#came to the realization that my mom probably had bpd | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

borderline-culture-is · 3 months ago

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(MAJOR CW: RAPE, ABLEISM, THE MELANIE MARTINEZ AND PUMPKIN THE GENTLEMAN SITUATIONS, SUICIDE THREATS, PSYCH WARDS) --- bpd culture is making a tony crynight discord server out of spite because nobody in the already-existing server seems to understand wtf having bpd is actually like and how to properly communicate boundaries with someone who has bpd

Context:

(disclaimer: some details may be inaccurate because I don't 100% remember what happened, and I'm trying to recall it to the best of my ability)

in the first server, I was talking about the pumpkin the gentleman situation because I was frustrated at how people were handling it(mainly through unneeded jokes about a particular video that had nothing to do with the overall situation), and at first, everyone was agreeing with me on what I said, but after I brought up the melanie martinez situation (because the same shit was happening to that situation too, mainly calling her "felony fartinez" and the ungodly amount of rape threats getting thrown around), they started to switch up on me and even started to make jokes about the ptg situation themselves just to confirm that their opinion changed.

Frustrated, I ended up leaving the server and blocking a few people that were in the server, splitting from them in the process, and I was left emotionally dysregulated for the rest of the day afterwards.

A few hours later, I unblocked one of my friends and apologized to him for what happened, and he said I was allowed to come back as long as I didn't talk about the ptg situation because everyone was uncomfortable with talking about it entirely.

Now, I know this probably sounds unreasonable, and I'm not saying he was in the wrong for this because he didn't know what happened himself, but I feel like the people in the server should've just communicated beforehand that they weren't comfortable with the discussion of the ptg situation, instead of pretending to agree up untill the mention of the melanie martinez situation, because that just sounds like they switched up on me to trigger me on purpose, so naturally, that set me off, like a lot.

So I got back on the server and started mass-blocking everyone, and then I left after that. The stress from that + some unrelated stuff that was going on sent me into a spiral that led to me threatening to kill myself (and just to clarify: when it happened I was experiencing suicidal urges, so yes, I was actually gonna go through with it). I put an end date in my bio on all of my social medias and left it at that.

Two of the people from the server tried messaging me, but because i was in a split from them, I told them to fuck off and leave me alone. This will be important later.

I'm just honestly lucky that I had an irl friend who was staying the night that day, because they saw what was going on and went to check up on me, same with my mom and sister. That, and also seeing ptg's apology video where he explained a few things and took accountability for the things he did wrong, helped me calm down and regulate to a point where I could think logically. Realizing what I just did, I decided that maybe it was time for me to get help.

So after a bit, I came back to the server and apologized for what happened, and let everyone know that I was voluntarily admitting myself to the psych ward because I realized the mental state I was in was getting worse.

Let's just say people weren't too happy about it, because they all started to chew me out, mostly through condescending comments and yelling at me over what happened. This caused me to dysregulate again, and I tried everything I could to get them to understand what I was going through, while repeatedly saying that I was sorry because I didn't want the friends I genuinely cared about to leave me (abandonment issues am I right). I brought up how I was getting admitted to the psych ward, and one of them said "great for you" in a condescending tone, just as an example of the condescension being thrown around in there. They were also telling me that I was trying to manipulate them because of the amount of times I said "i'm sorry."

one of my friends was trying to de-escalate the situation, but the people in the server kept pushing and making it worse. I eventually left the server crying, and the friends in question was comforting me the whole time, which helped me a lot.

I took some time to reflect on what happened while I was at the ward, and even after I was discharged, and after a few weeks, I realized that it wasn't entirely my fault, and in fact, it's no big surprise why I did what I did.

the people in the server manipulated me into believing that I could trust them with whatever opinion I had in mind, and then they decided to switch up on me with no warning, triggering me into an episode that led me to do something bad and out of character (because before this I haven't threatened myself since 2023), and then they blamed me for what happened, further worsening my mental state.

If that doesn't sound like reactive abuse, idk what does.

The reason why I say that is because they KNEW I had bpd, I disclosed it to everyone the same day I got diagnosed, and they all acted supportive of it, and then used that to their advantage when I was at my most vulnerable to emotional dysregulation.

Of course, I'm aware that threatening suicide isn't okay regardless, and it's triggering for some people, but at the same time, I couldn't think logically when it happened, so obviously I acted in a way that was unreasonable. I am trying to work on myself a bit more to prevent something like that from happening again, and I'm also taking mood stabilizers to help with the emotional dysregulation.

I'm just extremely frustrated at how stigmatized BPD is, because I feel like what happened was because of the stigma, and what they did just basically contributed to it, and I also feel like some of them were uneducated about bpd, which also contributed to what happened. But overall i'm still shaken from what happened, and I'd rather not be associated with that server anymore.

They did end up banning me after what happened, so in retaliation, I made my own server, which has better security measures and more strict rules regarding ableism and triggering content than the last one. A few of my friends are currently in that server, and I'm planning to publish the official link for it here on Tumblr and on youtube after I post this.

Constructive criticism on this question is welcome, because I want to know if I was in the wrong here, and if so if there are things I can do to improve myself should I be in another situation like this.

All I can say anymore is this: Niko, go fuck yourself. <3

#borderline culture is #tw ableism #cw ableism #tw suicide threats #cw suicide threats #tw psych ward #cw psych ward

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nozomi-kaizoku · 2 months ago

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10/3/2024 (decided to start putting dates on my stuff cause fuck it)

Okay, so I just got back from my manifestation hearing.

I didn't pass, they didn't determine my disability as the cause of what happened (check some of my older posts for context), but for some reason they didn't expel me.

But tbh, they might as well have, because ooh boy did they lose my fucking trust in them, and also my parents trust.

So, my mom brought in some paperwork that had the disorders that I was diagnosed with, and a majority of them are provisional. And during the hearing, they were bringing up my disorders as a possible cause of what happened.

Here's where things start to get really fucked up.

Not only did they refuse to acknowledge the provisional diagnoses, but when my mom tried to mention them to the people at the meeting, they immediately shut her down. And also, they acknowledged the trauma I had to deal with, but refused to connect that to what happened, basically their way of saying that my trauma doesn't affect me. They only acknowledged the autism and ADHD, even though neither of those disorders had any relation to what happened.

AND IT GETS WORSE.

They also mentioned a comment I made to my special education teacher during a split, and how by coincidence the new paraprofessional* had won my trust and therefore I liked her more, and it's made me realize something:

*I've now remember that Mr. Gonzales was a paraprofessional and not a teacher so I apologize for that.

That sped teacher was probably so jealous that she lost my trust and I turned towards that new paraprofessional instead of her, that she's wanting to try and get me expelled so I can "feel the same pain she did" (i'll get into that later), and that was why she agreed when everyone said that what happened wasn't because of my disability and it was because I wanted to get out of school (their words not mine).

All because she ignored me when I asked for help on an assignment about a month or two ago.

Okay, so setting aside the obvious fact that they probably violated an ADA law by flat out ignoring the diagnosed disorders I had, the fact that my school hated me this bad over ONE threat that's probably never gonna happen again, genuinely upsets me.

I don't give a fuck what their "pOLiciES" are, but you do not pretend to care about me and then throw me away when my mental health gets so bad to the point I develop homicidal ideation.

AND IT WASN'T EVEN A FLAT OUT THREAT EITHER, I literally just told my therapist "hey, I'm having homicidal thoughts and need to address it before something happens.", and because I pulled out scissors so that I could remove a potential weapon, they took it as a threat and are punishing me for trying to avoid a genuinely serious situation.

Also, what was going on in their mind when they didn't even acknowledge the provisional diagnoses when the mentions of my disabilities came up?? They KNEW I have bpd and they KNEW it affected my perception of relationships, yet for some reason they only acknowledged the autism and ADHD because they believe that my other disorders aren't real because of the provisional label (and I can't a full BPD diagnosis until I'm 18 cause of the laws where I live but that doesn't mean it's not there).

And the fact that the fucking sped teacher literally let HER emotions about me influence her fucking job as a teacher genuinely baffles me.

If a teacher lets their emotions get in the way of their job and therefore risk the wellbeing of their students, they shouldn't even BE a teacher in the first fucking place.

Honestly idk what else to say anymore...

Fuck Colorado Early Colleges, fuck Mrs. McGregor, and her dumbass kid too. They're all pieces of shit for doing this to me, and they deserve whatever happens to them. I pray for their downfall as much as I pray for Widefield's downfall.

I'm definitely showing this to my therapist next monday, and let's just say my parents aren't having me go back to that school anymore after all this.

#bpd #bpd vent #actually bpd #bpd thoughts #bpd problems #bpd stuff #bpd blog #actually borderline #actually mentally ill #vent #tw homicidal ideation #homicidal threats #homicidal ideation #actually homicidal #homicidal thoughts #fuck school #school system #nozomi vents

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the-vivicast · 5 months ago

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Had a long talk with a friend last night.

I came out the other side of it having realized that, given a lot of patterns in my behavior and a lot of previous happenings in my life, I almost definitely have BPD and that up until now I've been pretty sorely mismanaging it. I've known that I have had a tendency towards being manic and that my mom is the exact same way, so I'd be lying if I said I hadn't kind of suspected it for quite a while. This to me feels like it's a kind of confirmation that I've been looking for. It'd probably help me a lot to go and see someone about it, for coping strategies and methods by which I can hopefully better manage this weird, cyclical part of my life.

The fucked up thing is that being insane and manic and having that high energy turboflood of dopamine feels like literal crack, it's the greatest feeling and I've unknowingly been chasing it for years, without noticing the immediate pitfall that always comes after.

Anyways I hope this isn't too much of a weird departure from the lewds and dumb shit I usually reblog, its just that this is now something i've gotta contend with knowingly and I apologize if I mess up about it.

#bpd #mtf

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i-jxta · 1 year ago

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July 2, 2023 | Sunday | 12:34AM

This entry is going to be super different from the things I usually write here because it's a lot more positive than usual. Actually, it's the first positive entry I've ever written here. It's only been 8 days since my last entry but I've done a lot of thinking since then, I've faced a lot of facts. I've known for a while now, but it's a hard fact to accept. The fact that my mom emotionally abused me my entire life. I haven't fully come to understand the abuse she's put me through so I can't go into detail. I know she only loves me conditionally, if I changed my hair, got a tattoo, got a piercing, came home later than the time she expects me home, told her I was bisexual, or told her anything that contradicts the version of me she has spent so much time imagining, even before I was born she'd stop loving me. This is a good thing. The fact that I've come to understand that I experienced a weird, confusing, and abusive childhood. I haven't been able to develop at all as a person, I am merely an extension of my mother. Now, that I've realized this though I can start developing who I am without my mom's judgment. Be who I am without fearing whether mom is going to have a tantrum.

I have also become interested in attachment styles and I began researching mine, which is an anxious attachment style. I've decided I don't want to keep myself in a loop of pain and suffering. If you look back at all my entries you'll see how repetitive they are. Feeling the same thing over and over again and not doing anything about it. Maybe, I wasn't ready back then and I'm not upset at myself for not choosing to heal sooner. In fact, it was probably best I stayed in that mindset at the time to protect myself. Things are different now because I am no longer a child. I can take care of myself in better ways. With BPD, I regress into this child-like state of mind anytime I feel a negative emotion. If someone pisses me off, I either have an outburst, try to hurt their feelings, or go silent. I can't talk about the way I feel because I don't feel safe doing so, I don't have the words to explain how much pain I am in or how much you just pissed me off. I just don't want to feel that way anymore. I don't like having BPD, I want it to go away. I want to live and feel some fucking peace and joy LOL.

I heard something today that got me thinking. It was "Evidence doesn't create beliefs. Beliefs create your evidence" and basically it has to do with the subconscious mind and I can't possibly explain that in a way that'll make sense right now. But it basically means that if you believe something like "I'm ugly and unloveable" you will experience things that will confirm that you're ugly and unloveable. That's what you're telling yourself, so why would you experience the opposite? Even if you did you wouldn't notice, or you wouldn't believe it. For example, I had a deep issue with not understanding things. If I didn't understand something immediately then I must be stupid or untalented. Even if someone's intentions were not to make me feel stupid, I'd feel stupid. That is my perception and belief. I challenged myself and asked myself why? Why does me not understanding something = I am stupid? Who taught me that? Who told me that? When I was learning how to write (as a little baby child) my sister got super mad at me for not knowing how to write the letter B. I saw that frustration and anger and her and thought to myself that it was bad to not understand. If I didn't understand quick enough then people would get mad at me, I'd be stupid, I'd be a bad person.

What makes it so bad though? A willingness to understand is a willingness to learn. Some things I understand quickly and I'm a natural at. Other things take me a little more time to understand and why is that such a bad thing? I understand some things and some things I don't, but that doesn't change the fact that I am intelligent. It's so important to have some sort of compassion for yourself. I'm so incredibly hard on myself and I deserve to treat myself with kindness. That's what'd I'd want from other people, so I need to be kind to myself first. When you hate yourself, it is easy to hate everyone else as well. I've gotten mad at a couple of people for not being fast learners. Why? because I was taught that was a bad thing. I hated myself for not always being a fast learner, so I hated other people for not being fast learners. It's one less thing I have to be upset about.

God does it feel good to let SOMETHING go.

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illicitjoy · 2 years ago

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having a favorite person is hard.

dealing with bpd in my life has been difficult for me with the random mood swings, attachments and setting up “tests” for your loved ones, and then realizing what you did, and don’t get me started on the compulsive lying.

i didn’t think i had a favorite person. i was equally attached to everyone. i have finally “gotten over” my favorite person from middle school and high school, and i can never explain why he was my favorite person. my best guess was he gave me all the attention five year old me could ever want.

i was a glass child growing up, which is inevitable when you have a sibling with special needs and a blended family where you only see your step siblings a handful of times. when they were home, it was all about them. and i understood that as a child, but sometimes i just wanted to be held and told that everything would be okay in the world.

but in middle school, something switched in me, and all hell broke loose. i have a whole cookie jar (that’s what i call my problems, kinda makes me giggle) i have bipolar disorder, bpd, cpstd, chronic anxiety, intrusive ocd and failure to thrive depression. and that’s only my mental crap. i have diabetes and celiac’s disease and that’s another fun story.

in middle school was when the manic episodes decided to flick to 4WD and hit petal to the fucking medal. i was drinking and getting high anytime i could. skipping class. getting arrested. screaming at my mom. never sleeping. failing all my classes. and meeting my first boyfriend. my favorite person.

he was everything you could ever want in a perfect boyfriend. obsessive, jealous, way to high of a sex drive for a fucking middle school child. oh, and also abusive, a biastophilla (tw rape if you look it up), and would spam your phone with death threats, or suicide threats. would follow you home, break into said home, and you know, do things that a biastophilla would do. a girls dream.

and now your thinking, “girl, why would you do that to yourself?” i’ll tell you a few reasons. 1. i was manic 86% and i loved self sabotage. 2. your girl loves some good ass obsessive attention. 3. i felt like i couldn’t be alone. this was one of the lowest points of my life, and i just wanted someone to love me, and i that’s how i thought i deserved to be loved.

this went on and kinda off (he never really left me alone) for FOUR YEARS, and even a little after that. i would be terrified, block him, hide from him, have my friends protect me if he came charging. but sometimes i would get a little less sleep than usual and i would go manic, unblock him, text him something like “you grown yet?” and it was start all over again. it was a painful vicious cycle, but that’s what i deserved in my mind.

i felt like an absolute bitch when i told my girlfriend that she was not my favorite person, and she told me that she would never want to be my favorite person. that it was too obsessive and jealous, and could sometimes be scary. immediately i felt like the biggest red flag in history.

i have a friend right now that’s really struggling, and the way my girlfriend talks about them, hits a trigger. saying, “she lives six minutes away from work. how is she always late? i understand that she can’t get herself out of bed but at least get up enough to get dressed and work on time.” and “she wouldn’t be in this position if she wasn’t dating xxxx.” and i understand. i deeply and truly understand where my friend is in their life. and how hard that is. and it makes me overthink, “what if this is what she thinks of me?” “what if she thinks i’m over dramatic.” “what if she thinks i should just deal and get over it.” and it hurts me, and makes me hurt for my friend.

now you’re probably thinking “hun, who’s your new favorite person.” buckle in darlin. my favorite person is my best friend, and when i tell you i’m obsessed, it’s a fucking problem. she could tell me, “i’m in love with you, marry me.” damn looks like we’re going to the chapel, let’s go. “quit your job.” i walked out babe, what we doing now? “come to me.” bitch i don’t know how to drive but i’m flooring it in a car that i stole. now, part of it could definitely be that i need more sleep and to up my meds, but you can’t really medicate this away.

if she’s upset, boom i’m upset. she depressed, damn looks like we dying together. won’t text me back? she hates me, i should kill myself. this is the problem with favorite people. i also don’t have my own personality. she likes dark hair, i’m dying my hair. she’s a country aesthetic? yehaw mother fucker.

just know if someone you love has a favorite person, just try and be supportive because they will cut you out of their life so fast if you don’t approve. you can try talking to them, and maybe getting them some help, but just be patient. and if you can’t handle it explain it nicely. they are in a vulnerable state. their fight or flight will be triggered.

bpd is one of the hardest conditions to live with. you’re constantly fighting with yourself. you hurt. it’s so mentally and physically draining. just be patient. maybe get them a therapist, and breathe. everything will be okay, and if it’s not, you are allowed to get yourself out of a scary situation.

it’s about the other people around the person with bpd too. it’s hard to be with or be around someone with bpd, just try talking and expect an outburst. they’re just a five years old that’s terrified and wants someone to love them.

i am five years old, scared and just want to be loved. i want to be told that everything will be okay in the world, and just to breathe.

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centralsaints · 3 years ago

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mcl headcanon masterpost - lysander

my candy love: return of the king

lysander is nonbinary and uses his tall stature to play with androgyny since he’s always looked kind of feminine anyway. uses he/they pronouns, rarely she, but those days do happen where it's fem to the max.

boy is there a lot going on in this brain of his. he’s just very quiet about it. he’s prone to psychosis and delusions, particularly religious ones. Castiel or his brother usually take care of him when he’s in a delusional state. most of his poetry these days is based around those experiences of losing touch with reality.

that's mostly what affect his memory; it’s actually a side effect of the derealization/dissociation from those episodes

during his worst episode, Castiel actually came to find him after three or four missed calls; Lys was sitting in a cemetery, in the snow, and told Cas about how the angels had told him their message; that he was dead and in limbo, and had to find a way to get out before it was too late for him to reach the afterlife. Cas brought him back to his and Leigh's place and stayed over just to watch over lysander’s state.

he was raised religious; i could see his parents going to church regularly when lysander and leigh were kids, and so that stuck with him years later, sometimes in good, sometimes in bad. he got his mom’s rosary when she died.

i have a couple of songs by violett pi that really makes me think how he would sound like singing; this one, this one and this one. this one too, from mozart l’opéra rock

he’s a scorpio with a virgo rising. idk about his moon ngl.

his room is full of post-it from things he thinks about and doesn’t want to forget, so he put them on the walls to have them in sight

he had his growth spurt pretty late, and in high school, he’s still getting huge with being really tall, which means he’s always hitting his head on door frames and cabinets and stuff. so much for being graceful

all the past notebooks and journals he’s filled are put in a box and dated so he can find them later

the wings were the only tattoo he got in school, after that he waited until he graduated to start getting more. he’s gotten most of them professionally done, but he’s also experimented and given himself a couple of stick n pokes and gave up very fast. they were ugly but he made them so he loves them

he owns a few pairs of Demonia platform boots, and three pairs of docs (platform oxford shoes, black jadon max and a 14 eyelet classic). he has a pair of ugly steel-toed boots he wears to work at the farm. it’s function over fashion with those

he'd probably be self-conscious about wearing big shoes because he's already so tall, but at some point he just embraced being 6'5 in platforms.

ref post for his fashion sense

he’d grow his hair out in university (i can’t believe this is canon now omg). there were periods of time he was on the farm where he really didn't take care of his appearance and his hair got tangled and mated because it’s very fine. he had to learn how to cut his hair himself, which is part of the reason he let it grow out; he only trims it from time to time now.

his hands and feet are always. freezing cold

yeah he can sing, but he can also play multiple instruments. he kind of taught himself, and is kind of a virtuoso in that sense; he can find his way pretty quickly around a new instrument

really really loves fashion actually, all styles, and he follows a few high-end designers and would put money aside to get at least one or two designer pieces. loved alexander McQueen.

with everything i've compiled right now, i'm realizing that he reads a lot has having borderline personality disorder (probably quiet bpd subtype) (i think this fic contributed a lot to my idea of him)

he has had issues with s/h (again, based on that fic i linked)

he has unusually sharp canines and has hurt himself by accidentally biting into his own tongue. like we all do. except when he does he bleeds

like most artists, he doesn’t just have one notebook. he has like four because he starts several of them and then loses it in his room so he starts a new one but then he finds the old one and-

he loves doing life drawing, especially architecture. has taken a few life model drawing classes and will sometimes draw people he sees out in town or on the bus

he loves getting tattoos but piercings? absolutely not

reaches his final form during the winter; it’s when he can get out his prettiest coats and accessories

idk he looks like he’s iron deficient. gets up too fast and immediately ends up on the floor

also constantly hits his head everywhere dude you are 6’4 get used to it

he sleeps with at least one small light on. total darkness is a recipe for nightmares

absolutely the type to write love letters and do elaborate collages with them and give them to the person he loves. also constantly writes poetry about one person when he has a crush. also constantly write about that person when he gets dumped.

because he was alone in taking care of it, i think his parents farm was a pretty small one; a couple of chickens for the eggs, littol bunnies, maybe a goat. lots of stray cats tho. a big garden with lots of squash variety, potatoes because they’re easy to grow. a few apple trees. just enough that he could sell some of his surplus at a market, and feed himself with the rest.

he had to learn how to prepare and conserve the food he grew, so the years he spent on the farm were a very big learning experience. at first, he had help from his neighbors, who helped him learn the ins and outs, and help him with the entire thing while he was still grieving. as time went on, he became able to take care of most of it alone. he still had some time to write, especially during winter, but mostly stopped drawing, save for the few doodles in the margins of his writing. probably filled a few notebooks with lonely poetry.

#my candy love #mcl #mcl lysander #mcl headcanon

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benaffleckofcrowdsurfing · 4 years ago

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Star Treatment - 1

TBHC Alex Turner AU

cowritten with @walkingidler

description: an escort, a millionaire, a hotel that breaks the boundaries of technology, time, and space, a flashing red light, and a shit ton of cocaine.

word count: 3.5k

warnings: mentions of mental illness, light drug use, and assault. I’d rate this chapter PG-13.

THE BEGINNING

**********

“We’re just leaving now. Should only be a few minutes. Brielle is very excited to meet you.”

“Lovely. I’ll step outside and wait for her arrival.”

As Alex stepped outside, the warm Los Angeles air hit him like a swift palm to the face. He took off his blazer and waited, not quite knowing who for. He knew she was young and at least somewhat attractive, he had been quite impressed by the pictures that his friend showed him. Who knew, though. Girls in LA never looked like they did in their pictures.

In only a few moments, a black SUV pulled up to the lavish restaurant. Alex smiled politely when a small brunette girl stepped out. Wow, he thought. She’s actually more attractive than her photos.

“I presume you’re Miss Brielle,” Alex took a step toward her as she strutted up to him, and shook her hand.

“And you must be Alexander,” the girl hummed. The word ‘Alexander’ left her lips like honey, leaving goosebumps down Alex’s spine. She looked up at him with bedroom eyes, her soft green irises twinkling under the moonlight. Alex couldn’t help but stare.

“Come on, Darling. There’s a bottle of wine waiting for us at the table,” Alex muttered, still admiring the petite girl’s beauty. She smiled up at him before putting her hands around his arm and allowing him to guide her to the table.

“So,” Alex pulled out the chair for Brielle. “How old are you, Brielle. You look quite young.”

Brielle thanked him as she sat down, and when Alex returned to his side of the table, she chuckled a bit. “I’m nineteen. I’ve been doing this for almost three years now.”

“Three years? That would have made you sixteen when you started. How did you get caught up in something like this so young?” Alex poured Brielle a glass of wine.

Brielle sighed. “You’re eager, aren’t you? Usually men don’t ask me my life story until at least the third or fourth date.”

Alex’s eyes grew wide and his face flushed. “Oh- I’m sorry. I’ve never actually done anything like this before, I guess I didn’t get the ‘escort manners’ memo.”

Brielle laughed again. “No, don’t apologize. It’s refreshing to sit down and have dinner with someone who doesn’t just want to talk about their tough day at work or their failing marriage or their kids who are probably all around my age.”

“Right. I guess you’re probably used to married men. I forgot about that.”

“Do you not have a woman in your life, Alexander?”

“I’m actually on this… er - date… by recommendation of a friend to help me get over my most recent ex girlfriend.”

Brielle frowned at Alex and stuck her bottom lip out in pity. “I’m sorry, Alexander. I’m sure it was her loss. You’re a very attractive man and from what my higher-ups said, you’re quite the businessman.”

Alex chuckled. “Businessman. That’s a funny one. But - and just let me know if I’m prying, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable - you never answered my question. I want to know how you got here.”

Brielle exhaled and took a long sip of her wine before tucking her hair behind her ears and looking directly into Alex’s eyes; it was like she could see a universe behind them as they gleaned against the dim lighting. “I’m just going to say this now, Alexander. I don’t want pity. I’m a big girl and I’ve worked hard to get where I’m at, even if you may not see it as the most noble lifestyle.”

Alex nodded. “I understand, and trust me I’m never one to judge your lifestyle. I am the one who hired you, after all.”

Brielle pursed her lips into a small smile before continuing. “When I was fourteen, I was diagnosed with borderline personality disorder. I had been suffering from it for a long time before I was diagnosed, and it really took a toll on my relationships with my family. My parents were never the best people, they’re quite wealthy and are kind of your typical ��Real Housewives of Los Angeles’ assholes. My mother told me from a very young age that it was more important to be pretty and polite than yourself, and my father never really paid attention to me. So when I was diagnosed, they kind of just wanted to throw me on whatever meds would make me a zombie and would keep me out of their hair, but I wasn’t having it. I deeply understood that I was who I was because of BPD, and even if I was irrational or ‘crazy’ or whatever, that was me. So I never took my meds.”

As Brielle fell into her own little world, painting out the picture of her teenage years for Alex, he watched her. He watched how her soft lips fell when she was speaking about her parents, how her eyes creased in hesitation before going on about her mental illness, how her delicate hands acted out everything she spoke about. He listened to her voice, taking note of the way she giggled through her story and put emphasis on words like crazy and troubled. Alex usually didn’t like American accents, but there was something about hers he couldn’t get enough of. She sounded intelligent, he could tell that there was a lot going on in her brain and it made him want to hear more.

“When I was fifteen, my mom found out I wasn’t taking my meds. She was livid. She screamed at me for hours, that was one of the worst days of my life. She called me a spoiled brat and a fucking psycho and said that having me was one of the worst mistakes she ever made. That day really pushed me over the edge. I couldn’t stand living with her anymore. I told her to take me out of the trust and to never speak to me again, and I left.”

Alex furrowed his brows. “You left when you were fifteen?”

Brielle rolled her eyes. “I know, I know. I was way too young to be on my own. But I had places to go. For that first year or so I stayed with some friends downtown. It was great. I got a job at a decent restaurant, and the friends I was staying with had an in to this club so we were constantly out partying and drinking and all that jazz.”

Alex frowned even more. “You were hanging out in clubs when you were fifteen?”

“Yes, Alexander. Fifteen. I dropped acid for the first time when I was fifteen. I did coke for the first time when I was fifteen. I had sex for the first time when I was fifteen. I was a bad kid.”

“I didn’t call you a bad kid, I just wanted to clarify.”

“Sure you did, Alexander.”

“I mean it.”

“I’m sure you do.”

“Brielle, would you please just continue your story?”

Brielle shot Alex a dirty look before continuing. “One day, I was in the club, and a man came up to me. He told me he liked how I danced. I was like ‘okay?’ And then he told me he’d pay for me to sit with him and keep him company. At first I was like, ‘no, what the fuck?’ because I was a kid and I didn’t realize what he was asking, but I guess one of the guys we knew who ran the club saw and pulled me aside and explained it to me. He told me that if I wanted to pursue that, he could take care of the business side of everything, and promised to keep me safe. At that point I already had no morals for myself so I was just kind of like, ‘fuck it’, you know? Fast forward three years, and I’m still saying fuck it.”

Alex repeated the words to himself. “Fuck it.”

Brielle bit her bottom lip and raised her glass. “To saying fuck it.”

Alex grinned and put his glass to hers. “To saying fuck it.”

They both laughed after drinking their wine, and a waiter came up to them. “What can I get for you two?”

Brielle looked down at the menu and hummed softly. “I’d love the salmon, please.”

Alex handed the waiter his menu. “I’ll do the filet mignon.”

After the waiter refilled both of their water glasses and walked away, Alex looked back over to Brielle.

“I must say, Brielle. I’m absolutely enthralled by you.”

Brielle smirked. “As I am by you.”

Alex cocked an eyebrow. “How so?”

“Well,” Brielle took another sip of her wine. “You’re a lot younger than most of the other men I see. You’re unmarried, extremely wealthy, have a sexy accent, and are insanely attractive. I can’t quite figure out why you decided to hire an escort.”

Alex bit his lip. “So you think I’ve got a sexy accent?”

“You’re missing the point.”

“Well, maybe I just wanted to be seen out with an attractive young lass.”

Before Brielle could respond, the waiter returned with their meals.

Brielle let out an excited gasp at the sight of her dinner, making Alex giggle. “That’s a mighty fine lookin’ fish you’ve got there, darling.”

Brielle picked up her fork in a hurry, and let out a little moan as she took her first bite. “Oh my god, this is insane.”

Alex’s eyes grew darker at the sound of her little noises of delight. This girl was driving him absolutely mad, just watching her lips curl around her fork and smile into the salmon was getting him hot and bothered.

Brielle looked up from her meal and scoffed at Alex. “Are you gonna eat your steak or are you just gonna sit there and drool over me?”

“Wow, Brielle. I would’ve thought a girl getting paid to have dinner with me would be a bit less blunt,” Alex chuckled.

“Jeez, sorry that I’m comfortable enough with you to not be perfect,” Brielle blew a raspberry at the man across the table, and then smiled and stuck her fork out to him. “Would you like a taste?”

Alex cleared his throat in order to keep his composure. “I’d love some.”

Brielle stuck her tongue out slightly as she moved the fork toward Alex, and as Alex took the salmon into his mouth, she averted her gaze from the fork to his eyes. He was looking directly at her, so their eye contact was immediate. Both their eyes were dark, the heat of the moment building up between them. Alex had no idea that such a small gesture could get him going so quickly, and Brielle had no idea that she could feel the things she was feeling for a client. As the two of them backed away from each other and leaned back into their seats, they held eye contact.

“That’s absolutely heavenly. I should’ve gotten that instead of the steak,” Alex raved.

“I’m sure your steak is quite good as well, it looks fantastic.”

Alex lowered his voice a bit. If she was going to be bold, so was he. “Well open up then, have a taste.”

Brielle blushed a bit, the apples of her cheeks lifting when the corners of her lips curled into a grin. She leaned forward, resuming her eye contact with Alex as she took the steak into her mouth. She let out a few moans of delight as she sat back in her seat, nodding as she chewed. Alex bit his lip in satisfaction. He’d hand feed her bites of his meal all night if it meant he’d get to hear those noises.

“Holy shit, that’s a really good cut of meat.” Brielle mumbled. Her mouth was still full, and Alex laughed at her poor table manners.

The eccentric couple sat and finished their main courses, making small talk and getting to know each other better. At one point they talked about their favorite films, having a rather riveting conversation about one particular French film, Le Cercel Rouge. Alex practically proposed to Brielle when she had mentioned the movie, it was one of his favorites and he loved a girl who knew French cinema. They also talked about Alex’s two Akitas, Vesta and Vulcan. Brielle gushed over the pictures he showed her of them, she loved dogs and begged Alex to meet them (to which Alex replied something along the lines of “that can be arranged”).

“Alexander,” Brielle purred.

They were eating dessert now. Alex had ordered a rather decadent chocolate mousse, and Brielle went for banana parfait.

“Please, Brielle. Call me Alex.”

Brielle simpered. “Alright, Alex. You asked me how I got here, but how did you get here?”

Alex frowned. “I already told you. A friend of mine recommended I see someone to take my mind off of my ex.”

“No, silly. Not here, here. How’d you end up in LA? Where did your wealth come from? What do you do for a living?” Brielle pointed her spoon at Alex to emphasize what she was saying.

“Well, alright. I’ve lived in the states officially for ten years now, but before that I visited quite often. I grew up in a little town in the UK called Sheffield, but my uncle owned a hotel here in Los Angeles and I often came to visit.”

“Oh, that’s really cool! Which hotel does he own?”

“Well, actually I own it now. It’s the Tranquility Base.”

Brielle’s eyes widened. “You own that thing?” The Tranquility Base Hotel and Casino was a massive building in the heart of Beverly Hills, and just so happened to be one of the most prestigious residencies in California. It was quite elusive. People were rarely seen going in and out, however it was widely known that this was where the most rich and famous stayed.

“Yes ma’am.”

“So, I’m assuming that’s where your fortune came from?”

“Well, partially. My uncle left me a lot of money, plus the hotel, but I also, um,” Alex paused to find his words. How could he say this without exposing himself? “I’m an entrepreneur.”

Brielle narrowed her eyes at Alex’s last statement. “So you’re a drug dealer?”

Alex’s eyes grew wide. “How did you-“

“Alexan- er, Alex, I’ve been escorting for three years. I know that ‘entrepreneur’ is code for ‘I’m a drug lord’. It’s nothing to be secretive about. I’m trustworthy.” Brielle leaned back in her seat with a sort of cocky look on her face.

“Okay, yes. I’m involved in… that sort of thing. Another gift from my uncle. High standing in one of the most elite drug rings in the country. Both a blessing and a curse, but it is what it is.” Alex let out a breathy laugh and reached into his pocket, pulling out a small bag full of a white powder. “Want some?”

Brielle’s face contorted into a Cheshire Cat smile. “You know, usually I’d decline. I may be dumb but I’m not dumb enough to take anything from a stranger. But I’m feeling lucky tonight, Alex. I trust you.”

“Off to the bathroom we go, then.”

***********

It was only two more days until Alex arranged another dinner date with Brielle, and a few days after that he called upon her for a quick dog walk with Vesta and Vulcan. Alex didn’t stop thinking about her for days. He thought about her in the shower, while he was working, during meetings, he dreamed about her, he had even asked his driver to follow her around one evening to see what she got up to in her free time. She was driving him mad, making him sick. He wanted her - no, he craved her, and at this point he’d pay her every night if it meant he got to spend time with her. She may have been some dirty fantasy of his at first, but in only a month he felt that he had strong feelings for Brielle.

Luckily for Alex, she thought similarly. Every time her “boss”, Enzo, told her that she’d be accompanying Mister Turner, her eyes lit up. As much as she hated that she liked someone as old as Alex, she was fascinated by him. Brielle had even gone to the extent of asking Enzo for his number, so she could see him outside of work, but that hadn’t gone well.

“Bri, you know the deal. No seeing clients outside of work.”

Enzo and Brielle stood against the club’s back wall, looking out over the sea of people.

Brielle scoffed after him and took a drag from the blunt the two of them were sharing. “Enzo, please. I’m not going to go behind your back and ask him for more money or anything. I just want to be able to see him outside of work.”

The tall man looked down at Brielle as if she had lost her mind. “Bitch, that’s the problem. You start fucking your clients for free and I’ve lost all my credibility. People will clown us, and I can’t let you cost me clients.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Enzo. You’re absolutely impossible. I’ll just ask him for it the next time I see him,” she whisper-shouted and began to walk away. Enzo chuckled before grabbing Brielle by the hair, slamming her against the wall and gripping her arm violently to keep her in place. She looked up at him with a spiteful look, “What gives, Enzo? Can you let me fucking go?”

“You’re forgetting something, Bri. I own you. You’re caught up with me, and there’s no getting out of it. You knew that the moment you started doing business with me.” Enzo bent down so his face was level with hers. He kissed her cheek before letting her go and taking the blunt from her hands. “You’ve got a date with Mister Turner tomorrow night. I’ll be watching you closely. Don’t do anything fucking stupid.”

Brielle nodded her head in compliance, and when he shoved her away, she stormed outside and kicked off her shoes. “I can’t fucking believe him. I cannot fucking believe him. I’m going to fucking kill him. I fucking- I can’t fucking- I-,” Brielle cried. She was warm to the touch, the tears streaming down her face seemed to be sizzling against her hot cheeks. She couldn’t do anything but sit on the sidewalk and cry, she had no one to call or talk to help her calm down.

“Need a cigarette, Love?”

A familiar voice reached from behind her.

“Hey, Alex.”

Brielle sniffled and wiped the tears off of her cheeks before turning around to greet him. Maybe In a different situation she would asked him why are you here, but she was just thankful to have someone there for her - no questions asked.

Alex sat next to her on the curb, and pulled a carton of Marlboros and a lighter out of his coat pocket. He pulled two cigarettes out of the pack, and handed one to her. “What’s going on, Brielle?”

“Just work troubles,” Brielle shrugged. She thanked Alex after he lit the cigarette for her, and laid back on the concrete to take her first drag.

Alex ran his hand over her small arm, a dark bruise was forming from where Enzo had held her against the wall. His voice got quiet. “I can see that.”

Brielle panicked and ripped her arm away from Alex’s soft touch. “Please don’t say anything about this to anyone. Enzo and I just had a bit of an argument. I’m okay.”

“Brielle, I know how Enzo is. If you’re in trouble you can tell me, I’m here for you.” Alex’s voice was low and soft, he seemed genuinely concerned and it made Brielle’s eyes well up once again.

“I can’t escape, Alex. You know how people like that are. If I ever go against his word he’ll kill me,” she mumbled. When Alex put his arm around her and pulled her closer, she burst into tears. “I want out so badly.”

Alex sighed and kissed the top of her head, his beard tickling her forehead. They sat there for a moment, just waiting for Brielle to calm down a bit, before Alex stood up.

“Come home with me, Brielle. Please. You need someone to keep you company.”

Brielle furrowed her brows and stood up to be more level with Alex. “I can’t.”

“Why not?” Alex stepped closer to her, and Brielle quickly stepped away.

“I just…can’t.” She began to tear up again. As much as she did want to go with Alex, she was terrified of what Enzo would do. “Trust me, I’d love to be with you. I really would.”

Alex looked confused, but he let it go nonetheless. He was sure she had a valid reason. “At least let me drive you home. Please.”

Brielle smiled weakly and nodded her head. “Okay.”

Alex put an arm around Brielle and guided her to his towncar. He opened the door for her, and cleared his throat as the two of them slipped in.

“Brielle, this is my driver, Nick O’Malley. Nick, Brielle Roux.”

Brielle said a quick hello to Nick, who didn’t say anything, but rather nodded at her. The drive home was quiet, it mostly consisted of Brielle sniffling away her tears and telling Nick how to get to her apartment, and Alex comfortingly rubbing Brielle’s thigh.

“Here we are,” Brielle muttered as they rolled up to her apartment. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Alex.”

She planted a kiss on Alex’s cheek before slipping out of the car.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Love.”

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loseyoutoloveme · 4 years ago

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will you do a song by song review for life support? i really liked the ones for sweetener and thank you next!

oh absolutely, i’d love to! thank you for asking and being interested 🖤 all thoughts below.

the beginning:

this was such a great way to open this album, it’s so cinematic and really sets the mood so perfectly. one of my fav instrumental intros i’ve ever heard.

9/10

good in goodbye: “you put the over in lover, put the ex in next.”

the lyrics are so wonderfully corny and i’ll love this song forever, like the chorus is literally just so fun to sing along to.

i do think it feels a little... shallow compared to the rest of the album, and the album being released so long after this song came out makes it feel disconnected from the rest. but i love it so i don’t care.

7.5/10

default: “i know, i know this must be coming for me, i swear, i swear i will be the end of me, the end of me.”

this song is just sooo...... OUCH!

i’m obsessed with the way the chorus just SOUNDS like an emotional spiral, like her life falling apart, like falling into a deep depression, and then the outro builds like destructive racing thoughts.

also i never noticed the wave crashing and the bubbles at the very beginning until really recently, and i love that little touch. the whole song feels so underwater. cloudy and fuzzy. it does a good job of depicting certain symptoms of various mental illnesses.

8.5/10

follow the white rabbit: “is it haunting, baby, that i’m wanting, baby, that i’m wanting, wanting you?”

i actually was fully not expecting to like this that much based off the snippets she’d shared, but omg this left me WEAAAAK on first listen, which was the best surprise

there are definitely so many layers to these lyrics too, despite it being just a bombastic sexy toxic love song on its surface, particularly when thinking about the album as a commentary on mental illness, and some of the breakup/love songs as metaphors rather than straightforward love songs. definitely about infatuation and toxicity and perhaps knowingly entering a bad relationship as a bad coping mechanism, a way to avoid dealing with your pain or (as we see in effortlessly) a way to just feel anything at all.

9/10

effortlessly: “i hold my breath to breathe, hurt me so i feel, used to do these things so effortlessly somehow.”

oh god this song is just a punch in the stomach

i ALSO didn’t really expect to love this one based on snippets but the lyrics are just devastating and perfect and i hope speak to anybody who has struggled with self-harm and medication.

i don’t even have thoughts on this song, it just makes me go jsn*@(#nkdasdnkasd7*@U#j2k3n

love that this is such a fan favourite. it deserves!

10/10

stay numb and carry on: “truth is it was never love, your fault if you thought it was.”

the reverse “i’ve become emotionless” at the beginning >>>

also love the “i was gin and you were toxic . . . wish we’d just stayed plaTONIC” like a platonic relationship would be the opposite of toxic. it’s such fun wordplay.

also “i don’t feel like anyone” makes me emo, she really just slid the most simple but heartbreaking lines in everywhere and you don’t notice them until they hit you out of nowhere one day and you’re like ...OH

AND THE WAY HER VOICE STARTS TO GO MONOTONE AT “i’ve become emotionless”

in conclusion, madison beer is a vessel for god

10/10

blue: “you could be as sweet as honey but i knew the darkness in your mind.”

this is my least favourite on the album but it’s still fantastic

the lana influence is clear without being too copycat, like it’s still SO madison. sorta like lana’s video games modernized and adapted into something truer to madison’s vibe.

love love love the whole outro

glad that this wasn’t a single like it was planned to be

7/10

interlude: “would you do that shit for me too?”

VOCODER RIGHTS

this album in general is just not really for people who don’t like vocoders and lots of technical effects. i looove that she leaned into it so hard bc it’s so HER.

this song also has so much depth for an interlude, relaying the experience of feeling SO hard about people, and realizing like you’re putting in way more than you’re getting back.

the post-chorus is like... 🤩🌌💫☄️🌠

7.5/10

homesick: “these humans speak my language, still don’t understand it.”

THIS SONG...... IS MY BABY......

oh god it just breaks my heart on every listen. the image in my head is of a little girl talking to the stars.

and why does the line about her mom and dad make me wanna cry every time? i have no idea.

I BELONG IN SPACE...... FLOATING WITH DEBRIS.......

i’m sure she’s not the first person to ever use this metaphor for mental illness, expressing the alienation of mental illness (especially one as stigmatized and misunderstood as bpd) by talking about LITERAL aliens sdkjfsdfksd, but she does it SOOOOO well and sincerely that it feels like it’s uniquely hers.

the rick & morty sample is so funny and so weird and so madison. i will probably never watch an episode of that show in my life.

10000000000/10 this song is the loml

selfish: “shouldn’t love you but i couldn’t help it, had a feeling that you never felt it.”

my absolute favourite of all of the singles, noooo question about it. it’s a perfect, perfect, perfect song.

two years, alone on new years’, nightclubs, gemini... women writing lyrics with very specific details about the shitty men that the song is about... it’s everything to me.

this song will just NEVER age. every time i listen to it, it’s like the first time all over again.

10/10

sour times: “don’t know what song of mine you heard that made you think i’d want to spend the night with you.”

home with you’s big sister<3

not the strongest lyrics, but the concept and production are more than strong enough to carry the song.

she came on this bitch mad as hell

also love that this have been another fan favourite, seemingly??

men gross

9/10

boyshit: “don’t know how to talk or communicate, we’re so on and off, to you it’s a game.”

it took me awhile to get into this when it was a single ngl, probably because it came out the same night as evermore sjdknfsfnkjsd, but once i got into it, it became the best song ever

she’s soooo reliable with her “men ain’t shit” songs ugh

8.5/10

baby: “i’m a handful but that’s what hands are for.”

when this came out as a single it was the only thing i listened to for a solid week and a half. just an excellent song. the chorus is evvverrryttthhhiiinnnnggg.

WHAT IS IT SO CATCHY FOR?

9.5/10

stained glass: “my life’s a still fading memory of what i can’t have, and everything ’round me is starting to fade into black, but black and white is so much better, i’m learning how to hide my colours.”

i’m so surprised by how much non-stans seem to love this omg, it’s never been a fav of mine, as much as i still love it

but i’m obsessed with how different and distinctly madison it is

also this is a much more genuine take on the “pls stop being mean to me just bc i’m famous / you don’t know what people are going through” type of song than most of the others i’ve ever heard. her pain is evident, and the soft “i just might break” is just..... </3

the glass breaking and little scream are so good

she loves a good metaphor and so do i!

7.5/10

emotional bruises: “how do i word this? was about to write you this letter, but it was just curses in cursive, you probably deserve it.”

this was definitely my most anticipated song along with everything happens for a reason, like i listened to the snippet on repeat CONSTANTLY lmao. and the full song definitely lived up.

the scribbling sound is so fun, i love her obsession with little real-life sound effects

10/10

everything happens for a reason: “i still can’t find a reason you’d wanna hurt me so bad.”

THIS SONG IS VERY MUCH EVERYTHING

again, this was for sure one of my most anticipated songs and just kjsadsdkajsm god i love love love it

i think she posted a video one time of the song over a clip of the mermaids from peter pan and it was so pretty and i still picture that video when i hear this song. it’s just soooooo hazy and dreamy and retro and perfect.

also the song on the album where she got to show off her vocals the most. she found her niche with this song, truly.

100/10

channel surfing/the end: “YOU’REBADFORMYHEALTHISHOULDPROLLYKEPTSOMEHELPICANTCONTROLMYSELFIMADDICTEDOTHEHELL”

oh my god i was FLOOOOOORED at the dear society clip. dear society was and is one of my FAVOURITE songs, and i appreciate her reasoning for not including it on the album (just wanting some space for a new song instead of one we’d already had for so long), but it did hurt a lil. i was so happy she found a little way to include it :’) rip to hurts like hell tho since she didn’t get the same treatment sjdnksd.

the channel surfing is also just such a fun concept for an outro.

and her laughing with her producers at the end followed by such a sweet calming tropical instrumental...... oooo it’s so nice, it feels like the calm after the storm.

10/10

overall, this album was just SO worth the wait, it’s so fantastic, it’s the loml, one of my favourite albums ever. i LOVE that it’s helped anyone with BPD feel seen and understood, and as someone who doesn’t have bpd but has a couple of loved ones who do, the emotions she expressed in these lyrics have helped me to understand this disorder more too. just such a special album.

most of the criticism i’ve seen of the album has been that it’s overproduced, and that’s definitely criticism that i understand, bc it IS heavy on the technical side and some people just don’t like very heavy production, buuuut... some people do! i do! madison does! and heavy production does not automatically make an album bad. this type of production isn’t something that i expect her to move away from, because it’s clearly her thing, and maybe that just means her place in the industry will be more with the heavy heavy pop fans and maybe even in more hyperpop circles. i also think it’s SUPPOSED to be overproduced; it’s supposed to be a mess of emotions and sometimes a little chaotic. she executed it very well.

i hope by the time her next album is out, people will stop comparing her to like every single artist out there. some reviewers seem determined to pigeonhole her and compare her to every female artist under the sun, which feels like an absolute disservice to me. she is influenced by many different people and they comes out in her music, as it does any artist’s because everybody has their inspirations, but her sound is VERY much her own. as someone who has liked her for years, i can absolutely feel her essence in each song and nobody else’s.

a 10/10 album and such an amazing, promising debut<3

#madison beer #life support #answered #lofihoneymoon

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couriersiccs · 4 years ago

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i finally got diagnosed with ADHD.

it has taken. twenty-five and a half YEARS of my life to understand and achieve.

it was never noticed growing up because no one knew what the fuck ADHD even WAS. it was a little boy who couldn’t sit still and that’s like IT that’s all anyone knew.

it wasn’t me having a stutter because, quoting my mom, “my brain goes too fast for my mouth to keep up.” (that is LITERALLY ADHD.) it wasn’t me being, quoting my dad, “silly-dally Sally” in the morning, getting distracted and taking forever to get ready on time for school. it wasn’t me in 2nd grade loudly saying “i already KNOW THIS” and falling asleep in class. it wasn’t my theater director WATCHING ME SPACE OUT while she talked to me. it wasn’t me lashing out against kids who bullied or teased me. it wasn’t me being the kid that everyone only knew as “quiet” and “nice” and “weird.”

i got good grades, and i had a couple friends, was “conscientious” and a “pleasure to have in class.”

but i didn’t get good grades through conventional methods. i found other ways. i figured out how much homework i needed to do to pass and did ONLY that much. i figured out how to write well, mostly because i loved writing, so i could make an essay SOUND nice even if it was 100% bullshit. i didn’t study - i NEVER fuckin studied. my notes were incomprehensible and usually incomplete. instead, i figured out how teachers wrote the quizzes and tests. i wrote what i thought THEY thought was the right answer. figured out how often they hid answers in previous questions. how they framed the correct multiple choice answer within the wrong ones. memorized facts, didn’t necessarily understand them. didn’t necessarily learn what they were teaching. i relied heavily on hard deadlines for the pressure as motivation, and usually turned shit in late, but not too late too often.

so because “nothing was wrong with me” my mom had certain expectations. and no matter what i did, i couldn’t live up to them. they always felt out of reach. part of me wonders, if i didn’t have ADHD, maybe i could’ve. but she was also an emotionally abusive alcoholic with undiagnosed BPD, so probably not. but still.

so then her fear-based, controlling authoritative parenting style, excessive criticism, and repetitive reminders of what i wasn’t accomplishing for reasons that were beyond me but still definitely my fault, and i GUESS plus being raised a repressed catholic, came the guilt, the depression, the anxiety. which, fueled by ADHD, became negative, shaming, cyclical rumination, which became intense self-loathing and hopelessness that went on for years. and YEARS.

my relationships suffered. my creativity suffered. i suffered, tremendously, and i didn’t even know why. just that i was hurting and the only culprit was myself.

and then i moved out at 19 and realized my mom had abused me. and then i fully accepted that i was gay. and then i had friends who really, truly supported and loved me, watched them grow. i had a teacher who showed me how his life and his work changed dramatically after addressing his mental health as an adult. and i decided that, if i was going to survive, i would need to do the same.

i’m going to start medication after next month’s appt and i’m so excited that it might help and so scared that it won’t because it just seems too good to be true, that everything that’s hindered me thus far will start to fall away and i’ll be able to live the life i want to live. i’m working with my therapist on the trauma front and i’m hoping to pick up new, healthy habits along the way, but it’s terrifying to imagine a future where it all works out and i’m happy and thriving because i’m still just worried it won’t happen because what if it IS just me, maybe it really IS ME, this is how i’ll ALWAYS be, and there’s NOTHING i can do to change that.

and then i hug my dog and breathe and then continue to take it one day at a time. i wanna get better by bleachers plays from the other room. i take a nap and schedule time to write fanfiction and take care of myself in the ways i wish i’d been taken care of before, but i wasn’t, so it has to be done now, and i’m the only one who can do that.

#.txt #under the readmore is just. Thots on My Life Thus Fuckin Far #i usually put this kinda post on my private mental health blog #but if anyone is or has been where i'm at i hope it makes you feel less alone

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split-reality · 3 years ago

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who am i?

26 / f / jane

i don’t know how to introduce myself. i don’t even know how to run a blog. i’m currently on my first few days of wellbutrin. truthfully, this blog is probably a symptom of the resulting mania.

i have an entire pharmacy in my room with meds i’m apparently supposed to dispose of. who can relate? my mom taught me not to throw anything away. she struggled with hoarding. we all struggled with it. she passed away from covid.

other than the hoarding and childhood trauma, my mother was an amazing person. i am not being sarcastic when i say that either. i don’t know if i had it easy compared to my four older siblings, or if my childhood coping strategies of daydreaming, escapism, detachment, and splitting, preserved my loving feelings for her. but i love her. i always will.

side note: who knew daydreaming was so dangerous? is daydreaming as a coping mechanism (split worlds) the root of splitting itself? daydreaming, if used as a way to cope, can cause idealization. daydreaming is also a primitive form of childhood play and spontaneity. the difference is that children who are just playing know how to return to their safe (just as “good”) world. what if play (spontaneity) in children is severely criticized and punished? the child then begins daydreaming excessively to the point of idealization and creates a safe “reality” in their mind where they get their needs met by idealizing love, attention, and affection from the people in their life. they then have an image of the “good” mom that is available with endless love and affection whenever they want it. their core being (spontaneous self) in the unsafe world (actual reality), is locked away to protect the underdeveloped child from conflicting feelings they cannot yet process. the split world divide causes the child to become more withdrawn, antisocial, and detached from their reality. the child might hallucinate or see things that aren’t there which explains lingering symptoms of psychosis in some adults with bpd. over time, when the child begins to understand what a core identity is (adolescence), they realize it is underdeveloped and no longer serves them. they try to resolve their core identity through spontaneous acts that mimic childhood play in order to work out this internal-external conflict. these activities (coping strategies) usually engage all the senses and the physiological result is strong enough to temporarily “snap out” of the split worlds they created. these activities can include sex, substances, and thrilling seeking. the question is, where does the child’s core identity go? is it locked away for safekeeping? does the child have an underdeveloped core identity that is put on pause? what prevents it from developing? would play therapy help adults with borderline personality disorder develop spontaneity?

growing up, i did not have a close connection with my mother. the youngest of five siblings, my mom was too exhausted to pay much attention to me. the attention she gave me was very surface level. i learned quickly that acting out would get me noticed. any recognition was better than none at all.

before my mom passed, i pressed her for details of “that time when” and laughed at my failed attempts of evoking love from her. she told me about the times i would cry because none of my siblings wanted to play with me. being the youngest, i just couldn’t understand the games that they played. all i could understand was that they wouldn’t. play. with. me. i would run over to the towers that they built out of wooden blocks, say “fuck this shit!” and kick them down. i was a shit kid. this is how my futile attempts at love made me the scapegoat in my family.

and i was good at it. i became the outlier. the hyperactive child who just will. not. stop. i became the outsider compulsively looking for a way back in.

my mom often told me stories of my odd and downright disturbing behavior.

there is one that stands out in particular. i was three years old. she said my eyes were as big and shiny as cherries when i looked at her and said, “mom, jane isn’t going to take this fork and stab herself in the eyes and twist to pluck them out. jane isn’t going to.”

my frightened mother hugged me and said, “jane, why are you acting like this?” i then looked at her and said, “i’m not going to!” and started crying. most parents would take their kids to the nearest psychiatrist, but as a child of immigrant parents, my mental health was a figment of the imagination. a myth. a fake illness they use to lock you up and pump you with prescriptions. 22 years later, i was locked up anyway, my pupils big and glossy like cherries. this time from lexapro.

my mom told me of another time when she came home from school, too tired and hungry to play with me. she said i took a big ass potato from the kitchen. this potato was not just any potato. it was as long as an iphone 12 pro max. and i said, “i’m going to throw this potato and hit you!” she asked me why. perfectly reasonable question. i looked up at her and said, “because no one loves me, mama.”

i asked my mom if my dad ever dropped me. perfectly reasonable question given the circumstances. she said he didn’t drop me, but he did lose me once.

my mom claimed she loved and cared for everyone the same. i believe that was precisely the problem. she did not recognize our core being, our individualism. i don’t blame her. we were living in a bad neighborhood where, as a child, i would play and find needles on the ground. her hard work allowed us to get out of there. how could i find fault in that?

side note: some might say that i’m making excuses for my mom. to be completely honest, i’m not sure if that’s the case. sometimes i wonder if i’m not fully processing my childhood anger and hurt lurking underneath. if it’s so deep, i can’t even reach it. more on that later.

there are so many stories regarding my childhood antisocial, attention-seeking behavior but i just don’t have the energy to share. the only one that worth sharing is when i pretended to be mute for six months in preschool.

my mom was called in for an appointment at the school. the teacher said, “what are you thinking? you wanted to fool us into thinking your child is normal? she has not spoken for six months!” baffled, my mom turned to me and said, “jane, why are you not talking?!” i said, “because i didn’t want to talk to them, mama.” my mom said the teachers turned pale. before then, not one peep had come out of me.

- jane (shit adult)

note: i know that there are few 26-year-olds named jane, okay? i get it. i couldn’t come up with a name. black and white thinking prevents me from making decisions for myself. no grey area results in a fear of failure and perfectionism to avoid it.

another note: sorry to all the janes out there. i know you all still exist, but to be frankly honest, i don’t even know a jane. the name reminds me of morgue scenes from Law & Order SVU.

maybe i’ll call myself olivia.

#borderlinepersonalitydisorder #bpd #splitting #borderline #diagnosed #undiagnosed #mentalhealth #wellbutrin #lexapro

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anxietycalling · 4 years ago

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how i spent my summer vacation

Or, where the fuck have I been these literal years? (I can’t believe it’s been years.)

I feel like I need to, at some point, talk about everything that happened between now and the point where I dropped off the face of the earth. And, like, actually talk, not that thing I do where I make a joke out of everything. So... I’m doing this up front, so if anyone actually still follows my shitshow of a life, you know what you’re getting yourself into before it’s too late.

Okay. Where to start.

Um, obviously, after the 2016 election I gtfo’d the US. Because I couldn’t legally work in the US at that point, I had pretty much no savings and no money because every dollar I did get went to supporting me and Dash because of the absolute nightmare that happened there. I’m not... mad at her anymore, not quite - I recognize that a lot of actions on both sides were the result of severe, untreated trauma and mental illness, so it’s hard to look at either of us and say that someone was the villain there. It’s hard to recognize when you’re in survival mode that your actions are self-destructive. But, anyway, because of that, I had no choice other than to move in with my parents. Which many of you are aware is not the healthiest choice for me mentally or physically.

And, again, it’s not that my parents are bad people. They’re good people who are trying their best, but there are two factors that lead to me living with them being a terrible idea. 1) My mother has a lot of unprocessed intergenerational trauma due to mental illness that she is still dealing with, and 2) Neither of my parents have ever lived in an urban center, which lends itself to a specific mindset when it comes to dealing with mental illness and LGBTQ+ issues. Which is to say, it’s hard to have a regular dating or sex life when everyone knows your business while your parents are simultaneously trying to pretend you don’t have genitals that they’re uncomfortable with. Also, I didn’t have my license at the time because I let it expire before getting my permanent one, so I was pretty much at the mercy of whoever could drive me places. (I lived in cities before that, so not driving was never much of an issue. I am highly proficient in public transit.)

So living with my parents was this precarious balancing act of trying to do everything they wanted me to do, because they were letting me live there for free, and meeting the demands of my bosses (who immediately demoted me once they found out I wasn’t planning on living there forever), and trying to have a social life outside of my family. And, like, I had just come out of the closet, so I was also trying to date without my parents finding out, because, like? It gets exhausting trying to explain why you have a right to exist and love who you want to love and I tend to get defensive when I feel like I have to justify myself. But all that secrecy really wears on you. I think in the worst of it I was probably sleeping 3-5 hours a night between the anxiety, having to walk or wait for rides everywhere, and staying up late enough after my parents went to sleep to try to meet guys on dating apps.

Dating apps when you live in a rural area are the worst. Not only is there a limited dating pool to begin with, it sucks when someone ghosts you and then re-signs up for the same dating app using a fake name and you catch them at it. I get it to some extent; people are afraid of being outed, even if on paper we’re one of the premier retirement destination for gay couples near Toronto. (Read: affluent, white, cis gay men.) It’s gotten better in the last couple of years, but... Yeah, there just was nothing for me there.

Obviously I had to widen my perimeter for who I was willing to date, and that’s how I met Husband. Completely by accident. My phone provider was out one day, so I didn’t get any messages from anyone for almost 24 hours while I was figuring that out. His message to me was one of the ones that got pushed through when my phone service restored itself. (I still, to this day, don’t know why or how this happened.) And there was nothing there that was inherently like, “Hey, you’re going to date and then marry this guy,” other than the fact that he actually put effort into his message instead of sending “hey” over and over again to get a response. But he was funny, and he was charming, and we fell for each other really quickly. Pretty soon all my money (which, again, limited, because the awful ladies I worked for decided I wasn’t leadership material even though they gave me no training or direction, ever) was going to taking the train here pretty much every time I had a day off from work. And I was lying to my parents about it, because they decidedly do not like or approve of dating apps or internet friendships in general.

Something happens in relationships where one or both of you are chronically ill. There comes a sink-or-swim moment in the relationship where you either step up and deal with the shit that happens, or you realize you can’t handle the intensity or uncertainty of it, and you gtfo. And... obviously, I chose the first option. Pretty much immediately after my first visit (as in, I was still on the train) Husband calls me, because his doctors are afraid that he has cancer. I go home, work exactly one day and turn the fuck around and go back so we can meet with the hematologist and find out whether he has bone cancer, Jesus fuck. Thankfully, it turned out that he didn’t; it’s something that comes up a lot because he doesn’t have a spleen and that, apparently, makes it look like you’re dying a whole lot. We ended up moving in together a month later because living at my parents was making me suicidal, which isn’t the greatest love story of all time, I know, but I had wanted to move out anyway and living with him was a much better option than random roommates.

I didn’t talk to my mother for... a month and a half, after I moved out. She kept trying to contact my friends on Facebook one day and I was ready to freak out on her for being controlling or something. Turns out, my biological father died. At the time, I was calm. Like, I wasn’t surprised - he had nearly died of alcohol-induced cardiac failure before I moved to the US, and it’s not like he had done anything to make his situation better - but it turns out I was actually in shock, I guess. The whole situation was fucking terrible; not because he died but because it kind of cemented that my only value to his side of the family was being “the only granddaughter” and not that they gave a shit about me as a person. They misgendered me in his obituary; they spelled my brother’s girlfriend’s name wrong.

I think the worst part is that they tried to make his celebration of life thing about how great he was as a person, though. And, like, I’m sorry, but great people don’t molest their children, or their children’s girlfriend. They don’t have sex in front of their children with their children’s physical abuser. They don’t make their teenage child in charge of being the sober adult when they want to go drinking. They don’t let their partner physically abuse their child when that child tries to get them both help for their drinking. They don’t trap their kid on a boat for a week with a creepy adult male stranger and freak the fuck out when that child has their first anaphylactic reaction to a novel food 20 kilometers from land or the nearest hospital. They don’t call that child on their birthday every year to remind them what a woman they are and always will be when they were the first fucking parent I came out to.

Actually, no - the worst part of him dying was that I had to deal with his hellbeast girlfriend afterward, because apparently there was money for me in an RESP that he had never cashed, but all that got me was a shady financial representative who repeatedly wanted my mother and me to break the law over it. Like, my mom got her lawyer involved and everything, and once the legal letterhead came out the financial dude dropped off the face of the earth, stopped answering my calls and I never got my thousand pity dollars.

And, like, things were okay for a little while after that because Husband and I were close with our roommates up until the point where it became clear that one of them had severe, untreated borderline personality disorder. I’ve lived with someone with BPD before; I’ve lived with a hoarder before. I was not prepared for the level of hoarding that this woman could produce. Or just, like, generally weird and shitty behavior and refusal to seek treatment for her condition. We tried everything we could think of, but ultimately we had to have secret meetings outside our house with our other roommate (who was dating her at the time) to figure out what to do with her. The things we found out... I’ve never wanted to genuinely harm a person before. Because she had been r*ping our roommate for months, and convincing them we didn’t want to be their friend, and using all their money because she wouldn’t go to work or apply for welfare or do the bare minimum required to be a human being. We had to get her removed by the police (who I do not advise contacting unless there is genuinely no other options) and the police acted like it was a typical roommate squabble even though we had fucking proof. So, anyway, we had to contact hell roommate’s parents and sister, and do all the packing to get her shit out of our house.

I will add that there were a few golden months right after hell roommate moved out. We got very close with remaining roommate, and it was nice, but then they started dating their current boyfriend and it just got... uncomfy for everyone somehow? They never outright said they were dating him, it was weird, one day they were like “Hey, I have a friend coming over!” and then he was just... there all the time? And they never told us they were dating? And, like, I’m happy for them, they’re great together and genuinely like each other, but it was weird. It was uncomfortable when we had to have the “We want to move out” conversation, too, because originally we had wanted to move to a bigger place with all of us, but ultimately we ended up keeping the apartment.

So that should have been fine, right? Especially since they moved in with one of Husband’s friends. Except that that friend turned out to be secretly awful and took advantage of everyone around them, and accused good roommate of being secretly racist and a bunch of other stuff that wasn’t true. (Trust me, good roommate would rather sever their left leg than do something that would hurt someone’s feelings.) And, like, I’m sorry, but you can’t use your master’s degree in social work to push around people who you know freeze during confrontations and have memory issues due to trauma, and then turn around and lead healing from trauma workshops. No. You’re a garbage human being who deserves to step on a thousand Lego. (Legos? Anyway.)

OH. Right. Before that, I had surgery. I had surgery and then pretty much the day we got home from that, the pandemic happened. At the beginning of it, good roommate and a woman who would later become one of our best friends came to stay with us because, again, horrific garbage pile of a human being in their house. Recovering from surgery took forever - I still don’t have feeling back 100% in my chest - but thankfully I was better enough by the time they moved to be somewhat helpful there. (They were incredibly smart and hired movers. We were pretty much there because we had just bought a car and could move breakable stuff.)

Ugh. God. Sorry, I have to jump back to 2018 for a second, which is when I was diagnosed with OCD. Like, officially, I mean. It was probably pretty obvious to everyone who wasn’t me, but I always kind of thought that since I wasn’t on My Mom-level germophobic, there was no way I could have it. Uh! Turns out! Normal people don’t cry when a garbage bag that is clearly about to be taken outside touches the floor while they are putting their shoes on to take said garbage bag outside. So... I take pills now. And go to therapy. Which is very expensive. But, yeah, my symptoms were pretty fuckin’ bad then. And continued to be bad - like, bad enough that I had to quit my job in 2019 because my bosses weren’t taking it seriously enough or even listening to me. (It’s Mcdonald’s, it’s chill, they ruin or fire all their best employees.)

Okay. Back to now. Pandemic! School! Suffering through all my pre-requisites so I can take actual interesting classes! Somewhere in there we started watching Twitch streams - I think it was because Husband found out Felicia Day streamed, and he loves her, and it kind of spiraled from there? But anyway, I somehow ended up part of this weird, delightful community that’s genuinely nice and non-trollish, and now I stream sometimes. Or attempt to stream. Or attempt to keep a regular schedule. It’s nice, though, to feel like there’s someone to hang out with when you pretty much can’t leave your house. There’s a sense of normality to being in a place at a specific time and seeing specific people. And Twitch has given me a lot of ideas on research topics I’d like to pursue in grad school.

Like I said, it’s been a pretty mixed bag. There have been some really bad parts, but there’s a lot of good stuff that happened too. I just. I miss Old Me a lot, lately. I miss who I was before all the trauma. (I mean, obviously not all the trauma, because I don’t miss being a literal child, but like... 18-23 or so.)

I think this might be the most I’ve written outside of a school context in actual years. Part of me keeps thinking about adding in APA formatting, but uh. You can’t really cite something when it’s just memories inside your own head. Anyway. I need to work on liking myself more, and working through some of the baggage that goes with trauma, and... I don’t know. It’s nice to have an outlet that’s not my husband or my cats. (Again, Husband is awesome, Husband is amazing, but we’re around each other 24/7 right now. I think he deserves a break sometimes.)

So... Yep. Thanks, if you made it this far. I promise not all my posts are going to be like this. I just figured, if you were going to stick around, you probably deserved to know what happened while I was gone.

#personal

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transephiroth · 4 years ago

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an important post: abuse from friends, friend abuse. please read and reblog.

TW: abuse ment, bpd ment, ed ment, suicide ment, ptsd, trauma, death ment. gaslighting ment.

i don’t know what exactly what has compelled me to make this post at nearly 1:00 am on a school night just like every other, but i think the importance of advocacy of preventing, spotting, and stopping abusive friendships is to talk about them with the same respect as any other form of abuse.

i’ll give you a small overview of my personal experience with abusive friendships: when i was 16, my father committed suicide. i was not aware he was my biological father at they time and actually found out he was not my half brother, but my biological father. my father, who’s name i will not mention. i won’t even use fake names they’re hard to keep track of. i found out my mother, an abusive drug addict, slept with her husband, my apparent grandfather’s, adult son from a previous marriage consensually. one way or another, my father was forbidden to be involved in my life, and my grandfather raised me as his own. (in case you’re going to ask about inc*st, my father and mother have no relation, she is not his mother.)

the shock of learning this and grieving his death from the few negative interactions he and his mental health had on my family when i was a baby, was intense. i had no friends at school and felt incredibly lost and vulnerable. when i was in this place i met my best friend. we bonded over a shared hatred of my ex boyfriend, who was an abuser, who was dating her ex best friend.

this should have been a red flag, but i ignored it.

i took the first friend i could find after my ex took away all my friends in an effort to isolate me after my assault. this was probably the worst part of my life, and one of my first real suicide attempts was only days before my father died. the first friend i found, the first soul i recognized i clung to.

when me and my friend, who we will call P, were inseparable. but there was a very clear and distinct difference between us. P was a star in the band at school, she had great grades, tons of friends and was quite conventionally attractive. she was involved in a lot of extracurriculars and overall had a very nice demeanor.

this should have been a red flag. as harsh as it might sound, idealizing anyone is unhealthy. if someone appears to you as perfect, it’s not paranoid of you to wonder if it’s hiding something. it’s hard to tell when someone is being genuine, especially for myself with autism. nice words and a smile can pretty much fool anyone.

i, on the other hand of P, dropped out of band and just about every other activity after my assault, and was in and out of intense therapy and psych visits throughout all of high school. i never could go a school year without a visit. to this day i have gone a whole year however :)

I was an autistic shut in who quite honestly, cried a lot, smelled bad, was clearly poor, spoke funny and came to school drunk. we were not the same.

i don’t want to go over every painstaking detail, so i’ll try to summarize as best i can the first two years of our three year relationship.

P was diagnosed with BPD about a month into our friendship. she told me i was her FP/favorite person, and showed me videos to learn about BPD. i remember watching hours and hours of information about BPD to accommodate her the best i could. what i didn’t realize however, was that she was lying. she didn’t have BPD, or at least couldn’t be diagnosed because we were 16.

red flag. i knew this was a lie because i had been in therapy for years. it took me a long time to peace it together but i accepted it and beget told her, until this moment, that i knew.

i fucking knew.

months of friendship included constant easy to see through lies, fabrications, pathological rants, and pretty much changing her “back story” every day. it was draining not to mention it, but the few times i did, she got physical. i have scars on my right forearm from her nails, which were long and broke skin. she would tell me she would pay me back for things and never show. she would make fun of things i told her in secret to our friends, my trauma. my dad.

“dark humor”

over time, she convinced me to drop every single friend i had except for her. she had gotten me literally completely vulnerable and isolated.

when covid hit, my mom, of course, kicked me out. i moved in with P and her family. my time there over quarantine was very monotonous, but i’ll never forget that for basically 8-9 months, she never let me out of her sight. i felt like i had to just do whatever she wanted because her mother let me live there for free.

p knew i wanted to move away from my mother and the chaos of my home life for years.

right before quarantine, P got her first boyfriend. she had never had a boyfriend and had been to scared to get one. i was really happy for her, i encouraged her to ask him out while she was at a weekend school event.

P then began to manipulate not only me, but him. to this day i don’t know what’s become of either of them, but i really couldn’t care less anymore. when trauma heals, you get a sense of apathy.

P would frequently belittle me, mock me, kick, trip and slap me, force me to pay for things for her and her boyfriend on the spot, and steal from my purse.

eventually living with p, third wheeling with her less than charming boyfriend, who i honestly just didn’t mind. we weren’t friends, but i was respectful to him and treated him the same way i would treat a friend from school or something.

p has a family i won’t bring up because it involves minors, but her mother has a psychotic disorder and refuses to be medicated, so the house is full of ripped door hinges, holes in walls, smashed items and more. it’s really unsafe there, and during my time there i found i really began to internalize as a person. i developed an eating disorder and my ptsd and autism felt much more out of control.

i had been diagnosed with autism for nearly two years at that point, and living in that household made me realize just how damaging meltdown after meltdown without anyone understanding can damage your psyche long term.

i wanted to leave. i had saved my money from my jobs and got an apartment. p insisted on coming, saying she didn’t want to live with her mom anymore. i didn’t want her to come, but i agreed. she got a co-sign. i knew it was a bad idea because i heard what they said about best friends living together. i just can’t believe it really happened.

we talked about growing old together, raising our kids together. i was going to name my first daughter after her. we were going to be neighbors. her husband and my wife would be best friends just like us, but that’s not what happened.

we lived together from August 2020-November 2020

to give a quick summary of the inevitable end of this relationship, P and I had two kittens together. i asked her if she could put them away for inspection so they didn’t run out the door while i drove our third roommate, a whole other mountain of a story, to work.

she didn’t do it, instead slacked off to go to her boyfriends house. so i came back and had to put the cats away at record speed and our other roommate was late to work.

even if this was somewhat small, it was the breaking point for me. i grabbed my phone and texted her, DEMANDING she explain why she couldn’t do this one thing for me. i have never been that angry in my life. we had a phone call where i just lost it and unleashed all my anger and all my hurt about everything she had done. i was sobbing and barely making sense but i couldn’t just keep letting my life carry on this way.

i wish i remembered how the phone call ended, but all i remember was telling her “if the cats run and we can’t find them, then we are done being roommates.”

the next morning i woke up and she had blocked me on everything. i drove to the apartment and saw that overnight, according to block times at like, 3am, she had taken all our shared furniture, all my birthday gifts from not two weeks prior, all the gifts i bought her, most of my clothes, one of the apartment keys, my high school diploma, the paperwork for the cats, and not just our two shared kittens, but my third roommates cat as well.

cue search party with my partner and his friends and my other roommate for P and the cats. i found her at her house with her mom and boyfriend. i walked out and she was on the phone with my grandfather, telling him i was threatening suicide. i ask her where the cats are, she says they are at a friends house.

if we flashback in the story, we literally only had each other, so i knew it was a lie.

i managed to argue through to negotiate at least my other roommates cat, but only after P’s mom blocked us in the driveway and called the police saying we threatened her daughter

(reminder people in this group were black and asian ☺️ so she just calls the cops fall 2020)

luckily the cops saw the proof she blocked me so i couldn’t have threatened her, and let us leave.

that’s the end of the friendship. i could bore anyone who has read this far further by explaining the nightmare realm that is the legal troubles with the apartment, but the internet doesn’t need to know everything does it?

as the winter has gone on i’ve had months to basically remake myself as a person. i had to firstly face the damage P had done.

but before i get into that, anyone who is still reading first, ily, but also, if you’ve had ANY relationship that sounds similar to this, THAT IS ABUSE.

Plain and simple. It is abusive. Physically, emotionally, mentally, verbally. nobody deserves that. not P. not you. not me.

friendships can be all someone has. not everyone is born into good families with loving siblings and great parents and tons of cousins who live .3 milliseconds away. families are divided. families, like mine, are divorced. families are broken and families sometimes aren’t even families. humans need relationships, and an idealistic person who we think maybe could save us and fix the world, won’t.

you can be taken advantage of by the person you trust the most just as easily as a stranger.

it’s not wrong to face the abuse they put you through, know it was wrong, and feel valid that it is was wrong.

what i went through with P was horrible. the detachment of my only friend hurt. but i bounced back. i’m still undoing some of the damage, but i have great friends and a wonderful partner. i have two rescue cats who mean the world to me.

life gets better after abuse, but the bad days and the pain aren’t invalid because of this. i have trauma from what P put me through. abandonment like that is traumatic. but it’s not the end. feel what you need to feel to feel better.

if anyone read this far and wants to vent their own experiences, or share more advice on preventing these relationships feel free. it’s almost 1:30 now, i should go to bed.

it feels good to get that off my chest.

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purplesurveys · 4 years ago

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1046

Does it annoy you when people make their default of them kissing someone? I don’t mind kissing photos or icons. But hmm, I can imagine being a little grossed out if it’s an image of them kissing with tongue or if it’s generally a little on the sloppy side.

Are there any names you can think of that just go well together? Well there’s...a lot of names in existence lmao, so there’s a lot of combinations out there that I like for sure. I just don’t rank them and I don’t have a name combination of choice just yet.

Do you enjoy museums? I’m obsessed with museums. In every single one of our family trips, my dad has always made sure to book at least one museum visit for me so I can return back home happy, hahaha. I also visit and revisit museums in my own time, and I’m open to going to any kind of museum whether it’s natural history, art, science, ancestral homes, etc.

Have you ever met anyone famous? One of my coworkers plays the drums for a local band that’s got a bit of a following, so it was definitely a shock when I first saw his name in our work group chat. Someone I used to be close friends with in the local wrestling community is now an actor/influencer and doing a billion gigs and photoshoots all day. We’re still mutuals so every now and then I’d comment on one of his posts and congratulate him on how far he’s come.

Describe the scariest dream you can remember? I never like it when someone I love is shot in my dreams. The scariest dream I had recently is probably the one where I watched three planes drop to the ground all at the same time and explode.

Have you ever been to a mint where they make money? Nopes. I think the BSP had been part of one of Nina’s field trips before, but my batch didn’t get to have the itinerary.

Do you ever get really, really hyper? Occasionally.

Are you left or right handed, or ambidextrous? Right-handed.

If ambidextrous, do you prefer writing with your right or left hand?

What is your favourite subject at school? Any history elective, biology, political science.

Do you ever use Yahoo! Answers? For seriousness or for trolling? I used to read both serious (when I have a legit question) and funny (when I was bored and just wanted to lurk on the site) items on it. These days, when I have a genuine question, Google usually pulls up a Quora link which I find has been more helpful than Yahoo! Answers ever was.

Have you ever stepped on a thumb tack? No, but my brother did when he was a baby and was first learning how to walk.

Do you have a username you use for everything? Or does it change each site? I use my first name + surname for more serious, professional websites. Then I have a go-to for everything else.

Are you in Miami bitch? :D No. Not really interested in going to Florida at all, to be honest.

How did you break the last bone you broke? I’ve never broken a bone.

Have you ever used Nexopia? Never used, never heard of it before.

What has been the best year of school for you so far? Junior year of both high school (2014-15) and college (2018-19) were really great for me. There was a string of good events that happened in both, and I was able to have a lot of fun, gain friends, and have a number of positive learning and growing-up experiences.

Do you have any disorders or disabilities? I’ve always worried that I have BPD, but from the time I started considering it until today I’ve only done self-diagnosis, so idk. There’s definitely a lot more to unpack when it comes to me, mentally and psychologically.

Do you ever watch How To videos? Not really. How It’s Made videos are fun to watch though.

Do you enjoy trolling? It doesn’t even sound fun.

Have you ever been to an emergency room? If so, what for? Never been.

Which emoticon face do you use most often? Things like: :) :( :D :P :L D: Most of the time I’ll use the open- and closed-mouth smileys. I use the sad face as well, and occasionally I’ll pull out the :3 and :/ emoticons.

Are you a musical sort of person? I mean, are you musically talented? Yeah, not at all. I can’t sing, read music, nor play any instrument.

How did you break the first phone you broke? So my mom hooked my first phone to a lanyard that I was made to wear as it was the surest way I wouldn’t be able to lose it (I was 7, which really should not be an age for kids to receive their first phones lol). One day I was being a little more rambunctious than usual, and while moving around the hook to the lanyard suddenly came off, and the phone crashed to the ground. It messed up the screen a bit and the hook also got a little fucked from there; eventually the phone came off during my 1st grade field trip and I never realized, and I lost the phone.

Did you have a tree house when you were a kid? If so, did you ever fall from it? We did not have a treehouse. My grandpa surely would’ve been the type to make one for his grandkids as he’s great at building stuff and working with wood, but it just wasn’t plausible considering most trees here are crawling with fire ants and other weird and potentially dangerous insects.

Have you ever been on vacation to a snow field? I don’t know what that is but I’ll go ahead and say no as I’ve never seen snow anyway.

When you go on vacation, what mode of transport do you usually use? We take road trips most of the time because my dad likes to drive. But if it’s gonna be on another island in the country, like Palawan or Batanes, then we obviously have to take a plane.

What is the worst show, in your opinion on MTV? The best? I don’t care for any shows on MTV and I typically think most of them look like they suck. The few ones I’ve seen, like Teen Wolf and Scream, certainly didn’t help.

Do you like Jason Derϋlo? Eh, some of his hit songs are catchy but I’m not a fan fan.

Are there any movies that just creep you out so much? Aside from everything about it being creepy, Eraserhead is just so depressing to watch. Midsommar is also a freaky film.

Have you ever had a close encounter with a shark? I don’t think so.

Do you have any hotties on your walls? I have a poster of Nam Joo Hyuk that Angela got me when she went to South Korea, but he’s more cute than hot to me tbh.

Do you ever wish dinosaurs came back to life and there were cute and snuggly? Not really. But it would’ve been interesting to see how they would look like in real life, and know their temperament and things like that.

How many countries have you been to? Aside from having been around my own, 6.

How many states have you been to? In all the countries you’ve been to? We stayed in one city/state for each country I’ve gone to - Bali, Singapore, Johor, Shanghai, Jeju, and Fukuoka.

What is a song you heard long before it became popular and everyone liked it? Idk about songs, but this was me with The Crown lol.

Do you enjoy designing things? Anything? Not my thing at all. This is more of Nina’s specialty. Girl can make anything look pretty.

Do you know anyone who has gotten themselves into a serious accident? Yeah. Off the top of my head, I remember my aunt getting involved in a hit-and-run with a motorcycle and needing to get a number of stitches on her head. My cousin Joelle also got into a bad car accident a few Christmases ago that totally wrecked her vehicle.

Can you play anything on the violin? Nope, I never learned how to play. It’s one of my favorite instruments though.

Do you know what a raincheck at stores is? Never heard of that. I’ve heard some people say “I’m gonna have to take a rain check” whenever they abruptly have to bail on a plan at the last minute, but I think you’re talking of a different raincheck here.

Whose funeral was the last you went to? Nacho’s wake. Never been to a funeral.

Who got married at the last funeral you went to? That’s pretty fucked up.

What do you think of excessively long names? What about their shortenings? I don’t have an opinion on either.

Do you ever get hay fever? No.

Do you know anyone with the last name Pilbeam? Never heard of that surname before.

When you were little, did you have those magnet letters on your fridge? We may have had those? I’m not sure. I haven’t seen the fridge I grew up with for a while now. I do know Athenna had those magnet poetry phases on her family’s fridge and we used to try to make poems with them.

Have you seen the Techno Jeep video on YouTube? I have not, and it doesn’t sound familiar.

Does your house have a wood fire? No.

Do you know what a Pibgorn is? I don’t think so. I can’t recognize the term.

Can you learn the lyrics of a song by ear, or do you have to search them up? It’s 50/50 for me. Sometimes it’ll be easy for me to recognize the lyrics, and other times it’s incredibly difficult.

Do you like the name Amy? It’s a pretty name. I’d consider it as a second or third name.

Have you ever got an x-ray? How about a brain scan? Just an x-ray.

#survey #surveys

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leafallsonelines · 4 years ago

Text

Bizarre Love Triangle

I'm not sure what this could mean I don't think you're what you seem I do admit to myself, that if I hurt someone else Then I'll never see just what we're meant to be -New Order

I didn't want to get into a relationship.

He wore me down and soon enough I was the one crazy about him. I always answer to the undefinably strong pull toward a certain person. I was soul weary and needed a break from emotional turmoil. When you meet somebody else, they're the main character of their own love story (just like I am in mine; as it should be). I'm privy to fact that we all have a history, especially when dating in your late 20's and 30's. I wasn't ready for our stories to collide.

I desperately wanted to avoid cluttering my life with someone else's relationship baggage when I haven't even taken care of mine. He campaigned hard for the relationship. I went for it.

Despite my better judgment I always cave—give in to that desire — anticipate and absorb the pain that inevitably follows.

I told you that story to tell you this one.

Back in 2014 the term Cool Girl ™ was coined to describe women who change their personality for male approval. (The shtick is contrived and annoying once you spot it.) She doesn't have a solid sense of self and basks in attention to fill. That void; hoards men like Thanksgiving hams and gets territorial when she's not The Girl. She gets kicks from seeing how uncomfortable she can make other girls by openly flirting with their boyfriends just to watch them squirm. This act is so played out most people have an eye roll ready for anyone flying the “I'm not like other girls” banner. (Gen Z now calls them Pick-Me-Girls ™.)

I crossed paths with one in 2018 — my boyfriend's best friend of sixteen years. A self-indulgent, selfish friendship. I wasn't initially jealous, didn't interrupt, and it came back to bite me; it was hideously unfair.

For storytelling purposes let's call her “Kate Luu.” Kate, an incestuous tigermom who gets jealous of any girl her son gets with, a petulant toddler that would rather break a toy than let someone else play with it. Probably has BPD. Definitely needs a good therapist.

Like a lot of dewy eyed girls newly in love I conveniently dismissed the red flags around my boyfriend and Kate. I had empathy for them because of my past platonic friendships with flirty undertones. Guys would respectfully fall back when they got into relationships or if I Was in one. I struggled with the slow withdrawal of warmth, missed the emotional intimacy, but recognized it as the right call and moved on. A lot of young adults exploring their sexuality go through this. As I got older I favored female friendships for being uncomplicated, preferring to avoid unwanted sexual tension.

Empathy without boundaries is self-destruction.

A couple weeks after celebrating our one year anniversary Kate texts me, “We need to talk.” Alarms immediately go off in my head. The last few months I had started bringing attention to the bad vibe I was getting and the inappropriate nature of the relationship. I got tired of biting my tongue. He didn't know how to process it or correct it. His lingering infatuation with her made it impossible for him to distance himself or enforce new boundaries. He started hiding it instead. I caught him being intentionally ambiguous about his plans when going to see her. He fumbled himself into an emotional affair.

Princess Diana famously described her marriage to Charles as “crowded.” It was an unmistakable reference to his affair with Camilla. Looking back the (justifiable) anxiety I had was from being crowded. Intuition is not insecurity.

I met Kate for coffee and she read aloud a pathetic five page letter telling me I'm a bad girlfriend and “full of shit.” She was intervening on his behalf as the person who knows what's best for my boyfriend.

“It's none of your business.”

But no, she has the authority to interfere as his best friend of sixteen years and I was a one year nothing. She brought up the fact he was attracted to her first, told me I'm spineless and ruining their friendship with my insecurity. (She _really _ran with the words spineless and insecure.)

Accusations are confessions when they come from a manipulative person. Textbook projection. She was mad her narcissistic supply was tapering off. (Gaslighting Pro-tip: Label rightful jealousy as insecurity.)

My boyfriend gave her personal, intimate details of my life during their oversharings and she used that information to bully me. Nothing was off the table, including my sexual history. I can see how she manipulated him, but it was inexcusable. People who enable They leave the door open for endless rows of inappropriate behavior. All of this was happening behind my back for a year. That kind of intimate toxicity are suckers for ego massages.

Don't you just love a story where the villain puts all the evidence of her misdeeds in one letter and unravels into epic, illogical rage all in one afternoon, in the space of two hours?

How did Kate have time to write five pages of false narratives designed to destroy a relationship she was jealous of? She doesn't have a job. She's a pampered dog mom living in her rich fiancé's house for free. A busybody performatively taking care of other people to avoid a mountain of personal issues. (An unevolved Virgo.)

Don't worry about what I'm doing. Worry about why you're worried about what I'm doing.

Kate has many noticeable traits as an obnoxious, self-important person — an absolute fake. She calls herself a _philanthropist _without having done anything philanthropic or even knowing how to use the word; she literally saw a big SAT word that means good person and attached Herself to it. (A word assigned to big charitable donors like Bill Gates, not bloggers). She has the same relationship with the word “unconventional” and thinks using a bigger word for unique or quirky makes her even more unique and quirky. Nope, still basic.) In place of possessing any actual humor she repeats memorized dad jokes and leans into corny, forced puns. If this isn't annoying enough she then insists she's funny. (Funny people just make you laugh. They never have to tell people they're funny. Barfs in, “I speak fluent sarcasm.”)

If I poked a finger through her shallow veneer I'd find loose dirt and dog shit.

And you know what? I'm not even against intense friend love. I get it. I groove to “One Love.” Emotional freedom is important. Expressions of love are multitudinous. It should transform to fit the situation. She didn't respect basic boundaries to make room for all of us to be comfortable. She was just mad she got demoted and tried to burn the whole thing down.

Kate wanted to be the main character in my boyfriend's love story without ever actually dating him. Oh yes, I know — the audacity, the toxic lack of boundaries, the mind numbing arrogance. She's not even protagonist material — a papier-mâché hipster who got her personality from an Urban Outfitters catalog and can't stop contradicting herself despite the fact she is working off a pre-written letter. I have never encountered someone who thought so highly of herself while having almost no substance. She calls herself a writer , but is just a pseudo-intellectual English major who posts aesthetic word salad on Instagram.

Later on I realized that if someone is mean to you unprovoked it's jealousy. One of the catalysts for the meetup was a heartfelt anniversary post I wrote on Instagram. It's not my usual style, but I felt gushy and really went full blown poetic and swoony She's jealous that her own, brought up love and Birth of Venus, blah blah blah. She mentioned my IG post and even admitted it was poetic and well written, but proceeded to use that as the jumping off point to invalidate the love in it. writing is try-hard drivel; a woman in her thirties mentally stuck in 2011 tumblr cringe.

If she truly wanted him she should have pursued him honestly and not wait to mess with another person. Hell, even just owning up to her feelings and saying, “I realize I may have lost my chance with you. Is there still anything in our sixteen year history that makes you want to give us a shot instead? ”à la My Best Friend's Wedding. Treading some moral gray area, but way more acceptable than actively sabotaging a relationship.

She didn't really want him though. She just wanted to continue their friendship in that inappropriate flirtationship space to feed her ego. After the coffee date she ended their friendship in an email. That really important sixteen year friendship became disposable to her once she wasn't able to control it.

Sometimes trash does the public service of loudly identifying itself as trash and takes itself out.

If you're a female best “friend” to a guy in a relationship and you need to flex on “I was here first” and “We did this before you were in the picture,” then you were never interested in seeing that friend thrive in a romantic relationship. You just get off on being his favorite unfulfilled option. If seeing him in love with someone new has you feeling that miserable you're just being selfish. Real love doesn't overstep in a new relationship so you can hog their spotlight. You're not even a friend; you're a skunk marking your territory and keeping him in the friendzone while not really wanting him to have a girlfriend.

You learn to love somebody in their love language and not just yours. Selfish love is not real love. That's just using someone to fill a place. Maybe a distraction. Seeking anything in return isn't real love because if you want that you actually don't have love to give; it's fake; it's toxic. If there's someone who isn't around anymore and you miss them consider the fact that you might just miss the place they held in your life. (You have the freedom to fill that space anyway you want.)

She realized she burned through all her goodwill thus the sudden ghosting and extracting herself. I never asked my partner to pick me or issued any ultimatums. Sometimes important questions stay unanswered. Sometimes you have to move on without the apology you deserve. There is grief in never receiving closure.

My partner finally saw my concerns validated in the aftermath. I bubbled with rage remembering excuses he made for her. Day in and day out I was drinking from an overflowing cup of righteous anger. So what was his role in this? Stupid or co- conspirator?

He was oblivious.

“I can't believe you could've left me for a wannabe influencer.”

I switched my phone wallpaper from his picture to a solid color. Looking at his face filled me with disgust. There's only so much letting go you can ask someone to do. I knew I still loved him, but anytime a woman is hurt she becomes less interested.

How do you recover from unknowingly letting a toxic bitch walk all over and jeopardize your relationship?

Friends told me to move on, date other people. He campaigned for the relationship again. We did the work of picking up the pieces and starting over.

I'm not pretending to be perfect. I was reeling from back to back traumas. My soft spots turned hard and cynical. It was my turn to be the toxic one. I drove to work sobbing everyday for a month. I complained constantly. My default became anxious and suspicious. I'm so out of touch with the person I was before; she's a stupidly innocent, free-spirited stranger to me. It took time for the poison leach out.

It's a lot of baggage.

The couples who make it aren't always the ones that never had a reason to break up. They're the ones that decide their commitment to each other is more important than their mistakes. Fast forward to the herculean effort he made to earn back my trust and we're still very happily together. (This is published with his permission.)

Our relationship is more grounded in reality now. It's not crowded anymore. Somethings more precious from having almost been lost. Somethings will never be the same. I'm the villain in her story, just as much as she's the villain in mine. We get to live out our own endings and there is peace in that.

Hurtful, painful, memories. Memories of deep regrets, memories of hurting and being hurt. Memories of being abandoned. Only those with such memories buried in their hearts can become stronger, more passionate, and emotionally flexible. Only those can obtain happiness. So Don't forget any of it. Remember it all and overcome it. If you don't overcome it, you'll always be a kid whose soul never grows. -The Boy Who Fed On Nightmares

#coolgirl #pickme #microcheating #emotional cheating #emotional affair

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