphia and self-esteem issues surrounding my weight have resurfaced, but that’s not really related to the top surgery, and it’s something I’m able to work on as I recover.

If there’s something I haven’t covered that you’re curious about, please send an ask! I’ve tried to be as thorough as possible, but its been a few weeks and some details are fuzzy.

[philalethistry]

WELP my birthday month was a bit of a rollercoaster ride. I thought about the cons of posting this but I’d like to record it, so that future me can look back and, depending on how the future goes, either feel validated or be glad that this is over. Warning: discussion of crappy mental health.

TL;DR Breakdown results in will to live and fuck current events I have a recliner

I’m going to start with today, Sept. 1, and work back, for reasons.

Today I drove to a furniture thrift store. This doesn’t sound like much, but I A. hate driving, especially to new places, B. am already in a pretty anxious state, and C. I got lost because the road I wanted to turn on wasn’t marked, nor looked like a road rather than an alley, and so I somehow spent two hours trying to find one store. (At one point I had to stop and get something to eat because I had started shaking. The cashier watched me struggle to free two bills from my wallet and then declined the change I owed her to avoid making me retrieve that too. I wonder if she thought I was high...)

The important thing about what I did today, is I went out to find the store, and even when I did not find the store and ended up circling back to my street, instead of going home and having a sandwich and watching Youtube, I turned around again. I know it’s partially because of this video’s explanation of why one gets more nervous trying to do something a second time after procrastinating or running away from it, as I’d always pin the anxiety on my guilt, instead of a fear instinct which is more managable. But I’m going to give dopamine where dopamine is due and also say that my eventual victory was partially because of the newfound strength I have in the aftermath of the freak mental storm that enveloped the start of August.

I know that no one is doing “””okay””” right now, because of Everything, and that is nicely validating, because I am not okay either. But it’s dissonant, because I’d often follow the lead of neurotypicals and high-functioning depressives and anxious people when I’m in a bad way. If THEY say things aren’t as hopeless as I think they are, they probably aren’t! While that helped, it also downplayed my brain issues, and now that everyone has the same opinions on the State of Things, I realized I didn’t have any idea of how to confront the bad shit on my own, and neither does anyone else.

I’m technically still quarantining by refraining from making a lot of trips out and from getting a job, and so the murky pea-soup fogs of the future unsettle me. I was pretty chipper for the larger part of quarantine, as an introvert. Then one day, the thought suddenly occurred to me of the sheer amount of time I’ve spent in quarantine, how COVID isn’t receding from Arizona, how I had to quit the first job I’d gotten in the face of anxiety and depression, of how much of my future rests on the coming election, and most of all of how I have no idea what my future holds, of where I’ll be five or ten years down the line. “In the same place” and “Somewhere else” seem equally intimidating.

And then hormones struck.

I’ve had bad depressive episodes; I’ve had bad days of anxiety; I’ve had bad PMS; and then I’ve simply indulged unhealthy negativity. All of these, combined, made for a surreal and frightening experience. Emphasis on surreal. Also, contextually, emphasis on frightening, obviously. There were many feelings. Emphasis on everything.

My mental space may be a mess but I’ve never been too concerned with dwelling on life and death, even when faced with the latter. It’s never been a point of any interest to me; in the face of mortality I’m pretty good at giving importance to the present moment and to my internal values, like “science cool,” “mocha good” and “drawing fun.” In fact since childhood (third grade. Is this a normal third grader thing??) I’ve been a fan of cheerful nihilism, IE “There isn’t a secret meaning to the universe therefore I can give it any meaning I can make! Anything is possible, things are great!” I didn’t really grasp the concept behind existential dread, it sounded like something that happened to movie characters when the writers didn’t know how else to portray angst. Oh boy, do I have a new emotion I won’t be able to forget. My natural disaster of a brain supplied me, among everything I was already experiencing, three (3!!!) different categories of existential crisis. I had to look it up. And the weird thing about this Satan’s asscrack of an episode, is that while I’m prone to spiraling rumination, normally I can distract myself, because it’s still just me, thinking unhelpful thoughts. This time, these thoughts, the shittiest thoughts I’ve ever had the displeasure of producing, were automatic. I was not getting stuck pondering one bad topic; everything I saw became, in real time, entangled in the web of thought pattern in the most natural way. And it was LOUD.

Have you ever thought, “I’ll sit on the couch, the couch is comfy. The couch did not exist until a few years ago, its lack of existence had no impact on anything in any meaningful way, and when it turns to dust it will be forgotten.” Because I myself had a teensy bit of an inkling that maybe that ain’t normal. The thing is, I knew I was only feeling this way because, well, I Was Feeling That Way, it’s just the mood; but being stuck in isolation, and with everyone else also troubled by issues of the past, the present and the future, knowing that didn’t help.

I can remain in a depressive / anxious state for a little while, but the actual peaks only last at most a couple of hours. This was Mt. Everrest AND it lasted a week and a half. I was at the end of my rope a day in and had no idea what to do about it, so I tried to do everything. The physical present felt empty, so I tried to fill it with media, literature, art, walks, family time. Problem is, “anhedonia” - a symptom of depression where you don’t get dopamine boosts from activities - cuts pleasure out of these things, so nothing held my interest, let alone made me feel motivated or remotely better. Another symptom of depression, weirdly enough, is the feeling of disgust - I wasn’t conscious of this symptom until it was magnified. I felt completely and utterly repulsed by everything around me. I first thought it was the clutter, then the way the furniture was arranged, then I thought I’d been inside too long so I took walks in the neighborhood when nobody was out. The confusion came when I disliked the trees, grass, and fresh air too - I had to Google my feelings to find out what the heck was going on.

Which brings me to my bedroom. My room is littered with memorabalia, I’m sentimental so I have little shrines of items from the past and of things I value. Some childhood toys and a handful of old trinkets, shelves dedicated to Pokemon and Neil Gaiman’s work, some references to Chicago and Polish heritage. My unhappiness with the situations of the present, while strengthened to an totally unnecessary degree, weren’t all inaccurate - and in combination with anhedonia and disgust, and the way I’d integrated this memorabalia into my sense of self even though they aren’t really relevant to me anymore, I found that I really really didn’t like my past or reminders of it. In a shocking unpredicted turn of tables, I no longer wanted to uphold who I once was, because it isn’t who I am now, and it’s not who I want to be.

And the revulsion of the past and the uncertain emptiness of the present culminates in a future that I feared, another emotion booted up to eleven. There was a big need to make my future and remake myself. The only places left comfort could be found were ones I hadn’t yet looked. At the same time I became sad in a powerful but vague way and desperately lonely - this part was definitely all the feral hormones - and I became obsessed, for a little while, with making sure that, when quarantine ends, I would get my social life in order. I preemptively joined groups and clubs in my local area online, which I’m still going to make good on later but maybe not to the all-encompassing extent I had in my mind at the time. Also, career hunting. (Also also, to combat a lack of control, I wanted to get my own place - but with the economy like That, and my ass like This, big alone time while also being very poor and probably overworked is not the best of ideas.)

So. The freak episode ended. And I knew. Both during. And afterwards. That I Do Not Want That to Happen Again. To put it lightly. So now I’m trying to find an antidepressant that works for me. I’ve been medicated for three weeks now. Lower anxiety, not many mood swings, but still anhedonia, and the aftertaste of existential dread which will forever haunt me. I’m completely overhauling my bedroom, because it was messy anyway and has basically looked the same since forever which can’t be good for my mental health. So there’s going to be new bedsheets (chocolate), new curtains to kill sunlight because while I enjoy it outdoors it makes the room feel exposed since the window is groundlevel and faces the street, a whole ass recliner thrifted for only 20 bucks(!) to go in a brand new study corner along with a nice aggressively patterned brown rug, and finally the grody offwhite walls will be repainted a warm inviting brown that was named “spiced cinnamon.” No matter what happens, I look forward to spending the winter in the study, invoking a cozy comfort the Danes call “hygge,” and hopefully building my gallery or participating in my interests, including fandom, in another way. And, once my budget allows it, getting some fucking therapy, what the fuck.

[themisterdarcy]

dear darcy,

what’s up? it’s currently thursday, april 30, 2020. we are in the middle of the covid-19 pandemic, and north carolina is on lockdown. well, technically. we are actually the worst state in the entire country in pandemic support. there are 1.06 million confirmed cases in the entire country, with 9,948 in north carolina, and 1,567 in mecklenburg county alone. the stay-at-home order is still supposed to be lifted on may 8th, though. that’s next friday. i don’t know how on earth anybody thinks that is a good idea, but the governor has the power in this situation.

school is canceled for the rest of the year, meaning that i have to finish my junior year online. i’m disappointed that i have to miss prom and seeing my friends (especially kai), but i think it’s for the best. nobody expected covid-19 to be this big of a deal, or for the quarantine to last this long. the day before schools closed, my apush teacher, mr. church, told us that he thought the situation was “blown out of proportion” and i quote: “there’s no way that school is going to be canceled.” even when schools closed, we were originally supposed to be back in school by march 30! here we are, a month later, and there’s no end in sight for this crisis.

trump is being absolutely useless, and even detrimental to the effort to contain the virus. he his early information about the virus, and didn’t bother to take precautions, leaving the country unprepared. by the time of the first case, it was hopeless. this week (or last week... time is all running together right now), he actually suggested in a press conference that a way to prevent/cure coronavirus would be to inject bleach/disinfectant into the body, or to illuminate the body from the inside with a uv light to kill the virus. both of these options as said by trump (uv light actually does have some merit to it, but it is in an entirely different context than trump suggested, and still in developmental phases) would be fatal, and aren’t even a solution to the main issue at hand: containing and controlling the spread of the virus.

in my opinion, new zealand has it down. i only know about it because amanda palmer is quarantined there, but they’re getting close to the end of 5 weeks of near complete lockdown. people are not allowed to leave their houses or visit non-immediate family members at all, and parks and public spaces are closed. while it does seem a little like an overextension of governmental power, it’s working. new zealand only has 1,476 total cases. thanks to prime minister jacinda ardern, the entire country has fewer cases than mecklenburg county. yes, new zealand only has a population of about 5 million, while mecklenburg county has 1.1 million, it’s still impressive that a population five times the size has 100 fewer cases. i honestly wouldn’t mind temporarily giving up some of my civil liberties and democratic principles if it meant that covid-19 was knocked out and controlled.

the people who are protesting the lockdowns are quite frankly narcissistic idiots who cannot see past their own ego. yes, staying at home is difficult and boring, but it’s the only way that life has any sort of chance of returning to a form of normalcy. i don’t think things will be exactly the same, nor do i think they should, but i do want to be able to hang out with friends again. i do want to go to school and have my senior year. i do want to be able to move out and go to college when the time comes. the more people disregard reality and ignore social distancing, the longer life will be like this. the protesters are only making things worse for themselves, and the saddest part is that i don’t think they realize this.

i’m writing these letters to future me (that’s you, darcy!) so that i can have a document of my life from the pandemic. also, i want to be able to remember what being 17 was like when i’m older. i do keep a journal, but that’s more for songs, poetry, and breakdowns. screaming into the void of the internet just feels more Official to me. also, i can’t lose a blog. that’s the thing about the internet: it’s forever, for better or for worse.

i think that i will open each letter with a discussion of any updates about the pandemic, focusing mainly on concrete facts and statistics. these are important to document, and i wish i had been recording this from the beginning. maybe i will go back and create a timeline, but i’m not sure yet. that might just be a task for another sleepless night. after the corona rundown, though, i’ll go into my own experiences and thoughts about the events of my life. these will probably be in bullet-point form, since my mind has the tendency to jump around as if topics were trampolines. i don’t know how often i’ll write, but i will try to everyday. every letter won’t be as long as this one, that’s for sure, but i do tend to ramble on. i hope you’re not overwhelmed, darcy.

taking a much needed break from 2020, how’s your life at the moment? i don’t know how old you are, but i’m assuming that you’re in college at the very least. are you and kai still together? i hope so. i really do love them. have you come out to the family yet? have you changed your name legally yet? i need to do that before my college graduation, because i want my degrees to be in My Name. the thing is, i’ll need to come out to change my name, and that is an issue i don’t really care to think about at the moment. how did that go? was it as bad as i expect it will be? have you started t? besides transitioning, how is your academic and career life? i hope to go to the university of texas at austin and double major in physics and music theory and composition. did that happen? if it didn’t, where did you go to school, and did you stick with the course of study i mentioned? i can’t really imagine studying anything else, to be honest. physics and music theory are two of the most intimidating and difficult subjects there are, and they also happen to be my favorite subjects. i love being challenged mentally, and i also like being seen as intimidating. imagine: a punk, non-binary, queer physicist who also writes and performs music. is there anything more intimidating than that? i aspire to be the “scary kid in your physics class.” i want to be an exception.

i’ve written so much already, but i do have quite a bit to get off my chest. yesterday was a weird day, and i couldn’t sleep at all last night, so here we are. this is what being 17 is like:

it is 6:15 am, and i have stayed up all night.

i was planning on getting a lot of work done, but instead i wasted time listening to amanda palmer and browsing the internet.

my dad thinks i took my sleeping pill, so i need to stay quiet in my room until at least 10:00 tomorrow morning so he doesn’t get suspicious.

kai called me today, but only for 15 minutes. they are a month behind in school, and will only get their phone back once they are caught up. i don’t know when that will be, but i am preparing for the worst.

i identify as androgyne, meaning in between man and woman. recently, i stopped feeling like i was faking, though. instead of worrying that i was making it all up in my head, i’ve become confident that i am Androgyne. it makes sense. it always has made sense. when i was little, i asked my father if it was possible to be “half-girl, half-boy,” and i would tell people that about myself. just because i like glitter and riot grrrl doesn’t make me a girl. i am an enby.

this is the song of the night:

i realized today that i have not left the house (excepting switching between mother’s/father’s) in an entire month. at the beginning of this lockdown, i was struggling, but i feel like i’ve adjusted more or less. this feels normal, now. i don’t feel like i’m missing something from my daily life.

10 days clean :)

my sleep schedule is fucked up. dr. kissam has put me on a mood stabilizer, an antidepressant, and a sleep medicine as well as my anxiety meds because she’s concerned by my bipolar tendencies. my manic phases have gotten more intense and happen more often now, and my down phases have gotten worse than they have in a long time. i started hurting again, but i’m trying to stop. i think i have a handle on it now. i did give myself two stick and pokes on monday night, though... does that count? i don’t think so.

i have the deathly hallows on my ankle, and the androgyne symbol on my left middle finger. it looks more like an anchor or a dandelion though. :/ i like them anyways, because they are Mine. My body. My decisions. I Am My Own Person.

during the call today, i felt like kai was distancing themself from me. i don’t know if i’m overthinking a 15 minute chat, but they didn’t seem like their usual clingy, lovey self. i’m worried that they’re going to decide they don’t want to be with me anymore during this time that they are off their phone, but i know that it’s just anxiety. overthinking is my enemy. kai loves me. i love them. we are in a healthy, stable relationship (for the first time in my life!!). they aren’t going to decide to leave me out of the blue.

the song for the kai situation:

sometimes i wonder what life would be like if i could just focus on school like a normal person. i have good grades, but i am a Very Chaotic student. if i could just sit down and complete assignments at a normal pace and with consistent motivation, what would i be able to achieve? would i be in a bunch of service organizations? would i be on student council? who knows?! i am darcy, and i am tied for valedictorian while never doing my homework. i don’t know how i do it either.

i’ve decided that i don’t like my confirmation name (octavian) as my middle name. i want to take my dad’s middle name, lamont. darcy lamont wheeler. it’s a super cool name, and it has Significance. our family is directly descended from the lamont clan in scotland. it’s also my grandmother’s maiden name, which i feel like makes sense because my dead middle name was her middle name. poetic justice. symmetry. i have come full circle.

hi! my name is darcy lamont wheeler.

darcy means “dark one.” i really, really like that. i like thinking that i am connected to the somewhat dark and eccentric. like the dresden dolls, or disturbing short stories. darkness adds complexity. nuance. background.

my favorite short story is “i have no mouth & i must scream” by harlan ellison. it is so completely terrifying, so beautifully disgusting, so brilliantly bizarre, so disturbingly ominous, and i have never read anything else that has come close to comparing. i love science fiction, especially dystopian ideas about technology advancing past the point of no return. it’s crazy to me that what could be considered mankind’s greatest achievement is so close to being our downfall.

everybody is awake now, and i hear them in the kitchen. i wonder when i stopped wanting to be awake. matthew and brianna seem to wake up as early as they can and fight bedtime until the absolute limit, as if they want to maximize the hours that they have each day. each morning is a new chance for fun. they don’t seem to resent life yet. i would rather be asleep instead of conscious most of the time. days are uniformly boring and miserable, with the rare diversion. why would i want them to be longer than they have to be? is this depression or is this just growing up? i can’t even tell anymore.

i missed amanda palmer’s birthday livestream yesterday, so i’m going to watch it today. two hours of her and her quarantine buddies sounds like heaven. this woman’s music quite honestly saved my life, and she is the epitome of badass!! i love amanda palmer. i wish i could write songs like she can.

on the topic of the dresden dolls, i asked brian viglione, the drummer, to “prom” as a pretense to ask him about his experiences as a musician, and for advice about how to develop my music. against all the odds, he accepted, so now, on may 9th at 8:00 pm, i am going to facetime with Brian Viglione, drummer for the dresden dolls and the violent femmes, among many others. life? made. i still can barely believe that this is actually happening!!

i came out to my english class, including ms. blaylock on tuesday. everybody reacted really well, and in that class at least, i get to go by my name and use my pronouns. i honestly couldn’t believe that i had the balls to tell anybody besides kai’s family, but i did, and it actually went well! the fact that there are people calling me darcy makes me so happy that i can’t even put it into words. it’s validating. i am darcy. not just when i’m by myself, but in real life. i am darcy.

is it weird that i’m not crippled by kai’s absence? i used to be an unproductive tangle of anxiety whenever mary was out of touch, even for a few hours. i was constantly worried that she was going to hurt herself, or that she was going to leave me. the thing is, even though i am in love with kai and i only thought that i loved mary because she was the first girl i was with, i don’t miss them to the point that i can’t function. i don’t think about them 24/7. i do miss them at times, and i cannot wait until we can talk again, but it’s not an all-consuming thing. i can go through my entire day without talking to them, no problem. night time is a little harder, but that’s because night is always when i go down spirals and rabbitholes. maybe this means that our relationship is healthy? co-dependency is a bad thing, i know, but i don’t know what a healthy relationship feels like since the only other experiences i’ve had (jack, mary, saanchi, rachel) have all been toxic in their own way.

one thing i have learned with kai is the importance of boundaries in a relationship. just because i love everything about them doesn’t mean that it’s healthy for us to share everything. there was a time where we were both in dark places and hurting, and when they shared what they did, it would set me off. the same went for them, i was using them as a journal too often, and the emotional burden had started to affect them. we had a conversation about this though, and established clear lines that we will not cross. it felt good to figure that out. i felt mature, looking out for my own needs and respecting kai’s. isn’t that how a relationship should work?

i love kai.

i’ve written a SHIT-TON. i think this is enough for now, but i might write another letter today. this was cathartic, and i feel like i’ve processed some shit as well as made a record for the future. i hope you weren’t bored or overwhelmed by my novel, darcy. i’m just writing what i feel is important, and i hope it’s still important to you.

signing off,

darcy lamont wheeler

[fabfemmeboy]

Things about the Season 3 Finale of Handmaid's Tale that Don't Make Sense

I will say first that I preferred this episode to much of the season, even if there were parts I thought were unrealistic to the point of absurdity while I was watching it.  But after a day and a half, the list of nonsense keeps growing.

June was walking with an armed escort since her walking partner is dead.  While some of the girls were sneaky about their soap, it was a lot of them - and some were downright Not.Subtle.  I'm not just talking about Janine, either, but let's start with her.  Why didn't the guardian - whose whole job is to make sure the handmaid in his charge can't get up to something - not even notice? it wasn't like she just grinned, either, she was giddy and spoke and talked about how she couldn't wait.  If my job is to make sure the person I'm guarding doesn't get up to something, in particular if I'm used to seeing myself as above the person I'm guarding, then I'm asking questions.  I'm demanding answers.  I'm checking the bag.  This guy stands next to her and stares into space.  Did she just get the guy who's really bad at his job?  (How convenient!)  Is he so used to assuming that "those silly women chattering on about nonsense" can't be plotting anything serious?  (Really bad outlook for a guard to have)  Given some of the other guardians we've seen and how they handle far less communication between handmaids, why doesn't this guy seem to give a shit?  Is he secretly in the resistance, too? Is literally everyone except Fred, Serena, and Aunt Lydia?

For reference, Rebecca and her martha traveled about 12 miles by modern roads, likely much more than that when you factor darting through woods and back yards.  How the hell big is the martha network that one in Lexington knew about this plot?  How does a martha from central Boston, whose duties generally aren't going to let her go too much outside the city, get information all the way out there?

Oh, and how the hell did the martha get rohypnol?  You can make it impossible to get antidepressants, but date-rape drugs are still floating around?  Was the use of that particular substance deliberate, given the assault in Gilead, rather than simply making it sleeping pills or whatever Mrs. Lawrence took?

Speaking of whom - so Lawrence is just going to let it go that June either let his wife die or actively killed her?  The look at the end of the funeral last week seemed to indicate he knew or at least suspected.  But this guy, who clearly adored his wife and tried to protect her for *years*...doesn't even take his anger out on June? She's mouthing off to him and he just shrugs and lets her do it?

Rebecca looks to be about 8-10 and doesn't really remember before.  She's one of the oldest kids in the bunch.  The younger ones have literally never known a pre-Gilead time.  Why are none of them upset at being taken somewhere?  Why is not one of them crying for mommy and daddy?  Why aren't any of them whining that they want to go home?  Hell, it's been several hours and a lot of walking - none of them are complaining that they're bored or tired or itchy or hungry or bored.  Has Gilead managed to break children of complaining? Because *that* is quite a feat!  But seriously, if at age 6 my neighbor (whom I knew and trusted) had told me "we have to go now, be very quiet" and made me leave my home without my parents, I would have tried to be quiet for awhile but would have had a LOT of questions.  Like why aren't Mom and Dad here? Where are they? Are they ok? What's happening?  Why do we have to be quiet? Why are we going through the woods and not on the street? To avoid being seen - but why? Why can't the guards see us? They see us all the time.  And if the answer came that she was taking me out of the country, I would have a lot more questions about why and why couldn't mom and dad come and what would it be like there.

And by the way, "you can be anything you want to be" doesn't really work in a world where there don't seem to be professions other than "martha" or "commander" or "lady of leisure" or "sex slave."  Getting to wear whatever you want doesn't really make sense if everyone wears the same thing, either.  It's not like the kid is going to think "oh, good, I can wear red because I like that colour but here only those women wear it."  Like...that's not helpful.  And I get that nothing she could say would be helpful to these kids because how do you explain a completely different world to someone who has no concept of what that world includes? But these are not helpful answers.  So let's go with what the kids might have a concept of - what refugee children talk about when they leave:  violence.  Guys with guns on every corner (yay canada!).  People who disappear without warning.  Though maybe the kids won't have any concept of that, either, because the commanders' families are kept so isolated and protected.

Were all the kids from commanders' families? They made it sound like Rebecca was an anomaly in that regard, but technically all the guys in suits with wives and handmaids are commanders.  And those are also the only homes that have marthas.  Everyone else has econowives, and everyone dresses in grey - even the kids.  So these children, in their pale pink and blue, they all have to be the children of commanders/wives/handmaids, right?  Why were only Rebecca's parents looking for her? Sure, she'd been gone longer, but if it's getting dark and my child isn't home, I'm going to be pretty freaked out and calling the guys with guns to find her, especially given the community turmoil lately - Nicole was "kidnapped," Serena and Fred and the guy from DC were all "taken" by Canada...considering how protective everyone is of their children, particularly in this world, they don't seem to pay very close attention to the kids' whereabouts.

This has bothered me since Emily at the beginning of the season but came up again: When you're trying to avoid being seen by helicopters overhead, TAKE OFF YOUR WHITE HAT!  It's bad enough you're in red...though I suppose given how few handmaids were on this adventure at least a few of them could have changed into spare martha dresses so they blend into the woods a little better.  (June has several dresses, you can't tell me marthas - who cook and clean - only have one.  You're telling me that the woman who thought to soap the back gate so it wouldn't squeak, who has gone undercover before, couldn't think to change into less visible clothing?)  But at the very least, the white thing on top of your head is going to be incredibly visible at night, even without flashlights.  Take it off ffs!

Was Janine always going to be going?  Why are no other handmaids trying to get out?  We have a handful of marthas who see this opportunity and are getting on a plane, but only Janine - crazy, traumatized, batshit-screwy Janine - has the wherewithall to think "...if a plane's leaving, it could take me with it too"?  Has she finally stopped trying to get back to baby Angela?  And if so, can she give June lessons in that because this whole "I'm staying behind to find my daughter" thing is getting to be a really old plot device.  

Were we supposed to be surprised that June was wiling to forego her seat on the plane? Because from the reactions of the other characters, I think we were supposed to be, but I was never under the impression she was leaving with the kids, I assumed she was going to stay and try to do another of these hair-brained schemes in a way that got more people of colour killed because that's what she does at this point.  

Why the hell did you think there wouldn't be guardians at the tarmac?  Even if Rebecca weren't in the group, even if no one were looking for these kids (and they should be, btw), but just in general: it's a plane that brings things into Gilead.  They're not checking for contraband?  Because if they're not, then the guardian are a) stupid and b) missing out on fantastic bribery/extortion opportunities.  

Did June tell Lawrence about giving away his art collection? Because poor Billy is in enough trouble already, but he thought at least he's be able to go raid that house.  But now that Lawrence stayed behind, I'm just picturing the bartender showing up in a truck to take out paintings and being greeted by a very angry commander.

Not one child pops up or down from the group at the wrong time.  Clearly these writers/directors have never seen an elementary school concert.

Back to the tarmac.  They made a big deal about June bringing her gun.  Why the fuck is she throwing rocks?  Is it because she's worried she's not a good enough shot?  If so, why bring it? And even then, since your goal clearly isn't to kill him - just distract him - given that you're throwing rocks which aren't going to hit him unless he's a blind moron...why not shoot his car?  Shoot, as long as you hit *something* he's going to turn to look for the source, you duck, repeat, same as the rocks only at least that way poor Janine gets the fuck out of Gilead.  And all the other marthas.

BTW, when June takes off running to draw the gun away from the tarmac...did everyone else go board the plane? They could have, but somehow Janine was still in Gilead.  Were the rest of the rock-throwers?  Because most of them are going to end up dead otherwise.  But the plane only seemed to have a small handful of adults, and the only one we saw enough of to recognize was Rita.

Ok, so we get to Canada, and I have to ask: Do they just have a hanger ready for refugee planes at all times? Because this operation was very well-stocked for a plane that just departed 40 minutes ago, and given that they had no idea kids were on-board, I suspect there wasn't a whole lot of communication beforehand about the plane coming, so how did the refugee assistance people even know to go wait at a hanger? That's also a really nice hanger for a random cargo plane.  Was all of that arranged in advance?  Because otherwise I imagine a sudden flurry of calls to Moira and co from the head of the RAFC going "holy shit, a plane full of refugees just arrived at the airfield where the fedex planes leave from, get people down here to help!"  But they've clearly been there awhile setting up and knew to expect people...but not to expect kids.

Unlike Hannah, who kind of remembers June but doesn't really feel connected to her anymore, Rebecca not only recognizes her dad but runs to him and throws her arms around him, as happy to see him as he is to see her.  So she doesn't remember before, but remembers her dad clearly enough to have actively missed him.  That...doesn't make a ton of sense given what we've seen so far.  Like, she's happier to see her dad than Oliver was to see Emily, and Oliver has had his memories of his mom actively reinforced by Syl this whole time.

(On a separate note, the most wrenching moment of the whole episode was Luke hoping for Hannah.  I love when shows use "the audience knows something the characters don't" to heighten emotions like that.)

Why, when Fred picked things to tell Tuello, did he go with pimping June out and NOT with the fact that they raped her to induce labor?  Is it because Fred still thinks that was totally fine, but June/Nick was a betrayal somehow?  Because given the fight they had at the house, it was clear Serena had decided after the fact that it was wrong and tried to throw it in his face when he was adamant he did it because she told him to and because he was trying to "fix [her] mess."    

(Also was I the only one who thought it was going to be that she had done something way worse? Been the one left holding the bag on the terrorist act that started the civil war?  Had secretly poisoned some prominent people? Hell, it wouldn't surprise me if she were the one who came up with the Ceremony in the first place, and architects of war crimes are still war criminals - hence Lawrence, remember?)

The morning after 52 children and a handful of adults escape Gilead, 6 women in bright red robes can walk through the woods near the tarmac from which the kids went missing to search for, rescue, and carry back another woman all in red...without anyone noticing.  Sure, that sounds like the guardians we all know and love for convenient plot purposes.

[finderskeepersff]

45. Part 5

Watching Cassius remove the drugs from the wall, he put it there so he can move it “my nigga, how much did you hide here??” Myles spat “enough” Cassius simply said and looked at me but I looked away, he really had to do that “well we can sell this to another poor soul that needs it, you doing good Cassius” Myles closed the bag “I will get rid of it for you” Myles turned around, he smiled at me before walking off “did you not use the money here?” shaking my head “does it look touched? I mean I opened it to see what was there, I saw enough and closed it” Cassius grabbed a small carry case from the wall “well it is here for you” he turned around to me with the case “why do you keep giving me these sad faces?” rolling my eyes “I am tired, what is it now?” he placed the case on the bed “a gun, put it in your side table. I mean I am here for now but if you ever need it” I would be a mess using such a thing, I can imagine it “sure, I am going to sleep after you have done that” walking around him “I didn’t mean to upset you, you know that” I sniggered “I am not upset, just don’t call me bub” hearing Cassius laugh behind me “well hello everyone” Mia walked into my room “is Cassius sleeping in the middle of us?” I didn’t say a word but continued to get my night clothes “I can if you want” I should really lock my bedroom door “my god, that is a lot of money here. You need help with this line of work?” Cassius really didn’t close that thing, he is so stupid “if you can hold a gun then yes” he held it out to her “did I ever tell you Sofia that Cassius is the best boyfriend you have been with?” shaking my head as I made my way to the bathroom “just be careful” I don’t want them shooting that thing.

Fixing the robe around me as I walked out of the bathroom “it’s very empowering to hold a gun, I am shook. Like real like shook, my god. Holding it out and pointing it, you feel the power. Is that what you feel?” Mia asked him “at first but not anymore, it’s just not it anymore. But it’s a feeling you have, you have the upper hand. It’s not a good life” Mia is very intrigued by that life, just like me “I understand that it is not, you got to have a strong heart because I mean you are killing a person, right?” Cassius nodded his head “this is why the best way to get through it is by not having loved ones but I do now, I don’t regret it but it’s something I guess happened” Mia looked at Cassius in sadness “but you’re good at what you’re doing Cassius, you’re a great guy and that is the best part. Anyways I am going to get some water and then I am also coming to sleep” Mia turned to walk out of the room “the gun is in your side table” nodding my head “goodnight Sofia” Cassius also walked out of the room, watching him walk out in silence.

Closing the bedroom door behind me “so you want us to sit outside the home?” Kyle said, he has been waiting here outside the bedroom for a while now “not you, get some people. Samuel keeps finding me, why? Why is that happening?” walking alongside Kyle “it is weird, I think they are trying to hit you at your lowest. You’re not fully yourself are you? You’re still trying to get over the rehab, you’re physically weak, I am here for you and you know that. Could have done with some time with you hiding to build on you” walking down the steps “don’t you think I know that? I can’t really bring myself to eat, I told Henri and I was like shit don’t taste great. Then I am like plotting, I feel exposed. I know Raphael is trying it with Samuel, there is a lot of backstabbing now that I went rehab. Probably a bad decision but I was a monster, it was different this time. I had Sofia, Celine took it. But it’s happened now, I am dealing with it. Things will get back to normal” Kyle and I stopped walking “normal? You’re on antidepressants, not saying it is a bad thing but it’s not making you right, we know that. I love that you confided in me but I worry about you” I shrugged “it’s either those or carry on how I was, maybe I have always been that way?” I sighed out “how about you get off that shit Cassius and you fight it yourself, you was never that way Cassius. I know you, it is because of the shit you been through, listen to me. It’s important that you come back to us, I mean properly. Get off that shit so you can get better properly, you have a son now. Hey momma” looking behind me at my mom “you boys leaving?” she asked “no, are you?” walking by her.

Staring down at my blunt, this is my second one. I guess I can have this, I mean Henri told me no but I got to have something, he out here denying me of everything “surprised you’re not with the love of your life?” looking behind me at Celine “surprised you’re allowed in this house” I am shocked Sofia did allow it “I mean she is my family, we are taking care of Leyton for her, and again she is my family” Celine sat on the chair across me “is she?” blowing the smoke out in her face “so you really out here wanting to be a skeleton? This is not you Cassius” I shrugged “a lot of things are not me, did you stop breathing when I strangled you?” Celine laughed “better than a black eye, I mean yes I did. Thanks for asking” she took the blunt from me “you and my cousin aren’t together” she smoked my blunt “who told you that?” that is something Sofia wanted to keep away from her “her so called dad, I was in the club. They was talking about you, I overheard. You and I both know you being away and in rehab was not a good look, you should have came to me” Celine and I just stared at each other “they fucked you up in there, you not the same nigga. You should have came to me, sort your mind out, you know what those places do to people” she held out my blunt to me “I did it for Sofia” taking the blunt from her “and she should know what you do and take it, be there for you. She had you in rehab? Rehab Cassius, you did this for her? Is that what she does to you, strip you down” putting my head down “what did you want me to do? Harm her?” Celine shook her head “no, you would have told her that this is your life. If you want to be my wife you take it, she ain’t really supported you. What are you now? In the dog house, in your own home you are in the dog house. Cassius you are a boss, build yourself up because Sofia ain’t going to do it, trust me” Celine got up from the chair.

Throwing my blunt to the ground, looking back over at the house seeing my mom staring at me from the window. I do think to myself what does everyone want from me, I am never right. Either I am too violent or a little bitch, it’s just driving me crazy, and yes I went to rehab for Sofia but I am regretting it. Maybe I should have just sweated it out, because tablets ain’t doing me at all. Getting up from the chair, I don’t sleep anyways so I can just watch TV on my own, I have feeling I won’t be on my own doing that. Walking back into the home “what does she want?” my mom asked me “speaking” walking to the living area “ain’t it your bedtime, I mean you can go somewhere else” walking around the couch “I am not feeling tired to be honest, I am sat with my friend” sitting down on the couch “friend huh?” I chuckled “night” my mom said “cool” digging into my pocket, grabbing my medication “I mean you have tried to kill me so many times, I have always been there” opening the packet “you fucked Jordan, you tried to make out Bryce was mine. You created so many lies and you think I should be cool with you, you’re my worker” placing two tablets in my mouth “you also went to my cousin, got her pregnant. We both done things” she took my medication from me “you don’t need to take this, Cassius seriously” I swallowed the tablets “I am doing it for my son, I will be good” shuffling back on the couch “right, that is funny” closing my eyes, I do this a lot but I don’t sleep “I thought you was all for Sofia now, you out here talking shit” which she is “not exactly, she don’t know you. Her scary ass was not bought up in the streets like us, I feel for her. She has always wanted a daddy, where I don’t care for it. She is my cousin and I do want the best for her but also I care for you Cassius and she is not for you” opening my eyes, I am guessing she thinks she is for me.

It is actually draining, I felll asleep and then everyone was awake so there was that. I think Celine is right, also Kyle. I am making myself worse, everyone is riding on me to be ok and I am not. I am not having those tablets anymore, I will have to do this on my own. I need to just sweat it out, looking up at the mirror. My face looks sunken, I truly do look worse for wear, I need to suck it up. That is what I have been doing for most of the time anyways, dragging open the bathroom door. Walking towards Sofia’ bedroom, I need some clothes. Knocking on the bedroom door, I don’t want to walk in. I am sure she went downstairs but I cannot be too sure, I knocked on the door again “forget it” pushing the door open, the room is clear. Walking into the room, seeing the bassinet next to the bed. Walking towards it, peaking over and seeing my son, my smile grew. He is all sound asleep, walking closer to the bassinet “my little man” smiling down at him, I am doing this for him. Everything is for him, I want to do better for him.

I can smell my mom’ cooking from here, she is making breakfast “Cass!” Jasmine spat, smiling at her. The only seat that was somewhat left is across from Celine, just my luck. Pulling the seat back and sat down “I was waiting for you, I made you a plate” my mom said, I feel ever so tired. Looking down at my plate, this food is not it. I gagged at the plate “I am ok, I don’t want it” I don’t want it, I feel sick smelling it, it is the medication. I know it’s because it is in place of the drugs but I can’t do it, it also drives me crazy to think people think I am weak like that “looking like you ain’t slept in weeks” getting up from the seat “maybe I haven’t” walking around the table, it’s just driving me crazy “Cassius” making my way out “Cass!” I need to get some air “hey, wait up for me. Don’t make me walk anymore” Sofia said, turning to Sofia “thank you” she has just given birth “what is it? Why are you like this, something is upsetting you and I would like to know what it is?” rubbing the back of my neck “I just need some time to think, that is it. I am ok Sofia” she is staring at me like I am not “what do you care anyways, just don’t. I will be back” walking by Sofia “wow, ok Cassius” I just need some space.

Walking behind Cassius back into the house, I am confused on what just happened. I can clearly see something is upsetting him but he doesn’t want to know, watching him walk off to leave the house. Looking back at the dining table and catching Celine smirk as she looked back down at her plate “is everything ok?” Cassius mom came up behind me “uh yeah fine” sitting back down at the dining table, this is why I didn’t want this, I didn’t want them here. We said on the weekend and that was it, I would have been fine “is everything fine with him?” Mia asked “I don’t know, I am sure he will be fine. I think he is feeling stressed” looking over at Celine “did you sleep well?” she looked over at me, like a deer caught in headlights “yes, it was nice. Your home is beautiful” smiling at her a little “doesn’t Leyton have school? I mean it is a weekday?” I didn’t think he would be here, he has school “he really wanted to come and see you Sofia, he was sad that he wasn’t there for you” still doesn’t give him the right to not go school for, I didn’t forget that smirk she gave.

[courtneysvanness]

Yes, wesporters, I’m going through your blog to collect evidence. That’s what the online counselor I spoke with told me I needed to do. Since I deleted all my receipts and posts because you telling me repeatedly to kill myself got to me and made me suicidal for the first time since I started taking antidepressants, I had to go back to collect it.

You obviously don’t think I’m serious about filing a police report. After getting it confirmed that your harassment and suicide baiting is in fact illegal, I wasn’t exactly doubting whether I should do it or not. You’re not cool or edgy for telling me to kill myself. The least you can do is mind your fucking business and not threaten me with all the things you know from your creepy IP tracker, while I gather evidence for the police because I have to. Do you think I’m on your blog for laughs?

Your words hurt, and it’s tiring that you’re still mocking me on your blog after a month. It’s not easy at all to see all the vile things you say about me, my mental illness and my sexuality. But police aren’t going to just take my word for it or just a few screenshots - it’s not a tumblr call out post. So I’m collecting everything I can, because that’s how serious suicide baiting is to me. Even though it hurts me to look at it.

I know either you or your friends are going to make memes, parodies or another disgusting post about this, because you never take it seriously when people confront you about your behavior. And that’s not what I’m hoping for either. A person who can sit online and tell another human being to kill themselves isn’t someone you can reason with. I know you wouldn’t give two shits if I actually killed myself (yes, suicidal people are real and it’s not a joke), which makes my skin crawl. All I want is for it to stop, and for you to face the consequences of your words.

[justasmalltowngeek]

So let's talk about bullying

It isn't like it is in the movies. Everyone experiences it differently and either survive it... or they don't.

For me, bullying was more of this insidious entity, small things that at the time were not particularly unique or could be written off as 'kids being kids.' But like all things that are 'no big deal,' over time it became one.

I was this weird little girl who snuck books to recess and got scolded by teachers for it. I was reading poetry anthologies for fun when I was eight. I wrote my 5th grade creative writing assessment about pokemon and got an A. I read Jurassic Park when I was eleven and understood everything.

I was friends with the librarian, guidance counselors, and the school nurse throughout my public school career. Because otherwise I had no friends until my sophomore year of high school. My twin sister was put in different classes (to promote "independence") and wouldn't talk to me at school even when we were together because she got made fun for daring to talk to her own fucking sister.

I had my own strand of cooties that the other kids would call "Sabrina Germs." They would run away screaming when they saw me coming and would pretend to be spreading Sabrina Germs to the other kids if I touched someone. This started when I seven and there were kids still doing it ten years later in our senior year.

Once, I brought a stuffed animal to play with during recess and left it to the side while I played on the jungle gym. By the time I returned, my classmates had taken it and buried it underneath a tree. When I complained to a teacher, she told me it was my fault for bringing a toy to recess. She didn't so much as tell the others to not do it again.

When I was eleven, a classmate kicked in my bathroom stall door, chipping my tooth and giving me a busted lip and black eye. My parents filed assault charges on all three girls thought to be responsible, despite the principal practically begging my father not to because it would go their record until they turned 16. My dad's only response was to yell "Good!" and frogmarch me out the door and to the police station. The only reason a parent had been called at all was because I spent over ten minutes wailing about wanting my mom and dad. I spent 6 months at risk of my front tooth dying because neither the school or the girls' parents were willing to help cover the cost of the surgery needed to fix it. To my knowledge, those girls were not punished any further and one of them moved to a new school not a month after the incident.

I once mentioned in passing the possibility of me moving up to Ohio with my mom should she and her boyfriend at the time get married. General consensus was "Thank god; I can't wait." I also mistakenly believed at the time that my family had lived in florida until my sister and I had turned 2, and had moved to Tennessee then. Several classmates said they wished I had stayed in florida.

When I was 13, a so called friend told me to my face that I was going to hell for not believing in God and so were my parents for daring to raise me to make my own choices about religion. She then acted like nothing happened and was confused as to why I stopped talking to her for a year. To the day we graduated, she never understood why I was so offended and insulted. No matter how many times I tried to explain how hurtful it was to hear that from someone I called a friend.

It was that year, at 13, that my Persistent Depressive Disorder (also known as dysthymia) reached a point where it could have been easily diagnosed, though I had been showing symptoms since I was about 10 years old. Unfortunately, at the same time, my sister was diagnosed with leukemia, and my depression was swept under the rug as a reaction to her diagnosis. They thought my dropping grades were a cry for attention instead of the depression, despite the fact I'd never gotten anything less than an A+ in english and was suddenly failing.

My classmates interactions with sister improved as a result of their sympathy for her, but did not extend to me. The summer before our first year in high school, I decided to shave my head for charity and as a show of support for my sister. I was repeatedly mistaken for a boy by teachers and called a dyke and/or a lesbian. My sister once had to defend me when she overheard girls in her class mocking my shaved head, asked them if that meant they had a problem with her own lack of hair. They of course said "no it's just that Sabrina looks so awful", to which she told them to shut up, because if they had a problem with a sister showing her support for a sick sibling, they obviously had one with her. My sister and I had such different appearances that most of the school had no idea we were even related, let alone twins.

It took until my senior year of high school before my parents even thought to put me on medication, let alone send me to therapy. It was only when I began skipping my university classes to the point where I ended up dropping out that things were really brought into focus. When I revealed to my therapist my thoughts about how I wished I could just stop existing, that I wouldn't be too upset if a truck ran me over while I was crossing the street. How I would never kill myself because I didn't want to do that to my family, but it would be okay if I died in an accident.

People say that 'kids being kids' have no lasting effects. That its just them having a bit of fun. No one ever wonders what the subject of the ridicule might think.

I have a form of long lasting depression, I have to force myself to look others in the face, let alone the eyes; I spent over a year attending weekly therapy sessions while also taking antidepressants. I'm finally up to biweekly sessions but my dosage has been increased to better handle my anxiety. I will be needing my meds for years, long after most people with depression would, possibly for the rest of my life.

Everyone's experience with bullying is different. Some people don't survive the wounds it gives them. There is no such thing as temporary pain, only the scars it leaves behind.

[lgbtvegas]

ignore this pls. just need a place to get my feelings out.

mental health tw, suicide tw, suicidal thoughts tw, self harm thoughts and tendencies tw

its sad that i dont even know what to type. im just going fucking insane. i haven't felt this crazy since I tried to kill myself when I was fucking 15. like i feel like a fucking nutjob right now and it won't stop. i have no one to talk to, even if my "friends" say they are there for me, I know they tired of my bs. the last time I tried talking to my friend she fucking left me on read cause shes so tired of my bullshit. i'm so fucking tired of my bullshit. i can never get out of my goddamn head. and everyone thinks im fucking okay cause I act like the fucking class clown at work and make everyone laugh. when I want to just kill myself atp. i havent self harmed myself since I was 15 either but some people disagree on this fact. I have a problem with digging holes in my skin and my therapist definitely thinks its that or an anxiety tick. I only get one day off of work a week and my therapist was all booked up for that day two weeks ago so I havent seen her. cause its like my responsibility to actually make an appointment but like me trying to help myself??? lmao. nice one. basically all this shit was triggered by my fucking hypochondriac tendencies. i had a uti like 2 weeks ago and I don't think the antibiotics they put me on got rid of it completely so I went back and got another urine test done which of course, like I expected came up positive but it also said I had ketones in my urine which of course, having access to a cellphone with a data plan, i immediately googled what that meant. now im like 1000000% positive I have diabetes, even though the doctor said its unlikely. I made an appointment to get my blood drawn to find out for sure but as I previously said, I only get one fucking day off and now I have to sit and wait till next fucking Thursday to find out if I have it or not. I don't know how I'm gonna make it that long. Im already going so fucking crazy I don't know what to do. the doctors office said they won't take blood without an office visit first (money hungry much??) so I can't just go in and ask to get my blood done. And I can't go to the hospital because I don't even know what I'd say to go there and have my blood drawn. nothing really makes me smile anymore. what am I gonna do if i do have it??? what am i gonna do if i don't???? i need answers to my fucking questions and no one will give me any. im fucking nauseous, im shaking, i just wanna sleep 24/7 so i don't have to fucking deal with this anymore. Since i was off today, I slept the whole day. I would wake up for a couple minutes, realize that I did not fucking want to be awake and I went back to sleep. Eventually I was waking up every like 30 minutes cause I wasn't tired but idc, i wanted to be asleep. and now I have to go to work at 4AM and be the happy cheerful person I'm supposed to be so that everyone has a good day. Since I'm the boss, I can't be fucking sad or depressed. I'm so sick and tired of being crazy. Like im fucking exhausted from all this shit. Everything, everyday is becoming so much and I don't know how to handle it anymore. I'm on the highest dose of my antidepressants and an extra anxiety med, and Im like still like this???? why is my brain a piece of shit????? why am I a piece of shit??? like i derive all my happiness from other things and those things end and idk what to do. like BTS going on hiatus???? lol kms. Stray Kids are in America rn and I can't afford to go cause life??? I'm teaching myself a bunch of different languages and It's literally so pointless cause I have no friends and no one to talk to so like who am I speaking to in Korean??? myself. One part of my brain speaks Korean or whatever language and I respond in English. Our conversations are truly riveting. I would put the eyeroll emoji here but its only in my recently used on my phone and I'm posting this on my laptop and I'm too fucking lazy to go and find it. KinnPorsche ends in like a week and a day???? fuck bro. The only thing I have is Doctor Who. That show is my rock. Anyway this is just dumb.