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chvoswxtch · 8 months ago

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personal

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: lately frank has been acting suspicious, and you've decided to finally confront him about it.

warnings: swearing, lots of angst

word count: 3.4k

a/n: i hope y'all have been enjoying things being nice & light & sexy & fun bc these last few chapters aren't holding back any punches. shit is about to get real. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

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Not even five minutes after Frank walked through the threshold of his apartment, the rumble of an incessant banging sounded on his front door. His dark brows instantly furrowed with irritation at the sound. Slipping his right hand behind his back to grab the handle of the gun tucked into the waistband of his jeans, he turned the knob and swung the door open with just as much ferocity as the person knocking on the other side.

The creases of annoyance on his sharp features suddenly smoothed into recognition at the sight of you standing in front of him, but not long after, his warm brown eyes widened in complete bewilderment seeing the raw fury that was burning in your eyes.

“Hey-”

Before he could utter another word, you forced your way inside his apartment, causing him to quickly retreat backwards, wincing when you swiftly slammed the front door shut behind yourself.

“You need to tell me what the fuck is going on with you, right now.”

Frank was utterly caught off guard by your aggressive behavior. The last time he had seen you this angry with him was when he showed up at your place after Cavella and Walker had attacked you. He was so distracted by your incensed entrance, he almost missed what you said. But when his brain finally caught up with his ears, your words only fueled his convoluted confusion.

“There nothin’ goin’ on-”

“Bullshit! Don’t you dare fucking lie to me, Frank.”

“Sweetheart, I’m not lyin’-”

“You’ve lied to me three times in the past month.”

Creases of puzzlement settled between Frank’s thick brows hearing that. Had he really lied to you three times? He couldn’t even remember what he’d lied about, or how you caught onto the fact that he was. Frank admittedly had been a bit out of it when it came to you lately, but he wasn’t doing it on purpose to hurt you. He just happened to be caught in the middle of something he was trying to keep you as far away from as possible.

Taking his silence as evidence of guilt, you stared up into his eyes, wanting him to see the proof of grief in your reflection that his actions had caused. You wanted him to hear the severity in the words that lacerated your tongue as they slipped past your lips that had been bitten raw from your tortured anxiety.

“You never once lied to me before Frank, ever. I don’t know why you’re choosing to start now, but if I hear one more lie come out of your mouth, I am done. I will walk out that door and I will have nothing to do with you ever again, that's it. Do you hear me?”

That caught Frank’s attention. There was no waver in your voice, no threat in your tone, just raw emotion and sincerity.

For the past month, Frank had been acting strange. You’d caught him in three white lies, and while they may have seemed small and trivial to someone else, they were anything but that to you. Because you’d been stuck with a pathological liar before, and there was no such thing as harmless lies. A lie was a lie, and it was a crack in the foundation of trust and integrity that you’d built with Frank, and a crack could turn into a rift, and a rift could divide you and make it all come crumbling down.

Since yours and Frank’s schedules didn’t always line up, you’d both done everything you could to make every moment count since your first date. But lately, it felt like you were the only one putting in the effort. Frank was chronically distracted these last few weeks. He was late to meet you for dates, he didn’t call when he said he was going to, and sometimes you didn’t hear from him at all until the day was practically over. And when he was with you, Frank was physically present, but mentally he seemed to be somewhere you couldn’t follow. Even sitting right beside one another, it felt like there were oceans of distance separating you subconsciously.

At first, you’d tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. It was one little white lie. One missed call after a long day. Just fifteen minutes of waiting at the restaurant. This was Frank, the man who had saved your life more times than you could count. He was different. This was real. You had nothing to be concerned about.

But then one white lie turned to three, and one missed call turned into not hearing from him until an excuse appeared across your screen at half past midnight, and fifteen minutes late turned into not showing up at all. His behavior planted a seed of suspicion in your mind that grew like wild ivy, coveting the sense of security you had in him with leaves of doubt, sprouting spirals of diabolical hypotheticals that canvassed your brain with catastrophe.

Every knot of faith Frank had woven into your heart with his actions over the last nine months were steadily being unraveled by his own hand in a matter of weeks. The confidence you had in him was now frayed in shreds and left you in a fit of mania, scrutinizing his every intent under a microscope.

You had been here before. You’d been lied to, manipulated, cheated on, pushed to the brink of insanity, and eventually left behind. You recognized all the signs of duplicity and betrayal, but you’d covered your own eyes so you wouldn’t have to acknowledge them, because it was Frank.

Blunt-and-brutally-honest, jump-in-front-of-a-bullet, remembers-every-little-detail, got-his-knuckles-bloody-for-you, killed-for-you, Frank.

And that’s why this hurt so much. That’s why this dagger of deceit tore clean right through your chest, leaving you standing in the middle of Frank’s living room, hysterical and furious for an elixir of truth that could make this pain go away and heal your belief in him once again. He’d been so MIA lately that you had spent hours camped out in front of his apartment building tonight, waiting to see his truck pull up just so you could follow him inside and finally have this conversation face to face.

Frank could hear in your voice that he’d hurt you, and even worse, he could see the evidence of it shining in your eyes. The pieces of yourself you’d lent him to patch up his own heart were suddenly bleeding at the seams seeing how his unintentionally selfish preoccupation had left you marooned. Shame didn’t begin to cover the way he felt. He knew he needed to be honest, but he couldn’t tell you everything.

Not yet.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. But it ain’t what you think, sweetheart.”

“Then what is it? Explain it to me.”

Frank took a seat on the couch and gently patted the space next to him, looking up at you with diligent patience while you internally debated between standing stubbornly or giving into his request to sit with him. After a moment you finally sat down, but you intentionally put space between the two of you and folded your arms across your chest in a silent gesture of defensiveness. Resting his forearms on the tops of his thighs, Frank clasped his right hand over his left wrist, staring down at his worn boots while deciding his next words carefully.

“I got a new assignment.”

The quiet tone of Frank’s voice and the lack of eye contact while he spoke immediately caused a spark in your nervous system.

“Where?”

“I don’t know yet.”

Frank let a moment of silence pass before turning his head to look at you with an apologetic gleam in his warm brown eyes.

“I’ve been helpin’ Madani with somethin’.”

Pinching at the bridge of your nose, you let out a slow exhale of irritation. Frank had already strained your patience with his behavior this past month, and his obscure responses were only making it worse.

“Why are you being so secretive about this?”

“It’s complicated-”

“Complicated how? You didn’t have to hide the last job from me-”

“This one is different-”

“Different how? That doesn’t make any sense-”

“You gonna let me talk? Or you gonna keep yellin’ at me?”

The way you clenched your jaw and narrowed your gaze at his quip made Frank regret letting his own frustration get the best of him. You were already pissed off, now was not the time for him to snap back at you like he normally did when the two of you argued about something. A wave of annoyance quickly crested within you. The second you stood up from the couch, Frank’s large hand reached out to grab your wrist.

“Hey, c’mon. Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Walk away from this conversation-”

“What conversation, Frank? You’re not doing anything but giving me vague excuses. What the hell am I supposed to do with that?”

Frank gave your wrist a gentle tug to get you to sit back down next to him on the couch. He once again waited calmly as you stood defiantly for a moment before reluctantly sitting back down. He let his large hand glide across your wrist to take your hand into his own, holding it firmly in his lap while cocking his head to the side to try and catch your gaze.

“Look at me, sweetheart.”

When he gave your hand a gentle squeeze, the prolonged pause of silence caused you to eventually shift your attention back to Frank, and you could see that his brown eyes were a deep shade of contrition.

“I’m sorry. I know I’ve been distracted lately, and I haven’t been ‘round like I shoulda been. And you’re right, I did lie to ya, and I’m sorry ‘bout that. I’m not tryin’ to keep things from ya, sweetheart. It’s just…this one is…it’s different.”

“Why? What makes this one so different that you have to lie to me about it?”

“It’s personal.”

Now it was your turn to be perplexed. You thought Frank was long past holding you at arms length and keeping up a fortified impenetrable steel wall around his heart and mind. He’d opened up to you before, talked about his life in the Marines, told you about the family he’d loved and lost, even spoke about them more comfortably and freely now without the shadow of grief looming over his words. Why was he back to shielding his vulnerability?

“Personal?”

Frank knew you wanted more of an explanation. You needed more. And he hated that he couldn’t give it to you right now. He hated that there was still so much that he was holding back from you, and that it was his own fault you were even doubting him in the first place.

“Listen, I can’t explain it right now, alright? But I will. When it’s all said and done, I’m…I’m gonna…I’ll have to tell ya some things first, some things you may not wanna hear and probably won’t like hearin’. But I promise, I’m gonna tell you everythin’, alright? I just need you to trust me right now.”

Every word Frank spoke hid another piece of the puzzle he was crafting, and you were left with misshapen gaps of confusion. You didn’t know what he meant by saying there were things he had to explain that you might not want to hear, or how that factored into the job he was currently working. Nothing he was saying made any sense to you, and it only left you with more crucial questions than justifiable answers. Pulling your hand away from his, you got up from the couch and started to stressfully pace back and forth.

“So the reason you’ve been a shitty boyfriend lately is because of this new assignment, that you can’t tell me anything about, other than it’s personal, but you can’t explain why that is. And it’s going to take you somewhere eventually, but you can’t tell me where, because you don’t even know yet, and even if you did, you still wouldn’t tell me. And I’m going to go out on a limb here and assume that you have no idea how long this is going to last, but you expect me to sit here and act like everything is fine between us and trust you even though I have no fucking idea where you’re going or what you’re doing. Did I miss anything?”

Frank could hear the barely concealed hostility in your tone. He couldn’t combat a single thing you said. When you finally stopped pacing and turned to face him, staring at him expectantly, a ring of treachery was blazing around your irises. He could see it right then in your eyes. If he didn’t fix this, he would lose you.

Slowly rising from the couch, Frank stood there with a dispirited weight resting on his shoulders, a look of pleading softening his warm brown eyes.

“I’m gonna handle this as soon as I can, I promise.”

“I can’t do another month of this, Frank.”

“Then it won’t be another month. I’ll figure it out before then.”

“How?”

The resentment you felt towards Frank was rapidly fading into pure desperation. All you wanted was an answer, a real answer. Something of substance that you could understand, something tangible to hold onto during this period of uncertainty. Frank could feel the despair radiating off of you in thick sorrowful waves, and the fact that you were close to forfeiting this argument had him instantly tensing as the chill of dread straightened his spine. He had to give you something.

“Listen, Madani gave me some intel, alright? I’ve been followin’ it, tryin’ to find proof she’s right, or if she’s just seein’ what she wants to see.”

“But why did she give it to you? What can you do that Homeland Security can’t?”

Frank stared at you silently for a moment, and you could see a look of hesitation flash in his eyes. There was something there, something you couldn’t figure out. But you could tell by the expression on his face that there was a lot more to this than it being a top secret assignment from Homeland. Whatever it was, it had everything to do with Frank. You just couldn’t figure out why. After a terse minute of silence, Frank stood up a little straighter while subtly clenching his jaw, and there was a hardened look in his eyes.

“Cause it’s connected to someone I know.”

The way he spoke that sentence with an ominous undertone sent an icy torrent down your spine. Sensing your trepidation, Frank let out a deep sigh and glanced around his apartment for a moment while lost in thought before eventually looking at you again, this time with a softer gaze.

“Look, I can’t explain it all right now, sweetheart. All I can tell ya is that Madani needed someone she could trust on this, and I owe her a debt.”

Letting those words sink in, you tried to put your biased emotions aside for a moment and think logically about what Frank was saying. Dinah had asked him for a favor. Part of you found it surprising that she came to Frank and Billy, considering the way she acted towards Billy the day Steven was arrested. But maybe that look of distrust and disdain had everything to do with the complicated relationship they’d had that Billy mentioned.

If Frank was working for Dinah, then he was working for Homeland, which meant he probably didn’t have a choice but to keep everything from you. And yet, here he was still trying to give you crumbs of explanations, and promising to tell you everything once this new assignment was over. At least you could lay the fear to rest that he was seeing someone else. Standing here now, you felt ridiculous that you’d restlessly jumped to the conclusion of an illicit affair. But in your own defense, it had been difficult to think clearly when Frank’s covert behavior mirrored that of past boyfriends' unfaithful performances.

As your shoulders physically deflated from your own conspiracies unraveling just to get tangled in a new set of ambiguities, you let out a deep exhale and rubbed both of your palms tiredly down your face, grasping onto the back of your neck for a moment. When you first showed up at Frank’s apartment, you had felt completely warranted in your anger. Now, you weren’t sure if you had overreacted in your manic state, or if you still had a right to be upset with Frank. At this point, you just felt drained from trying to balance on that tightrope of your own conflicting emotions.

Frank had saved your life several times over, and Dinah personally made sure that Steven would spend the rest of his life in prison. You owed them both everything. The least you could do was show them a little patience.

“Alright. Fine.”

In the nine months that Frank had known you, never once had you conceded in an argument. Even when you were in the wrong, you struggled with admitting that you had been erroneous. Frank’s blood ran cold with the thought that he might have pushed you too far healing the casual defeat in your voice. He didn’t want you to give up on him like this. Frank quickly took a step towards you the second you took a step towards the door, reaching out to gently grab your arm.

“Hey, hey c’mon. Don’t go.”

“Frank, I’m tired-”

“Then stay. Just stay here, c’mon. It’s late, yeah? Stay.”

Frank wasn’t giving you any room to decline the offer disguised as a command. One of his strong arms slipped around your waist, pulling you firmly into his chest while his large hand gently cradled the back of your head. He pressed his lips in a soft, lingering kiss to the crown of your head, hugging onto you tightly while resting his cheek against the side of your head. The rigid tension in your body lethargically began to melt, and Frank’s deep gravelly voice whispering into your ear dismantled the last of your defensiveness.

“Just stay with me, baby. Please stay.”

Frank knew that he didn’t deserve you. He didn’t feel that he’d earned this second chance at life he was getting. But he would be damned if he’d let anything ruin this now that he had you. He would’ve told Madani to go to hell if he’d known the favor was going to cause such a big disruption to the peace he’d found within you.

But not only did he owe his second shot to her, he desperately needed to know the truth himself.

“When will you leave?”

Frank hugged onto you even tighter, rubbing his hand along your lower back in soothing slow circles.

“M’not sure yet. But I’ll tell ya as soon as I know, I promise. And I’ll make sure you’re taken care of while I’m gone, yeah? I’ll be back before ya know it, baby.”

Hearing the soft sigh that sounded from you, Frank nuzzled his nose into your hair and whispered gently to you.

“Listen, I won’t take no more jobs like this, alright? I’m gonna handle this for Madani, and that’s it. I won’t do anythin’ else that’ll take me too far from you, yeah? I’m not gonna leave ya, sweetheart. I told ya I’m always gonna be here. I meant that then, and I mean it now. You ain’t ever gotta worry ‘bout that.”

You tried to find comfort in those words, but you weren’t in the mental state to accept any vows. You couldn’t get past the glaring truth that Frank was hiding something from you, and until you knew what it was, that crack of dishonesty would continue to slowly spread. You had a sneaking suspicion in the pit of your stomach that whatever verity Frank was concealing had the potential to shatter everything; unveiling the illusion that your relationship hadn’t been formed out of the impervious stone that you’d believed in, but rather of futile glass.

tags: @thyme-in-a-bubble @day-dreaming-goddess @messymissy @itwasthereaminuteago @strawberry1042 @queenofthenoobs @wanda2themax @xcastawayherosx @avengerstower-houseplant @stevenknightmarc @ponyosmom35 @babygal-babygal @wellwwhynot @oldermenaremyreligion @combustiblemeow @tired-night-owl @fairykiss32 @danzer8705 @calkissed @fxckahs-blog @lemon-world1 @polskiperson @imperihoe @v4leoftears @harperdoodle @spideyvibez @joalslibrary @cherry-berry-ollie @sorrowfulfragmentation @kdogreads @sumo-b98 @blackhawkfanatic @gloryekaterina @whistle1whistle @starbritestarlite @callmebrooklynbabes @hallway5 @scarletfvckingwitch @bifuriouslatina @soupyspence @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @wonwoosthetic @linguist-breakaribecca @nerdytreeflower @mrs-bellingham @smhnxdiii @s3riou2 @slavic-empress

#frank castle #frank castle x you #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x reader #frank castle x female reader #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle x f!reader #frank castle fic #frank castle series #the bodyguard series #bodyguard!frank castle fic #bodyguard!frank castle series #bodyguard!frank castle x reader #the punisher #the punisher fic #the punisher series

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tryslora · 2 months ago

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Disability in fiction

This was a tough post to write.

I saw a post about disability rep, and I kept thinking about it, and wanted to share my own takes on the topic.

I thought about it for days, trying to figure out how to word it. Then after drafting it, I stuck it in a file for a couple of weeks, trying to decide if I could even post it. This is not a topic that can be boiled down to a simple yes/no kind of answer.

Let’s start with two examples.

1 - I have a short story I started writing (it wants to grow up to be longer, so it’s waiting for time) where my original concept was to write about an older woman who is short and has major chronic pain, and I wanted to dig into fantasy reasons why this pain exists, but at the same time, have her be able to kick ass despite being exhausted and dealing with excruciatingly painful issues.

2 - I once drafted a portal fantasy storyline wherein a young man was transported into a fantasy world, and when he was given a horse to ride, he approached it very warily. He was encouraged to mount, did so, and sat there and exclaimed in shock, “My brain isn’t exploding with snot!” because his allergies hadn’t come with him into the body he had in the fantasy world.

Both stories were designed to be fun, a bit light, maybe even cozy.

So.

In one case, the disabled character remains disabled and kicks ass anyway. And in the other case, the character is magically “healed” and no longer has debilitating allergies that had wrecked his way of life.

This is the difficult part to express: I think both storylines are valid.

Bear with me while I dig into this.

First and foremost: I completely agree that we need more representation in all forms of fiction, especially when it comes to disabled people being able to live their lives. Characters with missing limbs, or non-neurotypical brains, or anxiety & depression, or hearing issues, or sight problems, or chronic pain, or… or… you get the idea. We need all of it, and we need it to not need to be magically healed in order for a story to be considered happy and cozy. Disabled people can be happy, too.

I’m all in for this, and I wouldn’t write the stories I do if I weren’t.

However, there are also moments where I am so exhausted by my body and by everything I deal with inside of it where I do wish for that magical ability to forget that my pain exists. Or for the ability to actually process information in a straight line, or make decisions without writing a hundred lists and accomplishing nothing from them. Or to be able to lie down in a field of grass without regretting it for days while I drip snot and fight sinus-pain-induced migraines.

Sometimes I want to imagine that my life is different.

And that is one of the joys of writing. I can choose to write a story where people like me or the people I know are the heroes/heroines exactly as they are, different abilities and all. Or I can choose to write a story where the problems magically resolve.

Both can be cozy, sweet, and adorable. I can give the character with chronic pain the ability to kick ass, take names, and have a sweet reunion with her ex-girlfriend. I can show all the ways that my disabilities may define how I handle my life differently than someone else, but do not define what I can and cannot do.

But I can also daydream about a life where it’s different, the same way I can daydream about having wings, or being able to teleport. For me, imagining a day with no pain is the same as a day where I can walk through walls. It is absolutely a fantasy, and about as likely to happen.

Here’s the thing: It’s okay to be angry to see what looks like disability being erased. It’s okay to wonder why the author did that, why they magically healed someone instead of letting them be who they were. But at the same time, maybe ask why, and what point of view it’s coming from. Or look a little deeper into the story and how the resolution occurs, and the effect it does have on the character (I suspect that were I to suddenly have a day of no pain, I’d be intensely reckless, given what an idiot I am while IN pain, y’know? And WOW would I regret that later…).

And for authors, think about what you’re writing. WHY is this particular event (keeping disability, erasing it, whichever or both) happening, because the reader will take note of it. They may see things that weren’t intended, but are there as unintentional biases.

Make conscious decisions for why things happen.

Someday I want to get back to both of those examples from the start of this post; I still like both concepts. But I’ll be writing them for very different reasons, and both will be healing my soul in different ways. Different kinds of daydreams. And again, I think that’s valid, too.

#writing #disability #my own thoughts

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scientia-rex · 9 months ago

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I got home from work today sneezing my head off with a right eye that won’t stop watering, took a hot shower, climbed into bed, and I haven’t climbed out since. I’m grumpy and I have a headache and if I’m not testing positive for COVID or debilitated by symptoms tomorrow I’ll still need to go to work because that’s twenty patient visits that would need to be rescheduled, usually with someone else, and that’s twenty people I’m letting down. Today I did one of my patented 45-second Pap smears (if it takes longer than that, your doctor needs to get better!) for someone with vaginal atrophy from menopause (it is both very common and very treatable) and she was in disbelief. (This time it was more like 30 seconds.) I saw a suicidally depressed patient who’s clinging to life with both hands and I changed their meds last week and I am not making them wait to see me. I cleaned a wound no one else gave a shit about and I saw a bitter pissy Republican Party bigwig who has terrible anxiety and depression she doesn’t tell anyone about, who’s alienated everyone but who I can still convince to try treatment.

I do my job on hard mode on purpose. I like being important—who doesn’t? I like being legendary, I like that when people move to town and ask for doctor recommendations on Facebook so many people mention me that other patients feel compelled to tell me about it. I got nominated for best doctor in our local region last year. (I didn’t win, out of 5 nominees.) But when I’m sick, when I’m the kind of sick that can be hidden easily, the kind of sick I was always expected to go to school and rotations and residency with, it’s so hard. I hate exposing patients, even to a cold, but the benefits of receiving care are probably enough to outweigh the chance of transmission. I wrestle with myself: if I call in, it starts a ripple effect. Can they get a per diem from their “pool” (of three) to come in? Can they reschedule my patients with me? I don’t have any open spots for five weeks. Can they open same days? None available for three weeks. Can they open blocked spots? That’s going to make my life hell when I come back from being sick. That’s clinic staff calling twenty patients, trying to reach them. That’s twenty patients who feel abandoned. They can know intellectually that doctors get sick too, but they don’t believe it. They take it personally. I have seen this over and over again, until I had to believe it.

It is so EASY for people who don’t do this job to tell me how I’m doing it wrong. “Just stay home!” Oh, okay, you want to tell the person whose chronic opioids I’m supposed to write for that I can’t? You want to put the nurses through getting the on-call to write a bridge prescription? I write more ADHD meds than most of my peers—usually a lot more. You want to tell my colleagues to write meds they’re uncomfortable with? How about tell my suicidal patients (which is a lot of them!) that the provider they know and trust after months or years will be replaced today by a 70-year-old white man who still thinks they should pull themselves up by their bootstraps? Tell my queer patients that they have to wait until I’m better and back to get their hormones and their STI screenings, reschedule a Pap someone was dreading. Every day is a kaleidoscope of opportunities to make a real connection with “difficult” patients. I’m good at it. I may be the best at it at my clinic.

I don’t hate calling in sick just because the clinic manager is a judgy bitch, though that doesn’t help. I hate it because of what it does to my patients. And it’s not simple. Pretending it is does all of us a disservice. I am not a widget. I am not easily replaceable. You can’t plug any of our per diems (all men, 2/3 white, 2/3 old, 1/3 a Bitcoin bro) into my place and call it an equivalent, and my schedule is already so packed that if I call in sick, patients will be guilt-tripping me about it for months. I’m not kidding. That happens every single time.

Christ alive, I wish it was true that doctors never got sick.

#the attending dr. kristophine

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chishiyasleftnut · 9 months ago

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I love your writing smmmm <33 could you do chishiya with girlfriend who suffers from anxiety? (Social anxiety) one and kind of introverted type?? Thank youuuu.

Hi there! Thank you for your support and request (-^〇^-)

This one is really short, but I still hope you’ll enjoy it. Please let me know if you’re fine with the occasional short fic! Life has been quite busy lately as I’m both moving apartment and writing my bachelor’s thesis, so I haven’t had much time and energy to write for this blog, sadly.

Nonetheless, I managed to finish this cutie! I hope you’ll enjoy it ( ღ’ᴗ’ღ )

(It wasn't planned, but there's no gendered language regarding the reader, so this time it's a gn!reader story!)

Silly Thoughts

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤 Warnings: None! Pure fluff. Pairing: Chishiya x gn!reader.

Plot: gn!reader suffers from social anxiety, leading them to cancel an event hosted by Chishiya’s work. Chishiya, who does not understand anxiety, tries to figure out why and attempts to help gn!reader overcome their anxiety.

1090 words. 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

“I just don’t feel like it.”

For the past week, your mind had been filled by nothing but the big event you had agreed to attend. Chishiya, your boyfriend, had been invited to a seminar run by the hospital he worked at - invited was a kind word, as it was definitely not voluntary whether or not he attended. Luckily for him, he was allowed to bring a guest, giving him a tiny sliver of hope that he wouldn’t be completely bored out of his mind.

“Why not?” Chishiya asked while tying his tie in the mirror. He had never understood why you were so anxious about social gatherings. Sure, he didn’t like them either, but he wouldn’t say he was anxious about them. Annoyed would probably be a better word.

He watched you in the mirror as you fiddled around with your hands, trying to come up with an excuse that could be somewhat believable. As always, you didn’t meet his eyes when you were anxious. He had yet to figure out why, but his best guess was that you were scared he could read your mind or something.

“I don’t feel like it today,” you repeated. “I feel sick.”

“Sick?”

Chishiya turned around to face you, immediately springing into his well-known role as a doctor and taking a few steps closer to you before putting his hand on your forehead to feel your temperature. Just as he suspected, you didn’t have a fever. You were, however, shaking enough to hit a 6.5 on the Richter-scale, trembling as if your body was the epicentre of an earthquake.

“Why don’t you want to go?” he asked again, his hand moving around your face as he continued to feel for a fever.

No reply came out of your mouth, your eyes glued to the floor. With a gentle finger on your chin, Chishiya raised your head, so you were looking him in the eyes. You were expecting him to look angry that you were trying to get out of a promise; to be pissed that you didn’t want to do this one thing for him; but he didn’t look mad. No, quite the contrary - he looked�� concerned?

“Tell me,” he insisted again, his tone softer than you’ve heard him before.

Your mouth kept opening and closing, no words coming out as you tried to figure out how to explain to him what was wrong. Your own fears felt silly to you and admitting an irrational fear like that to someone as chronically logical as Chishiya felt like defeat - even though he was your long-term boyfriend whom you loved dearly. Surely you should feel open with him at this point, no? So far, he had yet to belittle any of your thoughts, no matter how small and irrational they were. He was safe and you knew that.

“I don’t like big crowds.”

“Really?” your boyfriend asked, sounding slightly confused. Chishiya had never suffered from any type of social anxiety. Mostly he just found unnecessary social interaction bothersome to deal with - not anxiety provoking. “Why not?”

“I’m… I don’t know. I’m scared people will talk to me and I won’t know what to say, or maybe I’ll fall flat on my face in front of everyone and they’ll laugh, or I’ll-“

Chishiya interrupted you with a finger on your lips and a small chuckle, slightly amused by the way your brain was spinning itself into death, circling around every hypothetical scenario.

“That won’t happen. You’re intelligent and very much capable of walking without falling over your own feet.”

“But what if I’m not?” you asked with a small voice, almost sounding like a child.

Although Chishiya was still smiling, you didn’t feel as if he was making fun of you. Instead, it was clear that he just enjoyed getting a glimpse into how you worked. From the first time you met, Chishiya knew that you and he were very different people, and truth be told that was what he loved about you the most. You were almost like a puzzle to him - a constant riddle he couldn’t wait but solve. He was almost itching to figure you out, excited by the way you were led by emotions instead of logic like he was.

“Okay,” he finally said after a while, his hands immediately working on loosening his tie. “We’ll stay home. I’ll call and tell them I’ve gotten sick.”

No words, not even ‘pure and utter relief’, could adequately describe your facial expression. You let out a breath that you didn’t even know you had been holding, immediately feeling ten times calmer and lighter at his words.

“But,” he continued while placing his tie on the table and slowly unbuttoning his dress shirt. “You’re starting therapy for this.”

“Therapy?” you asked, now sounding slightly anxious again.

“Yes, therapy. You can’t avoid crowds forever, you know? I’ll help you find someone who can help you with this.”

Chishiya’s eyes darted all over your face as you took in his ultimatum. At last you decided that potential therapy sometime in the future was way less scary than the concrete social event you were otherwise forced to attend. Hence, you nodded and accepted his demand.

With his white dress shirt open, Chishiya pulled you into a hug and placed a tender kiss on your forehead, pausing with his lips pressed against your face to savour the serene moment. You allowed yourself to melt into his embrace, letting the remnants of his aftershave travel up your nose and overwhelm your senses, effectively grounding you in reality and melting away every lasting remain of the anxiety that had previously paralysed you. All that mattered right now was him - not some stupid medical seminar. Crisis averted.

“You know,” he finally said after a minute of silence. "You can always tell me if something is wrong. Even if you think it’s silly.”

“I know, I just feel stupid admitting silly stuff.”

A sharp exhale of air huffed out of Chishiya’s nose and travelled over your forehead as he half-chuckled at your words.

“You can be silly without being stupid. You’re never stupid.”

For a few seconds, you let his words calm your mind. You didn’t want to admit it, but that was exactly what you needed: to know that Chishiya didn’t find you to be unintelligent just because of the way your anxiety was dictating your life at times. You felt Chishiya’s lips graze your forehead again, sealing in his words and cementing them in your mind.

You are never stupid.

#aib chishiya #chishiya alice in borderland #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya x reader #shuntaro chishiya #aib #alice in borderland #chishiya x you #chishiya #alice in borderland chishiya #alice in borderland chishiya shuntaro #shuntaro chishiya x you #shuntaro chishiya x reader #chishiya x fem!reader

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furiousgoldfish · 2 months ago

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On effortless recovery (personal)

I've been slowly dealing with cptsd and osdd for the last 8 years, and while I've had to actively work on some stuff, other have just happened without my interference, or at least, without me knowing I did anything about it. I have not been to therapy; or rather, there's been several attempts that were not working, and I had to end them. For instance, I've had therapy with someone who showed next to no interest in my issues and kept minimizing and ignoring whatever I've been saying, and this was the only person who didn't try to institutionalize me.

I've had to actively work on osdd, and it's something I'm learning about, and understand more as I go, but I also get that osdd is making everything else much easier on me. For instance, lots of my memories and thoughts are being blocked from me, and contained in alters who are making sure that I'm not affected by it, that is a huge help. Lots of thoughts that would upset me if I thought about them, are completely out of my reach, and if I do try to think about them, my mind goes blank and I forgot what I was thinking about. That's a great help for issues like anxiety and spiraling; I used to drown in my own fears and worries; now I just can't remember any of it. It is slightly depressing that my own peace of mind requires that big amount of amnesia, but you know, having some peace is so nice I could never be anything less than grateful for it. Being able to maintain some semblance of peace feels like resiliency, it means I have a place of quiet where I can go back to, even when distressing things happen.

I'm having my chronic pain and chronic exhaustion ease away from me very slowly. I still get exhausted easily, and am tired way more often than a regular person, but I now rarely get days when I can't get out of bed, or have to sacrifice a whole week due to a flashback or a nightmare. I no longer get anxious about planning to do something a day or two ahead because I can count on having at least a basic amount of energy. I don't think I've done anything to create this, it was just happening over the years, on its own. It's also happening so slowly that I don't even feel the progress, I have to remember to look 3 or 5 years back and remember just how much time I've been spending in bed then, to realize that it's less now, that I can do multiple activities a day now. I know I'm extremely lucky to be recovering from this, because there are people who have a chronic condition that doesn't allow for recovery, and I am very grateful for every day I can move around.

Another thing that is much better is sleeping! I used to wake up feeling like I'm dying, overheated, stressed, anxious, sometimes even paralyzed in fear, and if not fear, then grief would hold me down and I would be too sad to move. Now I'm finding myself waking up thinking 'Oh I'm so well rested! I have the energy to tackle some chores' like I'm in an actual good mood. And it's like ??? what is going on, since when is this me. I've been dreaming of having mornings like this, and now I have them, and it just happened over time (8 years) I still only think about doing chores when I have energy, because I know it's the only time of day I'll have any energy, so if I wake up restful I will rush to do dishes, laundry, cleaning, cooking, and whatever else, because I know the energy will go away later and I will become a sad slob. But it's much better than waking up and having to take a few hours (or days) just to recover from sleeping. My sleeping schedule has been 8 hours all along, I somehow can't sleep over the 8 hour mark, and can't function if I sleep less than 7.

I will still sometimes have flashbacks and meltdowns if anything bad happens to me, but the recovery time from them has gone way down. It used to be weeks, months even, to recover from a single bad event. Now it's more like hours and days. It's still not very similar to what I think a regular person would have to deal with, but I love the progress very much! One thing that slips my mind is that I regularly forget how much worse things used to be. If I bounce back from something, I forget that in the past, this would ruin me for weeks, and I forget that this is progress and to take a minute to acknowledge that. I just take what I can and go. But it's good to look at it and see that life is a little easier.

Some anxiety has also withered away from me, because so much of my anxiety was due to inexperience. New problems that would appear in my life seemed unsolvable and catastrophic, because I never faced those problems before, didn't know how to solve it, didn't dare to ask for help, didn't have skills or knowledge to tackle any of them myself, and all of it felt like it would lead to my doom. After already having solved some of those problems multiple times, I'm at peace just because I know what to do now. I haven't done much asking for help to be honest, because I hate it, but in struggling to solve the problems myself (sometimes taking months and years to do so), I've gathered knowledge, skills and experience, and I now have a general idea of what to do in situations that reoccur, and also know what to expect, how long something will take, what type of action will resolve it. Just living and tackling things by myself, and succeeding, eases a lot of anxiety. There is a solution to everything, with sufficient knowledge, experience and skills.

A lot of stuff that's previously been bothering me to the level where I couldn't deal with it, can now be dealt with merely distracting myself from it. Which I think is very funny, because I used to consider all my time playing games or looking at funny videos 'procrastination', because I wasn't being productive right, I was just 'procrastinating' and delaying dealing with life. Now I value these activities specifically because they can save me from feeling miserable and sad. There's a warmth to looking at people being goofy, funny, interesting, entertaining, and taking joy in it, and reminding myself there's still a lot of good things in the world, there are good people, there is warmth, there is love, and I feel better after seeing it, regardless of how awful I felt before. Having my own thoughts redirected to something hopeful is making my days better, more stable. I think I'm just stopping myself from spiraling into hopelessness, by looking directly at hope and staying fixated on it for long enough. And it's something I didn't previously value as a real activity, because I didn't believe that making myself feel better while producing nothing, was a worthwhile pursuit.

Being safe from abuse for a long time managed to erode the feelings of guilt and shame I had in my own interests, thoughts and activities, and I've became unafraid of any failures. It is now very clear to me that failing is the only way towards learning and it's incredibly valuable. I'm shameless at starting new hobbies and activities and it does not bother me whatsoever when I do badly. Even failing at big stuff in my life, things that created actual damage to me, supplied me with knowledge I don't think I would otherwise gain, and I treasure it. I don't feel ashamed or like I've done anything wrong. I've been able to engage with my own curiosity about things and I'm now able to ask questions about anything, without feeling bad for 'not knowing already'.

I've also accepted that I'm bad at some stuff, and it doesn't mean anything much about me, we're all bad at something. Sometimes I'm bad at stuff, but enjoy doing them, so I still do them, fun gives it good value! And if I'm both bad at something and don't enjoy it, then I completely drop it, and feel okay knowing this just isn't for me. I remember when I used to believe I'm bad at everything, just because I was getting such horrid feedback on it, now it's almost funny. I like stuff I create even when I do them badly, because I remember how much fun I had doing it. If I want to do them better, I know I just need to keep practicing and it will happen. Nothing a human creates is shameful, especially if it's not causing any harm to anyone. We're made to create and it makes us happy.

I don't think I've done anything specific to create these changes, maybe some critical analysis of the past, and some willingness to consider my own happiness important and worthwhile. I think I spent so much time grieving that I've actually processed the most of it, so I'm no longer as overwhelmed by it as I was before. It's not like I'm no longer sad, I will start sobbing frequently and whenever I'm tired, I am automatically miserable. But it is no longer constant, suffocating feeling that follows me for every second of existence.

I haven't done anything to fix the sleeping or to ease the chronic pain, that was just time and being safe from abuse for a longer period. I wanted to write this specifically because I've been waking up feeling okay the last few days and that was a shock to experience, what a bliss to wake up and think 'I'm well rested'. Incredible life experience.

#recovery #trauma recovery #personal #healing over time #feeling better just being safe from abuse #what changed in 8 years #osdd #cptsd #trauma

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aranock · 7 months ago

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I'm tired.

Just sort of in general I am exhausted. I know I put on a brave face a lot, but the hate does get to me. The constant unceasing hatred both offline and online gets to me. I'm human idk what to say. Been thinking a lot about the Bilbo quote, I might be paraphrasing, "I feel like too little butter spread across too much toast."

It's pride month, I should be feeling happy right? I convocated finally after a brutal long degree I should be feeling happy right? I like how my body looks for the first time in my life shouldn't I feel happy?

And I know that's not helpful, that feelings are not a should thing. And yet I feel it anyway :/. Not that I do not feel happy, I would say on average I am better than I have been at any other point in my life. But it does get to me.

I was invited to dinner with a former family member, a blood relative that breached every boundary I placed and even went so far as to accost me in a public space. It's hard watching someone lose all love for you the more you become yourself. Being told I'm an embarrassment to my parents by creeps online stings a lot more now that I had a blood relative say it to my face while aggressively yanking my jacket so I couldn't get away. I know its a lie, I know that this person saying that hurt my parents as much as it did me. Alas, anxiety rarely responds to facts or evidence.

Everytime it feels like I'm fine and over it; this person manages to weasel their way around boundaries to fuck up my mental health for a week. And the thing about chronic illnesses like mine is they flare up quite horrendously when you get stressed and anxious. Anxiety means waking up to acid burnt throat from reflux.

It makes my voice dysphoric all day.

I think deep down one of my greatest fears is that I am unlovable, that everyone around me secretly hates me and is just waiting for the excuse to finally be rid of interacting with me. I am terrified that I am a burden. Mortified by the false belief that I am broken.

Despite how horrific my childhood adolescence and some of my early adulthood were, my family was at least a safe place. I recognize that I was privileged to have that. With that said I think the reason this whole thing has rocked me so much is that it violated that one last place I felt safe. It has made me doubt the love of those I never thought I would.

Sometimes transphobia feels like drowning, and if you try to swim for air everyone decides to shove you further down cause actually it's proof you are faking needing breath.

I text someone anytime I go run errands, just to make sure someone knows. Had too many experiences of hate. I get anxious when I go to get groceries; will this be the time I get hit by a vehicle driven by a far right transphobe, am I going to get called a slur again, will the store staff get suspicious of me and search through all my groceries to make sure I actually paid for it. But please, tell me how I don't know what its like to be oppressed. When men sexually harass, catcall, creepily hit on, follow me around clearly I am not at all experiencing sexism. Obviously the real worst thing in the world is that women "cancel" people on the internet, and trans people exist. Did they think sending me hateful articles would suddenly make me go "oh yes clearly its all in my head, please genocide my community, I stand for nothing and have the moral backbone of a slug."

I don't really know why I'm writing this, I dont usually feel or desire to express something like this publicly. I will probably delete it later. Maybe I disappear into writing cause its easier to deal with the feelings that way. That at least then someone gets something out of my pain. That maybe it helps to condense emotional mountains to the mole hills of short strokes of a pen or presses of a key. To let them explode outward in a flurry of thoughts and words that others look at and say "I too have felt this, you are not alone, you are not wrong for feeling this way."

Anything to take the weight of it all off my chest for a second.

Because I am tired.

I'm exhausted really.

I don't want to be brave or strong or resilient. It's tiring to bear the weight of that and a billion projections. Atlas does not bear the heavens upon his shoulders because he is strong or brave. He bears it because he has no other choice. Because people put it on him.

I just want to exist; that is apparently too much to ask for as a trans woman.

If you are concerned, please don't worry I'll be fine, I was fine every other time after all. This too shall pass. But right now it hurts.

And I have had my fill of hurt for many lifetimes.

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matchakuracat · 8 months ago

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chronically ill/physically disabled people, how do you deal with doctors appointments? what do you say/do to advocate for yourself? im autistic and not diagnosed with a chronic illness yet and i really struggle to know what to say to get them to listen to me and understand so that i can get the help and care i need. even if i bring someone with me, they also need to know what to say and i don't know anyone who understands well enough to explain to the doctor for me, which means that i have to tell them what to say before going. but that's the problem since i just don't know.

i have chronic joint pain that ive had for years but has only gotten worse over time. i also have hypermobile knees which are the worse they've ever been right now. i'm chronically fatigued and barely have the energy to eat and do basic hygiene. i have a few friends that i talk to fairly regularly and im very thankful for them but i still struggle so much with maintaining a social life when i cant even maintain my own physical wellbeing. i only go outside when i absolutely have to/when my pain is low enough and i have enough energy. on average i probably leave my house about once or twice a week, usually to go to medical appointments, to an internship i have once a week or to go grocery shopping. i usually try to do both at the same time if i can (like going grocery shopping after my internship) but most of the time i have to ask my parents to get me groceries since i dont have enough energy to. all i want is to be able to go outside just to take short walks and enjoy nature and the fresh air but i can't do so without the right treatment/a mobility aid. everything im doing right now is bordering the line of too much. im constantly tired and overwhelmed and everything feels like a struggle, even the smallest tasks most people do everyday without thinking twice about it.

i have almost only had bad experiences with doctors and other medical professionals like physiotherapists, which has given me a lot of extra anxiety on top of my already pretty bad social anxiety. i really struggle to make appointments and even more so to go to them, and when i bring myself to do so i really struggle to express myself and explain how i feel and how i want them to help me. i almost always get shut down and offered no actual help with any of my problems. i just don't know what to do anymore.

if anyone has any advice i'd really appreciate it. i know that i can't give up because my life right now without accommodations is too miserable, but i also don't know how to move forward.

sorry if this was hard to understand. i really tried my best to explain but im having a bit of a hard time expressing myself right now due to feeling worse than usual.

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sonic-4-episode-ii · 22 days ago

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heres a "quick" list of some hcs regarding physical disabilities, mental illnesses & other stuff that can impair function or is "odd" physically but i dont know the proper term for

might update this every once in a while but for now thats it

spoiler alert: its all chronic pain!

Sonic

Fibromyalgia, big-time. Uses massively thick socks to stop his feet from hurting too much while running.

DID, which starting developing when he was like....4. now that he's (mostly) gotten over his "just push everything down" era, inter-system communications are pretty strong, and he's friends w/ a lot of his headmates

doesnt have the best eyesight (in fact its p awful) but hes convinced he can still see well enough so he refuses to wear his glasses. WILL NOT wear contacts

has NPD

autistic. contrary to popular believe, he doesnt have ADHD

schizophrenia. idk which type or whatever. hes got the hallucinations.

has auditory and visual (???) synthesia which caused him to. make the sonic CD us sountrack. yeah

Tails

HoH, but doesn't like using hearing aids. A bad habit inspired by Sonic's refusal to wear his own glasses

OCD, huge-time. his paranoia can get so bad sometimes that he doesn't even trust Sonic. doing much better in that regard nowadays, though.

tic disorder, hits themself or has their neck turn the other way violently (hurts!!!!!!)

so obviously autistic they get a little embarrassed abt it sometimes

c-ptsd haver

Knuckles

Undiagnosed chronic pain, has no idea what's causing it. Fully believed it was emerald stealing karma for YEARS.

gets weird pinched nerves alot because of some of his old scars being close to nerve endings. ow

has bad eyesight but genuinely didnt realize for years

has a sort of? processing disorder thing? i dont actually know what it is. when you try to talk but actual gibberish comes out n you cant think. someone else had the same hc but i forgot what they called it. but he has that

does actually have a lot of trauma due to being alone for most of his life and being raised by nothing but a rock and maaaaybe some birds. crazy ik

Amy

Horrible, awful eyesight. worst perscription out of ALL of her friends

Hypermobile joints, which is part of why she has such a horrible posture (along w her dysphoria).

abandonment issues due to. yk. being abandoned by her parents, which ends up leading into her getting unhealthily attached to anyone who gives her the time of day (and she arbitrarily decides is totally the one for her)

Shadow

PTSD (canon)

mobility issues (canon)

NPD + maybe borderline...?

Rouge

pretty much 100% deaf, uses hearing aids.

has some kinda smt going on because of the way she grew up but fuck if anyone knows what it actually is.

Blaze

Had anorexia for years, which has caused a lot of muscle weakness. Now that she's in recovering, things are a lot better, but she still uses a cane most of the time.

has depression, anxiety and self-worth issues due to being bullied as a child. not just for her flame powers

double anxiety bc of people trying to take her shit

Silver

similar to Blaze, weak thanks to a really bad diet as a kid.

due to genetic mutations caused by radiation, contamination of drinking water & food, and extreme changes in the environment, silver has four arms

also a really weird immune system that flip-flops from being disturbingly strong to scarily weak (can eat actual trash somehow but a cold puts him out of the running for weeks)

anxiety + separation issues. tries to be stoic abt it tho

has dyscalculia And dyslexia, struggles with understanding english especially

Vanilla

chronic exhaustion + fibromyalgia from a young age. sort of worried cream will end up having it too

Cream

weak immune system due to lots of childhood illness. might not be able to be vaxxed bc of it

gets ear infections really easily, made significantly worse w all the dirt she kicks up from flying with her ears

unspecified panic disorder due to trauma. tries to stay brave

Charmy / charmie / charmee

constantly low blood sugar due to weird bee stuff + inconsistent diet as a kid

he thinks hes funny :/

might have autism and/or adhd

Espio

undiagnosed mobility issues. can climb fine, but has trouble walking and cant run. uses a cane

anxiety he refuses to talk abt to anyone except the other chaotix and, very rarely, silper

Vector

self-inflicted hearing loss. went to too many concerts

developed anxiety after taking care of charmy and espio for so long. thanks kids

Sticks

OCD. tends to unintentionally encourage tails's delusions. currently getting experimental therapy thats working rlly well

somehow has almost every possible vitamin deficiency

Eggman

tics similar to sonic and tails's

OSDD

NPD

Neo Metal Sonic

transfeminine metal sonic from the main au

chronic headaches after episode metal

joints tend to seize up when chilly for too long. although shes immune to water, its worse when shes cold

tics due to system errors / bugs she and tails cant fix. she doesnt actually mind them since it makes her feel more connected to her bros :]

memory problems also after episode metal

due to her memory problems she has to memorize stuff by repeatedly being given info and it takes way longer for her to learn things compared to other computers so i think she has a learning disability? bc of that?

has weird backwards sensory issues. lack of harsh lighting or metallic noises unsettles and can overwhelm her

might have NPD

has delusions. getting better at recognizing them, which helps her help tails more

Hyper Metal Sonic

second, transmasculine metal sonic from a spinoff au

self-induced chronic pain (wtf bro)

joints also seize up when cold

Sage

doesnt feel much physically, which leads to her getting bad injuries she barely recognizes for ages

autism beast

Scourge

popcorn lung due to smoking several packs of cigarettes daily so his voice sounds more gruff

everything sonic has also

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donnerpartyofone · 11 months ago

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Tumblr is a funny thing because I think we each have some kind of generality about the character of this platform that we assume is universal, which it really isn't. The other day someone I follow said something about this being the social media site where everyone has tech jobs, and I thought Oh huh, I thought this was the chronic unemployment website! Then I saw a post where someone was saying that she didn't believe that anybody REALLY ruminates on embarrassing experiences forever, she thinks that's a completely made-up unrealistic emo pose and in real life everyone just gets over all their shit in a matter or days or weeks, and several of that person's followers piled on in agreement, and I was like...I mean not only is neurotic ruminating a real and common mental problem, but I definitely thought "everyone on Tumblr" ruminates on their humiliating experiences forever! I thought this was the clinical depression and generalized anxiety disorder website.

But anyway this thing happens where you join Tumblr and you follow whoever looks good to you, and then after seeing that cohort's reblogs and interactions with strangers for a while, you can start to forget that almost everything you see is in some way triggered by your own editorial choices, even if indirectly. It can start to feel like what's on your dash is "everything", it is representative of the entire usership of Tumblr. And then one day you find yourself criticizing this conceptual monolith you created, and you start using that hostile, performative Tumblr "y'all" to address the crimes of a mass of people who you imagine to be simultaneously a) attentively following your blog, and b) in opposition to everything you stand for. You think to yourself People on Tumblr are fucking crazy, why are they all like this?, forgetting entirely that the whole thing is chiefly defined by your choices and you are in no way experiencing objective reality.

This diatribe has been brought to you by a blazed post I just saw featuring a wedding photo of a guy in USMC dress blues, where the guy is saying that he wants to make Taylor Swift say hi to his wife for their 10th anniversary but he doesn't know how to get in touch with her, so he has come to Tumblr where he thinks there are people who know how to get the most famous person on the Planet of Earth to do personal favors for randos. This was so divorced from the reality I'm familiar with on every single level, I just sat there staring at the post for minutes trying to pick a reaction to it. And then after that I saw another blazed post of a girl taking a selfie in a fancy hotel, and I found that her entire blog was just stock photos of hot rich people gently making out in luxury settings. And I remembered, ah yes. This, too, is Tumblr.

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sirenesublime · 2 months ago

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Mental health struggles whilst being in university

I’m not too sure of the role of studyblr. If it’s meant to be a lighthearted superficial recounting of our experiences as students are if there’s a space for something more. Ultimately this is my blog so I’ll post what feels right and maybe this will resonate with some people in the community.

Today I’m laying in bed, and despite having slept 8 hours already, I’m feeling so tired that I can’t leave bed. I know what this is, I’m having a bout of depression and anxiety. At times my stress is so paralysing that I just end up sleeping through it. That’s what I did during my second semester of school when I was also in an abusive relationship. Assignments and tests were piling up while I was dealing with someone actively tearing down my life, and for hours and hours I would just sleep. Sometimes I would take the bus till the end of the line just to sleep.

Today I’m laying in bed and I’m sad and I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s because I live in a box that gets barely any natural sunlight. Maybe it’s because of the lack of friendships I’ve formed and assimilation I’ve done in this new country I’ve been living in for now two years. Maybe it’s because I’ve been recently diagnosed with a chronic illness. Maybe it’s because I’m homesick but know I’ll never truly be able to go back. Maybe it’s because of school and work and all I have to balance and get done. I’m not quite sure. All I know is today I feel a deep sadness and I can’t get out of bed.

I’ve been feeling a depression coming on for a couple of weeks now. It’s here, it’s full blown, and I’m not quite sure what to do. Just go through it, feel all of it, try my very best to function. Yesterday as much as I could bring myself to study was an hour. On my good days I can normally study for five hours. I need to remind myself that an hour is better than nothing.

I’m feeling alone and in my head about it all. This will pas I’m sure, but it’s just tough.

#studyblr #study #study motivation #studyspo #paris #student #study blog

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idontplaytrack · 10 months ago

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✧ “you’re a softie.”

Rosa Diaz x teen daughter! reader

warnings: mentions/descriptions of anxiety, medical gaslighting, chronic pain & illness

in which, rosa gets a call from reader’s school that she hates to receive.

part 2 here!

rosa’s always been a private person, you knew her reasons for not telling her friends about you. however, it wasn’t exactly like it ever came up after all the (very limited) knowledge they had about your mother. but of course, one person on the 99th precinct squad was the exception- captain holt.

the day was going by as per usual, until diaz abruptly went onto the terrace to answer a phone call. the noise startles the relatively quiet bullpen, but they resumed their respective work tasks. “what’s going on with rosa?”

“hm?” amy asks, still distracted by her paperwork.

“rosa seems very…i dunno. have we ever seen her showing this much emotion on her face? that isn’t annoyance or anger?” jake shrugs, pointing at rosa who was currently on the phone with you.

“she doesn’t look happy though. that can’t be good.” amy seethed. just as she finished her sentence, rosa reenters the bullpen and was immediately headed for holt’s office. she knocks, he allows her to enter.

“diaz. how may i help you?”

“my daughter called me. i need to take her home from school. her symptoms have been flaring up for awhile. i don’t want her to get hurt if she makes her own way home.”

“very well. i understand. how much time do you need?”

“can i clock out now? i’m not sure if i need to take her to the hospital or not because she’s not really talking to me- i’ll stay later tomorrow and do whatever task you assign me.” rosa promised.

“hand over the work on your desk to me and you may clock out.” holt decided.

“thanks.” rosa swiftly walked to her desk to grab the small stack of files and turned it in to holt, then left the precinct without another word.

————

“i can’t believe you won’t let me get a car.” rosa scoffs playfully.

“and let you part ways with your motorcycle? I couldn’t possibly do that.”

“i can have both, you know?” rosa bit back a smile, “are you sure you don’t want me to get us a cab home?”

“hurts, but eh.” you shrug.

“hospital?”

“just let me curl up in bed for a couple days, they’ll just hook me up to an iv and give me the same meds i have at home.” you sigh, “i’m due for an mri in two weeks anyway- i can tough it out till then.” rosa pulls you to the side, “i don’t want you to tough it out. your doctor already said that if the pain suddenly worsens and persists you can go in to see her.”

“i can, but i won’t.”

“you amaze me.” rosa huffs, “flareups cause you a 8-9 out of 10 pain and you can walk, spend a whole day out.”

“all thanks to the whole year of medical gaslighting. had to learn how to function with the symptoms.”

you two board the subway and rosa spots a seat. she nudges you to sit down but you refused. “sit. down.” she insisted. “fine, fine.” you gave in, she stands in front of you, keeping the conversation going to keep your mind off of the pain. “how was school today?”

“just did worksheets and asked questions if i had any. but, lunch did suck.”

“why? someone give you trouble?”

“no, the food was revolting.”

rosa lets out a soft laugh, “is there anything i can do to make you feel better?”

“i already had you abandon your work at 2pm. i feel bad as it is. i could’ve went home myself.”

“yeah, i’m not risking that.” rosa scoffs, “nice try.”

“how about a slice of pizza from your favourite place? or two?” rosa suggests.

“if you want.” you shrug, tired.

getting off the subway, she leads you to your favourite pizza place - it was a short walk. pushing the door open, the bell above the door tinkles. “hey, y/n!” the usual counter staff, ana, spotted you. “ay, rough day?”

“she’s not feeling well.” rosa answered on your behalf.

“pobrecita.” ana frowns, “usual order?”

“yep.” rosa nodded curtly, “2 slices sausage. 2 slices pepperoni.”

“of course, just a minute.” the older lady smiled. rosa paid, then took you to the side to wait away from, the crowd. she had a protective arm around you. “i’ll be fine.” you glanced up at her. “i don’t care. you’re my baby.” to you, this was the norm, but still quite rare. you just knew her coworkers would kill to hear this interaction.

after picking up your order, you and rosa resumed your journey home. the last stretch was a nine minute walk from the pizza place. once at home, you excused yourself and went to change into your favourite loungewear set. that made you feel a tad better: to be out gross sweaty clothes. soon after you emerged from, your bedroom, rosa walked out from hers donning a plain black tank top and a pair of matching leggings.

“let’s eat.” rosa tilted her head toward the dining area. you walk over before she did and laid the table. “ana gave us free garlic knots and sauce again.”

“she always does that when you go there with me.” she smirked. you chuckled, sitting down. “didn’t you tell her to stop doing that?”

“i did, but she likes giving you a little treat. her words, not mine.” rosa shrugged, “the lady’s happy. let her do it. she’s been there since before i had you- she’s kinda like another abuelita of yours. besides, she won’t take my money. i tried to pay her back for the extras she gave, but she wouldn’t take it.”

you fought back a laugh, “what?”

“it’s true.” she places the box containing the pepperoni pizza in front of you, “she’s been there for years.”

“i know.” the laughter mellows out and you quietly ate your slice, your mind drifts off. rosa caught you spacing out almost instantly. you caught her gaze for a moment, “i’m fine. just trying not to think about anything at all, actually.”

she shrugs. “how was work?”

“the recent cases are nothing too intense so i won’t be working too much overtime, i hope. it was a good day, though.”

“good. why?”

you saw that subtle glimmer in her eyes, “you know, don’t you? you just want me to say it.”

you gave her cheeky grin as you chewed your food.

“ha! some things really don’t change.” she remarked, “you always gave me this…grin even when you were really little.”

“you’re a softie.” you teased her. she purses her lips together, her attempt of trying not to smile or laugh. which failed - the corner of her lips tug into a small smile.

“take a nap after this.” she changes the subject abruptly.

“okay, softie.” you pout.

————

the remainder of yesterday went by like clockwork during a flareup for you. so it was uneventful in rosa’s opinion, and she was glad to be back at work the next day because that meant you were in less pain than you were before. “why’d you leave work so early yesterday?”

“not talking about that, jake.” she told him absentmindedly, focused on her computer screen.

“oookay.”

“i’m not kidding.” she glares at him. he rolls back to his desk on his chair, “i’m gonna keep bothering you till i find out~”

“not gonna happen.”

“diaz, my office.” holt stepped into the bullpen briefly. rosa followed him inside silently. “you don’t have to work over time this evening.”

“i can.”

“there is no need.” holt reiterated, “there isn’t any paperwork that needs to be done.”

“okay.” rosa acknowledges with a nod, “is there anything else?”

“yes, how is your daughter doing?” he asked, which caught rosa by surprise.

“better. she’s at school again.”

“that is good to hear. dismissed.”

as soon as rosa shut holt’s office door behind herself, jake returned with the same question. “shut up.” rosa’s phone beeps, jake beats her to it. “oh! your phone’s not on silent mode like it usually would.” he peeks at the screen, “oh my god, rosa-”

“what?” rosa deadpanned, “give it back.”

scared, jake handed the device over. but it wasn’t just that. rosa’s been way more guarded up ever since your recent diagnosis of this chronic illness— which your doctor told you was a rare disease. by the name of aggressive fibromatosis. something apparently ‘harmless’ but has been the root cause of your pain and sleepless nights. the name alone terrified you, even rosa. but more so when she sees you go through a flareup episode. for the first time in her life, she felt helpless. she hadn’t told anyone other than holt, and he didn’t even know the specifics. it took a very long time for you to get answers. doctor after doctor brushed you off and painted you as crazy or dramatic, telling you it was either period cramps or all in your head. day after day, rosa’s anger grew but her patience depleted. she was desperate for you to get the help you needed and she was so, so relieved that you did now. but despite knowing she would probably need the help of her friends in one way or another regarding your situation, she was still choosing to keep this to herself.

but, you were absolutely right about one thing. she was softie. but only you have seen this side of her, and maybe arlo- but he was a puppy. which sadly passed away some time ago.

“who is she? why’s she calling you softie?” asked jake, eagerly.

“give it up, jake.“ rosa exhaled sharply, “give it up.”

“fine, softie.”

#rosa diaz #rosa diaz x daughter reader #b99 #brooklynninenine #alternateuniverse #comfort #sickfic #x reader #reader insert #teen daughter reader #daughter reader #alternative universe #reader imagine

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seeingteacupsindragons · 5 months ago

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So I’ve been thinking a lot about mental health and mental illness lately (thanks, new psychiatrist) as I process a new diagnosis and what it means and reframing my image of myself, so I want to talk about some stuff.

So if you know all this already, just. Bear with me, okay, I’m processing a lot right now.

A lot of people on here get annoyed at advice to, like, go for a walk or do yoga or see sunlight or clean things up or meditate or whatever. And I get it, because I also get annoyed at people thinking that will solve my problems. I have had a boss try to get me to do a damn meditation app as if that would solve the work impact my mental illness was having, and it infuriated me.

But, that’s not because it doesn’t solve a problem. It just doesn’t solve the problem I have.

Meditation apps and all that other stuff are basically the mental health equivalent of eating a salad and jogging once a week. Someone who doesn’t do those things, even if they’re not otherwise sick, are not going to be very healthy and are going to feel kind of gross. It’s baseline health care.

But eating a salad isn’t going to cut it if you have a broken leg. You actually need medical care.

(Please go to a doctor if you have a broken leg. Thank you)

Now, if you get the mental health equivalent of a cold—something stressful is going on at work or with your friends, or a lot of small emergencies are popping up at once—you can probably still get by without a doctor. Increase the vegetables, get some soup, rest and sleep a lot. Do some extra mindfulness exercises, take a new yoga class, get a little TLC, clean your room. It will help you feel a lot better, and then the “illness/blip” will pass and you’ll be back to baseline in relatively short order, without needing to see a doctor.

But what if you have mental health bronchitis, or a broken leg? I would compare these to maybe some post-partum mental health issues, or grieving a death of someone, or a divorce, or something like that. You may actually need to see a doctor, get some care, see a therapist and get counseling, maybe briefly stop by on some antidepressants or anti-anxiety meds to help you recover. And then you’ll probably be mostly okay, with maybe some lingering issues and a good strong memory of that time you were Not Okay.

But you weren’t going to get okay without something a lot more than vegetables and cardio.

And then there’s the Chronic Mental Health issues, like many mood disorders or personality disorders, or PTSD/CPTSD, panic disorders, phobias…the lingering things that need serious help and you are very likely in fact to never full recover from, or even partially in some cases. These are where you get type one diabetes or Celiac’s or an amputation, or multiple sclerosis, or any of that. Stuff where you desperately need regular, often daily, medical care and management to stay healthy and functional.

And these ones are going to change your life even with medical care. A diabetic might need a medical device attached to them at all times, they are likely to need to check their blood sugar regularly, they’ll need to think about what they eat and how it will effect them, they’ll need to carry glucose tabs. They might have a medical ID bracelet! And sometimes mistakes might still happen and things go very badly. An amputee might have a prosthetic or might not, but either way it won’t do everything a biological appendage will, and they’ll have to adjust their lives to how to move and pick things up or whatever in a very different way to someone who has that body part. And someone with Celiac’s is just not going to be able to eat gluten. Not matter what medicine they take. It’s not going to happen.

And that’s the thing: even when you’re getting regular medical care and treatment, and you have a plan worked out and you’re used to it, if you have a mood disorder or PTSD or schizophrenia or something…you may very well never quite have a life that looks like someone who only needs yoga and meditation classes. You may always need other accommodations and lifestyle adjustments to function and manage.

But that doesn’t mean you can’t be happy. It means things are going to be so different for you that the people who manage with salad and a treadmill are just not going to be able to offer any useful advice to you. Your needs are way too different.

And then there’s getting into a car crash or catching meningitis. Sometimes, shit is just going to happen to people, and they are going to need to be hospitalized and watched very carefully for a while. I would probably categorize a lot of mental breakdowns, like the kinds that are at the onset of many mood or panic disorders, some levels of psychosis, sometimes the death of someone very dear to you—in fact, many of the things that might be broken legs to some might turn out here. Maybe someone else broken their leg with a nice clean fracture, but yours was a complicated shatter of a joint that started healing wrong and also got infected.

And the hospitalization isn’t going to be the end of your care, either. You’ll stay in the hospital until they can get you stable, until you don’t need medical professionals a button press away, until you can be assumed to recover the rest of the way on your own.

But, for people who know people who have come home from the hospital after a surgery or serious illness…it’s far from the end of the road, or even return to a new baseline. You’re going to need a lot of help and rest and recovery even after hospital discharge. Someone will probably have to watch you, might need to help you take your meds, might need to bring you food and drinks, or cook, or do chores.

And people who care should, maybe, understand, and send, “Get well soon,” and “Thinking of you” and flowers, and organize meal trains and otherwise show up for someone who is seriously ill.

Of course, a lot of that would be weird in the Chronic Illness space. But there, I think the understand would be, “Yeah, you know your friend can’t have gluten,” and “Why would you suggest they go for a hike with you when they’re in a wheelchair, you dick?” and “I made you low-sugar treats! I worked super hard on the recipe!” so people around you know that you have different needs and you care enough to accommodate them and make sure they are still cared for…differently.

I don’t think I’m going to edit this before posting.

But I’m thinking about it a lot, and I think I’m going from a place where I though I had a broken leg to realizing the leg was never actually going to heal without a limp, to realizing, in fact, that the leg didn’t break the way I thought it did and I need some physical therapy and a new doctor to get it working and see what happens then.

Maybe this was helpful to someone besides me. But it felt good to get it all into words!

#mental health #mental illness

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davidjordanphoenix · 6 months ago

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It is SO FUCKING HARD to figure out what "working hard" looks like when you're disabled.

I want to be a hard worker. I want to learn work ethic. But I HAVE to remember it's going to look different from someone who doesn't live with chronic pain, chronic fatigue, chronic anxiety. There's a difference between laziness and real limitations.

I am in pain all the time. Everything hurts. I have headaches and migraines. My muscles are constantly sore even when I've not exercised. I have constant nerve pain in certain parts of my body that is constant 100% of my waking hours. My feet always hurt. I have a deep tissue skin condition that causes pain. I am always, always, always hurting.

I am tired 100% of the time and honestly? The fatigue is worse than the pain. I would rather have MORE PAIN if it meant I was somehow less tired. The fatigue is so bad I panic when I feel exhausted. When I feel my fatigue getting worse it causes anxiety because I have flashbacks of the days I had to sleep for 2-3 days in a row with no food and only the water I brought with me before crashing. I FEAR exhaustion. Pain is miserable but you can learn to tune it out mostly if you're focused enough on something else. You cannot tune out fatigue. No amount of distraction can pull you away from the despair of being trapped in a body that cannot move the way you need it to because you are simply too exhausted to make it move. Fatigue pulls all focus because you don't have the energy to focus on anything else. When I say I'm exhausted, I don't mean I want to take a nap. I mean that down to my bones, every muscle fiber, down to my fucking eyelids feels soupy and heavy and sapped of whatever life juice keeps them functioning. Exhaustion feels like wakeful death. And sleep doesn't fix it.

I get sick. Constantly. I always either have a fungal infection, or a sore throat, or a nauseous stomach, or a migraine, or SOMETHING. I get sick if I push too hard, even if I had fun. I just went on vacation and spent about 3 days after feeling like I had the flu. My tonsils were red and swollen, I could barely swallow, I had a wet cough, migraine for a week, could barely choke down food. Nobody else got any symptoms. I just get sick because I decided to do something.

On top of the pain, fatigue, and sickness, my brain is a nightmare of anguish. I have a "very severe case" of major depressive disorder that has been treatment resistant since I was a teenager. My head feels like there's constant screaming. I am anxious and fearful of EVERYTHING. There is always noise in my head, screaming in pain and screaming at me that I'm not doing enough, I'm not good enough, I'm an idiot I'm worthless I'm garbage I'm better off dead. I think about suicide obsessively. My brain is a place of torment I am constantly trying to escape.

And then I wonder why it's fucking hard to exist.

Here's the thing: I so, so, so badly want to learn how to work hard. I want to learn how to pour the energy I have into something beautiful. I want to learn how to work hard and take the time and effort to create things that I'm proud of, that can help people feel seen and loved and ease their suffering just a little. It's creation from others that brings me so much joy every day and makes life worth living. I want to create too!

I want to exercise to be physically strong and as able bodied as I can be. I want to be able to cook meals because I love cooking. I want to be able to go for a hike with my dog. I want to spend hours working on something beautiful that makes people feel joy. I want to live a full life. I want to be free.

I have to remember my freedom will still have its shackles. I cannot have a life without chronic pain. I cannot have a life without chronic illness. I cannot have a life without a broken mind.

But if I learn how to work hard, despite all that, maybe I can have something worth it for me.

#calypso speaks #chronic pain #chronic illness #chronic fatigue #disability #creation

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scientia-rex · 2 years ago

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Hysteria isn't a fucking thing

ok fun fact: I'm rapidly becoming a cult favorite doctor among our local privileged elderly white ladies, which I have mixed feelings about, but the #1 reason is that I just don't leap to "anxiety" as an explanation for symptoms unless the patient tells me "I am anxious, and then I feel these symptoms, and when I am not anxious, I don't feel these symptoms."

The sheer number of women I've seen who've been told for years to decades that the only thing wrong with them is anxiety is fucking staggering, in this Year Of Our Lord 2023, and I just keep digging. We checked a basic lab panel, sure. CBC. No anemia. CMP. Kidneys are fine. (Electrolytes are basically always going to be fine if someone is well enough to walk into my office under their own power to talk to me. Exception is mild chronic hyponatremia.) And we check thyroid. TSH and free T4. We check blood sugar. A1c, if the fasting is a little weird. Fasting insulin, if I'm still suspicious. We check cortisol. Inflammatory markers--ESR and CRP.

And eventually, if the symptoms support it, or right away, depending on my level of suspicion, we check rheumatological labs for abnormal autoimmune function. Anti-nuclear antibody. Rheumatoid factor. There's at least a dozen you can check, and which ones you should check is always a matter of debate and also of expertise that I 100% lack. We are out in the sticks. There are no "local" rheumatologists for me to send people to.

But a couple of weeks ago I found a woman--she has bipolar disorder and has been told for decades that's all that's wrong with her--who has an anti-centromere antibody titer that's fucking through the roof. I found an anxious 19-year-old with an ANA of 1:1380. And yesterday I found out why a sweet elderly woman I've seen for a year or two now started feeling crappy months ago: her rheumatoid factor is over 90.

Rheumatological disorders are always difficult. Our understanding of them varies from "pretty good, actually, and here are useful treatments" to "Well I Guess That Exists." Labs aren't always a slam-dunk and even labs plus symptoms can give you misleading impressions. Your immune system can decide that virtually any short chunk of protein is an enemy, and the problem with that is that your body is made up of many, many, many short chunks of proteins, so the odds that you'll develop some kind of antibody against yourself just keeps going up over your lifetime. Immune disorders tend to travel in packs; there's a clear genetic element to it, so the more first-degree relatives (parent, sibling, child) you have with any kind of autoimmune disorder (including Type 1 diabetes), the higher your risk of any kind of autoimmune disorder is, and if you already have one autoimmune disorder, you're at higher risk for developing another one.

But I think it's precisely because they're difficult that a lot of mainstream primary care prefers to pretend they don't exist, rather than try to sift through the utter fucking mess that is Mixed Connective Tissue Disorders, a title that has fallen out of favor since I learned it in my third year of med school. And women are at higher risk for autoimmune disorders than men. And older women are at higher risk than younger women.

So if I, as a family doc, just keep digging, just keep poking at the tangled knot of symptoms, there's a decent chance I will uncover something interesting. Hopefully something treatable. Sometimes we have nothing to treat with, and I just get to offer someone more understanding of their disorder, which feels pretty paltry but is better than the casual dismissal of "You're just anxious."

Never, ever, ever take anxiety as a diagnosis for a symptom other than anxiety. Not even as a rule-out. Keep those symptoms as an open question mark on the patient. Don't say "anxiety" just so you can close the door. And damn sure don't do it to women.

I'm actively working on learning more so I can be more helpful, in our Rheum-less community, so if you have good lectures or books, please drop me a lead.

#the attending dr. kristophine

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