#but my biggest goal was to get all my medical shit going before graduation so i could enter the job market passing well enough

[asexual-means-no-attraction]

Honestly do you ever wish you could just fuck off into the wilderness for like a year or two (preferably two) and then emerge?

Because like I kinda don't want anyone seeing this kinda awkward HRT starting phase, I wish I could just disappear until all the surgeries are performed, until my fat redistributes, my voice drops even more, the acne gets a little less severe (I know that it usually lasts until your 40s but guys have told me that it usually gets at least a bit better when the hormone levels get a bit less fucky, just like during cis guy puberty) and the T face chub disappears (I still don't really get why this happens tbh? But a lot of guys have said that even when you don't gain weight some of your fat moves to your face and neck for a while before it disappears around the 14 months on T mark? I'm not sure if I noticed anything like that on myself, I may just be getting paranoid from reading such things lol). Mostly I wish I could do that because it's like...when we go through puberty during teen years, people expect us to look different later. They think "Oh you look like shit but it's okay because during puberty everyone looks like shit and you'll look better later". But nobody knows that i'm essentially going through a second puberty, so everyone who meets me now or doesn't know about the course of HRT will think that I just look and sound this shit and honestly I'm not a fan of that. And also I want to finally be free of my chest. It's very hard to hide even with a binder (I'm double D and pretty skinny with a small ribcage) and I don't want anyone to even look at me while I have them.

That's such a mood 😭😭😭.

I started transitioning medically my last year of college and it was definitely weird. Thankfully, the results happened fairly quickly for me.

I think the best way to know how T is gonna work is to look at the men in your family. The men in my family get symmetrical facial hair that tends to focus on the neck before going to the rest of the face, they don't get super low voices, their faces get kinda rectangular, awful acne, etc. So that's more or less what I was expecting and it's more or less what I got. My face didn't get fatter, but it did get more rectangular. When paired with a haircut that complimented that it looked really good.

So advice for the neck fat and everything you mentioned is definitely look into hairstyles that actually work well with your facial structure. Cuz that makes a HUGE difference.

Thankfully acne didn't get too bad for me. I never got any acne the first time I went through puberty, so this time it was a mild to medium amount. It's pretty mild now. I got really lucky with my genetics.

I don't have much advice on the chest binding. I only wore binders for a month and then had to stop because of breathing issues (even when I went up in size). But I had a very similar size and body shape as you. This is what I found helpful:

-larger button down shirts with designs on them. Small graphics all over the shirt. Not so big that it's feminine but enough that the designs distract from my chest.

-puffy vests in the winter. I don't know how to describe them, but they basically look like a winter coat but as a vest. They are kinda puffy so they can help hide chests and curves.

-vests in general are good at hiding curves. Depending on how you wear it they can make chests look smaller. They can come off as feminine still, but at least it helps chest dysphoria.

-layers. I used to wear t shirts with a long sleeve flannel worn like a sweater.

-distracting hats that make people look up instead of down.

^^^^ none of these will necessarily help you pass. But they helped me with dysphoria at the very least.

On a last note tho. Time goes by fast. I was on T for about 8 months before I had top surgery. As soon as I got the surgery I was able to pass just fine. Less than one year on T and no visible chest was all I needed. I'm almost at 2 years now and still having no issues. It felt like I started T yesterday. Time went by really quickly. It's definitely weird going through the second puberty and it's awkward having others see you in that stage. But most won't even remember it as you start to develop further.

Literally tho, I have people who knew me before my name change that have completely forgotten my old name-- despite that happening less than a 5 months ago. My own girlfriend and her best friend have known me since we were 12 and they BOTH forget sometimes that I wasn't always a man. Once you get past the awkward stage people get normalized to how you are, and they really start to forget everything else.

[pennylanewrites]

I got seven different asks about the College AU so here are some headcanons I have about them! (imagine aiura is in the picture I couldn’t find a good one with all of them)

I definitely didn’t mean to make this so long but I can’t help it I love them all so much<3

~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~

Saiki Kusuo

→ marine!!!biology!!!major!!!!!!!!

→ doesn’t need to study but he still does bc he finds marine life so fascinating

→ read all of his textbooks on the first day bc he was so excited eeeek

→ always wears his germanium ring in class so he can stay hashtag focused

→ him and aiura have to bail toritsuka(didn’t go to college) out of jail once a month

→ speaking of aiura, she somehow has convinced him to go on a date on five different occasions

→ i think after high-school he realised he didn’t mind a kind of casual not-relationship with her

→ lets her hug him to greet him and sometimes he hugs back bc college boys stare a lot and he is just worried for her okay?

→ maybe I’m just projecting bc I kin aiura

→ does not go to parties unless he absolutely has to

→ if he does go to a party he’ll drink something quietly in a corner, just watching the crowd

→ a perv laced Teruhashi’s drink and almost lured her up the stairs so of fucking course Kusuo sprinted to help her, holding her on the way home bc men are drawn to her like bees to honey

→ she didn’t let him live it down ever

→ he rented a studio apartment and keeps it super clean, minimum clutter but enough to look lived in

→ cooks amazing food that Nendo smells from upstairs and next thing you know, they’re all bringing chairs to Kusuo’s apartment and have dinner

→ nothing excuses the fact he makes at least eight servings every time–

→ such a dad to everyone honestly

→ usually studies at a library or teleports back home if there’s a big test

→ mrs. saiki was banned from visiting every two days but she still ends up there somehow

→ not that he minds bc he’s the biggest mama’s boy ever

→ probably graduates a year early

→ doesn’t move away even though he got a job at the aquarium at the other side of the city help–

Kaidou Shun

→ fine arts major you can NOT change my mind

→ doesn’t do good in theoretical subjects but mans can draw some good bowls of fruit

→ wears those stained from the paints t-shirts all the time bc ‘no they’re not dirty it’s art!’

→ him and aren have small designated spaces in their apartment so they can focus on their hobbies/studying

→ his corner at the living room has newspapers on the floor to protect it from the splattering paint, some canvases propped up on the wall and a lot of unfinished projects

→ hides all of them when Nendou comes over

→ can not cook or clean to save his life

→ so he calls his mum to help clean up when Aren is at work

→ got over his 8th grader syndrome at some point

→ still wears red bandages bc he’s edgy

→ volunteers at the neighborhood exhibit centre

→ got asked to showcase his own works for a night and hasn’t shut up about it since

→ goes to yumehara for relationship advice and braids her hair as a thank you

→ couples sleepovers with Yumehara and Teruhashi (yes they’re dating shut up)

→ always makes something for Aren at special occasions (birthdays, anniversaries etc)

→ at first he went back home every saturday bc he missed his family :(

→ Aren helps him get over it though!!!!

Nendou Riki

→ got in on a sports scholarship

→ we already know he couldn’t be accepted in a college otherwise

→ in the chiropractic major bc he wants to be one of those athlete doctors

→ has failed way too many exams and classes

→ Hairo helps him so much though!!!

→ the last one in the group to graduate but somehow gets a job first (excluding Saiki)

→ him and hairo get up at 5 am for jogging or to hit the gym

→ and then he goes and gets noodles bc ‘if noodles aren’t for breakfast why do shops open at 6 am?’

→ hasn’t stepped foot in class in months

→ he gets decent grades after failing the first semester and it’s totally not Saiki’s doing

→ he ends up signing up for way too many clubs

→ attends all of the meetings and has so many friends through them

→ I would be his friend too in college honestly

→ a fraternity wanted to get him bc he’s so good at sports

→ he declined bc he does not understand how fraternities even work

→ is the life of EVERY SINGLE PARTY change my mind you can’t

→ whatever you do don’t imagine nendo surprising his boyfriend with flowers after every practice

→ *dies cutely*

Kuboyasu Aren

→ SOCIOLOGY MAJOR

→ idk I just think he would enjoy Marx’s Capital

→ debate club? hell yeah

→ gets in philosophical conversations at the school yard for HOURS

→ kaidou has to drag him away

→ only shops at thrift stores and makes coffee at home bc “capitalism is not accepted in this household”

→ rides his motorcycle to college even though he lives five minutes away

→ grew his hair out in a mullet again and he looks *chef’s kiss*

→ thought he would be moving too fast if he asked Kaidou to rent an apartment together

→ aiura convinced him it was fine

→ cooks kaidou’s favorite foods every day

→ participates in student rallies, human rights protests etc etc

→ comes home with bruises and kaidou thinks he looks so hot but still yells at him

→ Aren’s favorite place to study is his balcony or at a coffee shop

→ always with kaidou! cute boyfriends who do everything together!!

→ gets so drunk when they go out

→ drunk karaoke with kokomi yes yes yes

Hairo Kineshi

→ did someone say Athletic Training?

→ does every single sport and is amazing at it

→ will cheer for his bf if they have a game at the same time though

→ it was his idea to move in together bc ‘hey we’ve been dating for three years now might as well’

→ volunteers at a nearby elementary as a coach for the kids

→ SO GOOD WITH KIDS

→ wants to be a P.E. Teacher and he’s going to be great at it

→ does everything he can at campus

→ helping random clubs, making posters, cleaning up the hallways, helping the cheer squad with their new routine

→ dances ballet as a hobby even though he’s so good at it that he could be a professional

→ makes everything a competition with Nendo so they never get bored

→ once made everyone get up to jog with them and they ended up sleeping on random benches while Hairo and Nendo were halfway across town

→ will punch someone if he sees them catcalling a girl

→ doesn’t drink at all and eats super healthy

→ designated driver for the group’s outings downtown

Aiura Mikoto

→ THEATER MAJOR

→ is so good at stage acting it’s unreal

→ lands the lead role almost every time

→ is also an amazing singer so she gets great roles in musicals as well

→ doesn’t have to get a job bc she gets all her money from doing readings on campus

→ gets coffees and pastries from all the coffee shops around campus and sits Kusuo down so he can taste them

→ they have a little taste-testing date in his apartment until they decide none of them are as good as the ones at Cafe Mami

→ she totally doesn’t make him teleport there every morning and he totally doesn’t listen to her

→ moved in with chiyo bc they wanted a nice place that they couldn’t afford on their own

→ teruhashi told them to move in with her but they already loved their little place

→ aiura’s bedroom is the most comfortable and cozy room ever

→ their apartment is also the hang out spot for the group bc it’s just so homey

→ hangs out with her theatre group a lot, especially after class

→ they can’t compare to her friends though:(

→ everyone goes to her when they’re worried and she loves it bc she’s the mummy of the group

→ she makes everyone coffee and their comfort food before big exams:)

Yumehara Chiyo

→ psychology major one thousand percent

→ you know how they say that people choose psychology bc they don’t know what major they want?

→ that’s exactly what happened except she fell in love with it immediately

→ such a good student!!!

→ always does her assignments on time and still manages to have a social life

→ teruhashi asked her out at the end of their first semester and that’s the first time chiyo missed a deadline

→ practically lives with teruhashi, insisting it’s just to leave aiura alone

→ she’s just IN LOVE OKAY?????

→ would want to be a sorority girl at first

→ changed her mind when she realized how much shit they all talked

→ her and kaidou drink wine and talk about their relationships and studies

→ she’s so sleep deprived it’s unreal

→ she doesn’t need sleep anymore though

→ coffee is her best friend

→ makes asks Aiura for readings twice a week

→ brings all her psychology friends home and they analyze their textbooks

→ once she got the hang of it, she decided to examine Kusuo

→ she told him he needs actual medical evaluation

→ he almost threw her out the window when she offered some Xanax for his nerves

→ chiyo is a neat freak one hundred percent

→ hates when Aiura throws everything on the floor, but she loves cleaning

→ opens her own office after school

Teruhashi Kokomi

→ PRE-MED

→ lesbian doctor :)

→ just wanted to get away from her perv brother at first

→ she always wanted to be a doctor though, preferably a neurosurgeon

→ she’s super duper smart and hates when she gets good grades bc of her good looks:(

→ makes it her goal to show her professors that she’s more than a beautiful girl

→ hasn’t failed a single exam

→ helps everyone with their studies even though she’s drowning in work

→ drops the perfect girl image at college and decides she should try and aim for something normal

→ gets invited to every single party

→ in a knitting club bc it would get disbanded without one more member

→ knits!!!matching!!!sweaters!!!for all of her friends!!!

→ asked Chiyopipi out while drunk

→ never regretted it though

→ her and aren get so drunk when they go out with the group

→ it’s honestly unreal how much they can drink before passing out

→ has to get carried home

→ wakes up after getting drunk and runs to her class before remembering it’s Sunday

→ her penthouse has the perfect view of the sunset and sunrise and is all she could ask for in life

→ does get lonely so she’s practically living with Chiyo and Aiura

→ once she realized she didn’t like boys she made it her goal to get Saiki and Aiura together

→ people wonder how she has so much time to play matchmaker and volunteer while she’s in premed

→ does her internship at a hospital

→ ends up working there as a neurosurgeon after her Doctorate degree

~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~

[hiddlestonsbabygirl]

Care For Me (Steve Rogers au) SugarDaddy!Steve

•prologue•

An alternative universe where Steve isn’t an Avenger, but rather a CEO of one of the biggest companies in the US. His best friend and business partner Bucky secretly made him an account in an online dating site for sugar daddies and sugar babies, setting Steve up on a date with the only suitable sugar baby he thought was best for his best friend among the million others in his inbox.

It’s you. You’re the sugar baby.

Or,

Where reader is a med student who is badly in need of financial support and resorted to desperate measures by signing up to an online dating site with a little help from reader’s best friend, Nat.

•••

You ran up the staircase, not bothering to apologize as you bumped into strangers along the way. Your heart hammered against your chest as sweat outlined your forehead, thoughts running through your mind as you wondered what could have happened to your apartment. You just got a call from your good neighbor Mrs. Sally that the landlord stormed into your hallway followed by two men in white muttering angry words as he unlocked your door with his duplicate key. You knew instantly why he was there. You were getting kicked out of your own apartment since you weren’t able to pay for your rent in six months. The landlord had warned you beforehand to pay sooner, but it was getting harder and harder each day. You were already broke, all your savings spent on your medical school. You didn’t want to stop your studies—you were already on your third year and ever since you graduated college your goal was straight; finish med school, pass the licensure exams and become a doctor. You couldn’t even last a week on your countless part-time jobs because of your coming in late due to knee-deep work you have to face every single day in school.

Your financial status was making it hard for you to finish your goal. Very hard.

You reached your floor, and, as expected, all your things were outside your door in boxes. Your heart sank as you stared at the mess, your clothes and books thrown aggressively into the containers as if they meant nothing but pieces of trash.

You rushed inside and your landlord was standing by your small kitchen, barking orders at his two men, without even noticing that you entered.

“Please, sir,” you cried as you neared him. “Please give me one more chance. I’ll pay by the end of the month, I promise!”

He scowled at you. “I’ve given you too many chances, (Y/N). You’re too much.”

He turned his back at you and proceeded to march into your bedroom, calling out one of his men to follow him inside.

“No!” You yelled angrily this time. You couldn’t believe him. You may haven’t paid your debt owed to this man but that didn’t give him the right to intrude into your privacy.

You ran past them and stood in front of them before they could get any closer to the door, your cheeks flushed and eyes filled with angry tears.

“You can’t just walk into someone’s bedroom and take everything away!” You cried. “I can pack up myself! I don’t need your filthy hands on my belongings!”

Your landlord looked furious. “Then throw your damn things out of my apartment in the next hour or I’ll fucking rip this room apart by myself!”

You flinched at the loudness and anger of his voice before he turned around and left without another word, his men following close behind. Once you heard the main door slam shut you bawled your eyes out, sinking to the floor as you struggled to think of places where you could find refuge without having to pay. All you had in your wallet was a 20-dollar bill, and you didn’t have any extra cash in your bank account. You considered searching for very cheap rooms in the vicinity without having to ride because riding meant paying. But you couldn’t walk on the streets while struggling to hold boxes of your things. They were even too many for only two small hands.

You sobbed. At this point you felt so hopeless already. You almost convinced yourself that you were going to throw your unnecessary things away and sleep on the streets, while asking for spare change. You’d have to give up your med school since you couldn’t shoulder all the expenses anymore and just look for a job where it pays just enough for food and shelter. You didn’t have a family anymore to back you up. Your addictive mother left you for a stranger, and your father’s been gone even before you were born. You didn’t have any siblings, nor uncles or aunts or extended family members where you could go to for help. You had no one. It was only you.

You wiped away your tears, swallowing your pride as you took out your old, worn-out phone from your pocket and dialed your best friend’s number.

Natasha.

She’s been your best friend since high school, and you both shared the same passion in life. You both wanted to become a doctor. You both have so much in common, and you both agree to almost everything. You’ve been there for each other through the ups and downs, and Natasha has helped you through your own struggles financially. But asking for this big favor from her was just too much for you. You didn’t want to add a burden to your best friend—med school is already hard enough as it is.

But you were already desperate. You didn’t have any more options. This was the only one.

“Hello?”

You felt a sudden wave of relief hearing a voice so soothing in the midst of the chaos. “Nat, hi.”

“(Y/N), have you been crying? What happened??”

You hiccuped. “I-I’m fine, Nat. C-Could you come over? I k-kind of need your help.”

“I’ll be there in ten.”

As promised, a knock came from your door and you stood up to open it, revealing a worried Natasha standing over your disarrayed valuables.

You couldn’t help yourself. Fresh tears welled up in your eyes as she pulled you in for a tight hug and you sobbed into her shoulder.

“We’ll pack up your things and go to my house. You’re staying there for as long as you like. My home is always open for you, (Y/N). And you know that.”

...

“So? How did it go with Katherine?” Bucky spoke up as he stabbed his medium-rare meat with his fork, clearly playing with his food rather than eating it. It was lunch break and Bucky and Steve were in their usual go-to for lunch, Redbird.

“Despite the fact that we called it a night early? It was okay.” Steve replied with a scoff, bringing a spoonful of rice to his mouth and watched as Bucky gave his best friend a deadpanned look.

“And you were the one who ended things early, not her, right?”

Steve nodded. He was slowly getting tired of Bucky setting him up with several women, whom he doesn’t even take interest in. He always has the need to pair Steve with someone because “you always look so bleak and somber,” as Bucky would put it.

“Buck, I really appreciate you doing these stuff for me, being my wingman and all, but I really don’t feel like dating right now.”

“Oh, yeah?” He retorted. “Then why do you always look so depressed? You can’t fucking tell me your wealth and fame is making you distressed. That’s some absurd bullshit right there.”

“Language.” Steve glared at him. He always hated when people cussed. For him it was indecent and dirty.

Except, of course, cussing in bed. He can only tolerate profanity under the sheets. But not often, though. That would be too much to listen to.

“Seriously??”

“And yes, James. Wealth and fame does not automatically make you happy and unproblematic. Do you know how many rich and famous people died because they took their own life? Because they hide their problems. The only image the public sees is the happy and successful façade they show.”

Silence. Steve was almost convinced he had won over their little argument.

“That shit deep, man.” Bucky only chuckled to which his best friend exhaled an exasperated sigh. Steve couldn’t even bother to point out that Bucky said a bad language word again.

“But you’ve got friends. Your family loves and supports you, you make time for sports and leisure...what could possibly make you so sad??”

Steve breathed out. “I told you, I’m not depressed, I’m not sad. I just don’t feel like dating as of the moment.”

“Will you feel like dating again tomorrow?”

“Haha, very funny.”

Bucky only stared at his best friend as he took a sip of his drink, studying him with confusion and amusement. Very formal man, always has a steely look on his face, very dominant demeanor, couldn’t even stand hearing curse words! What could his best friend possibly like in a woman?? Were his calculations wrong? Did he expect differently? Was he looking at it in a wrong angle?

Is Steve gay??

“Barnes, quit staring at me like that. You’re making me uncomfortable.” Steve brought him back to his senses.

And then it hit him.

“Hey, Steve, I think I need to go.” Bucky announced as he stood up and gathered his phone and wallet lying around on the table.

“Oh? Why the sudden hurry?” The blond-haired man asked as his eyes watched his best friend suddenly look distracted.

“It’s nothing. I just forgot to feed my pet dragon.” He then proceeded to pace towards the exit, leaving Steve confused and asked himself how he was acquainted with a weird and funny man like James Buchanan Barnes.

Little did Steve know that his best friend was up to a very stupid but brilliant idea. He knew he was going to get in trouble if Steve found out about it, but it was worth a shot. And his plan involved an online dating site and younger girls.

........................... ........................... ...........................

A/N: New series! Yay!!! Tags are also open, just hit me up! Next part coming soon ❤️

[kpopfanfictrash]

The Monogamy Monologues (Preview)

Status: Currently writing

Posting Date: February 7th (tentative)

Creative Contributor: @underthejoon​ for this lovely banner!

Genre: Rom-Com / Humor / Smut

Pairing: Jungkook / Reader

Synopsis: The year? Some point after college. The occasion? Namjoon is getting married and the Rich Man’s Crochet Club has convened once again. Somewhere between the drinks and the laughter, everyone has the same realization: Jungkook has never been in a serious relationship. In the name of all that is holy (Overwatch and booze), the club’s mission is revived. Now though, their goal is much more perilous. Now, they aim to find Jeon Jungkook a girlfriend. (Part of The Rich Man’s Crochet Club series)

Estimated WC: 40K

Rating: 18+

Preview: 2,088

“JIMIN!”

“JEON!” Waving wildly, Jimin flags Jungkook down as he steps off the escalator.

There are still several people between them, but none of them prove to be a match for Jungkook. Dodging them easily – spinning, at one point around a family of five – Jungkook dramatically runs towards the exit.

“JIMIN-SSI!” he yells. “I’M COMING!”

Jimin rolls his eyes at the display. “Get your ass over here, Jeon! Sorry,” he apologizes to the same family of five.

Although the mother shoots them both a dirty look, she hurries her kids towards the Taxi stand and does not look back. Jimin opens his arms just as Jungkook crashes into his chest.

Lowering his cheek to Jimin’s hair, Jungkook closes his eyes to whisper, “I think you got shorter.”

“Fuck off,” Jimin grunts, shoving him away before laughing.

Jungkook grins. “Anyways,” he says, slinging an arm about Jimin’s neck. “Are you ready for the best weekend of our lives?”

With a good-natured shake of his head, Jimin leads Jungkook out of the terminal. Always the excellent host, Jimin actually parked his car at the airport and walked inside to greet him. Jungkook cannot remember the last time his family did that for him, let alone a friend.

“Ready to assist Namjoon, you mean?” Jimin gives Jungkook a look. “You know – on his wedding day?”

“Yeah, yeah. That.” The moment they step outside, Jungkook takes a deep breath. “Ahh,” he groans, slowly exhaling. “You smell that, Jimin?”

“Car exhaust?”

“No. Lack of humidity.”

Jimin snorts, striding forward when the crosswalk turns green. “Still not sold on Miami?”

Jungkook opens one eye. “Miami’s fine,” he says automatically, following Jimin as they enter the garage.

Over his shoulder, the garment bag keeps banging his ass. As much as Jungkook hoped this would keep his suit from wrinkling, it is looking more and more like he will need an iron.

Not believing a word Jungkook says, Jimin raises a brow. “If you say so.”

As they reach the next aisle, Jungkook takes in deep gulps of air. Jimin shakes his head at his antics, but Jungkook could not care less. This city always smells like home to him. When they reach Jimin’s car, though – a sensible, gray Subaru – Jungkook’s feet falter.

“What happened to Liz?” he blurts, taken aback by the trade.

Liz was their college nickname for Jimin’s car, stemming from the infamous Liz Lemon of 30 Rock. So dubbed because Jimin’s old car was a complete piece of crap – a lemon, from the time he drove it off the lot.

Jimin pauses, flipping the keys in one hand. “Traded it in,” he says stiffly, pulling open the door. “Too many memories.”

Realizing what Jimin means, Jungkook winces. He had nearly forgotten about the break-up. Granted, it has been almost four months since Jimin and Olivia called it quits, but the two had been dating since college. Slightly longer than Namjoon and his fiancée.

Whereas Namjoon and his fiancée grew closer after University though, Jimin and Olivia were the opposite. Jimin graduated summa cum laude with an acceptance to one of the top medical schools in the country. His painful notetaking really paid off, as Namjoon was wont to say. When he moved to Chicago and began med school in earnest, Olivia left for New York to join a consulting company.

With their busy schedules and early twenties lives, the two drifted apart. Jimin was the one who held on, not wanting to end things with the first girl he loved. It was only when he surprised Olivia in New York over Valentine’s Day he realized it was over. Not that Olivia was cheating on him, or anything – maybe it would have been easier if she were. At least then, there would be somebody to blame.

No, Jimin merely realized they did not fit anymore. Olivia had her friends and interests; he had his and the two no longer meshed. Without realizing it, they had both reached a fork in the woods and turned down different paths.

Ever since their break-up, the chat has been wary of even mentioning her name.

Jungkook glances hesitantly at his profile. “You okay, man?” he asks as they enter the car. Tossing his duffle bag over the backseat, he prays it does not land on his suit.

“Okay?” Jimin places the car in reverse. “Could be better, I guess. Could be worse.”

Jungkook nods as they pull from the spot. Slouched in his seat, he stares out the window because in times like this, he is useless. When it comes to matters of the heart, Jungkook considers himself to be woefully inept.

“Sorry man,” he says quietly. A car honks in response as they get on the highway. “Wish I could say we always hated her, but you know that’s not true.”

Jimin snorts from the driver’s seat. “Yeah, I know. I can’t really bring myself to say that, either.”

“Well, maybe you two will –”

“No. We won’t.”

Seeing Jimin’s face, Jungkook shrugs and resumes looking out the window.

After a minute, Jimin exhales. “So, how’s Miami really going?”

Jungkook’s head whips sideways to face him.

The corner of Jimin’s mouth lifts. “Thought you hid it well, huh?”

“Better than five minutes into the car ride, yeah.”

“Well, you don’t.”

Jungkook snorts. “Miami is… fine. I don’t know. It’s not really Miami I have a problem with.”

“Your job, then?”

“Yeah, and… I don’t know. Everything.”

“Be a little more vague.”

Jungkook’s lips twitch. “I just…” He pauses, collecting his thoughts. “It was so much simpler in college, you know? Things were difficult, but it all had an end date. Right? Get through four years, and you’re done. I’m starting to realize… this doesn’t have an end date.”

Jimin’s lips purse at the road. “The end date is whenever you want it to be, JK.”

“I guess,” Jungkook grumbles, slouching lower in the seat. Any further, and he might slip off the edge. “But then I’d have to admit that I failed. That I spent eight fucking years of my life either in this job, or working towards it. What was the point if I quit?”

“What’s the point of spending another eight years doing something you hate?”

Jungkook stubbornly chews the inside of his cheek, knowing Jimin is right. The problem is, though – even if he quits, Jungkook has no idea what to do. Sure, he likes photography, but the field is competitive as hell. Jungkook wants to do something he loves, but he also wants to succeed. Taking such a massive leap terrifies him.

“Let’s talk about something else,” he mumbles, turning to Jimin.

Although Jimin arches a brow, he reluctantly lets the subject go. “Sure. Let’s talk instead about how Seokjin is bringing a date to the wedding.”

“Seokjin?” Jungkook’s brows shoot so far up, they near-disappear. “Who?”

“Some girl from LA.”

“No shit,” Jungkook exhales, slowly shaking his head. “Wow. We’re all settling down, huh? Soon, it’ll just be you and me, Jimin,” he grins, leaning over to punch Jimin in the arm.

The wheel jerks at the action, swerving them towards the next lane. “Hey!” Jimin blurts, straightening them out with a scowl. “At least I dated someone during the past five years, Jeon. Who’ve you been seeing?”

“No comment.”

“Huh. I don’t remember her. Was she the blonde?”

“Shut up,” Jungkook laughs, reaching out for the stereo. As the latest pop song fills the car, he pointedly stares out the window.

Jimin smiles, shaking his head. Namjoon’s wedding is being held in the city. His fiancée’s father is some big shot at a downtown law firm. From what Jungkook has gathered, the ceremony spiraled from a small, romantic affair into one of the biggest events of the season.

Jungkook’s lip quirks. That is how you know Namjoon’s fiancée’s family is rich. They use phrases like event of the season and christen their yachts with only the most expensive champagne. Having been to several yacht-christenings in Miami, Jungkook has never understood the event. What is the point of buying something expensive, only to ruin it?

Actually, maybe that is the point.

Pushing Miami from mind, Jungkook stares at the highway as they drive towards the city. The wedding has taken on a mind of its own, according to Namjoon. So detailed, so elaborate, they were forced to hire a wedding planner. Jungkook can only imagine Namjoon, micro-manager to the extreme, being forced to trust someone else with his life.

It has been a while since Jungkook last visited Chicago. Namjoon’s family is from here, and whenever they visited in college, they always had a great time. His mom sent them off each morning with fresh fruit and eggs – it was sweet; reminded Jungkook of home.

The familiar skyline arching above brings a smile to his lips. All in all, Jimin and Hoseok do not realize how lucky they are. If Jungkook lived here, he would – cutting the thought off, Jungkook sits up in his seat. Jungkook does not live here, so there is no point pretending.

Glancing down at his phone, Jungkook feels a modicum of guilt. After placing himself in airplane mode, he has not turned the device back on since he landed. Jungkook knows there will be a fresh wave of texts from his boss and for now, wishes to delay the inevitable.

“Where’s the wedding again?” Jungkook asks, turning his head.

Jimin shrugs as he rolls down his window. The night wind ruffles his hair, sending strands flying all over the place. “Some hotel by the river. Hear it has a great view.”

“And what’s the plan for the weekend?”

“Jungkook!” Jimin scolds, turning down the radio. “Did you even read the agenda Seokjin sent?”

Jungkook glances at him guiltily. “Um, I looked at it.”

Seokjin’s is Namjoon’s best man for the wedding. It makes sense – the two of them have been roommates since sophomore year of college, not to mention they both live in LA. Jungkook knows Jimin has also helped Namjoon with wedding details, since he lives in Chicago.

The look Jimin gives says he knows Jungkook is full of bullshit. “There’s a copy of the itinerary in my glove compartment,” he says with a nod. “I printed out a few just in case.”

“Why the fuck,” Jungkook grumbles as he opens the clasp. “Alright, here we go. Wednesday.”

“That’s today,” Jimin prompts.

“I know what day it is.” Jungkook clears his throat. “Alright, Wednesday. Bridesmaids and groomsmen arrive.”

“That’s us,” Jimin adds, shooting Jungkook a look.

“Yep, yep. Thursday – booze cruise. Woo! Seriously?”

Jimin rolls his eyes. “You really didn’t read this, did you?”

Ignoring him, Jungkook continues. “Friday – rehearsal ceremony and dinner. Be at the church by 4:00 PM.”

“Dressed.”

“Doesn’t seem like a necessary clarification,” Jungkook says, flipping over the paper. “Saturday, ceremony starts at 2:00 PM. Photos and reception following. Sunday, brunch.”

Jimin nods. “Don’t be late.”

“Jimin.” Jungkook lowers the sheet. “It’s Wednesday. How can you seriously tell me not to be late to brunch on Sunday?”

“Because I know you.”

“Touché.” Jungkook grins, crumpling the paper despite Jimin’s groans.

There are not many people heading into the city on a Wednesday night – turning on his blinker, Jimin switches lanes to pull off on an exit. As they slow, the buildings around them seem to stretch towards the night sky. Craning his head out the window, Jungkook exhales. When he pulls back, he finds Jimin watching.

“What?” Jungkook asks, somewhat defensive.

Jimin’s upper lip curls. “Nothing. You know, Hoseok and I’s roommate leaves at the end of the month. If you ever wanted to come to Chicago…”

Jungkook glances away. “C’mon, man. I can’t quit my job.”

“Can’t… won’t…” Jimin trails off at Jungkook’s expression in the mirror. “Anyways, the offer stands. Think about it, okay?”

Slowly, Jungkook nods. “Alright, I’ll think about.”

Jimin smiles, appeased and returns to the road. His hands stay firmly at the ten and two ‘o’clock position, which is so Jimin, it makes Jungkook smile. As they wind through the streets, Jungkook cannot help but think about what it would be like to live here.

He would probably be miserable if he simply transferred to Chicago. Maybe a little less so, since Hoseok and Jimin would be here – but nothing would really change in the long run. If he quit his job, though. Jungkook sighs. For now, that type of change remains firmly in the abstract.

“There!” Jimin squints at the building ahead. “That’s the hotel.”

[ TO BE CONTINUED ] 

© kpopfanfictrash, 2020. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[kindofcashton]

𝕕𝕚𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕟𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕕  •  chapter 3  (Calum Hood AU)

BY THE TIME we got back to the house it was far past midnight, and none of us could walk straight, except maybe Calum.  He never seemed to show just how much he drank, as his movements weren’t as clumsy and uncontrolled as the rest of ours.

I had spent the night dancing and drinking overly sweet fruity concoctions.  Calum had disappeared from the bar, which was a welcome discovery as I hated the way he always looked at me those burning eyes.  I didn’t like how self conscious and nervous I was around him, so when he was nowhere to be seen I confidently ordered my fruity drinks and actually let loose for once.

He went right up to his room once we got home, but I went into the bathroom with Hannah to change and take all of our makeup off.  Peering into the mirror, I saw my eyeliner had smudged slightly and my lip gloss was practically gone.  My cheeks were flushed from alcohol and the heat of the club, my hair tousled and not as refined as it had been when we left.  In a way, I thought I looked hot, and even cracked a smile at my reflection.

Hannah caught this in the mirror and laughed, hooking an arm around my shoulders and pulling me into a hug.

“We got this Scar, you and me.  This can be fun, I promise.”  She sounded so sincere, and I hoped some of her optimism spread to me.  I could use every bit I could get. 

I couldn’t believe just a month ago the two of us had been at school, our biggest worry being the next exam or which jock was going to hit on us in the dining hall.  My heart yearned for those times, when my future was set in stone and I knew what to expect.  I had dreams back then, dreams to help people with my career and make a positive change in someone’s life.  Studying psychology to become a social worker had been my goal for as long as I knew, and I was good at it.  My professors all told me I’d make a great counselor, and my grades reflected this.

And then, one by one, the pieces in my life began to fall apart.  My family never had much money to begin with, but my parents managed to send me to a decent college, with lots of loans of course.  I knew I’d need a job as soon as I graduated, but that over time the debt could be managed.  All of this changed when I got the phone call.  It was late at night, but I was up studying.  I had just spoken to my parents the night before for our weekly chat, and everything was fine.

How quickly those things can change.

The doctor was vague on the phone, or maybe I just couldn’t comprehend what he was telling me.  Didn’t want to comprehend it.  His words were simple, but strung together they made no sense.

What did he mean car accident?  Where were my parents even going?  How come the 18-wheeler that slammed into them didn’t stop?  Why were they the ones that got hurt, when the other driver walked away scratch free?

I knew the word coma, but I didn’t foresee all of its implications.  Brain bleed was mentioned too, as well as circling the drain.  All of these words and phrases jumbled up in my mind, until I snapped and asked what the hell he was talking about.

Needless to say, what little money we did have went towards the medical bills.  My dad died two days after the crash, the impact of the accident turning out to be too much stress on his body.  Before I’d even accepted he was gone my mom took a turn for the worse.  She hadn’t woken up after surgery, and would crash every other day.  I stopped counting the amount of times the doctors revived her, and even slept through a few of them.  

They asked what I wanted to do when she was finally pronounced brain dead.  What was I supposed to do?  A twenty-one year old college student, overwhelmed with work and the fresh death of my father, and I was asked to just unplug my mother?  Stupidly, but caught up in the petrifying stress of it all, I insisted they keep her alive.  This intensive care was expensive, and hemorrhaged every last dollar we had until I had bankers and lawyers knocking down my door.  The day I finally did say goodbye to my mother was the day my university told me I wouldn’t be able to stay if I didn’t pay the monthly fee.

Blinking rapidly, I was brought out of my nightmarish memories and back to the present.  Basically kicked out of college, with barely a cent to my name, Hannah was my lifeline.  We were quite the pair of misfits, as she had essentially flunked out of her classes and been dismissed by the principle.  The two of us made a pact to tell no one the truth, and come home like nothing happened.  I’d work to get my degree some other way, and she would try to figure out a different path.  Without her, I don’t think I would’ve survived.

“I’m gonna take a shower, unless you want to go first?” Hannah asked me, rubbing her alcohol-reddened eyes.  I shook my head, suppressing a yawn.

“I’m too exhausted, I think I’d fall asleep under the water.  I’ll take one in the morning.”

She gave me one last tight hug before I left the bathroom, holding my crumpled outfit in my hands as I crossed the hallway to my room.  The sleep shorts and oversized tee shirt I wore were a welcome change from the tight clothes, and I dumped them in the hamper before collapsing onto Michael’s bed and falling asleep within minutes.

- - - - -

I woke up to my head hammering.  This hangover was one of the worst I’d had in a while, I suppose because I hadn’t drank like that in a while.  It took all the effort I had to get out of bed and head to the shower.

Holding my bathrobe and shower supplies, I noticed the door was closed but the light wasn’t coming through the bottom, so I gave a quick knock.

As my fist collided with the wood, it suddenly swung open to reveal an angry looking Calum.  Everything in my hands fell to the floor with a clatter.  I bent down to pick them up hastily, glancing up at Calum with a frown.  His hair was wet and curly, sticking up at all angles.  A towel hung loosely from his waist, and in my half-conscious state my dreary eyes dragged down his glistening wet skin.  My stare was obvious, and it made a cruel smirk curl onto his lips.

“Morning.  You look great.”  

His comment stung, as I was sure I looked awful.  My hair was a mess, my eyes surely dark with circles and fatigue.  I sighed, and said in a tired voice, “Sorry, I was just going to take a shower.”  When I finally had all my things I stood straight up, still overwhelmed by Calum’s towering frame.

He snorted, and without another word pushed past me towards his room.  I was too jostled to react, instead just closing the door behind me and leaning back against it in defeat.  Would Calum and I ever find a common ground?

I pushed the dark-haired boy out of my mind as I turned on the water, twisting the nozzle to almost as hot as it went.  The droplets scorched my skin as I stood under the rain, washing my limp hair and exhaling in relief.  Hot showers reawakened my senses, and today I needed a boost.  Today I planned on finding a job, and I couldn’t be sleepy and hungover when meeting prospective bosses.

Climbing out of the shower into the steamy bathroom, I toweled off my damp hair and swiped a hand across the foggy mirror.  In the small strip I’d wiped away, I saw the slight bags under my eyes and a dull look in the green orbs.  I was almost glad I couldn’t see the rest of myself.

Tying off my robe, I exited the bathroom and went downstairs to get some breakfast.  Hannah was at the table reading a magazine, and Luke had his head in the fridge searching for something to eat.  Michael and Ashton had already left, and once again Calum was nowhere to be seen.

“Morning, sleeping beauty,” Luke greeted her with a grin, leaning on the top of the fridge door with his forearm.  “You feeling the effects of your wild night out?”  Somehow when Luke teased me, it made me smile; the complete opposite reaction I had when Calum mocked me.

“Oh yeah, this headache is really fun.”  I instantly headed for the coffee, knowing some strong caffeine was just what I needed.

Hannah waved her magazine at Luke.  “If you think last night was wild for the two of us, think again.  We got into some crazy shit at school that you haven’t even seen yet.”  Luke put his hands up in defeat, and I shook my head and chuckled as I joined Hannah at the table.

“Oh yeah, because jello shots are really out of the box.”  I took a sip of the steaming coffee, not even caring that it burnt the tip of my tongue.

Hannah’s eyes tracked Luke behind us until he disappeared into the other room, upon which she pressed her palms to the table and sighed.

“Ashton must have asked me a million questions last night,” she hissed under her breath, and I set my mug down worriedly.

“About what?”  Even my whispered words wavered slightly.

“What do you think?  You, me, why we’re not at school right now when everybody else is.  And I know Ashton wouldn’t just ask me if the other guys hadn’t told him to, which means they’re dying to know too.”

I bit my lip, a thousand thoughts running through my head.  “What do they want to know?  I mean, we just met, I’m not gonna tell them my whole life story.”

Hannah nodded.  “I know, and I’m not exactly thrilled at the idea of telling Ashton I flunked out.”  Her voice was thick with disappointment, and I reached across the table to give her hand a sympathetic pat.  I knew Hannah was secretly really embarrassed and ashamed of her grades.  Even though Ashton never went to college himself, Hannah wanted to prove she wasn’t an idiot, since he was always considered the smart one of the pair.  She also couldn’t face her parents, as they would surely throttle her if they found out she left school.

I sighed, and ran a nervous hand through my damp hair.  “Look, I have every intention of going back once I sort things out, and I’m sure if you can figure out a different school and just lie and say you transferred.”

She laughed darkly.  “Transferred to a community college?  Oh yeah, I’ll be a laughing stock to my family.”  Hannah shook her head, as if to clear these negative thoughts.  “Whatever, that’s not important right now.  But you’re sure you want to keep the stuff about your parents quiet?  No one would judge you, Scar, if anything they’d--”

“Pity me,” I interjected.  “They would pity me, and that is the last thing I want from the guys.  I want their respect first, and then maybe I’ll tell them.”

Hannah shrugged.  “Whatever you say, but it can’t be healthy to bottle it all up inside--”

“Bottle what up inside?”

Of course Calum strode in at this very moment.  He had changed into joggers and a black muscle tee with holes around the collar.  His hair had dried and was thick around his forehead.  He reached for the coffee and as he poured himself a cup, his mocking brown eyes watched us at the table.

“We’re talking about emotions and feelings, Calum, something you would never be able to understand,” Hannah fired back, causing him to scowl.

“Damn, ouch,” Luke laughed as he reentered.  “What a lovely morning this is shaping up to be.

The four of us ate in relative silence.  I was glad when Luke sat next to me so that Calum couldn’t.  He sat diagonal to me, eating the same frosted cereal as yesterday.  I was sick of the quiet in the room, and decided to speak up.

“I’m gonna go see about that job at the cafe,” I informed them.  “Never too soon to start earning money.”

Luke set his orange juice on the table.  “I would offer you a ride, but Mike and I share the station wagon and he’s already gone.  Same with Ashton.”

Hannah’s piercing blue eyes slid to Calum next to her, who hadn’t looked up.  When he realized we were waiting for him, he glared across the table.

“What, I’m supposed to jump at volunteering?”

I repressed a sigh.  I didn’t exactly want Calum to drive me, but clearly that was the simplest answer.  However, I wasn’t about to show him I relied on him and let him toy with this like he always did.  Instead, I shook my head.

“No, I don’t want a ride.  I think it’ll do me good to figure out the bus system.  I don’t ever wanna rely on any of you for a ride, you already do too much.”

Hannah and Luke nodded while Calum rolled his eyes and returned his attention to his cereal.  Straightening my posture, I refused to let his rudeness affect me.  I needed to be confident today, and someone like Calum knew just how to strip this away.

I left breakfast to get ready, opting for a nice pair of jeans and simple sweater with a jacket.  I liked looking put together and composed; it helped me feel that way on the inside.  

“Wish me luck,” I called at the front door, and I saw Luke give me a thumbs up from the kitchen.

“Go get ‘em, girl!” Hannah yelled.  Calum remained stoically silent.

There was a bus stop at the corner of the street, and I pulled up the schedule on my phone.  Hannah had given me the address, and I was pleased to see it wasn’t far at all.  God, I hope I get the job, I thought, chewing my lip.  It would make this stressful time that much easier.

The bus came and I took a seat close to the back, peering out the window and familiarizing myself with the area.  It was a great city, and a part of me could see settling down here.

No, the goal is college, I reminded myself.  This is meant to be extremely temporary.  And besides, no matter how much I liked the city it would always feel like I was borrowing it.  It belonged to Hannah and the guys, the same way the house did.  I would always be a guest here, would never feel like I was really meant to stay.

The cafe was earthy and quaint, and upon stepping through the door I was hit by a waft of roasted coffee.  There was in fact a hiring sign outside, with quite a few exclamation marks, which would hopefully work in my favor.

I approached the counter confidently.  “Hi, I heard you guys were hiring and was wondering if I could fill out an application?”

The worker looked relieved once I asked.  He was around my age, with black earrings and a nose ring.  His name tag read Roger.  “Thank god.  Mack was convinced we’d never find an applicant.  Hold on, I’ll get him for you now.”

I smiled, pleasantly surprised at his enthusiastic answer.  A minute passed, and Roger returned with an older man, who thankfully didn’t look too intimidating.  He had graying hair and a bushy mustache, and smelled strongly off baking scones.

“You’re here about the job?”  He got straight to the point, and I smiled as I pushed a lock of hair behind my ear.

“Yes, absolutely.  I have my resume right here, and was just hoping to get an interview today, whatever you wanted.”

Mack waved his hand dismissively.  “Lemme see the resume.”  I reached into my bag and pulled it out, handing it over with a breathless grin.

“I’m still enrolled in college,” I said quickly, embellishing my story slightly.  “I’m earning credits for my degree from home right now.”  I hoped the explanation sounded mature and not like an excuse I was desperately trying to push.

Mack studied the paper in a matter of seconds, and slapped it on the counter.  Roger was grinning behind him, arms folded.

“I’m gonna be honest with you,” Mack started, and I nodded.  “I really need the help right now.  Normally, I’d screen a few applicants and worry about experience and whatnot, but I just don’t have the time.  So how about I give you a two week test run, and if I think you’re a good fit I’ll hire you officially?”

I had to stop my jaw from dropping to the floor.  How is it this easy? I thought, thinking surely there must be a catch.  Glancing around, I saw that the cafe was well attended and pretty nice overall, which was encouraging.  The only downside to Mack’s offer was the lack of pay for two weeks, but that was honestly fair with such an easy application process.

“Deal,” I said, extending my hand for a shake.  Mack smiles hugely and shook my hand, eyes twinkling.

“You just saved me an awful lotta stress, Scarlett,” he said.  “I really hope you’re the one for the job.”

I left after thanking him again profusely, and had to hold in a squeal.  I called Hannah immediately to gush about my success, and she said we had to celebrate.  We spent the day window shopping and trying on expensive clothes we’d never buy, but she made me swear I’d buy a tight cream colored dress once I got my first paycheck.  Hannah insisted it made me look like a million bucks, and I had to admit I liked that idea.

By the time we got home it was well after dinner and the guys had disbanded.  Michael and Luke texted saying they were with some friends getting a drink, and with Calum’s missing mustang I assumed he was with them.  Hannah got a surprise call from her parents once we walked through the door and hastily ran downstairs to take it.  A few times I heard her raise her voice to a yell, and I knew they must have found out about her leaving school.

Poor Hannah, I thought as I brushed my teeth, staring into the mirror.  I looked radically different from this morning; though I still had on an oversized tee shirt and shorts, my eyes were sparking with confidence and exuberance at getting a job, and the hangover had finally cleared along with the dark circles.  My cheery mood continued as I strolled downstairs, starving as I decided to make a simple sandwich and catch up on some reading.

The yelling stopped and I assumed Hannah had gone to bed, so I was peacefully alone in the kitchen with my book.  I was so engrossed in it I barely heard the front door open.  Unfortunately, I couldn’t ignore Calum swaggering into the kitchen to grab a beer, and I swallowed a bite of my sandwich nervously.

“Hey,” I said tentatively, praying he wouldn’t be mean for once.  Something was off about his appearance; his tee shirt was wrinkled and his belt wasn’t fully done on his jeans.  His hair was super messy and his eyes were glazed, and I spotted a dark mark on his neck.

Oh.

“Why are you still awake?  It’s like 3am.”  He flipped open his beer and took a swig, taking in my appearance at the table.

I hugged my knee closer to my chest and shrugged, a few pieces of hair escaping my bun to block my eyes.  “Not really tired.”

He met my eyes, and I tried to hide the fact that I knew what he’d just come home from.  He didn’t seem as cocky as normal, his hook-up actually subduing his sharp attitude.  I still felt wildly uncomfortable under his close brown gaze though, and it took everything in me not to shy away.

Finally, he broke the stare to take another sip of beer.  “Goodnight, Scarlett,” he said before disappearing upstairs, and I stayed rooted to the spot in shock for a few moments more.

I don’t know what shocked me more; his lack of cruel comments or the fact that he’d actually used my name for the first time.

[loelapaloela]

So...

I had my last therapy session today.

That means that after 6.5 years, four different treatments, 5 therapists, 2.5 (super shitty) years of medication with even more disastrous withdrawals, and one successful (recently started) medication round I am 'done'. And then I am only counting my most recent run, not the things I did before turning 18. It feels like I am graduating from a really, really hard and intense elective programme most people get to avoid without any of the celebration that comes with a graduation. Although I don’t feel like I want a lot of recognition and congratulations for finally being ‘normal’, I still want to mark it somehow because I am still bordering on disbelief.

I am not much of a social media person and this is wicked personal, but I just wanted to put it somewhere. Sometimes the only thing that kept me somewhat upright was telling myself that this day was possible. Even when I did not really believe it, I fantasised and dreamed of this day. It was a lot more dramatic and poetic in those fantasies, but the idea was still that things would be better. That one day I was going to wake up and I was going to feel okay. That I’d look around my living room and I’d actually live in it, that I’d be able to enjoy a quiet moment, and that I would just be able to breathe.

This is a postcard from Postsecret that really hit home for me a long time ago and I have some things to say about it.

Life is easier for other people. Really. I know everyone struggles and people rarely breeze through life but oh my god is it easier. It’s been four weeks since my medication started working, which was the last puzzle piece I needed for my ‘recovery’ (god I’m scared to use that word), and I am so overwhelmed with how much lighter I feel. And I get so much more done. Basically the first week I was just high on this feeling because I was baffled with how much I could fit in a day and how good it felt.

^ me the entire time

No seriously, I cannot stress enough how much nicer it is when basic shit like brushing your teeth, getting out of the house, or choosing what to eat doesn’t take up all your energy supply. Also, PSA, if you feel like it takes too much energy to do things like groceries, you might want to do something about that because that’s not normal (WHO KNEW).

By the way, on things being normal: you might have a lot of friends that have mental health issues, for reasons, but normal means compared to the whole population. Don’t let your bubble fool you into thinking things are normal or just part of the deal. They’re not. You deserve better.

On to the next part: decisions! Holy shit I am so much better at making them! I went shopping and I actually had opinions and I just got the things I liked! I am still amazed when I can sit somewhere and doubt for a bit and just decide what I want to do and not anxiously scroll through whatever internet medium for distraction (once again, PSA, consistently not being able to focus on things you enjoy is not normal). 

Which brings me to this: my concentration. I am able to just perform tasks without having a YouTube video or podcast or anything to distract me. I can do one thing at a time and finish it. I get so much more work done. What I used to call procrastination, really just turned out to be depression. I still delay doing tasks I don’t like, of course, and I definitely am not crazy productive, but it’s never self-sabotaging or destructive. 

I am so much more capable of engaging with the world. I have the energy to talk to people, to respond to messages and hold a conversation. Some flakiness is just part of life, but sometimes flakiness is just depression. 

And yes, I laugh more. I am excited about little things. I have joy. But those changes have not been the biggest for me. In the past years I have been able to experience joy, it was just hard to come by and it wouldn’t stick around, but I would never say I haven’t been happy. I was just very profoundly unhappy, too.

People would often think that my goal was to be happy all the time. They’d remind me that no one is always happy and I shouldn’t have unrealistic standards. Honestly, that’s just another way of trying to say that I should deny my senses telling me that what I am experiencing is not okay. I understand that I might come across as chasing constant happiness and to be honest sometimes I did just want that (who can blame me?), but the opposite of depression has never been happiness. 

It’s being able to feel normal emotions without shutting down or being overwhelmed. It’s being able to think ‘oh shit that was awkward’ and not ruminate endlessly. It’s being able to be confronted with some really fucked up thinking patterns (oh hello personality problems!) and cope. This is why I don’t say medication ‘cured’ me in the end. The medication gave me the space to reap the benefits from what I have painstakingly been sowing for the past 6.5 years. I had to learn those things, I had to address those patterns, and I had to go through it in order to be able to get here. 

Most of the time I really never thought I’d be here. I had no way of envisioning where I was going because I had been depressed for so long that I had no idea what it would be like if it were gone. It scared me, because at least I knew what rock bottom looked like and where I was. 

I did not climb up out of this in one beautiful straight line, I did not enjoy it, I did not know I was close until I was out of it, and I never felt strong or brave. It was hard. And I am sad that this happened to me. So while I am happy it’s likely over, I do not feel like I can triumphantly run over some finish line and celebrate. I feel like I need to process this experience, I need to figure out who I am without this cloud hanging over me, and I need to let my eyes adjust to this brightness. I am a little intimidated by life, because it’s so much. I also think I might enjoy life, because it’s so full.

What I mean to say is: I think I am going to be okay. And you can be, too. 

[housecfgold]

HEY  EVERYONE,  i’m  admin  birdy  &  i’m  so  excited  to  have  you  all  here  !  and  also  i’d  like  to  introduce  my  baby  to  you  guys  !  and  let  know  that  i  only  have  a  few  wcs  for  this  one  because  idk,  he’s  new  in  town  and  also  i’m  both  lazy  &  without  ideas  !  but  i’m  up  to  everything  you  guys  want,  so  hmu  or  like  this  post  that  i’ll,  eventually,  crash  into  your  IMs  and  we  can  brainstorm  together  !  

*  ♡ ˙ ˖    /  matthew daddario  +  cis male  +  he/him.  —  did  you  know  idris’s  real  name  is  idris  henderson?  oh  yeah,  they  are  a  thirty  year  old  football  player  known  as  the  reveller  that  has  been  in  town  for  four  days.  this  pansexual  leo  can  be  sociable  +  confident,  as  well  as  careless  +  sarcastic.  i  hear  their  soulmark  is  the  big  dipper  constellation  on  the  back  of  his  neck,  and  their  soulmate  looks  like  dominic  sherwood.  muscles  stretching,  empty  alcohol  bottles,  thunderstorms  in  the  middle  of  the  night.

(  suicide  tw  )  ;  (  drug  tw  -  ish  )  !!!

it  is  safe  to  say  that  idris’  life  started  in  a  hard  way.  he  was  born  and  raised  in  denver,  colorado ,  alongside  a  younger  brother  and  their  mother,  a  woman  long  ago  consumed  by  a  hard  life.  his  father  was  never  around  and  from  an  early  age  he  had  to  understand  the  challenges  life  would  bring.  his  mother  had  come  from  the  same  humble  origins  and  never  had  a  chance  to  grow  in  life,  leaving  her  limited  to  a  small  job  with  an  even  smaller  salary  ―  far  from  being  enough  to  support  her  and  two  children.  idris  constantly  watched  the  woman  stop  eating  for  two  or  three  days,  so  he  and  his  brother  could  have  three  full  meals  over  the  same  period.

over  the  course  of  a  few  years,  the  situation  only  worsened  for  the  family.  his  mother  lost  her  job  and,  already  tired  of  her  life,  couldn’t  stay  in  any  other  for  long.  at  the  age  of  sixteen  idris  even  tried  to  help  and  break  his  time  between  school,  a  job  and  the  only  privilege  that  allowed  to  have  in  his  life;  football  was  his  sweet  scape.  while  in  the  field  he  was  able  to  forget  about  all  his  problems,  his  poor  family  and  the  prospects  of  a  broken  future  with  little  to  no  opportunities  ahead  of  him.  maybe  because  of  talent  or  even  effort  that  idris  used  to  dedicate  to  the  sport,  he  eventually  stood  out.

idris  was  eighteen  and  in  the  final  days  of  high  school  when  he  received  the  news  that  synthesized  the  only  chance  he  would  get  to  not  only  follow  his  dream,  but  also  help  his  mother  and  brother  to  lead  a  better  life;  he  had,  somehow,  managed  to  qualify  for  the  university  of  colorado’s  football  program,  with  a  full  scholarship.  his  mother,  however,  would  never  know  about  that.  already  tired  of  an  existence  that  bordered  the  misery,  she  chose  to  take  her  own  life  and  finally  be  able  to  rest.  shock  and  sadness  almost  made  him  give  up  on  his  own  dreams,  but  idris's  brother,  who  had  displayed  a  strength  he  did  not  know  it  even  existed,  made  him  move  on  with  the  scholarship.

for  the  next  few  years,  idris  tried  his  best  to  keep  himself  into  his  college  &  football  routine  and  also  be  a  good  brother,  since  both  boys  were  all  what  was  left  of  the  impaired  family.  he  never  came  to  graduate  from  college  since,  after  four  years  of  hard  study  and  frequent  participation  in  the  college  football  league,  idris  made  the  official  petition  to  enter  the  nfl  drafts  early.  for  his  surprise  the  petition  was  accepted  and  he  was  drafted  by  a  big  team  who  had  him  on  their  radar  for  a  while  already.  trying  his  best  as  never  before,  he  proved  to  be  both  talented  &  hardworking  and  it  was  just  a  matter  of  time  until  he  started  to  stand  out  in  the  field.

fame  and  money  came  fast  for  the  young  player;  his  life  now  seemed  to  be  stable  and  promising.  his  only  concerns  were  to  stand  out  more  &  more,  and  to  attend  most  of  the  great  parties  for  which  he  was  invited.  everything  was  finally  easy  ―  but  it  wouldn’t  stay  that  way  for  long.  years  after  he  had  finally  become  a  professional  football  player,  the  disaster  hit  idris  in  the  form  of  two  men  from  the  opposing  team,  in  one  of  the  first  games  of  the  season.  he  suffered  gruesome  injuries  to  his  knee  and  ankle,  leaving  him  out  for  the  rest  of  the  games  and  undergoing  two  surgeries  to  try  to  fix  what  had  been  broken  by  the  accident  while  no  one  knew  if  idris  would  ever  return  to  the  fields.

idris  was  really  shaken  by  everything  that  happened,  afraid  of  losing  everything  he  had  conquered  over  the  years.  the  treatments  were  difficult  physically  &  mentally,  and  the  physiotherapy  was  painful,  but  the  biggest  problem  he  faced  came  in  another  form;  the  small  pills  designed  to  lessen  his  pain  created  a  dangerous  dependence,  that  threatened  his  career  much  more  than  the  injuries.  it  took  a  few  months  until  someone  finally  noticed  idris'  addiction  and  he  was  officially  temporarily  removed  from  the  next  season  not  only  because  of  his  knee  or  ankle,  but  in  order  to  treat  himself  and  get  back  to  what  he  was  before  everything. 

 however,  a  strange  supplicating  pressure  caused  him  to  drop  every  kind  of  new  treatment  for  his  addiction  before  it  even  started.  it  was  a  weird,  uncontrollable  feeling  that  wouldn’t  go  away,  no  matter  how  hard  he  tried  ―  and  he  tried  hard.  the  strange  sensation  consumed  all  his  thoughts  and  even  his  dreams,  until  idris  found  himself  in  the  middle  of  the  night  driving  for  hours  on  end  ‘till  he  finally  reached  jericho,  where  he  knew  nothing  and  no  one;  nor  what  had  brought  him  to  the  tiny  town. 

HOLY  SHIT,  this  ended  up  to  be  huge,  so  long  story  short:  idris  was  born  very  poor,  had  a  shitty  childhood.  has  one  younger  brother  and  loves  him  dearly.  had  a  hardworking  mother  that  took  her  own  life  when  he  was  eighteen.  got  a  footbal l scholarship,  managed  to  become  a  professional  football  player  and  never  graduated  from  college  because  of  that.  he  suffered  an  injury  to  the  knee  and  ankle  that  took  him  out  of  the  season  and  left  him  addicted  to  pain  medication.  he  never  got  to  start  rehab,  though,  because  he  felt  the  strange  need  to  go  to  jericho,  where  he's  been  for  four  days.  and  this  is  where  our  story  begins  ! 

idris'  personality  is  very  expansive  and  confident.  he  is  rarely  insecure  about  something  and,  when  it  happens,  he  tries  to  hide  behind  several  layers  of  his  other  traits.  idris  is  a  very  intense  (  and  ends  up  being  careless  about  himself  because  of  it  )  man  and  he  normally  tends  to  devote  himself  to  things  &  people  with  impressive  ease  ―  but  he  is  also  known  for  quickly  getting  tired  and  bored  of  both  things  just  as  easily.  he  constantly  varies  between  the  arrogance  acquired  by  the  past  years  surrounded  by  money  &  fame,  and  humility  typical  of  those  who  grew  up  knowing  the  meaning  of  necessity  &  poverty.  idris  rarely  is  aggressive  or  hostile  toward  others  and  often  silently  directs  these  feelings  to  himself;  he  frequently  overcharges  himself  and  becomes  undeniably  frustrated  when  he  fails  to  achieve  his  goals.  the  football  player  is  a  very  sociable  man  and  makes  friends  with  ease.  he  doesn’t  like  to  stay  home,  doing  nothing,  although  the  accident  has  made  him  (  almost  )  used  to  the  stillness.

[thefelicitoussmoak]

Done

This is the last straw. This is super long rant and might be triggering for some.

I have survived years of emotional, psychological and physical abuse, rape, gaslighting and a shit ton more. My mother made me dependant on her for almost everything and never let me be a normal teen, called me fat, told me I should just kill myself after finding me bleeding from self inflicted wounds and then would turn around and sit and pet my hair in her lap every night while watching some show. Usually friends. She never taught me any useful life skills besides driving because I could get her groceries (at 13 mind you and then cigarettes at 18).

THEN, after all this, JUST after I graduated at 17, she was diagnosed with lung cancer. I was expected to always be available but have a full time job. Take her to appointments an hour away from home and wait, then bring her back. Clean up her sick from the rug. Help her shower, and remember to take meds. When her colon ruptured I had to help her recover from emergency surgery and change her colostomy bag. When her hair fell out from chemo and radiation, I helped shave her head and out wigs. Then I helped her recover from a reverse surgery for the colostomy bag, a collapsed lung from getting a medical port put in when her veins were shrinking from chemo and through ALL of that and more, I hardly ever said a word. Because she was my mother and despite all the abuse, I loved her and felt like I had to. She got married at some point and I HATED the guy but she was happy so I stayed quiet. He was better than the one who abused and molested me seeing as he only yelled at me and clearly despised me back. I was always "the good daughter" never caused trouble. I even attempted to go to college for a while, still working and caring for her.

She died right before I turned 21. That year or two after is a blur, I remember my older brother constantly being stumbling drunk and eventually moved in with friends from high school. He ended up living in his car for a year after her husband kicked bro out of the house mom had been renting from him. Those same friends used me for every single cent of my money from getting insurance and i eneded up calling my distant father across the counrty to ask if I could move in with him. He agreed and helped me get up there. I literally had not a single dime to my name. I left everything I had known for 18 years of my life to move in with family I loved but barely knew. My brother followed suit shortly after and moved back in with dad (he already had lived there for 10 years but came down "for my little sister" good job there bro) bro smoked and I didn't. I got a job over night at 2am and he barely kept a job a week before quitting or getting fired. He stayed up all night blaring bass-y music keeping me from sleeping for my 2 am job.

I moved in with my aunt. Made some money and got back on my feet well enough to be sufficient but never enough to fix my dental failings which are in every tooth and they're crumbling literally from a condition my mother never bothered to have looked at or fixed despite getting 1000 a month just from dad in child support all my life and 3k from her own job with good insurance form her AND dad. I've never had the means to fix it either.

Now years later I'm about to turn 27 and my doctor thinks I may have fucking uterine cancer!

What kind of fucking comsic bullshit is this?!

My ONLY goal in life the last couple years has been to get my teeth fully fixed and finally feel confident enough to maybe go to a Comic-Con and meet some celebrity heros of mine or something without feeling self conscious and ugly for a thing I've never been able to fix. But NOOO! I had my wisdom teeth come in. My car fail. My gallbladder removed, etc. NOW I might have fucking cancer?!

NO. Just... no. I can't with this. I have had to deal with TOO FUCKING MUCH in my stupid, short, goddamn life. I have always wanted kids but kept putting it off for the right person and timing but now if I do have this cancer and even if I survived it, I'll probably never have kids. I already have hypothyroidism and pcos for fucks sake so my chances are already slimmer than the normal woman.

We have the test done and I'm just waiting now. Whatever happens happens I guess. Oh well. The rest of my life has sucked, why not have fucking CANCER thrown at me while we're at it?

I'm just done. If it comes back positive I'm just gonna say fuck it and be done with all this bullshit. Why wait. Why bother going through what I saw my mother go through. It was horrible and I won't go out like that and fuck anyone who tries to tell me otherwise. I should be able to choose how, when and where I go, in regards to this kind of shit. I'd like to live a long happy life, maybe make a fool of myself at a celeb meet and great cause I'm awkward or travel to Scotland like I've always wanted to or Canada but apparently the universe is giving me the biggest fucking finger. Well fuck you too universe!

Sorry for the book of my shitty life. But I'm scared, angry and fucking tired of being fucked over in my life. I needed to rant. Hope I didn't miss any tags that might trigger people, I tried. Sorry.

[star-anise]

I'm in my last year of undergrad and I feel like everything has gone to shit. The past year and a half have been awful, i have depression, anxiety and im almost positive i have ADHD too. I feel like such a piece of shit because I keep asking for the extensions on projects and exams, and I'm afraid I'm gonna be this way forever. Sorry this is a lot but do you have any advice on how to take the first step in digging myself out of this hole ive created?

Okay, so it seems like you came in via this post. That’s pretty much my philosophy here. I don’t know if you’re gonna “be this way forever” or not--I know I will probably be the way I am (depressed, anxious, with ADHD) forever, but that isn’t necessarily the same as being a trash disaster on academic probation forever.

I’ll be honest, I kind of feel like after a year and a half, you’re kind of an expert on what you can do with two hands and a shovel. You’ve been digging yourself out as fast as you can, and it’s been a real struggle. I think it’s time for you to get actual help, as in, other people. Reaching out to me was a good first step. I can help you decide where to go from here.   

Keep it simple and take it slow. If you don’t know where to find any of this stuff, feel free to private message me your school’s website; I have a minor knack for reading organizational structures.

For the next week, pick ONE OR TWO of the following options. Even if they’re all good ideas, keep your goals manageable. And then, of those one or two, pick one or two SMALL ACTIONS you can do to pursue them, like looking up a number in your student handbook or making an appointment. If you do more, that’s great, but the siren song of our people is, “I’m gonna accomplish so much!” 

Without further ado: Some Options For Help

Your school’s Disability Services/Accessibility Office/Office of Inclusion/whatever they call it

You’re looking for the office that helps Deaf/Blind/mobility-impaired students succeed in school. Mental health falls under the same category. It’s their job to make sure your school is providing you with as much chance at an education as it would provide to someone who’s totally neurotypical. Tell them what you told me.

Stuff they can do:

Tell you what your school’s requirement is for documenting a disability

Give you information on local assessment and treatment options--what psych professionals locally are good? Is there a fund somewhere that will cover your testing? Does the student health centre have a psychiatrist?

Provide you with a letter that tells your instructors that giving extensions, having flexible schedules, or dropping penalties for non-attendance is a legal requirement to accommodate you. This is not necessarily a free pass--a professor may decide that some things are mandatory or non-negotiable--but it is an easy way to bring these problems up early, before they become an issue.

Help find your or fund you a tutor (more on this later)

Help you find other resources and services on your campus

Your school’s Counselling Centre/Wellness Services/Social Work Office/wherever they hide the shrinks

This is the place where they offer free counselling. If there’s walk-in, go to walk-in; if they can book an appointment in a week, go in a week; if there’s a three-month waitlist, get your name on the waitlist.

Funny story--I had graduated undergrad before I realized that students got free counselling on-campus. I’d been in therapy since I was 16, but five years of undergrad? Yeah, no clue. I was looking for therapists on Psychology Today and shelling out hundreds of dollars out of pocket, and there were hot and cold running therapists under my very nose.

In fact, there might be more than just therapists. The school I worked at had regular counsellors, and also a Learning Specialist, whose job included teaching people with executive function disorders like depression and ADHD how to study effectively!  It’s worth asking about.

When you see one of these people, it’s very tempting to think they are An Adult Who Is The Boss Of You. They will look at you, understand you with their expert knowledge, tell you what your deal is, and give you instructions on what to do now!  

In reality, therapists are not Sherlock Holmes, or profilers on TV. We can’t just look at you and go, “I see by the way you button your coat that you’re a middle child and ambiguity makes you uncomfortable.”  We rely a lot on “client report”--on what you say is true. Psychological assessment is a process involving interaction, not a detached observation of stable qualities. If a therapist says something about you that seems inaccurate, it is beneficial and good to say, “No, actually, I think you’re mistaken. To me, it looks more like...”

You’re recruiting an experienced co-traveller to go on a trip with you. They know a lot about rocks and trails and climbing harness, but they don’t know the territory you’ll be travelling together. So first and foremost, you want to find someone you want to go on a trip with: a therapist who is a good fit for you.

If you don’t like your assigned therapist, ask for a new one. We have an ethical responsibility to provide referrals when we can’t provide someone with the treatment they need, and since a good client-therapist relationship predicts therapy outcome like 70% of the time, simply not liking or trusting your therapist is a good enough reason to try somebody new. If you want you can just email them after the session and say, “I don’t think you and I quite clicked. With what you know now of my personality and issues, is there someone else in your office you can refer me to?”

Medication. Different medication.

Not gonna lie, going on antidepressants was like... getting the inside of my brain whitewashed. There was so much space. So much room. I could think and feel without being constantly smothered in negativity! And going on ADHD meds on top of that was like.. the thoughts that had always been slippery, unable to grasp or manipulate, suddenly became solid in my hands. I could grip them, slow them down, tell them to go somewhere else.

Both times, it took five to ten adjustments to get to the right cocktail and dosage. For example, I was on an antidepressant that stopped me from crying and freaking out all the time but killed my creative drive, so we added a drug that gave me more energy so I could write again. Then money got tight, we tried me on a generic, found that didn’t work, and found a way to pay for the first version. Each time, it meant seeing the doctor, trying a dose for two weeks or a month, and then going back to report progress and try adjusting it again.

Again: It’s a process, an interaction. It’s something you get a say in. And if you’re currently on meds--well, let me just say: If you sent me an ask like that, your meds aren’t doing their job. They’re not the right ones for you. So it’s time for an adjustment.

If you can get to or afford a psychiatrist, great! A general practitioner who’s known you for a while will often do. And if you need to, well, I’ve gotten my meds adjusted by a different doctor every time at a walk-in family practice clinic. You do what you can. Information on who and what is available is often why Disability Services is a great resource--who knows, maybe there’s a psychiatrist on campus you can see for free who sees the depression/anxiety/ADHD trifecta all the time!

(General life tip: When they give you an assessment for depression, anxiety, or ADHD, don’t downplay your symptoms. Answer the way you would on a bad day or when you’re struggling. Of course you know how to cope with these challenges, but the unfair part is that you have to cope with them at all)

A tutor or academic coach

This never occurred to me for a long long time, because I was always a “smart kid”, and I always thought tutors were for people who didn’t intellectually grasp the material. Meanwhile: Surprise! I have a developmental disability that significantly impacts my learning! My grad school put me on academic probation and effectively foisted a person of this job description on me, and it was the BEST THING EVER.

If you’ve ever felt like you would work so much better if only you had someone sitting there all the time making you work? Or a sympathetic friend who could help you break it down and be less overwhelming? If the only time you get your work done is when someone else asks you about it? This is the person for you.

Most schools provide these services to students for free, or subsidize disabled students’ tutoring. If all else fails, you can find a tutor on your own and say, “I get this stuff intellectually, but I really need someone who makes me spend time with it, because left to myself I’d get anxious and ignore it all until the night before the deadline.”

If you have good friends who can do this for you, that’s great too--but the biggest objection to the post that brought you here is, “I’m depressed and socially anxious--I don’t HAVE anybody to help!”  So this post is aimed at linking you up to people whose explicit job it is to help you--people you, your insurance, or your tuition dollars directly pay for.

[jendoesjapan]

My Mental Illness Story (LONG)

WARNING: POSSIBLE DEPRESSION & SUICIDE TRIGGERS, FOUL LANGUAGE. Last night I received news that a female JET in my community committed suicide. Though we had never met in person, we chatted through Facebook several times and of course I recognized her at various JET events. I remember that I saw her standing alone at an ALT conference last month and thought that it would be the perfect time to introduce myself. However, I did not because I was too shy. Now, I am filled with regret at my decision. I will write about my depression story tonight in her honor and just in case it helps even one person.

I have struggled with depression since I was 17 years old (I am 32 now) and have been on and off medication over the years. Growing up, I blamed my parents for a lot of things, mostly for their lack of attention towards me. I would say that my anger towards my parents was the biggest reason for my depression for many years. It was not until I got older that I realized that parents are not perfect - they are human beings. They did the best they could raising me and my brothers. They both had to work full time to support the family and I never gave them credit for that. Also, I did not acknowledge my own faults either. I was a bratty, entitled teenage girl with wild mood swings. I was no picnic. It’s a miracle they never threw me out. 

Once I started to forgive my parents, my life got better. However, there was a dark cloud that had been (and still is) hanging over my head since I was 19 years old. The cloud has a name: Student Loan Debt. I have been drowning in over $50,000 of student loan debt for more than 10 years. This debt controlled almost every aspect of my life: my job, where I lived, the car I drove, what I was able to buy and do on a daily basis, etc. 

So let’s fast forward to when I was 28 years old. There I was, stuck living at home with my parents because I couldn’t afford not to, working 40 hours a week at a job that was not a good fit for me, taking night classes and online classes at a community college trying to better myself, living paycheck to paycheck every month, barely able to pay my loans, not sure what the future held for me. I felt like a complete, worthless failure. Then something started happening. I started waking up every day completely dominated by one emotion: anger. 

I was angry at everything. Angry at what I felt was a shitty lot in life, angry at myself for allowing things to get this bad, angry at the crooks who run private student loan agencies, angry at slow drivers, angry at people who got in my way at the grocery store, angry at my customers for blaming me for their broken cars, angry that I left the house 10 minutes early to get Starbucks and sat in the drive-thru for 20 minutes, angry at literally fucking everything. And the worst part was, I couldn’t turn off the anger, no matter how hard I tried. 

I started to hate myself. I’ve never been the most self-confident person in the world, mostly because I’m too aware. I’m aware of all my faults and every little stupid thing that I do or say. But this was different - I was starting to think that there was something truly, irrevocably wrong with me. I was a defected human being and maybe the world would be better off if I wasn’t around.

I became interested in suicide. I started watching documentaries on it and reading articles. I watched a documentary about people who jumped off the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco, just a two hour drive from where I lived. I started thinking about suicide a lot. Could I do it? If I was going to do it, what method would I choose? What would happen after I did it? Would my family and the friends I barely talked to mourn for me for a few weeks and then forget about me?

I can tell you now that there is no way I would have done it. This is because I do not know what happens after we die and the fear of the unknown is more than enough motivation for me to not take my own life. Many religions have beliefs on where we go after we die, but I have been skeptical of religions for a long time. Many people are blessed with a little something called faith and I simply do not have it. If I can’t see something with my own eyes, I have a very hard time believing it. 

Once I realized that I was spending way too much time thinking about the concept of suicide, I called the doctor’s office to make an appointment with a psychiatrist. The woman on the phone told me in a bored voice that the doctor was booked two months out. 

“Umm, I’m having...thoughts,” I told her. My voice broke on the last word. She instantly changed her tune and booked me an appointment for the next day. I met with a doctor and got back on antidepressants. However, the medication made me even MORE agitated at first. I took charge and went back to the doctor again. I fought him tooth and nail to change my prescription. 

“I hate people, I’m angry ALL the time. THIS IS NOT NORMAL!” I shrieked at him. 

This motherfucker actually told me that I was perfectly normal and just had a “writer’s disposition.” Umm? Ok? But I have a job and bills dude, I can’t just pack up a typewriter and move to a fucking island somewhere to write my memoirs (funny story, I’m actually in the middle of writing TWO novels now, lol). But after he made his little comment, he begrudgingly agreed to treat me as a “mood disorder” patient rather than a “depression” patient. The medicine he put me on was completely different, and guess what? It worked like a fucking charm. 

Once I found the right combination of medicine, I started to feel like myself again. I was no longer angry, shit - I didn’t have a damn care in the world. I stayed on that medication throughout my time in junior college and continued taking it when I went on to university. I lost weight (until I went off the medication while living in Japan in 2015 and gained it back double), made friends at school who I had a blast hanging out with, and finally, FINALLY accomplished my goal of graduating college and getting a job as an English teacher in Japan. 

My story doesn’t have a happy ending, because it’s still ongoing. I’m living in Japan now, been off medication for about 9 months, and am still figuring out who I am as a person. I am happy to do this without medication because although it can be a wonderful lifesaver, I feel a bit foggy when I use it. 

I learned something about myself: I am introverted to a fault. Introverted people respond more strongly to outside stimuli, such as other people’s noises, actions, etc. I used to scream at my mom whenever someone did something gross like, “Ew, that guy just spit!!” And she’d say “Well stop looking at him!” But it’s not that easy for me, like I said before - I’m too AWARE. I am far too aware of other people’s actions and they affect me more strongly than they should. So while you might not notice the person standing too close behind you in line, or the guy yakking away on his cell phone while paying the cashier, I’m over here like, “What the actual FUCK is wrong with people?!” Do not even get me started on the real issues that are happening in the world today - racism, homophobia and transphobia, police brutality, TRUMP. We will be here all. fucking. night. 

I’m starting to ramble now, so let me bring it back. As you can see, my depression/mood disorder didn’t get magically cured. Mental illness is a battle, one that you may have to fight for decades, maybe even for your entire life. But let me tell you why you should: the world needs people like us. Why? BECAUSE WE ARE WOKE AS FUCK. Let me show you a little quote that my fellow English teacher who left this world yesterday has as the cover photo on her Facebook page: “People with depression score higher on tests of realism. Intelligence is positively correlated with mental illness and suicide. What this indicates is that if the mind understands too much about reality, it wants to destroy itself. Human life is existential horror.” 

Yes, it’s a harsh quote to read. But with this realization, you are all the more equipped to help yourself survive. Let me tell you how I survive: 1. I know when things are taking a bad turn, and I know when to ask for help (aka, seeking medication, counseling, etc). 2. I have a list of things that make me happy, and when I’m sad, I do something from the list (if nothing makes you happy anymore, SEE #1!!!!). 3. When the pain of the world is too much for me, I retreat (I stop reading the news for a while and bury myself in a book or movie). Note: I am a white, cisgender, straight woman. I am aware that I have the privilege of turning my back on issues from time to time because many issues today do not directly affect me. I am LUCKY. Many people are not. This tactic does not help the world become a better place, but it helps me survive. 4. I recognize when I am in my own head too much, and I GET OUT Being in your own head too much can be a very dangerous thing. Racing thoughts can lead to depression and suicide, no question. Talking with someone else or going out and doing something with someone else will get you out of your own head. This can save your life. 5. I set goals and I accomplish them They don’t have to be huge. Maybe you have small goals on your list like - “Get out of bed and get dressed today” or “Talk with one person today.”  Maybe you have big ones like “Lose 25 pounds” or “Graduate college.” Maybe you’re like me and have a mixture of both. But I swear to you, accomplishing goals does WONDERS for your self esteem. And many of us with mental illness can use as many self esteem boosts as possible. 

I’m sorry this post was so long and I’m sorry that I don’t have all the answers. Most of all, I’m sorry if you’ve ever had to struggle with mental illness as I have. YOU. ARE. NOT. ALONE. And above all else, please, PLEASE remember: IT GETS BETTER. Maybe you’re in a bad situation and you feel that things won’t get better for you. To that I say this: it gets easier. You become stronger. You learn more about yourself - your limitations, your fears, your needs. You get better at taking care of yourself. You get better at surviving. You can do it. I swear to you, if I can, YOU can. 

[nycrollasintreatment]

Copycat

While putting away clean laundry I was listening to a lecture on suicide. The speaker started going into celebrity suicide notes. Naturally it planted a seed for me to look into this on my own. My therapy session is in less than 48 hours, and it would a good follow up to a video that triggered themes from #OutOfTheBlueIntoTheBlack. After my therapy session I went back and watched the rest of the video. After this white freshman shares that he's an ambassador at Morehouse College, you see him interacting with potential students and their families before going on a campus. Out of all the triggers in that YouTube video (including steppers) I can only define that section in particular as high grade SuiFuel.

Sometimes it's not easy to return to a writing after taking a break from it. In the process of tweeting something I somehow managed to tie it to the trailer for School Daze. With that said it's a relief to know that the focus of this is further down the timeline. It focuses more on the effect rather than the cause.

My sleep schedule can be erratic, but it has improved. Even with yoga adding structure to my day for the past three years, marijuana has a way of fucking with your circadian rhythm. #WakingUpInMelbourne was an incentive to keep off the grass.

Yesterday consisted of a far fetched goal of making it to a Sunday afternoon yoga class. In the recent past, my rule of never going out the door sleep deprived is only broken when it involves my medication. It's one thing to feel sluggish after eating. The added layer of sleep deprivation really had me feeling like shit. After lying in bed, my mind drifted further into a mental hole. Virginia Woolfe's suicide note did a pretty good job describing where my head was.

"I feel certain I am going mad again. I feel we can’t go through another of those terrible times. And I shan’t recover this time. I begin to hear voices, and I can’t concentrate. So I am doing what seems the best thing to do."

The easiest way to go about this is one line at a time. I can't help but think of the bonding experience I had with the other best men at my friend's wedding. It's easier to joke than do intense soul searching. College can best be described as an experience where I went mad. While talking to a friend on Facebook, I mentioned that I almost needed a tracheostomy. Drugs kinda played that role. The trauma had me feeling like I was holding my breath. These substances may have been bad, but they were a short term breathing solution when everything else failed. One song I played on the piano was Enya's Only Time. The distance time creates can help, but at a certain point you need to take the next step.

I'd rather take the next step of intravenous drug use than relive the horrors of the past. It's really hard to think about recovering from the mind state I was in back in 2003. #LessThanHuman will go into more details about recent experiences and my efforts in not having history repeat itself.

#InTheHeights I told this 19 year old "I may not be able to convince you that God exists, but I knew the devil existed when a voice in my head wanted me to kill someone." Even though he knew my head wasn't screwed on straight, neither of us knew it was to this extent. There's been pressure put on me since graduating, but my biggest fear is taking it a step further like the Son of Sam. He was obeying orders to kill from a barking dog. One lesson that can be learned from the .44 caliber killer is steer clear of Satanic cults.

It's a fucking dumb idea to have your therapist read about "So I am doing what seems the best thing to do." Not long after taking a trip to the G.W. bridge on my birthday, I had to make a convincing argument to be let out of the rubber rooms. Even though there's no drugs currently in my system, I don't need first responders telling me to get in the ambulance. It'll be a waste of everybody's time.

[krumpwrites]

MHAM Post #10: Alyssa

I’ve always felt really fortunate to have friends that live all over the country (and world). But over the past couple years, as I’ve struggled/coped/moved/grown/changed, I’ve been guilty of letting some longer-distance friendships slip. 

This month’s project has taught me that regardless of distance, time, or space, most people still care about you, and most friendships, thankfully, are for the long haul. 

I met Alyssa freshman year of college. I have watched her grow, change, cope, and learn so much over the period of time since then. I am so happy to see the person she has become, and I’m even happier to share her story about a portion of her journey. 

In this piece, Alyssa talks about one of her biggest triggers related to her mental health. She also shares some really important insights on medication. It’s important to remember that different things help different people. I loved Alyssa’s blunt honesty in this. If you know her at all, you can see her personality shine through her writing. 

These words are her to the T, and I’m happy to share them here:

I really don’t know how to start this out, so I am going to start with a quote that helps with my frustrations… “Telling someone with mental health issues that all they need to do is be more positive and they can make themselves happy, is like telling someone who has asthma that all they need to do is breath harder because there is plenty of air.”

I have been diagnosed with depression and anxiety, wrongly diagnosed with bi-polar, and I am currently being evaluated for PMDD. I hate being labeled. But these labels have allowed me to learn about myself on a deeper level than I think any unlabeled person has. Every day, I learn something new about myself. Whether it is a new trigger, an effective coping strategy, or that I did a great job self-managing. Even though sighing is considered rude, I’ll sigh all fucking day if it helps me not physically shake or burst into tears. And sometimes I reflect and learn I did a terrible job self-managing today and need to make some phones calls to apologize.

Every reaction has a consequence, and every person has a memory. You may feel like there is a person inside of your chest, breaking every rib, trying to get out, but reacting poorly to that sensation normally results in burnt bridges, slipping deeper into a self-loathing cycle, and becoming more recluse. Mental health issues are difficult, because self-management is pretty much an ongoing conversation with yourself. You build yourself up or you break yourself down. I’ve learned that, even with practice and self-love, the volume of that voice can either break your ears drums (cue the panic attack), or be muffed, sometimes only by an extremely annoying number of sighs and gratitude lists.

Where I am today is why I can admit that I hated myself for a very long time. I am my own worst critic, and sometimes I rip myself apart over something as stupid as an Instagram comment because, “what if they don’t realize I’m being sarcastic and I just lost a friend?” This anxious concern has always been something I’ve struggled with. When I was younger it was more along the lines of, “did I remember every single friend’s initials in my AIM profile?!” Seemingly stupid shit, but it climaxed when I was in college.

Like I said, anxiety and depression has been a part of me my whole life, but there are definitely triggers that have made it worse. For the sake of length, I am only going to touch on the biggest trigger, and how refusing to process traumatic events can be detrimental.

Before I went into my freshman year of college, I woke up to a friend physically taking advantage of me. No one believed me when I told them, and said I was being dramatic. I didn’t report anything, I didn’t stand up for myself, and I allowed that dirty, used feeling to control my decision as I kept quiet. Two more girls were hurt by him and I’m still working on not blaming myself for that. I developed so much self-hate, that sometimes I acted on that hate, and it perpetuated the vicious cycle of stress, reaction, and guilt. *If anyone out there has experienced this and does not know who to talk to, please reach out, I am here and can help you link up with a professional to meet your needs.*

From there, my mental health struggles continued to get worse because I was not loving myself. I wasn’t even attempting to. I put on dirty band-aids, like blacking out, having sex with people I didn’t care about, and staying quiet about what was going on inside of my head, instead of choosing to love myself. I had opportunities to talk, and would share sometimes with friends, but never too much because, “what if they think I’m too dramatic?”

I took what, to me, felt like the easy way out, and went to a general medicine doctor and talked about my symptoms. He diagnosed me with depression and bi-polar disorder. He put me on Lexapro and Zyprexa and HOLY FUCK did shit get even worse and worse fast. I wanted a quick fix, but that speed lane took me straight to suicide city, and those thoughts were loud and always present.

I went back two weeks later to say “I don’t think this is right, everything is worse”. All he did was increase my medication. I don’t remember much of September and October of 2015. The first week of November my friends and I had all been at a pregame at the house next door. I remember exactly what I was wearing and I remember standing there, feeling like I was just over it. I was looking at everyone’s smiling faces, listening to my friends sing, loudly shouting about which party to go to, and I didn’t feel like I was even there. I slipped out and went back to my house, smoked about 5 cigs in a row, and grabbed the two pills bottles with about 20 10mg of Lexapro and 20 5mg of Zyprexa, and just held them in my hand, eerily calm. I sat there and cried on and off until I fell asleep.

I may have suicidal thoughts, but death within itself is too final, and I am thankful I am afraid of that. When I’m in that moment though, it feels like there are two voices in my head. One saying, “fuck it, life is not really even real, I can’t even think straight with how many feelings I have right now, I just want it all to fucking stop”. And a contrasting little voice saying, “life is still here, death is so final and unknown”. These continuous reel of thoughts, paired with a waterfall of loud tears, equals an indecisive and exhausted human standing in the middle of the room stunned and unable to move until she’s exhausted herself to the point of falling asleep.

Disclaimer* I called my parents the next day, I took myself off the medication, went through withdrawal symptoms, and as a result, was kicked out of my Athletic Training major because of my lack of performance in clinic and two failed classes. Thankfully, I was able to show documentation that my doctor did not refer me to a talk therapist and had upped my medication. My major advisors informed me I would be suspended from the Athletic Training program and could come back the next Fall. Meaning, I wasn’t graduating with my friends, and had to add another year of tuition to expenses. But more importantly than that, it meant I got a second chance to manage this correctly. This was terrible news, but I could either continue hating myself, or I could choose to love myself, be fearless, and vocalize how I feel and what my thoughts are. I chose to vocalize, and graduated a year later with a double major, acceptance to graduate school, and a one-way ticket to California.  

It’s fucking annoying going to doctor after doctor, having some kook push medication down your throat like its sweet-tarts, and feel like you’re losing your personality from the medication. It hurts looking at your parents as they try to hide their fear from you, and watching your siblings be confused by your differences. It just about kills you when you make the, “it’s getting bad again” call. But at the same time, I have been lucky enough to be able to have that open conversation with my family. I had to look at my Dad within the last month and say the thoughts came back, they aren’t loud but they’re back. Seeing how that horrified and broke my Dad is why I will never let this control me completely, even if the voices are like banshees screaming in my head. I’m working on not seeing myself as selfish or sickly, but in turn, realizing that I am so fortunate to have a family that allows for open communication and has embodied a safe and loving environment full of support. Not everyone is that lucky.

If there is one thing I have learned in my journey with mental health, it is that everyone’s experience and perspective is different. Everyone’s management is going to be different. Medication didn’t work for me, but it could save someone else’s life and that’s beautiful. I struggle daily with anxiety and depression and I combat that by loving myself and setting appropriate goals for myself depending on how I feel that day. 

The biggest message I want anyone who is suffering from mental health issues to understand, is that there is nothing wrong with you and you aren’t dramatic. TALK about how you feel. What’s “wrong” with you is something that provides you with an opportunity to learn more about yourself, develop your identity, create personal coping strategies, and have an increased level of empathy. The brain is crazy my friends, it’s the only thing that has named itself in this world. Learn about your brain, your thoughts, and talk about it. I am far from having control over my labels, but I can now say I am proud of where I am and I love myself.