#but since i didnt use much pain meds before because i would be mocked for being too much of a baby its like

[moeblob]

You know, when I kept getting asked "so you didn't ever have severe pains before now?" in the hospital and I kept replying "I have a high pain tolerance" I meant it. However, there is only so much pain my tiny 4'9" body can hold... (aka I am sweating and in agony bc I'm getting told to use LESS severe pain meds so I don't rely on them too much and it is AWFUL)

[deddie-eddie]

Hypocrisy in fandom.

TW // suicide, suicide baiting, harassment

.

.

.

Yesterday, I nearly killed myself.

I was in the midst of a breakdown, I was shaking so hard I couldnt breathe, and if I wasn't I likely would have been able to open the pill bottle and I likely would have gone through with it.

I had to be talked down via phone call while I was on a camping trip with my family.

But why?

Two days ago, I did something awful. I found a "pedo struggling" account, run by an anti, who was posting screenshots of me and my friends, and called them out.

Little did I know, this would be the start of something horrible.

It started out fine. I made a couple jokes, laughed along at other proshippers in the comments, and it was all fine.

Then, the account posted a vague tweet. "They won't stop." I thought this was funny, so I poked more fun at them. Watched them squirm as they replied to my friends in shaky, broken English. I called it crytyping. I mocked them for it. I assumed I knew what I was talking about and instead of realizing that they were having a breakdown, I assumed that they were being performative and made some horrid accusations in a long callout thread about them. I posted screenshots of them as they replied with, what I thought was, performative nonsense. I privately mocked them. To summarize, I did something entirely, unarguably, factually awful. I made assumptions I had no right to make and acted on them in the worst way.

Then I went to bed.

When I woke up, I had hundreds of notifications. Spammed messages of "deactivate," "how could you do something like this," and a barrage of fancams.

It had come out that the person I was mocking was having a genuine panic attack, and that I had mocked them in a time of immense struggle and pain. I had no right to mock them in the first place, but now that it was genuine, my actions were amplified.

I finally took more than two seconds to think about what I'd done, and realized I was a huge, giant, absolutely massive asshole. I deleted the thread, released a long apology, and tried to take every comment and all my criticism in stride. I was still getting a lot of hate. That was understandable. I knew I didnt deserve to be forgiven yet. I let it be. I didnt tweet anything else for fear of it seeming like I wasnt taking this horrible situation seriously. I sincerely, honestly replied to people asking me why, how, and what I thought I was doing. They had every right to know. Still, the cries of "deactivate" rolled in. I knew I deserved them.

Then, it got worse.

I got a comment. I checked it.

"I dont usually say this but ummm... you should kys."

My heart raced. It had been a while since someone had told me to kill myself. I knew I had fucked up but I didnt realize just how hard, if people were really telling me to kill myself. But i brushed it off. It was one comment. I deserved it.

But it kept. Coming.

More people. "Deactivate," "kill yourself," "you're a freak." All day. Every minute I'd have a new notif, and every moment a new threat. "You'll be alone forever." "I hope you rot alone." I knew I had to take it because I had inadvertently sent people to harass that person. I didnt deserve to be forgiven. I still dont.

People watched my follower count drop. So did I. I lost mutuals I had interacted with for months. I lost people who said that they would always be there for me. I lost people who used to call me their best friend.

I had no one ask me for my side. No one that i was close to, anyway. None of the tens of people who told me that they cared about me, that they loved me, that theyd always be there for me. Not a single one of them was there to ask me. They all read the same callout post, and came to the same conclusion. That I was a horrible, unforgivable person. And I dont blame them for that. Sometimes I think I am too.

Then they kept going even more. More hate. More callout posts, except now people were making things up. They were lying and I couldnt do anything about it because I was in the wrong and not to be redeemed. Old friends took the sides of people who genuinely suggested that I die or kill myself, and people who said they loved me were handing over screenshots to these people in hopes that they wouldnt get thrown under the bus.

They took old things that I said and did and exaggerated them, posted old DMs out of context, and when they couldnt manipulate my words they just didnt provide evidence at all. They had that power. They had the power to lie about me and I had given it to them.

More people joined in. There was a hashtag spread of me. #staymadeddie on twitter. Look it up if you think I'm lying. People tried to get this trending.

After over a day and a half of NOTHING but constant harassment, I started to think I should take their advice. If I was dead, I'd finally be quiet, and theyd get what they wanted. If I was dead, they wouldnt yell at me anymore. They wouldnt harass me. I would be free.

They managed to make me feel like this in a day and a half.

I had a public breakdown. I screamed over the internet, phone held in shaking hands as I tried not to sob in earshot of my family. I frantically pleaded to what little I had left that they stop. I begged to know what they wanted from me. I asked if they really wanted me to die. I begged them to leave me alone. I threw my phone at my bed, ran to the med cabinet, and grabbed a bottle of pills. If I hadn't been shaking so hard, I'd have opened it. If I had opened it, I dont like to think about what I might have done. I was flooded with comments telling me to get help. Close friends begged me not to do what I wanted so badly to. They dmed me left and right, but i ignored it. I felt numb. Everything had been hurting so much that when presented with death felt almost better. Obviously that was a ludicrous thought. It was a day and a half. I was being rash. But I didnt care. I couldnt take it anymore. I'm 15, I have severe anxiety and depression. When overwhelmed, my impulsive thoughts and actions take over.

A friend called me and had to talk me down over phone call while I was camping with my family. It was successful, of course, but the rest of the day I was plagued with a deep depression that left me feeling hollow and worthless. I still cant keep my thoughts away from it. I think about all the people I've lost. All the people who, in their eyes, I'm dead to. All the people who swore they'd be with me, but when push came to shove they couldnt even spare me a glance.

My crime was harassing a minor. I made assumptions I had no right to make and publicly blasted someone for having a panic attack. In no way was that okay and in no way am I entitled to be forgiven. However, I deleted the post. I released an apology. I took criticism as best I could, without blaming my actions on anything or anyone but myself. I did what they always tell you to do when you fuck up.

But it didnt work.

I *was* genuinely sorry.

I *did* recognize my mistake

I *tried* to make amends.

I *didn't* pass blame.

I fucked up. Hard. But no matter what I did no one would stop. I lost close friends. I lost a best friend. It almost seemed like I'd made it worse.

There is no moral. Because real life isnt black and white. I did an awful thing. These people did awful things too. There is more than one victim here. In people's quest to gain justice for me harassing a minor, they harassed a minor into near suicide and laughed at it.

Dont forget that behind EVERY account there is a real person. Be they adult or child, everyone will fuck up and even though in general we need to think before we post, like I clearly didnt, it is possible to learn from our actions and one negative one doesn't define a person.

I'll say this again.

To some people, people I trusted, people who said they cared about me, i am dead. They hate my guts. I'll never be redeemed. But I'm expected to improve myself with this knowledge. I'm supposed to take all the hate and never speak about the hate coming my way for fear of trying to victimize myself.

No. Fuck you.

I AM a victim. I was harassed as much as they were, and even though I threw the first stone, I never told anyone to die. I never lied about anyone. I didnt cancel them. I learned my mistake and apologized, but I KNOW that NO ONE will EVER be expected to apologize for what they did to me.

What I did was horrible. I am not entitled to forgiveness. I will repeat that a hundred times. But to beat me down until I'm nearly dead, to call me a freak and a pedo and a disgusting person, to tell me to kill myself, then laugh when I call myself a victim, is disgusting.

I DON'T deserve this, and I'm tired of having to pretend like I do.

By all means. Criticize me. Make jokes. Be harsh. But do NOT tell me to kill myself over a lack of forethought, and then have the guts to call yourself a "protector of kids." You're not.

You're only out to protect your friends, and the people who agree with you, other people's lives be damned. I dont matter to you. And you'll never admit that you hurt me.

[queernuck]

so, last night my dad got home with dinner, was being his usual somewhat odd self, was just generally acting like the asshole he tends to be and it was just kind of business as usual. Nothing out of the ordinary, just that he tends to be, well, an asshole. and that wasnt unexpected, he gets like that a lot, and i can deal with it.

yesterday, at some point, I realized that I probably need a refill on my clonazepam script, which I cant verify without asking, who always gets really bitchy about it, who makes sure that she makes it as demeaning and awful of an experience as possible to even talk about these things. she is very good at it, as well, and knows exactly what things to say to be insulting, to be vicious, to make me feel vulnerable and awful and more than anything just makes me feel worthless. and like, this is a routine thing for her, she takes whatever opportunities she can to make me feel this way and is very open about that. i have no idea if she realizes how miserable i am, and if she did then she would likely blame me, would yell at me about not responding to TMS or claim that I ruined its efficacy by doing drugs over the course of treatment (which is...more than a bit ridiculous) or just generally looking at me with contempt

by contrast, my dad at least makes some occasional attempts at reaching out, sometimes seems to have a sense of how much pain i am in, although not really accepting it in full, not really understanding it, not getting it. and last night was just another example of him not getting it, not understanding it. he specifically said that psych meds are apparently to help me get better, are not supposed to be things that you take long-term. which, well, that is something that I might argue in certain circumstances and in fact I want to be off of my SSRI because I feel it has not been helpful, I want to change ADHD meds to one that is a stimulant so that I get actual use out of it instead of it just being...whatever the fuck Strattera IS, as an incredibly expensive drug that has no real usefulness for me, and I want to stay ON Clonazepam because it is at least SOMETIMES helpful, and in fact would like to ADD another benzodiazepine like a high dose of Ativan or a decent prescription of Xanax so that I have something for acute anxiety as well as to treat the underlying and structurally-embedded anxiety I have so much trouble with.

but that is about my own personal needs, as well as an anti-psychiatric perspective that itself flows through being relatively familiar with psychiatry and how it works, how it feels to be in psychiatric care, how psychiatry abuses people. he, on the other hand, just doesnt take the meds hes prescribed because...thats just how he is. like, he doesnt take meds for his thyroid, or B12 despite having an absolutely AWFUL memory, like a fucking ATROCIOUS memory, and has never done anything about likely having ADHD. he just does not give a shit, he just has a perspective on meds that is more than a little bit absurd, and he is proud to impose that on me, too!

and so when I was asking about my clonazepam prescription, how many I had left, kind of anxious because all of a sudden I had fixated on worrying that I maybe didnt have enough, that I maybe would run out, so on, so I asked him to make sure that I had enough for the next few days. I asked this in the evening, after dinner, because I hoped that he would be able to check for me without needing to ask my mom, who would then use it as an opportunity to chastise me or scorn me or whatever. and he was deflecting and asking why I need to know and just generally being obstinate and awful and a fucking asshole, and then he told me to just go downstairs, like as a kind of “go to your room”-esque statement.

and he got mad enough that he was banging his fucking fist on the table, which was terrifying! i was genuinely scared and I wanted to get the fuck out of there so I tried to bolt, pissed and scared and just in an awful fucking mood, and he got mad at me for that too, for storming off when he was the one who was escalating shit.

and then, after all of that, he guilts me into listening to him go on about the mistakes he’s made with me, the ways that he made mistakes more generally, all of that. he said that the biggest mistake he ever made was sending me off to college at Trinity, and like, I don’t know if he meant that in the sense of not making me go to a school that gave me money, or if he thought sending me off to college as a WHOLE is something that he never should have done, or if this or that or the other thing was like, a mistake. I genuinely have no idea. I know that he also said something about it being a mistake to have let me work on a political campaign and that the nastiness of an electoral campaign was awful and that like, I think he was implying that it was what moved me to the left and as a result bad things happened? Im not really sure on that. Im not sure him or my mother realize that like, the beginning of my own major depression, the beginning of the turn that lead to the lows I’ve had since began while I was at school and just kept on getting worse, I have no clue. I do know that they blame me for it, I know they think I just haven’t worked hard enough.

And now I’m here. I’m sad. I’m real fucking sad. I’m lonely. I feel worthless. I feel like an awful person. I also want to get right back to doing the exact sort of things that my parents think make me an awful person! like, I really want some fucking heroin or some coke right now. I really have trouble dealing with the world while im sober, i really hate being forced into sobriety through this, through my parents taking my ID, taking my paychecks, making it so that the only places I go are my workplace and home. I hate it, I fucking hate it and I am so tired of it, so fucking TIRED, that I legitimately want to off myself but am at such a low place that I can hardly even think about figuring out how to go about doing that, how to make it so that I at least can have a glimmer of hope, one last moment of “wow, I at least did some cool things” before I go so that I can feel as if I’m leaving meaningfully.

theyre keeping me relatively close to the sobriety they want but they are doing it by making my life fucking miserable, by making it so that I have to struggle, so that I am basically being hung out unsympathetically to dry. next weekend, while she visits my siblings down in DC, my mom is going to be taking part in a walk against addiction held by a foundation that has been embraced by my aunt after her son, my cousin, died of an OD after a relapse. my mom is a former nurse, and is a fucking unsympathetic person when it comes to addiction and substance abuse. she seems to have no understanding of why people resort to using drugs, she has been mocking and patronizing when talking about my own drug use, and always looks at it in the most awful terms possible. but that’s just who she is, that’s just how my dad is, all of this is where I am stuck right now.

i want to be fucking out.

[stareiiez]

You Still Didnt Know?

The Dakotas’ younger sister (reader) x Agent Maine

Abroad the Mother of Invention, the halls were quiet and the training room was occupied by York and Carolina squaring off against each other. Agent Maine was in the med bay trying to clear away another of his terrible migraines, and Washington was in the mess hall along with Florida, Wyoming, C.T and South. Everything was just about as normal this ship could get. Until music started to blast out of North Dakota’s room. Quick paced music that was almost like samba music but slower filled the hallways and flooded into the mess hall for all to hear.

Laughter and the occasional thud of something falling upon the floor were barely heard over the loud music. South Dakota sighed as her gloved hand slid through her blonde and purple hair irritatingly. How she put up with those two over the years, had her questioning her sanity every damn day.

“Every goddamn time (Y/N) drops by North’s room, they both try to make us deaf with his terrible music.” The blonde growled between clenched teeth, as her cold gaze snapped in the direction of her brother’s room.

“It’s not his fault that he found out (Y/N) loved to dance, but can’t dance good enough to save her life.” C.T snorted, just the thought of North helping his clumsy younger sister to sway her hips to the beat and crash into something, sent her laughing every time.

Everyone on the ship knew that out of the twins, you just so happened to be… the least graceful one. Fighting and squaring off in a battlefield, your movements were so well put together it looked like you were born for this lifestyle. When you weren’t saving your ass and others you were as clumsy as you could get. That’s why you had a protector or Maine for that matter. Even if he was the strongest brute there ever was, this man was putty in your hands.

This brute was the only one that didn't know of your relations to the twins, whether you looked the same or not, this man couldn’t figure it out. Even if York or Wash would flat out tell him the truth, Maine would calmly shake his head and grunt out a disbelieving sound. Hell, you even tried to tell him, but he was all the stubborn and would deny it the best he could. It was frustrating sometimes, but over time you all left it alone to let Maine figure it out eventually.

A yelp echoed by a bark of laughter filtered out of North’s room. No doubt that it was the fifth time you’ve tripped over your own two feet, and North couldn’t help but laugh. It was annoying..yet almost adorable since siblings needed to bond right? The music had still played through the same thumping beat, as Agent Maine with another container of migraine pills in hand, strode his way to your room.

He always came to desperately for a good head massage, or just laying around in bed wrapped in each other arms for a way to relieve the dulling pain. Your room was across the hall from North’s and next to South’s room, his hand raised to knock on the steel door but South beat him to it.

“Wrong room Maine, (Y/N) is in North’s this time.” If he didn’t have his helmet on the small group could see confusion written across his features. (Y/N)? In North’s room? Why?

His head tilted to see the twin’s door when a loud crash spilled his silent questions in two. Grunts and snorts had been muffled by the door as Maine’s large footsteps stopped in front of the steel door. His head tilted against the surface as if to hear anything going on on the other side.

“God Damn you North! Why did you have to go so fast when I wasn’t ready.. the least you could have been was gentle.” Your voice sounded in distress and pissed off at the same time. Were you secretly cheating on him? Or having an affair? Or both? Cloudy gray eyes could only narrow at the thought of his beloved ever doing that behind his back. You were a sweet person that took his breath away almost every day, so why do something like that now?

“I’m sorry (Y/N)!! I thought you were ready, it looked like you braced yourself for that move anyway.”

“Yeah yeah, well I wasn’t. Now hurry up before Maine gets back and sees me like this.”

The brute’s blood could only start to boil at this point. Wild accusations that you were with North of all people, and behind his back?? Some false nerve you had. These dark thoughts flew through his mind and burned away any sense of clear thinking he had. The pill container was soon crushed into nothing but bits of plastic and medicine in his bare hand. Blood pounded in his ears that drowned out any noise from his surroundings. Thank god for that or else he would have turned his anger on the group of freelancers sprawled over the lunch table, choking on the laughter they oh so desperately held back.

Without so much as knocking Maine’s foot had forcefully kicked down the metal door and stalked into the room. The sudden burst of strength to send a door crashing down, caused both you and your older brother to snap your heads over to the intruder.

His death like gaze could only land on you two, and as soon as it did his deadly expression quickly changed. You were bent in half with your legs sticking out half way of large clothes hamper that was laying on its side, with your struggling form still trapped in it. Your older brother had spun you around to quickly that your feet dizzily careened you into your stinky demise. The crash had been you and the clothes hamper toppling over onto the floor.

If it wasn’t for those damn bullets to take away his ability to talk or make any ‘human’ noise, he would have asked ‘what the hell are you two doing?’. This time Maine merely stood dumbstruck then only shook his head, in a slight sense of disappointment. Whether it was in himself or towards the two of you, it could possibly be both, who knows.

“Look, Maine, I can explain we were dancing, because dancing earns ‘agility’–” You cut yourself to stop your attempts to get yourself unstuck from the hamper, to only sigh in defeat t any ramblings die on your tongue. “As you can see it didn’t work, and it was North’s fault.” Your tone of accusation only caused North to scoff in a mock wounded tone.

“How dare my little sister to pin the blame on me. It was all your idea.”

Wait…WHAT

Maine had paused his actions to help you escape your smelly trap to whip his head around, so fast that it would have caused him whiplash. The resemblance wasn’t there, but the small little actions you did really did match either of the twins. You had one hell of a shot, just like North, and your nose would scrunch up whenever you were outright pissed. It was a trait that was none other adopted from South Dakota. There were many other characteristics he could think of, but hell it was the wrong time to analyze you all over again.

“Oh come on Maine it’s not like it’s hard to see that we’re siblings.” North raised a skeptical eyebrow, he was so sure of himself on no matter how many times Maine heard; he was sure that the brute figured it out

Maine could only shake his head sadly, in his mind right now he was kicking himself. Thickheaded and being outright ignorant to the facts makes people want to kick their own asses. Especially right now.

“Wait? You still didn’t know?” North’s voice only faltered as his gaze took in the sight of a defeated silent Maine, who would probably sulk about it later on today. He looked like a kicked puppy, and probably like a wounded one underneath his helmet. Everything seemed to start in Maine’s head quicker, and it all made god damn sense. Traits or the slightest resemblance of either twin in you just made the once ignorant agent, crawl under a rock.

By the time Maine could allow himself to come to terms with this, you had somehow miraculously pulled yourself free from the hamper. Giving the damn container a good hard kick, which spilled dirty clothes on the floor, you turned your attention to your silent boyfriend. A whine from North about how rude you were.A sigh of defeat echoed after your first one and lightly grabbed his wrist.

“ Oh sweetheart, I’ll have to explain it all again to you.

Tugging Maine out of the room, who seemed to growl out an ‘okay’, you only paused to look over at North with a menacing smirk on your face. One that had almost successfully copied any evil villains smirk, yet it wasn't dark enough to cause someone to shiver with fear.

“Next time I’m stuffing you in the hamper and kicking you out into outer space.”

With your threat left to hang in the air, you tugged your mountain of a boyfriend to your room. South’s laugh seemed to bark out, catching the gist of your threat, she had only smirked to her group.

“Pay up Wash, I told you Maine wouldn’t figure it out till he caught (Y/N) with North.”