#but i have sleep disorder and getting started awake triggers it

[eatember]

-

[lea-russo333]

Arsenal x Teen-Reader

hi! this is the first fic that I've ever done so it's probably not going to be the best, but I still hope that some people like it! i will do a pt2 if people enjoy this one 😊

warnings: angst! eating disorders, mentions of throwing up, mentions of body shaming (pls let me know if I've missed anything)

please don't read if any of these things will trigger you.

proofread: sort of

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2:15am

You had to be up in a few hours for an early morning training session, but here you are on your phone scrolling through the endless rabbit hole of nasty Comments directed towards your appearance, especially your body.

You had only just come back from an ACL injury that had you out from playing and the public eye for nearly a year, and in that year, you had been working hard to regain your strength making your body stockier than you use to be, and people had noticed.

“She looks like a man.”

“that’s not attractive.”

“She looked better before.”

Your eyes started to sting, a few tears slipping out of them. You turned your phone off and turned around, you tried to stifle your sobs not wanting to wake up Beth and Viv who were sleeping in the room next door.

You had been living with Viv ever since you joined arsenal at 16 as she was your national teammate, so it was only reasonable, Viv and Beth had both taken you under their wing becoming a mother figure to you. Now at 19

You took a deep breath and squeezed your eyes shut holding the teddy bear that Katie had giving you for a birthday present, tears were still streaming down your face when sleep found you pulling you into a deep sleep.

Your blaring alarm startled you awake, you looked towards clock feeling as though you had only just shut your eyes.

7:30am

You groaned, you had to be at training in an hour. Waddling your way to the bathroom, you could hear Beth and Viv both talking down the hall; more than likely in the kitchen making coffee and breakfast for all of you. When you reached the bathroom and took a look in the mirror you froze taking in your appearance, your eyes were puffy and red, swollen face and hair disheveled.

“Liefde” Viv's voice echoed through the house “do you want to have breakfast here or at the training ground? I’ve made pancakes for Beth and I if you want some?” you heard her gently knock the door. Panicked, you quickly splashed cold water on your face and patted down your hair, hoping you didn’t look too much of a mess as you did be for.

You heard her knock again.

“Are you okay sweets?” it was Beths voice speaking now.

“yeah” you took a deep breath, opening the door, they both looked at you, taking in your disheveled form, looking at each other with a concerned look.

“Are you sure Liefde? You look like you’ve been crying’’ it was Viv that spoke this time, her hand reaching out to touch your face. You moved away frowning.

“I'm fine I was just watching some sad videos last night” you brushed both the girls off, giving the two women a half-asked excuse. You heard Beth laugh under her breath, putting her arm on your shoulder.

“Now why would you do that to yourself love” she laughed while patting your back, both girls seeming to believe your lie. “Now how are you feeling about pancakes?” the older women asked whilst dragging you and Viv to the kitchen. You stomach turned and you pulled your hand back shaking your head.

“I'm alright thanks, I think I'm just gonna have breakfast when we get there” you said whilst slowly making your way back into your room to get ready for training.

-

The car ride to training was fast and you quickly got your training gear out of the car before thanking the two older women and heading for the change rooms. Viv and Beth watch you walk away from them with worried looks on their faces.

“I'm worried about her” Beth turned her head towards Viv.

“I know, so am I” Viv spoke while putting a comforting hand on her girlfriends should, the two heading into the training facility.

-

When you got in the change room, only a few girls where in there, Steph, Manu and Katie. You quickly said hello before rushing towards the showers, not wanting to change in front of them.  You had been changing in the showers for the past few weeks, knowing that if you changed in front of everyone that they'd see how much weight you’ve lost in a short amount of time, and you’d be caught. You waited in the showers until you heard the girls leave for breakfast. You let out a shaky breath that you hadn't realized Youd been holding and sild out of the change rooms and making a bee line for the gym; wanting to get in some extra exercise before practice started. You knew everyone would be at breakfast, so you weren't fussed with anyone catching you. What you hadn't anticipated though, was for your skipper Leah to be in the gym as well. you would never admit it out loud, but Leah intimated you. She was a good captain, hardworking and stern, she always tells it how it is and wasn’t afraid to call someone out when they were acting out or not putting in the effort.

As soon as you entered, she turned to look at you, eyes scrunching in confusion. You mumbled a quick apology and went to leave when she spoke up.

“You alright y/n? why aren't you at breakfast?” she was walking towards you.

“I'm sorry I didn’t realize anyone one was in here, I just wanted to get some extra time in before training” you said rather quickly, eyes looking anywhere but at her.

“Why would you need to do that when we already have an hour gym session today?” her eyebrows still furrowed “you didn’t tell me why you aren't at breakfast” her tone was stern and unwavering as she kept her hard gaze on you.

“I ate breakfast at home” you told her “Viv made pancakes” she looked you up and down almost scanning your body before her gaze turned back to your face her eyebrow rising slightly as if telling you she didn’t really believe you. She looked away as you gulped. That was another thing about Leah, she always seemed to know when you were lying to her, and right now didn’t seem to be an exception.

“Right well trainings about to start anyway” she said while turning your body in the direction of the door “lets head out to the field” she pushed you forward, a silent way to tell you to lead the way. You rolled your eyes and shook your head, speeding up your movement so you didn’t have to walk with her.

As training progressed you could feel your body getting tired, you hadn't eaten anything this morning and thrown up your dinner from last night. You knew it was bad, but you couldn’t stop…it was an addicting feeling.

By the time lunch time had rolled around and training was finished for the day, you were absolutely exhausted and wanted nothing more than to go home and curl up in your bed and sleep. Your body was sore, and You hobbled slowly towards the changing room, your breathing was uneven, and your head was pounding.

You were the last to make it to the changing rooms, you could her Alessia and Katie making dinner plans for tonight and was asking people if they'd be able to make it. You mentally rolled your eyes as Beth excitedly said that you three would be attending.

“Hey, you alright mate?” you groaned at the question, having heard it one to many times that day for your liking. You turned to see Caitlyn behind you.

“Yes, I'm fine” you huffed out, slowly growing agitated.

“Are you sur- “you cut her off before she could finish.

“Yes, I'm fine! I’ve already said it about a thousand times” you huffed grabbing your stuff and storming out of the room, not even bothering to change, leaving behind shocked Caitlin and confused teammates.

“I’ll go talk to her” Beth muttered after a few minutes of awkward silence. She grabbed her training kit, as did Viv, and walked out of the room. They looked in countless empty rooms before heading to the car park where they found you waiting by the car scrolling on your phone once again, they had noticed you had been doing that a lot recently.

As soon as you heard the car door click, you jumped inside, not wanting to have the conversation you knew was about to take place. Both Beth and Viv entered soon after having a short conversation outside. No one said anything throughout the drive home, the two women sharing glances with each other every now and then while you opted to stay on your phone, scrolling through your Instagram comments.

When the three of you got home you headed straight for your room, closing the door behind you. Both the women sighed as they watched you. They had both noticed a change in you, they had noticed how you went straight to the bathroom after dinner, telling them you needed to “shower”, they had believed you at first until Beth had overheard you vomit in the bathroom 2 nights in a row. They had noticed that you weren't eating the snacks you love anymore or that you weren't eating breakfast in the mornings with them anymore, they had also noticed the mass amount of weight you had lost in such a little span of time. Of course, they had noticed it, practically the whole team had noticed it, with some voice their worries for you every now and then.

“She needs help” Beth stated as she stared at your bedroom door.

“Yeah…I know.”

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Thank you for reading!! pls write some feedback if you have any :)

and if people are interested then I will do a pt2 💕

[thebibliosphere]

Hey, so this isn't meant as advice for you, this is me asking if you have experience with trying a bit of advice I heard, and what your experience was with it? Basically I was told that two things that can help with migraines is soaking your feet in hot/warm water (possibly with ginger?) and to do breathing exercises where you exhale more than you inhale. Have you heard this advice before? Did you try it and if so, did it work for you? I get migraines pretty rarely but it's always so debilitating when they do happen and "go somewhere quiet and dark for 2 days" isn't always viable but is the only reliable method Ive had so far, but Id be down to try something like this if it has any validity to it?

I have tried them, and they have never worked for me. Alternating ice and heat directly over the pain helps me more (especially heat over my "trigger" eye), but usually, just so I can try to sleep through the pain, otherwise I'm going to be awake the whole 20+ hours, and that's never fun.

Your mileage may vary, and tbh, it's worth trying as they are fairly easy to do -- and who knows, you might get lucky and have "easy*" migraines that respond to deep breathing and soaking your feet.

For what it's worth, I've heard some people get more out of the foot-soaking thing by also putting a cold cloth/ice pack on the back of their neck. It helps aid with vasodilation and vasoconstriction, which can sometimes be a factor in migraines.

Aside from correcting my atypical binocular vision disorder with vision therapy and corrective tinted prisms, the biggest help I've had for my migraines has been from taking B2 supplements as recommended by my neurologist.

There's some evidence to show that taking 400mg of b2 for 3+ months can help lessen migraine intensity and perhaps even prevent them. Supposedly it works better if you also take magnesium.

I used to just take magnesium which is a common migraine "hack," but it never did much for me. Adding in the high dose of B2 was what finally made a difference. My migraines are still 20+ hours, but they're less painful, and I can be somewhat functional with them.

Obligatory: Talk to your doctor before starting any new medications, including supplements.

Good luck. I hope you find a solution that works for you.

---

*No migraines are easy, but some of us have harder-to-treat migraines that don't respond to "easy" solutions. Whenever someone asks me if I've tried deep breathing and Excedrin because it always works for them, I am both happy for them but also want to throttle them, lol.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Don't Speak 24

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, stalking, manipulation, reclusive behaviour, disordered eating, dissociation, allusions to abuse, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader is a reclusive loner who ventures down to the library on a simple mission. Her task is complicated by the man she meets there. (f!short!reader)

Character: librarian!Andy Barber

Note: Two in a row?!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

The dullness of the home renovation show does little to combat your fatigue. You watch the drilling and trimming and plastering from behind a glossy curtain, yawning and swaying against Andy. You really just want to go lay down but you don't have the courage to insist on it.

Your eyes roll back only for you to snap your head forward, forcing yourself awake. Several times you feel yourself start to slump to one side. You don't know how much longer you can stay awake.

You feel the air in your nose clog and a rumble in your throat. You're too far gone to catch yourself as you succumb to your exhaustion. You sink into the fuzzy abyss, welcoming the rest for your mind and body.

You sleep without thought, without dreams, or worries. The deep blackness that blurs time and space, the very concept of your existence fading into the void. You forget everything for the dulcet comfort of unconsciousness.

You feel something on your arm. A long, soft caress. It's almost soothing, so subtle and gentle that you're not sure it's real. You moan and sniff through your dry nose.

"Amber?" You murmur, "I'll get up in a minute."

The hand squeezes and you curl your shoulders forward. You're too tired. You just want to sleep forever. You murmur as the touch descends to your elbow and the hand slips down to your stomach, spreading there.

It is much too big to be Amber. And why would she be in the bed with you? Against you? You feel the warmth radiating along your back.

You open your eyes as you're drawn into a stolid embrace. You look down and see the freckled arm around you. Oh. What do you do?

You feel his breath behind your ear, fanning up your scalp. You've never been this close to anyone. Especially a man.

"Andy," you squeak. "Andy…" you grab his wrist as your chest squeezes with panic. He needs to let you go!

"Hmph," he grumbles groggily.

You don't care if he's sleeping. He's touching you. He's got you trapped! You don't like this. You need to get away.

You need to sleep on your own. You need space. You need to be alone!

"Andy!" You squeal and dig your nails in as he hugs you tighter, "get off!"

You writhe as your voice piques. You flail as he keeps a hold of you. He shifts but doesn't let you go. You throw your elbow up and twist around, the impact cracking hard as you're released at once. 

You hit the floor as Andy grips his cheek and grunts. You gasp as you realise what you've done. Oh no! You never meant to hurt him.

"Ow," he hides his face behind his hand, "dove…"

"I'm s-sorry," you stutter, dizzily getting your feet under you, "I didn't mean to–"

You step forward as he peeks out between his fingers. The hurt in his eyes gives you pause and you wince. Oh god! 

"S-s-sorry!" You clap your hands against your cheeks and spin, "I'm sorry! Please! Don't be mad–"

You run without looking, without thinking. You hit the edge of the couch as you race frantically out of the room. You stumble up the stairs, not looking back as you fear he might be after you. That you may have just pushed him too far. But you deserve it, don't you? You hit him first.

You burst into the guest room and scramble to lock the handle. There is no mechanism. Shaky and terrified, you get on the other side of the dresser and push it with your shoulder. It scrapes over the floor until you have it across the door.

You slide down and curl yourself into a ball on the other side, heart beating wildly. No, no, no. Stay out. Stay out!

You can hear his footsteps coming up the stairs and his barely repressed groans. There's a tap on the other side of the door before the handle turns and the dresser lurches but doesn't give. You whimper and cover your head.

You remember the way the chair leg smacked against your head, how the blows came down over and over, on every part of you. You remember how it left your breaths rattly and your bones screaming. You remember how Amber held you and told you it would be okay.

Where is she? You want her there to promise you that you're safe. You left her behind. 

"Dove, please, let me in," Andy says from the other side.

You don't say a word. You gulp as tears spring up. You don't want to remember. Stop!

"Dove, please, I'm not mad," there's friction on the door, "let's talk. What happened?"

You shake your head and ball yourself up tighter.

"Why did you hit me?" He lowers his voice.

You let out a sob. You don't know why. You didn't mean to. It never matters what you meant, it only matters that you're wrong.

"Dove," his voice rises again, "you can't just close me out."

You have no answer for him as you tremble in a heap, trapped between the past and present, paralysed for what's to come. 

"Aren't you going to apologize?" He scoffs.

You have no words, no strength, you have nothing but fear. 

He hits the door and you yelp, "Dove! Answer me." He snarls, "this is my house."

But he touched you. He was touching you! No, how can you be wrong? If he was touching you?

You're confused. It was an accident and yet you feel guilty. But Amber always says you should protect yourself. So why do you feel so rotten?

He huffs and clucks, "I can wait."

You open your eyes and slow drag your arms down, folding them across your chest. You wait and listen. He doesn't retreat right away, no he lurks outside and for a moment you think he's going to stay there until you come out. When at last his footfalls pad away, you're not relieved.

Eventually, you're going to have to leave that room. 

🕊️

Eventually comes in the form of your throbbing bladder. You stand at the door, facing the inevitable, dreading the outside. You shift the dresser inch by inch, trying not to make a noise. You move it only enough to fit through the door.

You peek into the hallway and hold your breath. The evening has come and the house is dark. You creep out, hoping you've gone unheard. You've always been good at being unnoticed.

Until Andy.

You tiptoe over the carpet and glance down towards his door. Your chest twinges with guilt. You hope he's okay. You can only feel the force of your elbow hitting him. You can hear the impact repeating in your head.

You quickly flit into the bathroom and shut the door. You flip the lock up and stand in the dim space. You don't bother with the light switch as you do what you need to and turn the faucet on only halfway to wash your hands.

You take a breath as you face the door. Just a few steps across and you can hide away. You ease it open little by little and let it fall ajar as you see the shadow waiting for you outside. Andy reaches over to flip the overhead light on.

You chew your lip as your eyes sparkle with a sudden wash of tears. You teeter on your toes as the white bulb shines through the glass sconce and illuminates the darkening blemish under his right eye. You did that.

"Andy..." you eke out.

He looks at you, tight-lipped, his own eyes glistening. He takes a deep breath that makes his chest rise and fall. His jaw grits and cheek twitches. He puts his hands on his hips.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. I told you..." you blubber.

He shows his palm, raising his hand as he drops his chin. A long exhale before he lifts his head again. He lets his shoulders fall.

"We need to talk," he says.

"I... know," you hang your head in defeat.

He gestures down the hall and you offer no resistance. You walk ahead of him, keeping your posture low, wanting to shield your head as you expect the worst. He points you down the stairs and follows your descent.

You enter the dining room at his direction and you sit at the table. He pulls out the chair across from you and lowers himself with a sigh. He pushes his hands up his cheeks and winces, leaning his weight on his elbows against the table.

"You hit me," he says staunchly.

You stare at the table, wilting as you bring your feet up onto the seat and hug your legs. You nod.

"I said sorry--"

"Dove," he intones, "you hurt me. And as much as I want an apology, I want it to mean something. I want you to understand what you're apologising for."

"I am so sorry," you bluster as you snap your head up, "really, Andy. I'm so so sorry. I didn't mean to. I would never-- I'm not a mean person."

"You didn't mean to but you did."

"I was confused. You were so close and--"

"You fell asleep. I was keeping you from falling off the couch," he hisses.

"Oh, uh, well, I... I didn't realise--"

"You keep making these excuses. I didn't want to... I didn't want to believe it but I spoke with Dr. Kemp while you were... hiding," he rolls his eyes, "and he agrees with me."

"What?" You heave, nearly choking on tears, "about what?"

"About you. About you're behaviour," he puts his hands down, folding them over the table. You watch the effort he puts into his next words, "about Amber. I didn't want to think about it, to possibly admit it but... she isn't the problem, honey."

"What does that mean?" You wipe your nose, "Andy, what are you saying?"

"Look at me, Dove," he leans in, emphasizing the blotch under his eye, "look what you did."

"But-- but--"

"You take. Everything. People around you give and give and give and they get nothing in return. It's exactly what you did to her. Dove, I want you to get help, but you have to realise, you're not a burden, you're a leech."

You lean back, chest heavy as it hollows shakily. You can barely breath. Why is he saying this?

"No, no, I'm not--"

"You are. You're not stupid so give it up. You know exactly what you've been doing," he insists. His tone is even and hard but not angry. "I know you're not stupid because you know how I feel about you. And you push me away and make me feel like the villain. I'm the bad guy because I love you? Because you made me feel something and I let myself feel it--"

"Love? Feel? Wh-what?"

"Stop pretending you don't know," he snaps, "dove, you just keep hurting me. Look at everything I've done for you. Why would I do all of this if I didn't love you?"

"You love me?" You croak.

"I do and look what you did to me," he waves his hand at his face, "you did this but I'm not going to give up on you."

You bury your face in your hands and cry. Every word is like a knife slicing through you. They always say the truth hurts the most.

"Dr. Kemp is going to help you. He's going to help both of us work through this--"

"I don't understand," you say through your fingers.

"I know you don't, so you need to trust me," he reaches across the table as you open your eyes and tear your hands away from your face, "I can forgive you, this one time. And that's because I love you. Because it would hurt more to let you go."

You shake your head and clutch at your hair, "no, no, no... I never... I didn't mean to hurt you..." you babble, "Andy," you gasp and hit the edge of the table with your hands, "do you mean I hurt Amber?"

He looks down and swallows tightly, "honey, you know what you did. You know it. You have to accept it if you're going to change."

You shudder as the world seems to shrink around you. You really are just as bad as you always thought. All those years in your little bubble, with Amber lying to you, telling you that you're not a monster. She took your abuse and you took everything from her. How could you be so horrible and not even know it?

"I... didn't mean to. I didn't mean to. I didn't... mean to," you chant through thick sobs, "no, I didn't mean to..."

"Shhh, dove," he stands and you make yourself even small in the chair.

You wince as he rounds the table and kneels beside you. He hushes you as he touches your arm, rubbing it gently as he coos at you. You quiet to a hiccuping heave and look at him.

"Are you going to try?" He asks.

You nod and gulp loudly.

"That's good, sweetie," he praises and reaches up to caress your cheek, "Dr. Kemp is going to see us tomorrow and we can do this together."

"Us? Both?" You murmur in confusion as he runs his fingers back down your arm and takes your hand.

"Couples therapy," he explains, "we have to work on our communication."

"Couple... what?" You squint at him, lashes fluttering.

"Come on, dove," he stands and pulls you to your feet, "I told you how I feel, are you going to keep hurting me by pretending you don't feel the same?"

Your lip trembles. Do you feel the same? You don't know. You've never really known. You're just afraid and lost and confused. You don't want to be a bad person.

"You feel bad, don't you? For hitting me?" He asks and you nod, a sob wrenching in your chest, "and you feel bad why?"

You search his face, only looking in his eyes for a second before you can stand no more. You look at his neck and the tendons there, the way it bobs nervously, and the tension set into his shoulders. Your lips part and you puff out a shaky breath.

"Because... I love you?" You squeak the uneven statement through your quivering lips.

"You do but and that means it's going to be okay," he draws you into a hug and you don't fight it. You can't fight something you don't understand, "isn't it, dove?"

[yourmomxx]

Hello! I want to make a request headcandons for jason todd, dick grayson and damian wayne with a reader who basically has a personality and background of yui komori, that is, she is super kind, sensitive, shy and who went through a very traumatic situation related to kidnapping and abuse and who because of that she is very scared and has post traumatic stress disorder, i hope it's not so dark for you and i don't want you to write this if you don't want to, i would also want it to be angs with comfort(because ptsd)and fluff.

here you go! thanks for the request, I hope you’re alright with how it turned out :)

Dick Grayson

Around Dick, you had been hinting at the fact that you didn’t have such a good past

The first time he sees you crying and doesn’t know what triggered it, he holds you tight and whispers sweet things in your ear, and his thumb rubs reassuring circles on your shoulder

Asks you if you want to talk to him and offers you tea or a glass of water

When he tells you about missions (or if you’re a vigilante, too, on missions), he kind of “sprinkles” metaphors in there until you eventually open up to him

For example after a dam break: “Sometimes the pressure is just too much. And if not at least some of it is relieved then things burst.”

Would never pressure you into anything though, he will let you take your time

And appreciates it even more when you open up to him

Jason Todd

Jason met you as a kind and gentle soul, that was always ready to take care of him

But he knew that there was more to your story, he recognized the look you head in your eyes

Jason finds out when he wakes up from you screaming and squirming in your sleep

He knows those symptoms all too well, and is careful not to startle you awake

He catches your fists when you try to hit him as he tries to carefully wake you up

“Hey it’s okay,” he coaxed, “It’s just me. You are in my apartment, it’s okay.”

He definitely makes you a bath after to get your mind off things

And reads to you so you can fall asleep to his soothing voice

Or just holds you tight until you fall asleep again, this time without nightmares, knowing that Jason is there to protect and hold you

Will give you time and space if you need it, but push you into the right direction

“You can’t just keep this forever, you know,” he said, one day, as you were sitting opposite each other. “I’m here for you when you need me. I know that it’s hard. But it will get better with time.”

And you trust him

Tim Drake

almost starts panicking himself when he sees you curled up on the floor, your back to the wall and face pressed to your knees

He doesn’t know how to respond at first

He knows panic attacks can look different for everybody and also that depending on the person it is different how they would like you to respond to it

When he comes to again, he sits down opposite you, with enough distance to not invade your personal space, and starts talking to you in a low voice

“Hey, can you hear me?”

He teaches you new techniques to ground yourself

For example box-breathing*

“It calms your heart rate,” he said.

Will cancel all his meetings the next day, just to spend it with you snuggled up in comfortable clothes

Will also stay more often at night, letting his siblings cover his shifts as Robin

Damian Wayne

The first time Damian noticed something is wrong, is when you flinched as he made a quick movement

And to be honest, he was offended at first

Thrown aback, more like it

He thought (feared) you were scared of him

He distanced himself from you, emotionally, and even got snappy sometimes

He thinks stupid of himself, how could he ever believe that someone like you could be truly in love with him, feel safe around him, see anything other than the boy with blood on his hands that he was

Funny enough it was Bruce that knocked some sense into him, because he had observed an exchange between Damian and you

He told his son to talk about you about what happened - that maybe this was all a big misunderstanding

When you reveal to Damian what happened to you, you break down

He doesn’t know what to do, and at first just stands there, but then he is careful to place a warm hand on your shoulder

After that, he will do everything to make you feel as loved as possible

And he mostly did that with presents

“I saw this and I thought of you.”

“I read in the Internet that those blankets help with anxiety.”

And when he offers to kill someone for what they did to you, you always manage to convince him not to do it - although you kind of appreciate his efforts

*this method does really exist. you breathe in for five seconds, then hold this breath for another five seconds. then you breathe out for five seconds, hold your breath again, and then repeat it all. athletes and swimmers use this technique to calm their heart rate, because it makes us take less breaths than usually in a minute.

[fandomfucker]

Poly Judgement Day x reader where reader has an anxiety disorder that acts up randomly one day and they try to calm reader down?

I would like to preface this by saying this is what helps me with my anxiety. Everyone is different and different things help but this is what helps me to calm down. The symptoms and stuff are also based on my own experiences. I hope you enjoy!!

TRIGGER-mentions of an anxiety attack and anxiety symptoms

Word count-1,865

It had started off a glorious Saturday morning. Finally, being able to sleep in after two full weeks of non-stop work or travel. I woke up to the sun streaming in through the cracks in the blinds onto my partners and my shared king beds. We liked to sleep in one bed more often than not so when we all moved into our house together, we decided that the second living room upstairs would be our bedroom and had a door installed in the entryway and two king-sized beds pushed together for room for all five of us to sleep together.

I woke up on my stomach, sprawled across two of my partners like a starfish. My head and right hand rested on Dominik's chest and my legs were off to the other side, resting on Finn's lower thighs and knees. I looked across from me to see Rhea still fast asleep, her head resting on the other side of Dom's chest. Deciding I wanted coffee, I rolled over onto my back, facing Finn, who was awake and on his phone.

"Good morning," He whispered to me trying not to wake the others, his voice still thick with sleep. 

"Mornin'," I smiled sleepily at him, raising my hand to rub at my eyes. I looked around, noticing that we were a member short. "Where's Damian?" I asked whispering, still not wanting to accidentally wake up the other two who were still cuddled up so cute.

"In the kitchen makin' breakfast. Said he'd come get us when it's ready." Finn informed me. I nodded slowly and yawned, causing Finn to laugh lightly at me. I scowled and slapped his chest lightly in mock offense before shifting my position to lay more on him than Dom with my head on his shoulder so I could see his phone.

I watched him scroll through TikTok for the next several minutes, occasionally seeing an edit of one or more of us and liking it before sending it to me so that I'd be able to re-watch it later on my own and repost it. 

“Ooh wait go back,” I whispered to Finn, scrolling back up to the previous video on his feed. It was about a new horror movie coming out. Just then, Damian waltzed into the room wearing nothing but his underwear and a ‘kiss the cook’ apron Rhea had given him as a gift for Christmas last year. 

“Are you not freezing?” I asked him, scrunching up my nose a little as I wrapped my blanket around me a bit tighter, my bottom lip starting to quiver a little. 

Damian just scoffed at me, smiling and shaking his head lightly. “Breakfast is ready downstairs.” He gestured towards Rhea and Dom who were still asleep, “You two go ahead, I’ll wake them up.”

Excitedly, I rolled on top of and over Finn to get off the bed before he even had a chance to move a muscle, taking my fuzzy Halloween cat blanket with me. I stood on my tiptoes and kissed Damian’s cheek as I walked past him, muttering a small ‘good morning’ and ‘thank you’ before making my way downstairs.

Damian had already set out a prepared plate for each of us in our usual spots, along with our preferred drink. I bounced over to my spot, gripping my coffee mug with both hands. It was iced coffee, always iced coffee, but I favor the mugs.

I took a long slow sip, savoring the flavors Damian decided to surprise me with this morning. “Strawberry and chocolate?” I asked as I saw him walking into the kitchen/dining room, along with my other three partners in tow.

“Nope,” Damian replied smugly. “Raspberry and white chocolate with a splash of cheesecake.”

Damian and I have a ritual-esque thing where every morning Damian makes me a coffee and I have to guess the flavors in it. It’s all just fun and games and bragging rights but we enjoy it. However, the more weird flavors they come out with the harder it is for me to guess. We had so many of the little syrup bottles at this point we could open our own coffee shop.

“The fuck?” I replied, in both shock and nausea. “Who in their right mind would make a cheesecake coffee syrup flavor? I mean, don’t get me wrong this is delicious but come on people.”

All four of them burst into laughter at me as I grumpily dropped into my seat. Taking the silverware that had been placed next to my plate, I began to cut into the chocolate chip waffles Damian had so graciously made us.

After actually drowning each piece in maple syrup, I shoved several pieces into my mouth at once. I groaned lightly in pleasure at the taste as my partners all smiled in amusement.

“Good (Y/n)?” Dominik asked me, a teasing lilt to his voice. 

“Mmhmm!” I nodded in satisfaction. “Very,” I spoke, my voice muffled by the copious amount of waffle in my mouth, rocking side to side in my seat a little bit in my ‘happy dance’.

Damian smiled at me in thanks as he began to dig in along with the rest of my partners.

After breakfast, the five of us lay lounging around in our living room. The boys were all focused on the TV, watching a tattoo competition show while Rhea scrolled through her mentions on social media and I read a book on my Kindle. I was sat next to Rhea on the couch with my back against the armrest with my thighs on hers, my feet resting in Dominik’s lap next to her. Finn and Damian were cuddled together in the armchair next to the couch.

As I read my book, I noticed that my heart rate had started to pick up and my palms became sweaty. My hands started to get that all-too-familiar tingly feeling that started when my hands would go numb. I cleared my throat, trying to just push past the growing anxiety that had come up out of nowhere.

I tried to submerse myself back into my story but found my thoughts to be too much and too fast to focus. I scooted a bit closer to Rhea, laying my head on her shoulder, hoping to ground myself a little.

My breathing started to become shallower like I was breathing through a straw while someone was sitting on my chest and I felt the all too familiar lump in my throat that made it hard to swallow.

"You okay baby?" Rhea asked me, concern written all over her face as she noticed my signs.

I nodded in response, "Yeah, I just don't feel too good right now."

Dominik frowned and reached over Rhea to put the back of his hand on my forehead to check for a fever. After a few seconds, he turned his attention from my face to the concerned faces of our partners, shaking his head softly to indicate that I didn’t have a fever.

“What doesn’t feel good (Y/n)?” Finn asked me softly, not wanting to scare me from answering.

“I just feel like I c-can’t breathe and my hearts too fast and now I’m starting to feel lightheaded and-” Rhea cut me off before I could finish, pulling my face to the crook of her neck as she stroked my hair. 

I lifted myself up to straddle her hips, getting as close to her as possible, as I stuck my face in her neck. She stroked my hair with one hand and drew circles on my back with the other.

I grabbed Dom’s outstretched hand from beside me and brought it close to my chest, between Rhea and me, as I absentmindedly played with his fingers, tracing the tattoos I knew better than my own.

Finn got up to go get me one of Rhea’s hoodies, knowing her smell would calm me down. The boys would try new colognes all the time but Rhea’s perfume was a constant. And due to her always smelling the same, her scent became a grounding source for me. Having my nose in her neck helped but being fully encapsulated by it was best.

Dominik stroked one of my hands with his thumb as I continued to hold it, bringing his other hand up to brush the hair out of my face. I saw Damian out of the corner of my eye get up and walk over to the bookshelf to grab my coloring book and markers.

Dom removed his hand from my face to reach over and grab the TV remote off of the coffee table. A few seconds later and his hand was stroking my temple as the laughter from my comfort show, Impractical Jokers, played quietly throughout the living room.

Finn came jogging back in with one of Rhea’s Motionless in White hoodies, my favorite of hers to steal. I pulled myself away from Rhea just long enough to slip the hoodie over my head before my face was back in her neck.

“Hey, it’s okay, love. Let’s do your breathing exercise, mhm?” Rhea spoke softly to me, still stroking my hair. 

Damian came back over to ua, sitting himself down on the floor next to Rhea's foot, just below where I was sitting. I heard him set my coloring supplies on the coffee table before feeling his hand on my lower back.

“Breathe in for four. Hold for four. Breathe out for four. Hold for four. Breathe in for four. Hold for four. Breathe out for four. Hold for four.” Rhea coached me as we did my breathing box exercise. It had been something I’d thought stupid when my doctor recommended it but now use on a semi-regular basis.

“Good job, Darling,” Rhea whispered into my ear as I slowly started to pull myself away from her, being able to breathe again. My hands had started to regain feeling again and feel less fuzzy while the lump in my throat grew smaller. I turned myself around on her lap, my back against her front, and folded her arms across my hips like a human lap belt.

Dominik was on the couch next to us while Damien and Finn were both on the floor in front of me. “Can I have my coloring book please?” I whispered to both of the boys in front of me. 

“‘Course, Love,” Finn replied sweetly, handing me the book as he placed the box of markers on the couch next to me against the armrest where I was originally sitting.

I smiled in thanks as I flipped the book open to the last page I’d worked on. As I switched my main focus between the show and my coloring, I took a second to appreciate my wonderful partners.

Rhea’s arms wrapped around me, her thumbs stroking my hip bones while she nuzzled my neck. Dominik next to me who kept one hand stroking my thigh. Damian and Finn in front of me, each massaging one of my feet. 

I’m so incredibly grateful for each of them and wouldn’t have been able to get over my anxiety without them.

[fuck-your-proana-blog]

Posted this "funny meme" 3 years ago today on Facebook.. I'm mad at myself for still thinking of my many slowly progressing illnesses and injuries as jokes back then.

Wish I didn't still consider my physical state back then something I could push through instead of listening to my doctors, my body, and everyone else in my life who could tell my body wasn't going to hold out forever.

My reality today (or even worse) could be yours as well if you're suffering from an ED, exercise addiction, etc. and you don't recover- you will live on in misery like me, or you die will in horrifying pain.

I just spent a hour on the toilet trying to pee and gave up because my back pain was too severe to stay there- but the compression between my spinal discs makes it so I am unable to empty my bladder in under an hour due to nerve damage. Makes it impossible to fall back asleep if I have to pee at night because I become wide awake, and the pain from whatever position I ended up in during the couple hours of sleep I do get doesn't help. Then I have to switch out ice packs, get my 6 pillows rearranged to prop my body *just so* to maybe get enough of a break from the pain so sleep sets in, and get a drink because the 25+ pills I take a day all give me dry mouth- makes the peeing situation even better!

You don't want this, and if you think you're "not sick enough," "don't deserve recovery," etc., you're wrong.

I know pretty much everyone who follows this blog suffers from an eating disorder, exercise addiction, or some other form of self harm- get help, now. Before it's too late.

My inbox is open to all of you- i am not a doctor, therapist, etc., but I will listen to you and tell you what I know from my own experience to see if I can help you choose to seek the proper care you deserve before you end up like me-or worse.

A reminder though: anyone with EDs suffers, so don't make your blog a place that encourages others to suffer, even if you think it's "just for you." Most of my personal thoughts lately have been "trigger warning" city, so I write them out in drafts to feel like I've spilled into the void, then I save it, and never publish it- saves my readers from seeing the unhealthy things that my mind is full of these days when I start to write out a personal post and notice it going real dark.

Private blogs exist too.

We're all suffering, but letting your suffering hurt others is never ok. Do not promote eating disordered or self harm behavior- your actions affect more than just you.

[writethrough]

Hi ;) I don't know if you're currently accepting requests, but if you do, may I request a Malcolm Bright x Reader fic please ? TW : Self-h*rm, anxiety, depression, ED, mental illness.

Reader and Malcolm are very close friends so they both lovingly care about each other. Reader hasn't been answering any of his calls and messages for a few days, which is unlike her 'cause she always picks up the phone when he calls her. He starts to grow more and more worried, especially because he knows about her mental health struggles. So naturally he decides to go check on her. When he arrives he finds her in a very bad state : depression, anxiety, ED and Self h*rm have been hitting her harder that usual. He stays in at her house for a few days to take care of her, which includes reassuring her when she gets panic attacks, telling her that he strongly cares about her and that nothing will make him leave her, laying beside her to help her sleep, hugging her etc. Eventually she starts to feel a bit better.

I know it's very emotionally charged, both with dark stuff and comfort/care stuff, so if you feel like you can't do it, it's totally okay, I understand. Do whatever makes you feel the most comfortable.

Please take care 🤍 Sending you hugs.

To Make It Through

(Malcolm Bright x Gender-Neutral Reader)

Warnings: Insinuations of self-harm, ED, depression, anxiety, and mental illness.

Word Count: 1203

A/N: I wasn’t sure how to begin writing this. The most important goal for me was writing this with respect to those who suffer from self-harm, depression, mental illness, ED, and anxiety. I have never experienced the first four, but I’ve dealt with mild to moderate anxiety, I believe since I was young (I’d like to add, I’ve never been diagnosed by a doctor for anxiety). I have no idea what someone who lives with these struggles goes through. I wanted this to be a comforting story, one that hopefully brings a little light to everyone who reads it.

I didn't want to include too many details that could be triggering or potentially disrespectful to those who deal with the topics above.

And to anyone who is suffering and in need of help, below are different hotlines and resources.

National Eating Disorders Association

988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline

The Trevor Project

National Institute of Mental Health

Malcolm unlocked your front door with the extra key you gave him.

It’d been three days since he last heard from you—no responses to his texts. No calls or video chats, not even a dumbass meme. And he was worried.

You were religious in your response time to him. Honestly, he had no idea how you could send a text off so quickly.

First, he noticed the dishes on your counter. A few days' worth. Then, the blanket was on the floor instead of folded neatly over the couch. Your curtains were drawn tight, and the couple of plants you had were a little less lively than when he was here last week.

He slowly pushed your bedroom door open so as not to startle you.

It was difficult to see through the darkness, but from what he could tell, clothes were thrown around the room. And he could make out a thin layer of dust on your bookshelf.

He took in your curled state under your comforter. Only the top of your head peeked out.

He didn’t need to ask you what was wrong. You’d known each other long enough for him to recognize the signs.

After slipping his shoes and coat off, he gently lowered himself beside you. He didn’t move the covers or speak, only placed a hand close enough to your back so you could feel him while not being touched. 

He didn’t know if you were awake, but that didn’t matter. He’d wait however long it took until you were ready to acknowledge him.

He wondered when you last ate—those dishes were probably older than he thought. He tried to recall if there were any warning signs he should’ve picked up on when he was here last time. But you seemed fine.

You were also very good at hiding it.

About an hour later, you shifted to face him, still beneath the blankets.

It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

He whispered your name. You didn’t move.

He tried again. “Can I do anything for you?”

You sniffled, and his heart nearly broke.

“Can I move the blanket, honey?” he asked.

The top of your head moved slowly in a nod.

He hooked a finger and pulled down carefully, revealing water-lined eyes with bags under them.

He thought as much. When things worsened, you never slept well.

“What do you need?” he whispered as gently as he could.

You didn’t look at him as your hand emerged to clutch your pillowcase.

“I don’t know,” you mumbled.

He nodded. He couldn’t let you stay like this.

“Then, could you do something for me? I know you won’t want to, but you can come right back. I promise.”

You glanced at him, then looked away. As much of an acknowledgment as he would get.

“Go take a shower. Take as long as you need,” he said.

You didn’t fight him, didn’t argue, and he took that as more of a bad sign than anything.

Once your bathroom door closed, he stripped the bed and threw everything in the washer. After replacing the sheets, he put the discarded clothes in your hamper and tossed any trash he spotted. He kept the blinds closed. Baby steps.

He was finishing putting the dishes away when you walked out in a towel and back into your room to change.

You didn’t ask what he was doing or tell him he didn’t have to do it. You almost ignored him.

You had already returned to bed when he entered. This time, you were against the headboard, staring off into space.

He sat beside you.

Your hands rested above the covers, wrists on display, and his shoulders relaxed.

It hadn’t gotten that bad.

He let you have your silence. Sometimes it was what you needed.

“Why are you friends with me?”

Sometimes it wasn’t.

“Because I need you,” he said.

It was all he thought to say. Superficial compliments wouldn’t stop your mind from spiraling. Hopefully, you’d believe him.

You shook your head. “You deserve better.”

He wanted to shield you from your own words. 

“(Y/N), I need you to look at me,” he said. And when you didn’t, he repeated himself. “Please?”

You glanced at him, rubbing the hem of your shirt between your fingers.

“Have I ever lied to you?” he asked gently.

You shook your head slowly, hunching your shoulders.

“I will always always tell you the truth,” he said. “You’re my best friend. That’s never going to change, okay?” He carefully pulled your hand between his. “I care about you so much, (Y/N). You’re never going to get rid of me.”

You sniffled, glancing at him through your lashes.

Tears lined his own eyes, threatening to spill forth.

You were his best friend. He’d be lost without you, and he needed you to know that he’d never go anywhere, that he belonged by your side. You made him feel seen. You made him feel sane.

Whatever you needed from him, he would give.

“Can you…Can you hold me?” you whispered, trying to keep your voice from breaking.

He answered by laying on his back, waiting for you to settle on his chest, hands still connected.

“Get some rest,” he whispered. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

—

Malcolm stayed with you for the next few days. He even called Gil and said he had to take a personal day, much to Gil’s surprise and pleasure. Thankfully, Gil didn’t ask any questions. Malcolm never would’ve broken your trust like that.

Today was the first day you had gotten dressed. Malcolm considered that a massive sign you were starting to feel more like yourself.

“How’re you feeling?” He took in every feature of your face, searching for the most minute twitch.

“I’m…I’m better.” You nodded slowly. “I’m not okay. I know that, but I’m better than I was. Not everything’s as…dark.”

The corner of his mouth tilted up in a sympathetic smile. His fingers found yours, holding them lightly.

“All healing takes time. And I’ll be right here whenever you need me.” His eyes stayed locked with yours, nothing but sincerity in them.

You swallowed. “Thank you.”

He shook his head slightly. “You never need to thank me for doing something I want to do.”

It brought tears to your eyes—how kind he was. Malcolm was the only person you could trust with everything. He knew what it was like to be trapped in your own mind, to hate so many parts of yourself that you want to rip out.

And each time you were on the verge of relapsing, he’d pull you away from the edge. As you’d done for him.

“Why don’t we take a walk? See how many squirrels we can feed,” he said, offering you his arm.

Your face lifted, not a smile, but not so melancholy as it had been.

“Okay.”

Grasping the crook of his elbow, you interlocked your fingers there and let him lead you outside.

The sun's warmth sunk into your skin as Malcolm launched into what his mother was trying to rope him into. And when the first chuckle in a week passed your lips, the darkness didn’t feel so encompassing anymore.

Taglist: @phenomenal-bird

If anyone would like to be added to my taglist, please comment or message me and tell me which character you'd like to receive updates on.

[teine-mallaichte]

Day 17 @whumpmasinjuly-archive : What has been your most recent whump obsession?

Sleep deprivation!

As someone with schizoaffective disorder, and so have a fair bit of experience with (hypo)manic episodes, in the hypomania I am often still somewhat aware of the situation and can go for days, week, on only an hour of two's sleep a night. I can even trigger mania by not sleeping - this made uni fun… As such sleep is a complex thing for me, something I forever struggle with but somehow have to obtain. So maybe that's why the concept fascinates me… but just think about it... Ever wonder what happens when you push your limits and stay awake for too long?

First 24 Hours:

Cognitive Function: Your attention, alertness, and concentration start to falter. Reaction times slow, and problem-solving skills take a hit.

Mood: Expect irritability and mood swings. Emotional regulation becomes a bit of a mess.

Physical Effects: Notice tired eyes, constant yawning, and a growing sense of fatigue.

1-2 Days (24-48 Hours):

Cognitive Decline: Your memory gets shaky, and decision-making becomes even tougher.

Physical Health: Your immune system takes a hit, making you more prone to infections.

Mood and Behavior: Increased moodiness, anxiety, and stress. You might even start feeling a bit paranoid or aggressive.

2-3 Days:

Cognitive Impairment: Severe disorientation and hallucinations can kick in.

Physical Effects: Coordination and motor skills drop. Overall physical performance declines.

Sleep Deprivation Psychosis: Some might experience delusions and severe psychosis symptoms.

3-7 Days:

Brain Function: The frontal lobe (for executive functions) and limbic system (emotions) are severely impacted.

Health Risks: Chronic sleep deprivation can worsen physical health issues like hypertension and diabetes.

Emotional and Mental Health: Persistent mood swings, severe anxiety, and depression set in. Cognitive function is heavily compromised.

Beyond 1 Week:

Cognitive and Emotional Health: Long-term risks include serious cognitive impairments and mental health disorders.

Physical Health: More severe conditions like metabolic disorders and weakened immune function can develop.

Fun Fact: The record for staying awake without sedatives is 11 days! 🤯 Imagine what they went through to achieve this!

Also, I studied the brain for years, and anything that effects it kind of fascinated me... so, on that topic, I'm going to leave you with a bit of a (very much cut down but if you want anything expanding just ask) science dump: Cognitive Function and Brain Structures:

Frontal Lobe: Handles decision-making and impulse control. Sleep deprivation impairs this, leading to poor judgment.

Hippocampus: Essential for memory. Lack of sleep messes with memory formation and consolidation.

Amygdala: Manages emotions. With sleep deprivation, it becomes hyperactive, increasing stress and emotional instability.

Neurotransmitters & Neurochemicals:

Cortisol: Rises with sleep deprivation, ramping up stress and anxiety.

Serotonin & Dopamine: Imbalances can lead to mood swings and depression.

Adenosine: Builds up during wakefulness and promotes sleep pressure. Too much leads to a “sleep rebound” effect.

Neural Connectivity & Brain Systems:

Synaptic Homeostasis Hypothesis: Sleep helps balance synaptic connections. Deprivation disrupts this, affecting learning and memory.

Brain Plasticity: Sleep is crucial for brain reorganization. Lack of it impairs this ability.

Default Mode Network (DMN): Disrupted by sleep deprivation, making introspection and self-reflection difficult.

Reward System: Deprivation can mess with pleasure and risk-taking behaviors.

Whumpmas In July 2024 posts

[fanby-fckry]

Content Warning: vent, disordered eating (not an eating disorder though, different thing, trust me), delusions(?)

I think I just had (am still having?) my first non-drug induced hypomanic episode?

Like technically drug-induced hypomanic episodes don’t count. I had one from caffeine (I’m caffeine-free now, bc it was awful), and possibly one from withdrawals, but I spent all night last night awake, and most of the night before, too.

I’m having trouble sleeping again tonight, despite being tired. I got some sleep earlier in the day, like 5 hours, but when I’m not manic, I usually need 7-9 to feel rested.

I also did a fuckton of dishes, and I have to keep reminding myself that as a human being, I need to eat. I feel like I could go forever without eating, even after I start to notice signs of hunger, and then I get nauseous from not eating. Which is not ideal, because nausea for any reason can trigger my abdominal migraines, and then I’m doubly screwed.

It’s not even the fun kind of hypomanic. :/ Like, I’m being productive, mostly, but my writer’s block is still there, I’m tired despite not being able to sleep, and my self esteem isn’t boosted like it gets sometimes. I mean, at least I’m not getting extra psychosis (unless you count the “I don’t need to eat” thing as a delusion). But 2/5, would not recommend.

[kindaspooky-gemini]

TRIGGER WARNING

Eating disorder recovery

THE THINGS THEY DONT TELL YOU.

- EXTREMELY LOW POTASSIUM CAN BE A RESULT OF CONSTANT VOMITING/PURGING - this causes muscle contortions resulting in loss of hand function, feet function and in some cases like mine, loss of function of your mouth/jaw/face - this lasts for HOURS AT A TIME.

- if you a female suffering with ED you most likely ( NOT ALWAYS, AND SOME MEN TOO BUT MORE COMMONLY IN NEURODIVERGENT MISDIAGNOSED FEMALES) have a dual diagnosis and the ED is a symptom of one of your disorders that isn’t getting the right attention.

- When you finally digested your first small meal in 2 and a half years and instead of feeling proud you gotta spend 24 hours awake crippled in pain in the bathroom because your digestive system has no idea how to start working again.

- How it feels ten times worse purging a meal that you have actually half digested and have tried so hard to keep down that as soon as you smell any other food you are reduced to gagging and can’t be taken normal places

- Crying over bloating and covering all the mirrors in the house and hating yourself because YOU DONT WANT TO DIE FROM THIS DISEASE but watching yourself double in size Infront of your eyes is so triggering you cant be left on your own otherwise you’ll purge to the point where you can’t move

- self harming whenever you make any progress because progress means gaining weight and that means you deserve to be punished

-being reduced to tears every time you use the toilet because you have made yourself bleed because your body hasn’t functioned the way it’s supposed to for so long, it’s gotten used to not having normal bodily functions

- the feeling of self loathing that comes with watching the person you love/people who support you deal with your bodily fluids due to needed physical assistance and having to not internalise that so you don’t hate yourself even more

- hearing the heartache in your mums voice when she cries and begs you to get better

- the horrendous taste you get in your mouth when your body starts breaking down food for the first time in 2 and a half years

- MY HAIR IS FALLING OUT.

- the lack of sleep just from how fucking boney you are and even when you do get comfortable you get pressure sores from your bones sticking out in places like hips, shoulders, knees etc

- feeling like giving up because you can’t remember what being healthy even is anymore but your so scared of dying that you have to agree to anything that might possibly make you better

PLEASE SEEK HELP IF YOU OR SOMEONE YOU LOVE SHOWS THE EARLY SIGNS OF DISORDERED EATING OR AN EATING DISORDER - this could include restrictions, calorie counting, replaces meals with exercise, laxatives, recreational drugs etc.

Being skinny is not worth dying over, I realise this now ❤️

Recovery is hard ❤️ But I don’t want to die from this ❤️

[exhaustedwriterartist]

Could you explain how Mazie deals with Sepsis? I’m not entirely sure how it works and would love to hear more about it

Absolutely! I'll go into more detail when I collab with Nya for the big lore drop, but I'll share the medical side here:

Trigger/content warnings: illness and descriptions of illness (obviously), eating disorder, descriptions of eating disorders, mentioned vomiting

Also, this is extremely long-winded but I am nothing but thorough.

To start off here is a definition of Sepsis from the Cleveland Clinic: "Sepsis is your body’s extreme reaction to an infection. When you have an infection, your immune system works to try to fight it. But sometimes your immune system stops fighting the infection and starts damaging your normal tissues and organs, leading to widespread inflammation throughout your body."

There are many different causes and ways to get sepsis, and even a cuts can lead to sepsis.

Mazie got sepsis shortly after the invasion. The reason being she ended up in a disgusting river that was teeming with whatever washed into the river after the invasion, and Mazie neglected to really patch herself up after getting injured while fighting alongside Casey. So open injuries + nasty water = high risk for contracting sepsis.

Sepsis has three stages, the last being septicemic shock, and each stage slowly worsens over a period of a few hours to a few days. Each stage also lowers chances of survival and lengthens recovery time.

Without spoiling, by the time she shows symptoms, she is in Draxum's lab. She is quite upset with Draxum at this point, part due to her hatred, grudge, and frustration with him, and partly because her illness is making her delirious and agitated. Some symptoms include her heart rate gets faster, her breathing gets faster, dangerously low blood pressure, a high fever, severe inflammation to her muscles and joints, tissue deterioration (especially around her injuries), and more! She doesn't let Drax help her or even make sure she's okay, until she reaches the final stage, and passes out... And wakes up feral, out of it, in pain, suffering, and faced with a sheep man desperately trying to keep her alive but who she believes is an enemy.

Snapping out of her feral state takes some time, and recovery takes her months. When she is aware and awake for the first time, she can hardly move, and there are a multitude of other problems that come along with Mazie_s next challenge: Post Sepsis Syndrome!

Here are some symptoms that Mazie spet deal's with that Sepsis.org (yes that is the website name) says are common symptoms of PSS:

Difficulty sleeping, either difficulty getting to sleep or staying asleep, fatigue, lethargy, shortness of breath, difficulty breathing, disabling muscle or joint pain, swelling in the limbs, repeat infections, particularly in the first few weeks and months following the initial bout of sepsis, poor appetite, reduced organ function, eg kidney, liver, heart, panic attacks, flashbacks, nightmares, loss of self-esteem, depression, post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).

The loss of appetite turns into a big problem over time, turning into an eating disorder. It gets really hard for her to eat most solid foods, it's like there's an invisible wall that keeps her from being able to swallow or eating at all. Thankfully, liquids and liquid foods don't give her as much grief (emphasis on "as much"). She dreads having to eat but forces herself to when she's around others. When she's alone though, it gets much harder. What makes it worse is that Mazie has to eat something to keep Draxum's medicine down. Unfortunately, she can't always keep it dow and it comes back up before it has a chance to help with her pain, or she has bad stomach pain. Either way she is suffering.

She slowly recovers from her eating disorder along with PSS, but it definitely takes her time, being honest with other and asking for help, and allowing others to help her. Slowly, others begin to find out about her her struggles, and much to Mazie's surprise, they aren't angry at her for hiding this.

Anyways, I hope this makes sense and helps clears things up!

Thank you for asking Moo!!!!

[findingmypeace]

Still awake. It’s 2:20am as I start this. I know I need sleep. Ugh. I only have two more updates I want to write about.

Eating disorder:

It’s still a huge struggle. The biggest trigger is my weight and body. The diet was useless. The first three week you are supposed to eat 75% fruits and vegetables (and only those low in sugar) with 25% protein. That’s way too restrictive for someone with bulimia. I’m used to eating whatever I want as long as I can purge. I did this diet for 5 weeks but I kept skipping a meal here or there, binging and purging on some days, and sometimes eating something that I wasn’t “supposed” to. In the end I lost nothing. I went into this hoping I could FINALLY lose even just a little bit. After 5 weeks I quit.

I’ve been so, so desperate. I’ve researched diets for hypothyroidism. I’ve thought about not eating gluten because my sister has a gluten allergy. I’ve thought about appealing my insurance’s decision to deny the weight loss medication. I’ve thought about straight up fasting. But everything I’ve read say to decrease calories but only slightly because if it’s too much your body will go into starvation mode and you will stop losing weight. I know this but I’ve never believed it (for myself) because that’s not what my body has done.

When I finally accepted that may be what’s happening to my body the eating disordered dialogue in my head went “Fuck that. I’m keeping my eating disorder. I guess I’ll just keep gaining and gaining for the rest of my life. I give up.”

How much will I have to eat and keep down to get my body out of starvation mode. 6 month in a HLOC obviously wasn’t enough. How much weight will I gain in the meantime. Isn’t eating enough and keeping it down called recovery? There has to be some other way.

I feel so hopeless and desperate. I had therapy yesterday (Saturday) and the session started with me ranting about everything I’ve written here. My therapist said something that truly gave me back a little bit of hope. The concept isn’t new to me but it’s the first time I’ve really considered it.

Stick with me while I explain this: I will always have my eating disorder. Nothing will change that. If I want it, it will still be there. Nothing has to be permanent. I can always change my mind and go back to it. Just see what life is like without the eating disorder. I can always go back if I don’t like it (recovery).

I’m still not fully sold (will I ever be?) but I am willing to loosen my grip on the eating disorder just a little bit. I’m terrified. I don’t want to do this. But if it loosening my grip just a little bit maybe I can handle it. But of course my ed chimes in with maybe this will take my body out of starvation mode. I don’t know if I can accomplish this but I can always change my mind and go back. Always. Like I said this gave me some hope.

I am FINALLY getting sleepy. I have a few more things I want to add but for now I’m posting this. It’s now 3:08am. 😣

[fentrashcat]

Tourettes Awareness Month, May 26th!

Kinda lost track of the days so just gonna stop counting them and just do the date instead 😅

Today I'm going to go over some of my pet peeves/frustrations that are related to my tics/TS, or people reacting to it. Some of these I've mentioned before but I'll try to include new ones as well, don't mind my bitter old man persona coming out lol.

⚠️Everyone who has TS or tic disorders will have different experiences, this is just mine

Dentists!

So I have had a lot of bad experiences with dentists, even before my tics were severe enough to be diagnosed and now its even worse. Bc I'm anxious for the dentist, my tics can actually get really bad in the days leading up to it and the day of. I'm also prone to shut downs with dental stuff, so it's almost a double whammy. Luckily my most recent experiences with dentists have been really positive, and they've been extremely patient with me. However when I get a bad dentist the experience pretty much back tracks all the progress I had been making with the good ones.

It can just be really hard to manage my tics during an appointment, and I'm more prone to tic attacks in the days leading up to said appointment, even if I know who I'm seeing is good. This is starting to pass now tho and I actually went back with the dentist on my own for the first time since I was 7 or so last month.

Sleep interrupting!

Being too tired to sleep is a pretty common occurrence for me, unfortunately. When I'm sleep deprived I get more tics than usual, especially in my legs. Usually my legs don't tic bc I sit in ways that make it difficult (criss cross, one leg under the other, on my knees, ect), but when I'm laying down to sleep, it's much harder to find a position that stops leg tics. If I can't stop them, I end up kicking myself over and over, usually right as I'm about to fall asleep so I kick and I'm wide awake again. Some nights it only happens for like 10min and then I can sleep, but other nights it'll be HOURS. On the longer nights I'll try to sleep with my legs crossed or sitting up criss cross, but that's really hard to do sometimes. Most of the times on those nights I just give up on sleeping all together. The days after I don't sleep, I'm more twitchy and prone to attacks, then I either am allowed to sleep that night or just pass out from exhaustion after an attack.

Pre-tic premonition!

Sometimes I'll know I'm about to tic, and I can see I'm going to hurt myself or I know I'm going to throw something and there is literally nothing I can do, I'm just stuck knowing until the tic hits unless I suppress it, which doesn't always works, usually causes recoil, and can HURT.

Thunder!

So I used to love thunderstorms, and find peace in them, but as my tics got more severe, my relationship with thunder changed. Rolling thunder is okay but booming thunder makes me tic like crazy, as in when it's frequent enough I will tic myself dizzy or give myself a migraine. I of course live in a thunderstorm heavy area 😅

BTW if you're into mediocre poetry and have a spare dollar or a Kindle unlimited account, I actually wrote about this in my book I Want To Love the Thunder under the name Fen Lotor only on Amazon

People!

I was going to get into this a lot but honestly the stories kinda deserve their own post, mainly bc it'd be long and people may want to skip it bc the stories could be triggering so I'll generalize here-

1. People making me tic on purpose (luckily a rare occurrence but a really fucking shitty one)

2. People staring (yes its strange, and I understand glancing at me but sometimes people just stare until my tics stop but if I know someone is staring I tic more from the anxiety)

3. Stereotypes (a given)

4. Asking me questions while I'm actively having a tic attack (99% of the time I'm super open about questions but people sometimes don't ask until I'm having a severe attack even if they've seen minor tics or know I'm tourettic)

5. Balloon decor (maybe I'm biased bc I haven't been somewhere w balloon decor since prom but it seems anytime balloons are used as decor there is at least one person intent on popping them)

6. Immediately panicking when I start ticcing (it's less frequent now w people who know me but as soon as people know my tics CAN be caused by something negative they seem to think they are ALWAYS caused that way, no matter what I say so they start panicking and asking what's wrong and won't take "nothing is wrong" as an answer which stresses me out and makes me tic more)

7. 4th of July (this makes me sound like a scrooge and a hypocrite bc I like fireworks. I also don't mind headphoning up and blocking it out for a bit, but for some reason people around me celebrate from 6pm to 3am, July 1st-July 7th, and it's not even dark until 8pm or later)

Okay ended up ranting a bit lol. Thank you for reading, and as always my asks are open if anyone is curious or has questions I'll answer the best I can 😊

Also adding my cooking with Tourette's tag if anyone is curious. I almost included some info on cooking here but it doesn't really bother me enough to be a pet peeve

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Don't Speak 23

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, stalking, manipulation, reclusive behaviour, disordered eating, dissociation, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader is a reclusive loner who ventures down to the library on a simple mission. Her task is complicated by the man she meets there. (f!short!reader)

Character: librarian!Andy Barber

Note: You know this man don't quit.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

The movie ends but Andy doesn’t wake up. You daintily touch his shoulder again, gripping firmly as you try to shake him awake. Your legs are starting to tingle. You move your feet, trying to wake up your muscles. He’s snoring louder than before.

You squeak out his name. The panic clusters in your chest, your heart starting to race as your ribs ache. You’re trapped! You hate that feeling. The sort of claustrophobia you get on the bus or in most public spaces. Your body is so hot that your skin itches.

“Please, Andy,” you beg as you push on his shoulder, only managing to rock him, “please, wake up.”

You sit back as he doesn’t respond. Not the way you need him to. He doesn’t stir, doesn’t stop snoring. He only nestles into you closer, his hand slipping under your leg.

You let your head drop against the cushion. The credit music plays as you wallow in your predicament. You’ll just have to wait. He’ll get up eventually. The way he’s slumped over can’t be comfortable.

You deflate and drag your hand off his shoulder. You close your eyes, knowing you’re stuck there until he wakes. You can’t sleep like that. So you’ll sit and try not to combust.

The longer the wait, the slower time feels. You find yourself staring at the ceiling, then the wall, then the idle menu of the television. You can’t quite reach the remote so you sit there as the title cards for various new releases fade across the screen. 

You’re so so tired but you can’t sleep like that. You put your hand on Andy’s shoulder again, feeling the muscle under your hand, the rise and fall as he takes slow breaths. You keep from trying to rouse him again. You feel too bad to do that. If he’s that tired, you’ll let him sleep.

Your head gets foggy as the screen times out and goes black on its own, the back light still glowing. You hear the wax bubble in the candle as the wick burns itself out and you sink into the cushions further. You let your eyes close again, lingering in your incapacitation but unable to succumb to it.

The hours skew by and you see the night roll into morning through the window. It’s beautiful despite the pounding in your temples. Your body aches and your head thrums. Andy sleeps on, his breath lending a soothing rhythm to the silence.

The sky lightens gradually through the pane, deep navy fading to swathes of violet and rose, finally revealing a bright blue. You feel Andy shift as a groan escapes his lips. He drags his hand out from under your leg and you tense. He rubs his nose before pushing his fingers back through his hair.

“Dove,” his voice creaks dryly, “I’m sorry–” he coughs hoarsely, “I must’ve–” He grips the edge of the cushion and tries to push himself up, only to keel over again. He grunts and reaches back to grasp his lower back, “shit– sorry, I… I think I hurt my back.”

“What?” You murmur with a tinge of panic, “you’re hurt?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he plants his hand flat and snarls as he forces himself up, falling back limp against the couch, “I pulled a muscle… sleeping like that–” he blows out as he tries to sit up, only to cry out, “I… you could’ve woke me up–”

“I… tried,” you utter, “I’m sorry. I couldn’t–”

“Hmm,” he rubs his neck and winces, “yeah, I’m a heavy sleeper…” he lets his hand trail down the front of his shirt, “you… you sat here all night?”

You look at him. You don’t want to make him feel any worse than he already does. You don’t mention that you couldn’t move him and leaving wasn’t a choice. Not as the pain needles between his brows, stitching a line between them.

“Can I… help?” You offer.

You slide forward, your own muscles racked from the tense hours of your confinement. Still, you can move through the slight burning in your thighs and the tightness in your back. You stand carefully, stretching your arms high above you. Andy watches you, his head resting against the couch.

“I don’t know,” he puffs as he puts a hand behind him, “maybe… some ice?”

“Oh, alright,” you step back on your heel, “I can do that.”

You go into the kitchen and open the freezer. You shiver as you lean in, searching for an ice pack or maybe a tray. You find an ice bag and grab it along with a dish cloth and bring it back to Andy. You find him leaning against the armrest, his face contorted in agony.

“Sweetie,” he huffs, “help me.”

You don’t know what to do except what he tells you. You didn’t expect this but you suppose this happens as you get older. You’ve woken up with a crick in your neck and it’s never pleasant. 

You put the ice bag on his stomach and lift his legs up onto the end of the couch. You put a pillow behind him and help him reposition himself before you put the ice beneath his shoulder. He closes his eyes and groans again.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, “I never wanted you to see me like this.”

“What?” You stand back, wringing your hands as he folds an arm over his chest. “Does this happen a lot?’

“Once in a while… usually stress…” he admits and tries to turn his head, only to yelp and stop. “Dove, please, I don’t want you to see this.”

Stress? Does he mean you stress him out?

“But… you need help,” you cross your arms, “and I’m the only one here so…”

He frowns. You aren’t sure what to do but you feel awful just letting him suffer, even if he’s embarrassed. He doesn’t need to be. Besides, he saw you at your worst and he didn’t just abandon you. You owe him this.

You reach over him and pull down the throw blanket from the back of the couch. You spread it over him as he opens his eyes. You sense him watch you as you stand straight and chew your lip.

“You… you don’t have to take care of me,” he rasps.

“You need me to,” you shrug and look around, “um… should I… should I make coffee or… something?”

“That would be so nice, honey,” he says softly, “thank you.”

“Yeah,” you back away and turn on your heel, “of course.”

You go into the kitchen and rub your eyes. You’re so tired. You could fall over right there but you can’t. You’re not helpless anymore, but he is. Maybe you need this, to learn how to be the strong one.

🕊️

Andy doesn’t seem to get any better. The ice pack melts and you put it back in the freezer. You’re worried. He’s too big for you to move and you can’t drive.

“Um, Andy,” you enter the living room as he stares dully at the television. The tension hasn’t left his cheek, “should I… call someone? Or an ambulance?”

He laughs but not for long as he grunts and once more braces his back. He shakes his head and tries to roll out the pain. He only grimaces and wriggles as he tries to get comfortable.

“No, it’s fine. It’ll go away, I just need… rest,” he collapses against the pillows, “honey, I got some pills. Up in the medicine cabinet. Muscle relaxers, they can help.”

“Oh, uh, okay?”

“Will you go get them for me?” He asks, resting his hand on his chest, “they’ll be with a white tube with a blue logo. Can you get that too?”

“Sure, I can do that,” you affirm, repeating the statement like a mantra, “I can do it.”

You scurry around the couch and hurry up the stairs. Your worry has chased away your own fatigue and the soreness in your muscles has receded to a tolerable ache. You go to the bathroom and ignore your reflection as you pop open the medicine cabinet.

You turn several bottles and find the muscle relaxers. You pause and look over as a red flash beams in the corner of your eye. The shower speaker flickers. Maybe the battery is low? You don’t think about it as you grab the pill bottle and the tube close to it.

You swing shut the door and leave the bathroom. You catch yourself against the banister as you descend the stairs, nearly tripping as a yawn forces its way from your throat. The bottle rattles as you enter the living room.

“I’ll get you some water,” you say as you put down the handful on the coffee table, "one second.”

You go to the kitchen and fill a glass from the fridge filter. You return and offer Andy the glass and the bottle of pills. He thanks you as you turn to look at the coffee table. The tray is still there with the candy and half-finished bottles of soda.

“I’ll clean this up.”

You lift it and take it with you to the kitchen. You take your time clearing it off. You transfer the candy into containers and baggies, sealing them up and put the chips in a ziploc to keep them from getting stale. You hear Andy moaning and grumbling.

You enter the living room again. He holds the tube, staring at it as he turns it in his hands. His eyes flick up and back down. He teethes his lip, a nervous slant to his mouth.

“Dove, I… can I ask you a favour?” He says, so quietly you can barely hear him.

“Um, yeah, of course,” you step out of the doorway.

“I… I can’t reach,” he raises the tube, “it’s supposed to help but I can’t… can’t put it on myself.”

You blink. Oh. Oh. Does that mean you have to touch him? You can’t help but let your eyes round. 

“I understand if you don’t want to, once the pills kick in, they should knock me out long enough to forget the pain,” his shoulders slouch, “yeah, forget it.”

He tosses the tube back on the table, letting out a high-pitched noise. You feel a twinge in your chest. You don’t like seeing people in pain. You remember when Amber broke her wrist and cried every night.. That was so long ago but you can still hear her whimpers.

“I can do it,” you wisp as you come forward and take the tube.

Your hands shake as Andy watches you. His gaze weighs heavy as you feel every move you make is scrutinized. You raise your head and look at him.

“Help me sit up,” he reaches to you with one arm.

You near and bend, letting him wrap his arm around your shoulders and neck. You use all your might to pull him up, feeling him quake with the effort. He sits up and you slowly retreat. You focus on popping open the cap.

“My shirt…” he croaks.

You peek up at him and make a face. Oh. Oh, that makes sense.

You put the cream on the armrest and step forward. He leans in as you do and you help him roll up the bottom of his sweatshirt. You angle the fabric over his head as he struggles to get his arms higher than that. As you guide the shirt down his arms, you realise he has nothing underneath. You don’t know why you thought he might have an undershirt.

“Ugh, thank you so much,” he whines, tweaking your pity once more.

“It’s fine,” you murmur.

You glance at him and sway, unsure of how to do this. You realise you have to get behind him as he leans away from the pillows. You sit on the edge of the cushion as you retrieve the tube and squirt out some of the cream into your palm.

You stop and stare at his back. His shoulders are broad and straight, muscles bound beneath his skin, moles speckled here and there. You hover your hand, unsure what to do next.

“Just under my left shoulder, up along the blade,” he directs, pausing as you stare dumbly, “please, honey, it hurts.”

You make yourself touch him. You press your hand to his back and push it along the line of his shoulder blade. He groans and bends forward. You retract your hand.

“Sorry! Did it hurt?”

“No, no, keep going,” he insists sharply, “please.”

“But… I don’t want to hurt you.”

“It’s gonna hurt but it’ll make me feel better,” he says, “please, sweetie, don’t you want me to feel better?”

You nod even though he can’t see it. You touch him again, his warmth adding to that of the cream as you spread it over his skin. Your breath catches as you hear something, a hum, a purr. You can feel the rumble in his as work at rubbing the lotion until it absorbs.

“That’s good, honey,” he says, “so good.”

You put the cap on the tube and stand. You look at your hand, the smell of the cream is strong enough to make your eyes water. Andy falls back, not bothering to put his shirt back on. 

“I’ll wash this off,” you show your palm.

He doesn’t answer as he closes his eyes. You leave him and wash off the lotion, drying your hand thoroughly, though the scent of the cream clings. Back in the living room, you find Andy as you left him.

You don’t know if you should do anything else. You peer over at the broad archway that leads into the hallway. He needs sleep, right?

“Thank you, honey,” he startles you, “for looking after me.”

“Er, your welcome,” you say, “I… should I…”

“Will you sit with me?” He plants his elbow and grunts as he strains to move himself onto his side, patting the space before him, “please.”

“Oh, uh…” you hesitate.

“I don’t want to be alone,” he says, “please, dove.”

Another pluck deep in your chest. It’s your fault. You let him sleep all night like that. You weren’t strong enough, not loud enough. Once more your fear kept you from doing the right thing. 

“Sure,” you shuffle forward and turn, awkwardly lowering yourself in front of his stomach.

He drops his arm to drape in front of you, resting in your lap as he nestles into the cushions. His other hand brushes your side and stays there. He squeezes you against him, pulling you snug.

You stare at the television, watching as a man works on refinishing a counter with laminate. You can do nothing else as you sit frozen in his embrace. Encased in ice despite the blaze of heat rising from him.

[yourgamemasterthewhiterabbit]

Actually the most annoying thing my dreams have started doing is a combo of

I don't realize I am dreaming which for me is weird

2. I "wake" from one dream into another dream

3. Each layer of dream is progressively more probable and realistic until I examine how I got there

Thankfully once I am actually awake I can tell and immediately think to check in with myself so it isn't as confusing as it could be for someone who might struggle with feeling like they are actually necessarily awake when they are, but this has resulted in weird shit like:

I have a really fucked up dream where I end up fighting a government conspiracy with my mind powers, then I 'wake up' and am friends with my first husband again and we're joking about how he used to be able to borrow my clothes and I try to tell him about my fucked up dream. the effort of remembering the first dream wakes me from another dream layer.

Finally I am annoyed and fully awake laying in bed, pissed I have been interrupted multiple times trying to relay my weird ass dream to someone, only to realize now I am alone and saying the dream out loud accomplishes nothing because no one is there listening.

It's also started resulting in this thing where I have a dream that seems really mundane and move on, logging it like a memory basically, and then it isn't until I am triggered to recall the dream while awake that I think "Oh hey, that's not something that happened, that was a dream that makes no sense!", but like, until trying to recall it, it was just sitting there in the "mundane shit I did today" pile.

This is the fuckery I start to deal with when I force myself onto a regular sleep schedule. This, the migraines, insomnia, and other bullshit is why I have never been able to maintain a regular schedule.

If my sleep cycle is 'too' inconsistent my body will just sleep when it's tired, get more restful sleep and dream only if I have the energy for it and am sleeping at a time I have tended to be awake really often lately.

If my sleep schedule is regular, my brain starts thinking I need less and less sleep. I stop getting restful sleep, I start getting insomnia, migraines and really weird sleep related cognitive errors.

Looking forward to the possibility of sleep paralysis, night terrors, and mild auditory hallucinations as I am falling asleep coming back to haunt me the way they did as a child when I had parents forcing me onto a schedule for school.

They say regular sleep reduces stress and is better for your health but I am really starting to question if that is always true.

I am putting it to the test as hard as I can though. Edit: For the record I probably have some kind of sleep related disorder and this isn't an argument against anyone else needing regular sleep, this is just an explanation of why I have always struggled with it, in addition to other issues I have mentioned. People are individuals and sometimes a person with a disorder can be an exception to something that's generally a "universal" rule. If you suspect regular sleep is actively not good for you, you should probably talk to a doctor about that. Do not take my experience as an excuse for why it's okay to stay up late or sleep like shit, I am very broken.