#but i had to try the stupidly expensive yogurt

[captain-cargoshorts]

Do not, my friends, become addicted to fancy little yogurts. They will take hold of you, and you will resent their absence.

[cybernightwanderer]

30 years old trapped living with my mom in quarantine.

So basicly if you saw my last post, or didnt doesnt matter. According to my mother ( of three - me, and two older brothers ) i owe her my life, while my brothers dont. ( Because she raised me LOL ) According to my mother i have to serve her and financialy contribute/support her my whole life, even if it means i wont be able to gather for my own house or life. My mom controls my money. My life. And tries to control how i act, dress, or look overall, what i like, what dreams i can , and cannot have. If i can leave a emotionally and physical harming job or not. If i get to have a roof over my head or not. And this is how : - I had a dept i had to pay, and its fully payed of, and since she is my mother ofc i dont have “ receits “ of what i payed her. But its simply a matter of memory and math,and checking my contracts of  the three largest jobs i worked ( 2 years and half each ) i payed her every month between 150-210 every month. ( i started paying before that, i mean i even quit school because she pushed my into depression because of it ) I would also pay my own medical buills, transportation, food, etc. My own shit basicly. If i do confront her claiming that i already payed her, she will either : Invalidate , deny that i payed her, or payed her enought.  And that i dont have proof. Threaten me to kick me off the house, to beat me, to leave me on the road etc, shes not very creative, its always the same. And that if i already payed her my dept, that i still have to pay 200 to stay home for food and gast and shit THAT I USE, or she will kick me out. ( and of i dont have money to sustain myself because of this ) However gas, light and water, cable its expenses i already pay half by half with her wich sums about to 50 euros per month ( wich also includes her OWN cellphone bill ) So she demands me paying that. PAYING food ( that i already do if you do the math , specially because i can spend a whole month eating just cereal or not eating at all ) So i pay her 200 a month ( aside if i owe her something i will also pay, but now i refuse her attempts of lending me money, because i always run out of money half way into the month. ( note she will get offended if i do not accept her offer to lend me money because she is  “ concerned for my health “ LOL ) So making an easier note  i pay for : - Half of the bills - gas, light , water, cable , and half of her phone ( she forces me , and threatens me if i try to refuse ) - This sums up to 50 euros. - The right to be in my mothers house , the right to eat the food she buys. - This sums up to 150 euros. Aside from this i pay with whats left of my money : - Transportation - 40 euros. - My own cellphone bill. like 20 euros.

- Food sometimes - 50 euros every two weeks,( wich she also eats, for example if i buy lactose free yogurts like 10 , she will drink 5. If i buy smooth cookies ( because i have three broken teeth ) she will eat more than half , if not the whole packadge. If i eat cereal , or barely eat she will constantly yell and chase me down to eat something. So lets say i dont have much money and i dont wanna spend the leftover money i have on food, because i might need something else, she will not leave me alone. Yet i already pay for food costs on the general 200 montly bill, yet if i do not pay for my own food at the supermarquet or even eat the food she bought she will make my life a living hell for two weeks or more. Meaning its a vicious cicle and it has no end, its always looping. -Mecial bills - for my hernias back and legg pain, depression, anxiety and respiratory alergies. - wich leads up to 50-80 euros , if i dont go to medical apointments ( wich i dont anymore, that would be more 180 euros ) And medical buills in general, i tend to have a lot of teeth infections because i cannot afford going to the dentist, so im always buying antibiotics or painkillers to “ hold on “ , and can never go to an actual apointment. -My own living supplies, if i need clothes, shoes or wtv. And living in my mothers house : - I have no privacy or personal space, meaning she will enter my room, after knocking , most of the times not even knocking, even if i say no SHE WILL enter. At least 10 times or more, half ot the times to yell or complain at me. Usualy between 14 - 21 . Meaning if i wanna do an art project : recordings, painting time lapses and shit, BASICLY BE IN MY OWN ROOM i have to ask for permission and explain why lol. And still she wont respect it. - If i dont wax  either my face or leggs or something , she will spend at least half an hour everyday telling me how bad it looks and how shamefull it is. Either in public or in private ( its humiliating ). The same goes to : - If i wear certain clothes or makeup - im either dressing badly and she wont allow me to go out to the grocery store with her, and will pressure me ( force me and yell at me ) if i dont. If i overdress, she will also shame me. I mean she just humiliates me and makes me feel bad overall for any decision on my own life basicly. Specially little things. - She will treat me badly for two weeks or more ( like a tantrum ) i dont do things exacly like she orders , like if i dont do my bed ( i mean im depressed and just want to die, and she makes my life harder than it is to a point i can barely get out of bed sometimes ) she will get in my room 5 to 6 times and yell everyday for not making my bed, or my room not being tidy. Up until 3 years ago , she would come up to my room and organize my display shelf the way she wanted and yell at me for complaining about it. Like i have certain arts and crafts pastel paste in one tiny pink basquet, pendants in a green one and glus and stuff in a blue one. She would come up and take everything out and put it in a trash. It took a lotttt, and i do mean a lot of daily arguments, head heat for her to stop messing with my display cabnet. - At the age of 28(?) i did my first two piercings, she spent a whole week shaming me and telling me how ugly it made me look and that i ruined my face. Even tho its something i had always dreamed of, and she never allowed me to. - Like i said before i buy my own clothes, and sometimes i sell the old ones. She will take the ones i wanna sell, for herlsef because she needs them and i have no right to sell them. I mean, if its mine, if i bought it, and i wanna sell it, so use the money to buy something difrent, then its mine right? She either will “ borrow “ clothes without permission , when she does ask permission i have to tell yes because, you know, she will unleash hell. The only thing i ask her is to leave the things where she found it after using it because while working i dont have much time before leaving for looking for them. And after a while of not asking for permission i notice, a lot of clothes go missing. She later on, keeps the clothes for weeks or even a month, and then claims its hers , or just forgets where she put it ( she lost already a few pieces of mine, specialy my favourite tshirt ) And if i ask for them , she will yell at me for acusing her LOL. For example. Early last month she has the tendancy to force me to wash my clothes with hers. I usualy refuse because she will stupidly charge me for it, or confuse my clothes with hers. So i always do my laundry separate. She hates it when i do it btw. Recently there was a major fight, she almost kicked me ouf ot the house/car in the midle of the highway.

She has a black V neck BODY ( note a full body shirt ) in black with layered strippes. I have a black turtle neck crop top size S  also with the black layered stripes( meaning its a really short shirt, its impossible to mistake ) But NOTE , one is a turtle neck crop top , the other is a V neck BODY, i mean, theres no way you can confuse them , specialy if you put the in a HANGER FFS. I usualy wear it to work, because, well. Well.. what can i say my coworkers are fuckers and cant handle personal style. So i tend to tone it down a bit, already get humiliated for too many things on a daily basis at work, dont need more. And the shirt went missing for two weeks after i brought it home after washing and put it in a hanger. I have it also in two other colors in yellow and pink. So i spent looking for it an hour or two , because i knew i had put it there. I didnt even dare to ask her, and she came up to me and asked me what i was looking for. And i showed her the pink and yellow one, and told her. She said SHE NEVER SAW THAT SHIRT OR ANYTHING LIKE IT. I mean....if you have one “like “ it , you could at least check no? Well lets just say this shit ended badly after i found ou my shirt was HIDDEN in her room. I came home with my washed laundry, she trew everything on the ground and stepped all over the wash clothes humiliating me and calling me names... SO yeah FUN. Carrying on. My mom always had the tendancy to go in my room and trought my things. What can i do.. Anyway , this is all for now.

[by-ilmater]

I’m gonna need to see Sung getting the boys (and probably failing) on a fitness kick or a really stupidly strict diet. Thank you.

behind a cut cuz it got a little long oops!

It happened gradually, but Meouch was definitely tracking all the little changes, one by one. With Sung doing the bulk of their grocery shopping, he was able to make substitutions for things on the list they all compiled, bringing home the healthier counterparts instead.

It was minor things at first. A twelve pack of soda was replaced with that shitty flavored sparkling water. Instead of Phobos’ favorite ice cream, Sung bought mixed bags of frozen fruit and plain yogurt for smoothies. Cookies became a plastic net bag of those little clementine oranges.

Havve cornered Meouch in the kitchen one afternoon, angrily holding out a bag of some crackers that were in the pantry instead of his Doritos.

“THIS HAS TO STOP. THESE ARE SICKENING, I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT FLAX SEED IS.”

Meouch sighed.

“Just…give the Doc a chance. His heart’s in the right place. Maybe soon he’ll get over this household health kick and we can all go back to enjoying our junk food.”

Havve just stalked away, chucking the flax seed crackers into the garbage as he passed it.

It was the morning when it all escalated past just food that truly tested Meouch’s resolve.

He awoke late in the morning, still a little groggy, yawning and stretching as he slid himself slowly out of bed. After giving his mane a good long scratch he reached out to the bedside table, intending on grabbing a cigarette to enjoy with his coffee.

His pack of Camels was gone. In its place was some nicotine gum, a protein bar, and a sticky note that said, in Sung’s slightly messy scrawl, “YOU CAN DO IT!

Meouch felt the panic rising in his chest. He tore open the drawer, hoping Doc had left him the expensive Djarum Blacks he saved for special occasions. They, too, were gone, the note in their place reading, “I HAVE FAITH IN YOU! :D”

Meouch growled and grabbed the items off the bedside table before stomping out of his room. He slammed his way down the stairs, as loudly as he could, to find Sung doing sit-ups in the living room. Sung smiled in greeting, not quite having a chance to read the mood.

“Morning, Meouch! I-”

“Doc, what the actual fuck is this shit?!” Meouch snarled and threw the items in his hand at Sung’s feet.

Sung’s eye widened in surprise at the outburst, and he glanced down, picking up the gum and note with a frown.

Meouch continued.

“Listen Doc, I was okay with the food. You make a pretty damn good smoothie, and that La Croix shit is actually starting to grow on me. But this?! This is taking it too far! You can’t just do this shit without asking!”

Sung sighed. He fiddled with the gum package, looking dejected.

“I’m….sorry. I just…you guys are my best friends. I love you, and I want you to be around for as long as possible. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Meouch deflated. The guilt he felt was immediate and all-encompassing.

“Shit, Doc, I’m the one that’s sorry. You’re right, we do need to take better care of ourselves. I’m just so used to my routine, I guess I got scared of such a big change.” He crouched at Sung’s feet and gently took the gum back. “I’ll give this a shot. It’s worth a try, y’know?”

Sung beamed, and pulled Meouch in for an awkward, half crouching half sitting hug.

“I’m so proud of you! And hey, maybe later we can all exercise together! I found this great jazzercise tape at the thrift store!”

[chogisad]

Petals Under Our Skin | Sehun AU

Hanahaki Disease: an illness where the patient coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. The infection can be removed through surgery, but the feelings disappear along with the petals. 

“Sehun’s throat is sore and he thinks he can feel it; growing and grabbing at his organs, reminding him of how bad he is at love.” 

Sehun hates seasonal allergies. Before he's brushed his teeth, his body reminds him that it despises nature. He sneezes toothpaste onto the mirror, starts building pyramids from dirty tissues, and the dorm echoes with his sniffling. On the day Sehun coughs up his first petal, he wants to blame his allergies. It floats, gentle and white, atop his coffee, and Sehun can only blink. He clears his throat, runs his tongue over his teeth, and stares, trying to stop the world from spinning. "You okay?" Jongin asks and Sehun nods, still looking around the room, hoping to find a stray rose to take responsibility. The kitchen counters are bare, the table only playing host to the round terrarium Kyungsoo made a few weeks ago. "I-I think I'm coming down with something?" He voices a fading question. Jongin's brow furrows with familiar concern, searching for the telltale signs of illness before he motions toward the cupboards. Their eyes meet, and Sehun's heart stutters--fearful. "We have Vitamin C supplements. Take a couple." Sehun is in a daze but he nods. His hands tremble slightly as he pours a full mug of coffee down the drain, as he watches the petal get stuck in the strainer. "Too much sugar?" Jongin asks behind him and Sehun can't find his voice. He wonders if he should pinch himself, maybe attempt to control the details of what must be a lucid dream. "Jongin-" Sehun clears his throat. "D-do the petals often kill people?" He doesn't need to explain any further. Jongin knows what he's referring to; the curse of unrequited love. "No." Jongin replies. "People usually get the operation. It sucks, but not everyone is willing to die for love, you know?" And Sehun thinks he must be going crazy. But he picks up the coffee stained petal, feels it's smooth skin between the pads of his fingers and thinks of the boy who smells like spring and forests. He thinks of late night conversations and sharing meals, thinks of the warmth of his body, and how none of this was supposed to happen. "Of course." Sehun replies, still unbelieving. He braces himself against the kitchen sink. His thoughts race-- petals, operation, emptiness, not everyone is willing to die for love, roses-- and Jongin waits, curious to the turn in conversation. "Why do you ask?" Sehun holds his breath. He could say it;  I'm in love with him, Jongin! So stupidly in love that my own body is gonna choke it out of me! He could shout a name into the wind, share this burden with someone else, but Sehun is afraid. He swallows the truth cloying the inside of his mouth because he isn't ready to face this, not yet. He changes the subject. Jongin fills the silence with idle talk of dance practice and Sehun nods along. He pretends he cares, too lost to register anything but his own misfortune. So Sehun tells himself he imagined the whole ordeal. He throws the petal away amongst food wrappers and old yogurt containers and moves forward-- it was a trick of the mind, based in exhaustion, due to a lack of sleep. And then Sehun wakes to a rose petal on his pillow, a rose petal on the white tile of the shower, a petal next to his trousers. In a matter of days, he finds himself  cowering in the darkness of his room. He crafts excuses of stomach aches and a pounding in his temple. The others worry; they try to pump him full of medicine that is essentially useless. He retreats and shoves petal after petal in pockets and in the back of drawers. He's buying for time now. So Sehun stays away from him. Somewhere in his heart, Sehun still believes he can beat this, still believes he can teach himself to stop loving him in that way. Like the petals, he tucks away memories of walks along Han River, of the car rides and plane rides where they'd spend hours whispering secrets as they crossed borders. The nights that follow, as he lays in bed, cold and alone and coughing into his pillow, Sehun prohibits himself from giving in to the boy on the other side of the locked door asking if he wants tea. He pretends he's asleep, pretends he can't hear the concern, the need to make him better. Sehun will suffer through the withdrawals if it means he can survive for just a little bit longer. Sehun knows no one can help him. Google showcases 20 million search results. The internet and the world can explain the faults of his body better than he can. He doesn't want to read about the operation. He doesn't want to think of the emptiness that follows. He finds the origin of Hanahaki Disease in a book of Japanese myths. The volume is old and tearing, yearning to outlast the consequences of time, and Sehun turns the fringed pages with care. 'Love blooms just as quickly as it wilts.' Sehun reads the story of a prince who became sick with unrequited love. His longing became corporeal, growing and spreading within his body. Thorns and roses; they suffocated him from the inside and the prince died atop a pile of petals his body couldn't contain anymore. Sehun knows he shouldn't, but he rips the entire page out of the book and folds it into his pocket. His throat is sore and he thinks he can feel it; growing, grabbing at his organs, reminding him of how bad he is at love. Sehun wants to rip his chest open there and then. But just as much as it hurts, he knows how god damn beautiful it feels. If it wasn't for the petals, his waking hours would be euphoric, a lucid pleasure with stuttering heart and rose-tinted cheeks. It's stupid how much warmer the sun is on his skin, how his laugh reminds Sehun of ocean waves, of brighter days. His lungs contract, over and over again, and Sehun always shuts his eyes, always pictures the same soft smile. On some mornings, this love feels like it's worth dying for. And then Chanyeol finds his petals. Sehun tries to deny it, but Chanyeol is a furious storm, tearing open drawers, lifting bed sheets, and Sehun can only watch in shameful silence as the carpet litters with white. "How long?" Chanyeol's voice strains. His eyes dance with anger, and Sehun can see the way his hands shake, can feel a familiar fear radiating off of him. "A couple of weeks," Sehun whispers. He stares at his shoes. He crushes a petal under one of his soles. "Is it-" "Don't." Sehun warns. "It doesn't matter who it is." Chanyeol stares at him; disbelieving, afraid, pitying, and Sehun wants to run. He wants to scream, to shake Chanyeol and tell him he didn't want this either. "You can't tell anyone," Sehun whispers, his eyes pleading. Chanyeol opens and closes his mouth, wants to object and drive Sehun to the hospital right there and then. "When are you getting the operation?" Chanyeol asks, crumpling three petals between his fist. The silence stretches between them. Chanyeol waits, his mind whirring away combinations of schedules and excuses, of people for a need-to-know basis. With cold dread, Chanyeol almost drowns in the silence. He realizes Sehun doesn't have an answer. "Sehun?" Chanyeol's voice is quiet, trembling, and Sehun is suddenly standing at an edge, at the cusp friendship, yearning for someone to push him into the precipice. In that moment, Sehun shoulders Chanyeol's pain as well, shoulders guilt and shame and the thought that no one will forgive him if he chooses to die. "In a month," Sehun lies. It's easier this way. Three words are faster than trying to explain why the operation wasn't an option, why he was going to wait until a flower choked the love out of him. "In a month..." he repeats to himself and Chanyeol nods before they're both picking up petals, shoving Sehun's white ocean into black plastic bags. Chanyeol agrees to be his cover. They concoct a story of a weeks-long trip to Paris. They buy plane tickets they'll never use, pack suitcases they'll leave in Chanyeols car while they're at the hospital. This secret stays between them; it'll be buried with whatever other feelings they rip from Sehun's body. A week before it's all supposed to be over, Sehun runs out of excuses. He can't talk his way out of a birthday dinner, and they all pile into one of Seoul's most expensive restaurants. Sehun takes deep breaths, orders too many glasses of water, and Chanyeol's gaze never leaves him. 'Please take me home.' He texts Chanyeol, and the latter tries his hardest to get them out. The coughing starts as Sehun stands up to leave. It's a light clearing of the throat and Chanyeol rushes to his side. In a matter of seconds however, his lungs are contracting and Sehun's entire body spasms. He falls, grabbing for something to stable his frame, and the room becomes shattered glass and chaos as he pulls the tablecloth to the floor with him. The others are frozen in horror as Chanyeol cradles Sehun's head, who's body convulses with the effort of holding on to the petals. He can't do it, and they watch as the floor becomes a white, flowery ocean. Junmyeon steps forward, questions and anger on his lips but it all fades as the coughing quiets. Chanyeol can feel that they waited too long, and nobody speaks. "C-call an ambulance," Chanyeol's voice breaks. Sehun's entire being is exhausted. A single tear makes its way down his cheek, and he wishes he had the strength to apologize, to explain. Sehun looks up at Junmyeon with resigned eyes and a sad smile. His voice is a feeble whisper, but everyone in the room hears him. "White roses." He coughs. "Th-they're your favorite." Junmyeon is the only one to ride in the ambulance with Sehun. "Stop- stop," He orders, batting Sehun's hands away as he tries to remove the mask that will force air into his lungs. Junmyeon intertwines their fingers and watches as the mask's plastic fogs with each labored breath. "I-I'm sorry," Sehun tries. It's too little, too late, but Junmyeon shakes his head. "You don't have to apologize. Focus on breathing." At the hospital, they think he's sleeping. Someone lays something soft at his side, and he wishes he was actually unconscious. "I brought him a bear," Chanyeol says, hesitant. "I thought flowers were too ironic." The silence is tense.  Friendship strains under feelings of betrayal and Sehun knows it's his fault. This love will slash more than his insides apart. It pits them against each other in a blaming game, and the air is cold with their resentment. "I had a right to know," Junmyeon grits out. Sehun can hear the anger in his voice, the hurt. "He didn't want you to know."  Chanyeol sighs, his words tired. Sehun knows he owes him so much and he’s relieved he isn’t fighting this thing alone anymore. 

  "That's not fair and you should've-" "Would it make a difference?" Chanyeol snaps. Another silence envelops them. The machine monitoring Sehun's heart spikes, but neither of them notice. Sehun can imagine Chanyeol's spiteful stare, can imagine Junmyeon's helplessness tearing him apart. "He's my best friend." Junmyeon whispers, and Sehun wishes he had more morphine to numb this pain. "Would you have loved him like he needed you to?" Sehun doesn't want to hear the answer. "Of course." And just like that, Sehun wants all of this to be over. Before the operation, Sehun is drifting into unconsciousness. The others visit for hours, promising presents and trips as soon as he's on his feet again. None of them can hold his gaze for too long, aware that Sehun will be a different person when it's time to wake. A shadow steps in front of his bed. Already, Sehun's thoughts are blurring together, a mess of memories and guilt. His stubborn love fights the morphine, clings to the moments that put him on this hospital bed in the first place. His eyes flutter, two tired butterflies, and he wonders how long he has before the flower grips his battered heart. Junmyeon is crying. Sehun tries to move his hand, but Junmyeon beats him to it. His skin is warm, and his thumb rubs comforting strides against Sehun's knuckles. "I just needed more time," he murmurs, wiping away the apologetic tears on his cheeks. Sehun tries to shake his head, but his body fails him. His heart is longing for survival, and his faulty mind-- with all its affection and afflictions-- can't hold out against the drugs courting him to sleep. Sehun wants to stay awake though. He wants to tell Junmyeon this isn't his fault, that he wants him to fall in love with someone he chooses. Sehun does not want to be loved out of responsibility, out of pity. He'd rather tear the most beautiful thing he's ever felt out of his own body, than force Junmyeon to love him in order to save him. He'd rather give up this love, than hold Junmyeon's heart as a hostage, as a sacrifice, as something he had no right to. His line of vision darkens, and as he drifts into unconsciousness, Sehun thinks of only one night. They climbed to the roof of their building and lied side by side, searching the skies for nonexistent stars. Sehun had fallen asleep to Junmyeon's quiet breathing. In the darkness, Sehun had thought I love you for the first time; it was innocent and scared, unknowingly a fatal confession. He keeps those words in the back of his mind, holds onto them for as long as possible, until the operation rips them out of his body. Love is an act of  selflessness. Sehun wakes to a room full of balloons and stuffed animals. Junmyeon is asleep in the chair next to him, his body slumped at an awkward angle. Sehun is too bleary to make much sense of anything, to register the empty echo of his own heart. It reaches for a feeling that doesn’t exist anymore; it only grasps at empty air. The room shifts out of focus, the sedatives kick in, but he thinks he sees Junmyeon's fist curled around the petals of a violet. Sehun gives in to unconsciousness with the sleepy thought that violets are his favorite flower.

© Chogisad

MASTERLIST

[shuncabbage-blog]

The way you disappeared in slow degrees has made a very patient man of me

The summer after I graduated from college I wanted to buy a purse. It seemed like a rite of passage. I had an apartment and a boyfriend and half a job. I had things to put in a purse. I was also living in southern California, which meant I could no longer stuff everything into the pockets of my coat.

It wasn’t only that, though. I had an idea that if you’re twenty-two and you buy a purse it’s going to be with you when you get your first real job, or your first promotion, or your first car, or the first time someone you love gets married. Eventually it will get dirty and threadbare, and chocolate will melt into the lining, and you will start ogling new purses, because what you have now isn’t really even an object anymore; it’s part of your history, and you need to move on. And so you’ll buy a new one--maybe by this time you’ll have the moral and financial capital to squander on real leather--and it will be fragrant and shiny and it will imbue trips to the pharmacy with a sense of glamorous potential, and you’ll see old pictures of yourself with your old purse, your first purse, and you won’t quite be able to believe the kind of person you used to be.

The short explanation here is that I was unhappy. Or I was happy--I was happy--but my happiness was papery and easily punctured. I was twenty-two years old and I was no longer doing the one thing I was really good at, which was going to school, and I had a boyfriend who was good enough at going to school that he probably wouldn’t ever have to stop. I was living in southern California and it was summer and it felt eternal. Los Angeles County seemed like a monument to all the things I’d always hated about summer: drought and monotony and stagnation, embodied in dust-brown buildings and a concrete riverbed and blandly-named streets lined with auto shops and frozen yogurt places that somehow, impossibly, made you thirsty.

So I wasn’t just trying to find a purse; I was trying to find a purse that would take care of all these problems by redefining me in exactly the right way. I wanted to see a purse in a shop window and know that it was going to be my constant companion until the lining rotted through. So I looked at shiny bags and slouchy bags and bags with buckles and even though I told myself that I was a real and functional person capable of owning any of them, I couldn’t convince myself to buy one. As soon as I came close to making a decision, I rushed to find fault: the buckle actually buckled, which would be a hassle, or the fake leather was too alligatory, or the strap wasn’t adjustable, which meant I would wind up performing some DIY strap-shortening with the wrong color thread, which would be a bad start to anything, let alone a heroic episode of self-reinvention. I didn’t want that. I wanted spontaneous, absolute certainty.

In the middle of my purse search I started making myself throw up. It was a strange thing. One minute I was too good to stick my head in a toilet and the next minute I wasn’t. When it was over I went back to my desk, red-eyed and shaking, and picked up where I’d left off. But I couldn’t concentrate anymore. I felt giddy and frightened and wide awake. I had never done anything that felt so thoroughly wrong, and yet at the same time it didn’t feel wrong at all. It felt perfect. It felt like walking past a shop window and thinking: Oh, I could have that.

I don’t mean that I approached bulimia consciously, as some sort of must-have coming-of-age accessory. By the time I was twenty-two I was already a veteran binge-eater and former anorexic. I wasn’t looking for a new disorder. And--apart from a few desperate and unsuccessful attempts to induce vomiting as a teenager--I had always looked at bulimia as the one thing I was too sensible to fall for. The wrongness in anorexia or binge-eating can seem like a matter of perspective, a violation of degree rather than kind; it can seem like an honest mistake. But there is nothing morally ambiguous about gagging into a toilet bowl until a blood vessel bursts in your eye.

And yet at least it was something different. Every time I’d resolved to stop bingeing, up to then, I’d remembered that line about how insanity is doing the same thing with different expectations. Bulimia was the embodiment of moral bankruptcy but at least it was something I hadn’t tried. Or I don’t know; maybe I didn’t think about it that hard. Maybe I was just bored and it seemed like destiny.

That first time my throat was sore for the rest of the day. My boyfriend brought home tennis rackets he’d bought for $10 and we hit a threadbare ball around on the courts near our apartment. The next day we were having a housewarming party, so we bought expensive cheese and cheap wine and spent an hour making a playlist and a little while longer dancing across the living room to it. When the party was over we sat on the couch and argued about what would happen if I got a better job somewhere else. He pointed out that after all the hard decisions and long distance we were finally stupidly happy and that it would be unfair of me to throw that away. I tried to tell him something I was too drunk to know how to say, which was that I had never thought I wouldn’t get my heart broken.

I didn’t throw up that whole weekend but I kept thinking about it. Not as an obligation, or a fear, or an obsession: as a present. It felt like a new pet, and I kept wondering what our life together was going to be like. Would I start purging all the time, as often as I could without getting caught, or would it just be a safety valve, a way to reboot when I was eating too much, and how good would I get at it, and would I end up in the hospital, or was it going to be OK?

I knew that it probably wouldn’t be OK. I knew that what I had done was unpardonable and that I would be devastated if anyone found out and that the only way no one would ever find out would be if I didn’t let it go too far and that I would almost certainly let it go too far. But I was willing to look past all this, as you do look past the small inconveniences attached to things you love.

The Wednesday after our housewarming I threw up half a package of Oreos at lunchtime and then bought the purse with the non-adjustable strap.

Enough time has passed now that I can tell you how this story ends. I don’t have that purse anymore. I don’t have the postdoc either. I told him about my eating disorder, eventually, after I was sure he must already know. He didn't, as it turned out. Once he knew I expected him to save me from it somehow, and the fact that he didn't made it easier to leave him when I finally did get a better job somewhere else. By that point the initial glow was long over. I binged wretchedly and purged inadequately, and I no longer knew how to be still.

I moved to a different country. I went into treatment. For a long time I was a person who could not be still, a person who dreaded weekends, and then I slowly stopped being that person, and now I am something else, sleepy, chubby, largely cheerful. I have a rewarding job, and I work hard but not too hard. I am alone a lot of the time and I feel OK about it. I’ve gotten so good at faking a healthy attitude toward food that I frequently fool even myself. I don’t throw up anymore, because a year or so ago, when my boyfriend found out that I occasionally still did, he got very worried. I do still indulge in small binges, but I've taken a few eating disorder quizzes online and they all seem to agree that I don’t have one. The possibility of reinvention is no longer supremely important to me--I no longer wake up every morning hating who I was yesterday--but I’m still drawn to the idea, and I have to remind myself of that classroom motto: We are what we repeatedly do.

There’s a sort of narrative etiquette attached to eating disorders. You’re not supposed to talk about them until they’re over. I don’t know that mine is over. I don’t know that it ever could be. I gave it fifteen years to metastasize; it’s everywhere now. But I don’t think it’s the most important thing about me anymore. If you’ve had an eating disorder it can be hard not to see it as the most important item on your resume (2003-present: perpetrator of cruelties (self-employed)). For a long time I couldn’t understand how anyone could know about my eating disorder and still see me as a normal human being. I didn’t want to be seen as a normal human being, of course; I wanted allowances to be made. I thought I was being judged unfairly by people too careless to see the truth. It took me far too long to realize that if people were acting like my eating disorder didn’t define me, it wasn’t necessarily because they were lazy or unimaginative; it might be because my eating disorder didn’t define me.

The second-best thing I can say is that no one defines me by my eating disorder anymore: not my doctor, not my boyfriend, not my mother, not myself. The best thing I can say is that I don’t want anyone to.

[myfuckofffundjourney]

Money Diary, Week #3

Thursday Jan 18

Wake up, bus to the shuk - 5.9 nis. Grab a coffee and I don’t even want it. 11 nis. So weird. Maybe it’s because I’m already running late and feeling anxious about time. I drink half and then grab groceries for the client I’m cooking for, all of which I’ll get reimbursed for so I won’t list them. I also cab to their place - billing them as well. Nobody got time to haul groceries on a bus #lazy.

After cooking for 6 hrs (hey guess who just made +1200nis!!) I pack a meal from what I made (chicken, potatoes, and an Asian pear, and it’s all fucking delicious, and free, and I even had a container because of yesterdays lunch that I took to school, score!) and bus to the central bus station. 5.9 I’m feeling a bit woozy so grab soda water to calm my stomach. 7 nis. I decide to finally buy a pair of Blundstones, a decision I’ve thought about for literally like five years. I see a pair that I like that are on sale for 350 and I grab them. Also add 50 nis to Rav Kav. The boots feel great in the store and for the dash to the bus, but as soon as I’m off the bus and walking to class, they start to kill! I’m worried I got the wrong size, even though the next half size up is way too big on me. I take them off in middle of class to make sure I don’t fuck them up too badly. Finish class, head home, make toast with peanut butter and hang out with Josh.

Friday Jan 19

Wake up and peel myself out of bed to grab some random groceries - I have no coffee in the house, and really feel like having eggs for breakfast. At the grocery store, I also find an avocado thats not hard as a rock (fun fact: apparently there were no deliveries of avocados to Israel for a week and so the price doubled, and none of them are ready yet. I don’t care that the price is doubled - it’s only like 6 shekel anyway and i’ve been wanting an avocado all week.) I get eggs, an avocado, and laundry detergent - 28 nis. There is a massive bag of Tide for 60 shekel (8 kg) and I think I might get it because it smells so nice and is cheaper per kilo than anything in the store and will last for like, half a year or something. And in two weeks I’ll even have a HOUSE to store it in!!!

I stop at my favorite coffee grinder guy and pick up 100g of coffee for 6 nis and think back to when I was living in Florentine and I could find the same amount for at a minimum 10 nis, usually more. Thank you, Jaffa gods, for making prices reasonable.  This usually can last for almost a week, but it’s exam season and I’m going to be mainlining coffee.

When i get home, I make a good breakfast (toast, eggs, salad, coffee) and THEN I CAN DO MY LAUNDRY! FOR FREE!!!! I’m so effing excited, it’s been literally four months without a washing machine at my disposal. I’ll probably need to throw some things in the dryer at the laundromat because its going to be a fucking COLD weekend and I have no clean socks and stuff, but still!

Anyway, I’m at my next conundrum, which is the fact that it’s now sale season and there are so many things I want/need. In the wants column, we’ll just put new clothes. I’m v bored of that I have and would love some new additions. In the needs column, we’ll put shoes - this is a biggie, I hate buying shoes and spending money on them - house items (coffee table, bed, closet, curtains, oven), a new phone (this one is pissing me off with its jerkiness and general crappy demanour. I could probably get it to work well if I do a factory reset but the screen is also cracked and replacing it will cost at least 400 nis. I’d rather get a new/secondhand phone.) Anyway, IKEA is having a sale, all the clothing stores are having massive sales, and I’m not sure what to do. These are more investment type items, but it’s still hard to justify spending the money. And then the fact that Uri and Jordana are getting married soon - I’ll actually make a bit of money from catering his aufruf kiddush/her shabbat kallah dinner, but not a ton.

I FINALLY get a message that I’m getting paid for an event I did like, three weeks ago - that’s another +1,630. YESSSS. That plus an extra +500 for shabbat will be so helpful for the move.

Run out to throw some things in the dryer - I just collect random shekels and don’t actually keep track, but i think it’s around 8 nis. While waiting for my stuff to dry, I get some binders, highlighters, little page markers, and also use the stores hole-puncher to hole-punch LITERALLY like 500 pages of notes. Don’t have to buy a hole-puncher though! It’s still 33 nis. Ugh.

I end up heading to Jerusalem kinda stupidly late, and end up taking a taxi to the bus station with Josh, but he covers it because he owes me money for groceries. The sherut is 35 nis - ugh. I’ve left my purse at home so Josh lends me a 50 that he also says to use toward groceries.

Saturday Jan 20

I work for WAY longer than I would have wanted to, and it really isn’t very much money, and I really needed the time to study, but on the other hand, it was pretty easy and it was 500 nis. So, balances out. After Shabbat is out I head to Jerusalem - 5.9 for the train, and 16 nis for the bus. When I get to Tel Aviv, the bus to my house is a friggin half hour away so I have to walk home, which is a massive waste of time. Really need to sit and calculate how much that half hour was worth to me, because I’m SOOOO behind on my studying, but can I just stay up a half hour later? Does life even work that way?

I make a peanut butter and banana wrap. Wraps are THE BEST thing to have around but I never buy them because I feel like they’re expensive? But a friend left these at my house and they’ve been the base of many a quick happy dinner, so maybe I’ll keep them around. Also come up with a plan to market myself as a meal-prep delivery service for people who can’t cook at home... i wonder if I’d ever actually execute that.

Sunday January 21

Basically spend all day inside studying/making food/cleaning/doing laundry. All of these are relatively money-less endeavours! On my way to school I do grab some fruit because I have none in the house. 9 nis

A friend coming from New York places an order on amazon for me for bamboo toothbrushes and charcoal exfoliating gloves - those guys are the shit and I hate throwing out plastic toothbrushes. They last quite a while and it only comes out to 70 shek - I’ll pay him when I see him.

Monday January 22

I meet Kim at the shuk for a grocery shop. It doesn’t really feel so smart to do the shop before my CSA gets in. I need to recalibrate my weeks so that I can do it on Tuesday morning and not be starving. Anyway, I get:

Parmesan and goat cheese - 24.6

Oatmeal, wild rice, and raisins - 20

Salmon - the guy cuts me way more than I asked for and I tell him off. I asked for 300 grams for a reason, mister, not for 350 grams. I’m turning into an asshole lol. 33 nis

Avocado, sweet potato, zucchini, chilis - 18 nis

Clementines, potatoes, cherry tomatoes, and an impulse buy dragon fruit - 34 nis

Green onion - 5 nis

On the way home, I still can use my transfer on my Rav Kav. Hell yes. Now I just need to stock up on things like more coffee, wraps, and one or two other things, but between this and the CSA I should be good for the week.

At home i make a big pot of rice, roasted veggies, two sauces (one using up cilantro that was going bad and yogurt I didn’t feel like eating), salmon, and sauteed greens from last weeks CSA. Now I have food options! And I only need to finish my celery and romaine lettuce from the CSA. Don’t know what to do with it though. Hmm.

Buttttt ugh I get an email from the school. I owe tuition, I think it’s loan time. I’m thinking of asking them if I can consolidate the debt, and when I do a huge work event I can throw a few thousand shekel at tuition. PAYING FOR SCHOOL IS SUCH A BITCH. But at least the loan system here doesn’t blow. I also get an email about a grant. GRANT I NEED YOU GET IN MY WALLET.

CSA box comes with some dope looking ingredients. I’ll have to cook wisely this week so nothing gets wasted though - my fridge is already FULL of food. What a nice feeling :).

Tuesday January 23

I wake up late, ugh. Go grab coffee - this time i get double what I got last week - rice milk, and cashews, to maybe turn into butter. It comes out to way more than i anticipated - 44 nis. Eek.Still though, haven’t eaten out once this week except for one coffee and one bottle of water, so I’m feeling good! Then I feel terrible when i think about tuition and moving. Gah! Cashew butter tastes amazing though, so there’s that!

Finally get an answer to an insurance claim I filed (and won) months ago! They had sent me a cheque (srsly who does that) which I never received, so they are going to cancel it, and wire me the funds. It’s around $350 - just wish I’d done this before the dollar crashed so hard. Oh well. Still free-ish money!

Buy an eclair. I need some comfort sweets. Interestingly, I don’t think I’ve had anything with overt amounts of processed sugar in a few days - since Saturday, I guess. I’ve had honey in my tea and stuff, but that’s it. I wonder if I’ll feel anything? It’s only mediocre but I needed to get out and interact with a human who is not Josh/the dog. 10 nis.

Wednesday January 24

I have to print some notes for this exam that i am definitely in no way passing (hi moed bet!) It’s way more expensive than it would be at school. Damn. 12.5

Total: 770.7 - minus shoes - 420.7

School/misc- 403 (includes a 350 nis pair of shoes that are too small and that I will try to return)

Groceries- 221

Eating out- 28

Transportation - 118.7

Money earned: 500, 1620

The takeaway from this week is: School is effing expensive, and I spent freely on groceries to not be tempted to eat out which worked (slash my extreme isolation/studying helps too) but I also bought a lot of “nice things” that I don’t need. On the other hand, I’ll have lots of food stored for the next week or two. Wins all around, I think. Would be nice to get most of my weeks spending to look like this (minus the shoes) - I could be down with spending only 400 nis a week.

[bridgetbites]

Bridget Bites : My Supplement Routine

Q:

Hi beautiful!!  I wanted to ask you if you usually take some vitamin supplement like for example: omega 3, magnesium, B12, etc. Thank you and good vibes <3

A:

Hi! Thank you for your question 😀

I used to take a huge amount of vitamins, so have recently been on a mission to cut back to the bare essentials with vitamins. I try my hardest to get them through plant-based foods, and I find vega one as a day starter to be my favorite form of multi vitamin. A serving of it has a good amount of vegan omega 3’s, probiotics, greens, fiber and 25 percent of the RDA of most vitamins and minerals. Plus it is all from plant-based sources – no weird chemicals or sugar added. I usually have around two servings a day; one first thing and one post workout.

I also am a big fan of mushroom coffee – Four Sigmatic brand is the bomb! I like to use their cordyceps and chaga coffees first thing. It doesn’t taste too shroomy, and it gives you a nice boost to start your day without any caffeine jitters. I used to be a five cups a day kind of girl, but have been able to cut back using this product to one or two first thing. That’s a big deal for me!

Probiotics are incredibly important to me. I have had major digestive issues before – and once I started to focus on probiotic and fermented foods (and went on the FODMAPS plan, more on this later) I found I was no longer kept up at night with stabbing pains in my gut. My favorite source of probiotics is definitely coconut yogurt. I use the coconut cult’s yogurt, and whilst it is stupidly expensive (25 dollars a jar) you are only using a tablespoon or two a day, so the price evens out. I have never liked kombucha, but I love the Kevita line of drinks – they are low in sugar, and high in probiotics. I also love that they add apple cider vinegar; that always has sorted my gut out in a fix.

Now – onto my actual supplements.

I take Magnesium citrate nightly, and I love to take sensory deprivation tanks twice a week. Failing that, a really hot Epsom salt bath. I love Magnesium; it helps me relax and helps to treat my muscle soreness. I also take a strong turmeric/curcumin and black pepper supplement. Turmeric gets absorbed better with black pepper (I read that somewhere) and I take this nightly for inflammation. Plus I find it helps with digestion.

I am very loyal to the Reserveage nutrition brand; I have been using their Ultra Collagen Booster supplement for nearly a year now and I love it! I have really noticed a difference in my skin. It contains Dermaval and Resveratrol along with Collagen, and you can get it from Wholefoods. I cannot talk this product up enough; it really is the best for skin tone and beauty.

I also take a sub-lingual B12 vitamin. Due to soil depletion, I feel like everyone should take a B12 supplement, not just vegans. Plus mine is cherry flavored and delicious, so I am very ok with taking it!

Finally, whenever I can’t sleep I take some Kava root. No nasty sleeping tablets for me! I find it relaxes my mind to just the right amount.

I hope this helps!

 Love,

Bridget

[myfuckofffundjourney]

Money Diary, Week 1

This will be long, and rambly! But it’s good to have it written down.

Tuesday, Jan 2

11 am: feeling like hell, go grab some over the counter decongestants. Pharmacist suggests a proper doctors visit. Make an appointment. 22nis

11:15: grab coffee at cafelix on the way to the bus. 11 nis

11:20: bus. 5.9 nis

12:00: pick up some doctor prescribed decongestants. 16nis.

14:30: bus home. 5.9 nis

14:45: crap. Can’t use transfer - buy another ticket. 5.9 nis

16:30: need water and snacks - 11 nis. I buy a glass bottle that I’ll reuse until I lose it or something. I had a reusable water bottle that i misplaced at a friends house. I keep reminding myself to go find it or buy a new one. That and a portable french press to-go mug, which is the best for my coffee addiction+constantly running around schedule.

22:00: Load my rav kav with 30 shekels. Home, grilled cheese and apple sandwich, TV, free yoga, bed. 30 nis.

107.7

Wednesday, Jan 3

11:00: Woke up feeling good! I planned my day out so that I did yoga, cleaned, and studied for two hours. Breakfast was a few pieces of peanut butter toast and a clementine. Now I need coffee and am out (used the last dregs for a sad cup this morning that just isn’t doing it) so I run out to grab some. 11 nis

14:30: I’m also out of toilet paper. On the way to get some, I drop off a sweater that needs to be dry cleaned. It was free so I don’t mind needing to dry clean it. Plus, its the best sweater ever. Grab a small package of toilet paper. In the future I will try to get to bulk stores and buy in bulk but for now, I’ll go with tiny 4-packs. Successfully restrain myself from buying a snack, telling myself I’m avoiding extra expenses and sugar. 5.5 nis

14:45: Heating up chicken soup for lunch. I see that my maple syrup has some weird blobs floating around in it which means some moths probably got inside. SO ANNOYED. I have more, and I probably didn’t even pay for this one, but it’s still an expensive food item I like having around and it sucks to waste it. Fuck you, moths. Eat my chicken soup, which is nearly finished (thankfully, it was getting a bit boring).

15:00: a friend is giving away a mattress, which I need. I just don’t know how i would get it to where I am, which is a studio sublet for the next 7 days, and where I’d put it after until I move into my new place. This is tricky.

22:00: The chair and mattress don’t work out, which sucks, because it could have saved me a lot of money. Oh well. I head to Jerusalem after class and get dinner with Shlomi. They end up giving us tons of free drinks because I used to work there. We split the bill. 88 nis.

104.5

Thursday Jan 4

10:00: coffee and a donut to nurse my hangover/sit and plan my day. I’m going to work somewhere that pays really well per hour, so things like a coffee in the morning feel less worrisome, as I need to be focused and Shlomi only has shit coffee at his place. A while after I leave, I realize that the guy forgot to ring up my donut, and make a mental note to remind him next time. 15 nis.

11:00: Take a taxi that I can bill to the client. I don’t in the end though. 30 nis.

18:00: Get paid! I worked really reallllllly slowly today so I end up charging them for an hour less. Still, I made 1200nis, and with reimbursements, it came to a nice 3170 nis. Wahoo!

18:30: Bus to meet friends for dinner. 5.9 nis.

20:00: Ugh. I told friends I’d take them to dinner as a thank you for a huge favor (that netted me a good amount of money a week ago). I put down 350 nis. 350 nis.

20:10: Train to the bus station because it is freezing and I’m tired. 5.9 nis.

21:00: Fill my Rav Kav. 100 nis.

22:00: grab chocolate and cream for my very necessary hot chocolate movie date night with myself. 18 nis.

524.8

Friday Jan 5

13:30: Head to a friend to cook and get ready for shabbat. He bought most of the food, which is nice for me. I pick up my sweater from the dry cleaners on the way to him. 30 nis.

13:45: Pick up necessary dinner items (I brought the rest from home) - noodles and nori. It costs 18 nis.

14:30: Meet up with a friend - I really want to get coffee or something but we just grab a package of cookies that I devour. 12 nis.

60

Saturday Jan 6

Money-free day! Woop woop.

Sunday Jan 7

In a fit of annoyance after waiting at the bank for WAY too long, I impulse buy a fuckton of cake. Whoops. 24 nis. But I made all my meals at home - including a truly vile peanut noodle stir fry that used up most of the veggies that were going off. It’s definitely not enough and I’ll probably get a snack later, but at least I ate my big meals (breakfast and dinner) at home.

20:00: buy some chocolate. I eat them and feel like shit in every part of my body. Dumb move. Ugh. 16 nis

40

Monday Jan 8

Morning coffe - 10 nis. After taking care of the bank (does depositing 5,000 nis into a deposit for an apartment count as spending money? Not sure…) I go to hand in receipts for an event  I did a few weeks ago - will hopefully get paid for it soon. I need to return wineglasses I borrowed for it; the taxi ride there and back to a meeting with an interested potential client who wants cooking lessons costs me a shitload of money - 117 nis - and I’m annoyed that I didn’t bill the people who did the event. On the other hand, it might bring it a lot of work in the future so it’s worth it. I hope. Meet friends for coffee and donuts. I end up paying which is annoying but I know she’ll get me back in the future. 38 nis. Then I get lunch because I’m still getting over my sugar hangover. 33 nis. On the way to the bus I grab a water bottle because I feel faint with thirst - 7 nis. Once at school, I duck into a grocery store and pick up a banana, apple,and yogurt for breakfast tomorrow. 13.5 nis. Talk to a friend about signing up for a CSA which should actually save money - it’s 90 shekel a week plus a 20 shekel delivery fee. Divided by two people, it’s 55 shekel a week and should be enough produce for us, and as a bonus, it’s fresh, local, and seasonal and also will help me cut down on impulse grocery store buys.

I know the next few weeks/months are going to be stupidly expensive - I have to move a house, get new things for the new place, replace my phone because it’s dying. I can see that the cord on my computer charger is fraying - it will probably need to get repaired soon or fixed. That’s not to mention the two huge fees that have been looming over me - getting my license and getting my wisdom teeth out. Those two, plus tuition, are the like, massive things that I need to sort out but don’t even know how it is POSSIBLE. Gah.

Go home. Decide not to buy anything even though I need food that’s healthyish. I make some tea and peanut butter toast.

218.5

Tuesday Jan 9

Meet a friend for breakfast even though it’s not the smartest thing to do, but it’s delicious and we have fun. 50 nis.

Grab groceries on the way home, including some oatmeal to replace from what I took in this apartment. I get her a full container even though I only used a tiny bit. 30 nis

Throw in a load of laundry. Jesus christ I cannot WAIT to have a washing machine again. This blows. 20 nis. Then another 6 nis for drying it. Grr.

Head to class. I’m agressively tired so I go to cofix and get a shitty coffee and energy bar. 10 nis.

Happily I get a ride home! Make us tuna wraps and pack the apartment.

116

Wednesday Jan 10

I pack all morning. Kim is here to help me move which is amazing, so I take her for breakfast. Between the two of us and tip, it comes out to 112 nis.

Go home, continue packing. I need to get trash bags because I have nothing to put my linens in, and also replace some soy milk. 24 nis. While in am/pm I get a call from my health insurance - I need to make a late payment. Bloody hell. :(

We drive to make the second drop off - have to wait outside for a key. I get us both a juice because we are irritable and sore and exhausted. 18 nis.

Buy a soda water. 5 nis.

School. Buy a yogurt and clementine. 7.5 nis.

Head to Jerusalem. I’m starving and assuming Shlomi is in school till ten so I grab pizza with a friend. 45 nis. Meet another friend to kill some time - she convinces me to get ice cream. I dont even want ice cream but we’re stoned. Ugh. 15 nis.

226.5

Weekly Total: 1398

Food (groceries) 109

Food (restaurants/not at home/impulse buys) 870 

Transportation 159.5

Transportation, work related: 147

Misc: 99.5