#clusters-tic

[worms-in-my-brain]

People with psychotic disorders are neurodivergent too.

People with personality disorders are neurodivergent too.

People with substance abuse disorders are neurodivergent too.

People with tic disorders are neurodivergent too.

People with bipolar disorder are neurodivergent too.

People with dissociative disorders are neurodivergent too.

Neurodivergence isn’t just ADHD, autism, anxiety, and depression. (Plus those last two also get left out sometimes!) Neurodivergence is anything that affects your brain.

“Neurodivergent people hate loud noises” is actually just as valid as a statement as “neurodivergent people have delusions,” “neurodivergent people have tics,” or even “neurodivergent people have low empathy.”

[dailydivergent]

Neurodivergent reminder: Overstimulation feels a lot like anxiety, and understimulation feels a lot like depression.

More importantly, you don't need to know which it is to practice self-care.

Self-caring anxiety and overstimulation looks the same:

Recognize you're feeling big feelings

Take as many deep breaths as your need to slow your mind

Identify what’s causing the feeling, whether sensory, environmental, or situational

Minimize that cause as much as possible immediately

Self-caring depression and understimulation looks the same:

Recognize you’re in need of stimulation

Turn on an interesting long-form video of some kind

Do some quick exercise like a walk or jumping jacks

Call a friend that'll let you infodump

If you're neurodivergent and easily get stuck on labelling things — I see you.

I'm here to remind you that you don't need to know what it is to take care of it in the meantime.

You can — will — figure it out later.

[dreamdropsystem]

Shoutouts to:

cluster a autistics

cluster b autistics

cluster c autistics

depressed autistics

anxious autistics

autistics with eating disorders

autistics that deal with hallucinations

autistics with dissociative disorders

autistics with tics

[spale-vosver]

"man I wish I JUST had dyslexia you're less likely to graduate college?? well I'm more likely to DIE bc im PHYSICALLY DISABLED!!!" folks with learning disabilities are also more likely to die young but you wouldn't know that bc you don't want to get off your soapbox and acknowledge that while yes, NDs often talk over physically disabled folks (which is wrong!) that doesn't mean their disabilities are any less...well...disabling. (before you get on my ass I am physically disabled, with conditions that reduce my life expectancy significantly).

"Oh well ADHD-" ADHD doubles the risk of premature death

Here are more sources if you don't believe me

Intellectually disabled people die on average 20 years earlier than those of average intelligence

Autistic people are more vulnerable to premature death across a range of causes

Individuals with tic disorders are more than twice as likely to die young as individuals without

Individuals with Cluster B PDs lose anywhere from 9-13 years of life expectancy due to their disorder, and 1 in 5 kill themselves

So next time you try to pull the "WELL AT LEAST YOU AREN'T AT RISK OF DYING BECAUSE OF YOUR EASY PEASY DISABILITY UNLIKE MINE", actually research whether or not that's true before you show your own ass.

[thehellsaint]

the way that no one would put up with people deciding to have any other disorder and take terminology and space made for disabled people

genuinely imagine these people trying to co-opt Tourette syndrome, forcing themselves to tic, going into spaces made for people who actually have it, getting mad when disabled people don't like what they're doing 💀

but for some reason it's cool to do it to systems, I guess

[chronicsymptomsyndrome]

just saw someone answer an ask with “aw why are you intimidated by me? I’m never mean! <3 well unless you’re weird lol”

sounds like every kid I went to high school with wow what a mean as fuck thing to say

[frog-plague]

I need to know something

sorry if this makes no sense

[mxmorbidmidnight]

[Image ID: scruffy black toy cat wearing a yellow bow with white spots and a small gold jingle bell. It has shiny yellow eyes and is sitting in a wooden box of witchcraft supplies including items such as pendants, a small stopwatch, a blue agate crystal and a cork bottle of pink rock salt. Text reads "Remember to take your meds" with a smiling cat emoticon. /. End ID]

[narcissisticpdcultureis]

Npd tic culture is wanting people to acknowledge your tics but also wanting to hide them because you don't want to be unlikeable

.

[wetslug]

something kind of Extremely 2023 about ppl with a disorder that can get worse when its "payed attention to" dedicating entire tiktok accounts to it for that sweet internet clout

[steampunk-raven]

why does everything hurt

[pin-k-ink]

catharsis // sakusa kiyoomi

tw ⇢ touch-starved!reader, minor self harm, kinda angsty, hurt/comfort

wc ⇢ 1.4k

a/n: this was more to comfort me than anything else. since i usually burst into tears whenever anyone hugs me, which is something that happens once or twice a year

The faintest of marks marred your delicate skin - a cluster of faded scratch lines circling your wrist. Easily missable, had Sakusa's sharp gaze not caught the blemishes as your sleeve rode up. An infinitesimal crease creased his brow as he mentally catalogued the observation.

In the years he'd known you, Sakusa had unconsciously compiled a detailed dossier on your habits and quirks. The way you absentmindedly tucked stray strands of hair behind your ear. How you worried your lower lip between your teeth when deep in thought. That enigmatic scratching motion was new, at least new enough to pique his curiosity.

He made a point of scrutinizing you more closely over the following days and weeks. An invisible audience member watching you go about your daily life, searching for the trigger behind that restless tic. At first, there seemed to be no discernible pattern. You scratched your wrist idly while reading, while chatting with friends, while zoning out during class.

Then one day, Sakusa's watchful eyes caught the moment it happened. You were walking down the corridor engaged in cheerful conversation with Komori, your hands animatedly miming some story you were recounting. As you passed Sakusa, your fingers twitched almost imperceptibly, beginning to extend towards him before stuttering to a halt. In that aborted motion, your nails grazed your wrist and you resumed scratching - an unconscious redirect of your habitual tactile tendencies.

The realization hit Sakusa like a sledgehammer to the solar plexus. You were a tactile person, always hugging, patting shoulders, playful nudges. Everyone received your casually affectionate gestures...except him. Your ingrained impulses continued to reach out only to be forcibly quashed by the visible barrier of his obsessive personal space.

Sakusa's revelation unlocked a floodgate of memories, instances now glaringly obvious in hindsight. You were indiscriminate with your platonic affections - hugging Iizuna enthusiastically after a game, tucking yourself snugly against Komori's side as you chatted.

But with Sakusa, your boyfriend of nearly a year, your tactile instincts faltered. He witnessed it happening in real-time now that he was actively watching for it. Your hand would rise, fingers outspread as if to graze his arm or push back his curling fringe with tender familiarity. Then, an infinitesimal flinch, a micro-expression of remembered restraint flashing across your features. Your hand would abort its trajectory, retracting with mechanical rigidity as you unconsciously scratched faint lines into your wrist. A silent reprimand, punishing the part of you that still yearned to breach his carefully guarded personal space.

The ache in Sakusa's chest was an unexpected affliction. As someone who meticulously maintained crisp boundaries, he had never conceived that his shortcomings could so starve his girlfriend of something so fundamental. You gave your affections so freely to others, yet around him you were forced to subsist on meager scraps, furtive glances and aborted caresses the only intimacies he permitted.

With surgical precision, Sakusa began dissecting every interaction, analyzing your body language like a master shogi player scrutinizing a board. The way your eyes would linger wistfully on mundane couple moments - a simple hand-hold, a casual arm around slim shoulders. How, when thanked, your instinct was to offer an effusive hug before catching yourself at the last moment with a jerky smile and tight nod. Always denying yourself, policing your most fundamental love language to avoid trespassing his boundaries.

The more Sakusa observed, the more his gut twisted with guilt-laced regret. You were starving, yet continued to nourish everyone around you with the generous tactility he had inadvertently conditioned out of your interactions.

When someone from his team scored a spectacular point, you swept him into an exuberant hug, squeezing tightly as you jumped with joy. Sakusa watched the brilliant smile gradually dim, your arms slowly slacking until you gave one final pat on his back before releasing him. As if the brief contact wasn't enough to slake your profound thirst.

With Komori, your hugs lingered a beat longer, your cheek nuzzling into the crook of his neck as you savored the proximity of a trusted friend. Sakusa caught you burying your nose in the soft fabric of Komori's shirt, inhaling deeply with your eyes drifting shut - inhaling the simple human scent you'd been deprived of with your boyfriend.

Even alone, your hands sought substitute solace. Sakusa tracked the restless way you'd play with the ends of your hair, wrapping thick strands around your fingers to stroke and fiddle with. Or how you'd cross your arms tightly, creating some semblance of an embrace by running palms along your own forearms. Paltry imitations to temporarily assuage the perpetual starvation he had inflicted upon you.

The realization congealed like a lead weight in Sakusa's stomach. His issues, his boundaries had turned your most fundamental needs into an unforgivable deprivation. You had always been selfless in respecting his limits. But at what cost to your own heart and psyche? Sakusa felt like a monster, systematically stripping away something as essential and human as physical affection.

That oppressive guilt propelled him into action. If he couldn't fully satiate your needs, he at least had to try meeting you partway. You deserved that much after all the thoughtful accommodations you had made for him.

Sakusa's stomach was in knots as you settled next to him, textbooks and notes strewn between you for your study session. He steeled himself, determined to start making amends.

When he finally understood a tricky concept, relief and pride bloomed across your features. "Sakusa-san, you got it!" you exclaimed, hands raising in an abortive movement before wilting back to your lap. A brilliant smile plastered on, you gave him a small nod of encouragement rather than the congratulatory hug your body had instinctively begun.

Something inside Sakusa shattered at the subtle denial. How many times had you squashed such impulses? How many hugs, pats, and casual caresses had his aversion conditioned out of your loving nature over the months?

You blinked owlishly as Sakusa stared at you, expression inscrutable. After an endless moment, he finally spoke in a low murmur. "We've never even kissed, have we?"

"O-oh!" You flushed, hands fluttering nervously. "You don't have to force yourself, Sakusa-san, I understand. Really, it's okay, I don't need-"

He cut off your reassuring babble by cupping your face with gentle reverence. Holding your widened gaze, he brushed his lips across your forehead, then each fluttering eyelid, the apples of your cheeks, finally coming to linger achingly soft against the seam of your parted lips.

When Sakusa finally pulled back, you were dumbstruck, lower lip trembling. Your brow knit, chin crumpling as you blinked back the first shattering tears. A cracked whimper slipped free as the dam burst, soft sobs wracking your frame.

"Shhh..." he soothed, thumbs brushing away the streams of tears. Sakusa pressed his forehead against yours, cradling you against his chest as you soaked his shirt. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he rasped, voice splintered with uncharacteristic remorse. "You deserve more, so much more. I'll do better, I promise."

Sakusa held you through the cathartic deluge, his solid frame a grounding presence as you released years of pent-up deprivation. He murmured a litany of hushed reassurances, achingly tender sentiments you had long ached to hear from his usually taciturn manner.

As your sobs tapered off to occasional hitching breaths, he pulled back just enough to frame your blotchy face in his large palms. His thumb brushed the lingering tear tracks as he searched your reddened eyes.

"I've been blind," he said gruffly. "Selfish in my boundaries without considering your needs. You've been so patient, but I can't allow this to go on any longer."

You opened your mouth to protest, but he shook his head firmly. "No, let me finish. I'm...not good at this sort of thing. Intimacies. Displaying affection openly." His gaze flickered away briefly before locking on you again with renewed determination.

"But I'll try, for you. We'll go at my pace, find ways for me to...indulge you." The faintest of smiles played at the corner of his lips. "Maybe start with proper dates rather than holing up to study all the time, hm?"

You gave a watery smile at that, nodding as you brushed at your eyes. Sakusa's thumb traced your cheekbone tenderly.

"Be patient with me," he murmured. "I may fumble and misstep as I figure this out. But I want...I want to take care of you, too."

Leaning in, he brushed a featherlight kiss against the apple of your cheek before enveloping you in a cautious, almost tentative embrace. You melted into his arms, reveling in the novel warmth and firm reassurance of his touch as you burrowed against his chest contentedly.

It was a start, you mused. The first blossoming of Sakusa opening himself up to your world of affection and intimacy. You would savor every treasured gesture, because you knew - he was finally letting you in.

[it-is-only-a-novel]

Neurodivergent: a list

A list of those who are included under the "neurodivergent" label.

Applied Neurodiversity

Dyscalculia

Dysgraphia

Dyslexia

Dysnomia

Dyspraxia

Dissociative disorders

Depersonalization-derealization disorder (DpDr)

Dissociative amnesia

Dissociative identity disorder (DID)

Other specified dissociative disorder (OSDD)

Unspecified dissociative disorder

Eating disorders:

Anorexia nervosa

Avoidant restrictive food intake disorder (ARFID)

Binge-eating disorder

Bullimia nervosa

Pica

Mental illnesses:

Anxiety

Delusional disorder

Depression

Complex post-traumatic stress disorder (CPTSD)

Post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD)

Personality Disorders:

Cluster A:

Paranoid personality disorder

Schizoid personality disorder

Schizotypal personality disorder

Cluster B:

Antisocial personality disorder

Borderline personality disorder (BPD)

Histrionic personality disorder (HPD)

Narcissistic personality disorder (NPD)

Cluster C:

Avoidant personality disorder

Dependent personality disorder

Obsessive-compulsive personality disorder

Other:

Personality change due to another medical condition

Personality disorder not otherwise specified (PD-NOS)

personality disorder trait specified (PD-TS)

Tic disorder

Chronic motor or vocal tic disorder

Tourette syndrome

Transient tic disorder

other

Acquired Brain Injuries (ABI)

Angelmans Syndrome

Auditory processing disorder

Autism spectrum disorder (ASD)

Attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD)

Body integrity identity disorder (BIID)

Bipolar disorder

Depersonalization-derealization disorder (DPDR)

Down syndrome

Fetal alcohol spectrum disorder (FASD)

Fragile X syndrome

Hyperlexia

Intellectual disability

Irlen Syndrome

Meares-Irlen Syndrome

Obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD)

Obsessive love disorder (OLD)

Pediatric autoimmune neuropsychiatric disorders associated with streptococcal infections (PANDAS)

Prader-Willi Syndrome (PWS)

Prosopagnosia

Savant Syndrome

Schizophrenia

Synesthesia

Williams Syndrome/Williams Beuren Syndrome

This is by no means a full list.

If you: see that I'm missing something, or

want me to rephrase something, or

have a resource to share, or

have a suggestion for organizing the list

please let me know in the comments/rebloggs.

I'm autistic and I love making lists. I also hope it may help spread awareness about neurodivergent people!

I am not an expert. But I do believe that we should be careful to include people in the neurodivergent umbrella. We are stronger together.

Updated: 9/2/24

[remotewatch]

no class, some integrity!

Jack Schlossberg x reader | 1.3k wc

Summary: All Jack wants is a round of golf, what a bore!

cw: shameless smut, fingering, outdoor recreation, sorry to the landscapers, and the ducks, unprotected sex, cum eating, if you want to safely reenact this get your ass up and VOTE, reader is on birth control but what’s a little plan b nausea for peace of mind, try to guess how serious I am about that, hate sex kinda sorta, this is a comedy

this one is for my oomf in editing! see you at the greek island queen out!

minors dni! get out! fuck off! shoo!

“Jack, fuck! Slow down!” Not because it hurts, but because he’s pounding you so hard he’s pushing you downhill, and any attempts you make to ground yourself against the grass just tear up the fresh sod in chunks. He’s bent and pressed flat against your back, panting whiny little “sorry-so sorry-I can’t, sorry-god”s into your ear as his hips piston uncontrollably.

You should’ve known better than to be all over him when you hadn’t seen each other in weeks; really, you should’ve expected this back when you selected your outfit.

-45 minutes earlier-

“Is that a skort?” You give him a half-glance over your shoulder from in front of the foyer mirror.

“No?” Jack leans back to peer under your hem in a way that only he can do without looking sleazy.

“You’re going to golf in a regular skirt?” God, he’s so simple, but you refrain from rolling your eyes.

“I didn’t pack anything else to go with this top. Does your course have a new dress code I’m not aware of?” With a practiced flick of your ponytail, you trot outside to the waiting golf cart before he can ask any more stupid questions.

As if Mother Nature herself means to mock you, the wind picks up as soon as he starts the engine. You spend the first few holes failing to hold your skirt down as Jack effortlessly outscores you, clearly not distracted enough to be beaten. If anything, the fluttering fabric is messing up your game as he watches from the drivers seat.

“If only someone would invent some sort of contraption with built in shorts, then you’d really be set.”

“Oh, fuck off!” he makes you miss your swing, sending the ball careening off to your left into a ditch. When you settle back into the cart, he’s wearing that mischievous little grin you hate to love.

“No, no, I’m serious. You should design one, bet it’d be a hit,” Alright, that’s enough of that. You swing your left thigh over his right, letting your skirt ride up enough to show off your underwear.

“Yeah, you’re always trying to get me to wear more clothes,” Jack suddenly appears very interested in the nearby duck pond despite the unmistakable tent in his chinos.

“We’re only on hole three, you know.”

“Ooh, the magic number!” He turns and squints into the sun, confirming you’re still very much in view of a security checkpoint, but you’re quick to stamp out his concerns.

“You’re seriously going to waste the one time we get the place to ourselves?” Another scoot and you’re practically sitting in his lap. “Or are you just worried about grass stains?”

“You’re ridiculous,” he mumbles, but he’s steering the cart out of sight nonetheless.

The second there’s a cluster of trees between you and the checkpoint, Jack is yanking your panties off hard enough to threaten rug burn. He’s grumbling all the way down to kneeling on the grass, like you’re asking him to repaint the whole property instead of rail you.

“You better spray all over these fucking seats if you want to act like this. I actually wanted to play today.” The leather squeaks as you slide fully onto his seat and place your feet on his shoulders. Your sneaker playfully nudges his cheekbone.

“That really depends more on you, you know.”

There’s a nearly imperceptible tic in Jack’s jaw, confirming you’ve pushed the right button.

For better or for worse, his hands simply don’t get tired. One presses on your pubic bone, pulling the skin just taught enough that every perfectly metronomic stroke on your clit sings through you uninhibited. He’s two knuckles deep and humming along to his own rhythm like an asshole, and maybe you’d say so if he wasn’t yanking your thoughts out with every hook of his fingers. Under any other circumstances, you might feel some type of way about the obscene squelching being the loudest sound on the course, but Jack has been gone for two weeks, and nothing in your toy box matches his fingers. He could make you sound like a foghorn without inspiring a lick of shame.

True to your word, the chair is utterly soaked, and Jack delights in the little bit that his fingers force out of you on each reentry. His tongue is snaking under you trying to clean every drop as it works its way up to your clit, but you more or less kick him to the ground before he can settle in.

“You still want to finish the game, right? We’ll be here all day if you keep playing with your food.” Jack tilts his head to one side like he’ll try and bicker back, but he elects to lunge for your waistband and drag you down with him instead. It would look fucking ridiculous if you were visible to anyone but the wildlife: both of you rolling around trying not to gain momentum and tumble downhill, kneeing each other and ripping up your cute little outfits like kids fighting for the remote. When you let your guard slip enough to fish his cock out of his pants, he takes the opportunity to pin you facedown to the turf and flood your nose with the smell of cut grass. You throw a weak elbow trying to flip him back over, but you’re no match for his years of paddle-boarding. A muttered “-can’t fuckin’ stand you-“ finds its way to your ear, and then he’s in and immediately slamming stars into your vision as your knees divot the green.

Jack always talks your ear off when you derail plans like this, complaining to the time of his thrusts in a way that nearly sounds convincing.

“We’ve never-completed-a whole-game! Never!” The breathiness of it deflates any sense of conviction from his words. Somehow you manage to crawl forward enough to get back onto your elbows, and it takes everything in you to keep your voice steady as you turn back to scowl at him.

“Get up and keep playing if you’re so upset.”

There’s that jaw twinge again. Before you can think to regret your words, he’s twisting one hand into your ponytail and pulling hard enough to make your grip slip.

He nearly knocks the breath out of you when he follows your collapse down to the ground, loose bits of grass sticking to both of your faces as he drools down your cheek. The new angle slots him even deeper, and the ducks resting by the pond’s edge actually fucking take off when they hear the moan he punches out of you. Despite it all, Jack is still a gentleman, one hand worming its way underneath you to paw frantically, sloppily at your clit. You’re driving him insane in the process of grinding down on his fingertips and bouncing off his pelvis in the little wiggle room you have, and soon he’s squeaking out little half syllables as his composure unravels. Any attempts at telling him to cum on your back are thwarted by your orgasm crashing through you and dragging his along with it. The way you’re twitching under him would be humiliating if he wasn’t matching you spasm for spasm. When he moves to scoot back, you grab a fistful of his ruined shirt and dig your nails into his oblique striations.

“Don’t even think about it. Clean that shit up, and then you’re driving us to CVS.” Jack snorts in annoyance, but he carefully pulls out to bend down and tuck in to his meal. The vibrations of him slurping his own cum out of you are almost overwhelming, but he switches to lapping you clean before you have to tap out. One last lip smack around your clit, and he’s leaning back on his heels to catch his breath. By now, the sun is just low enough to start stretching your shadows, and he looks nothing like the menace who just destroyed your outfit when he lies down facing you to pout about finishing up the game. You don’t bother to hide a giggle when you see how green his trousers are.

“That’s up to you. Do you feel more like changing or avoiding a speeding ticket?”

[honeymoonblues]

Gossip & Giggles

Professor Remus Lupin x Professor!GN!Reader

Summary: You've gone away for the day, and Remus feels like everybody is acting strange. (Gender neutral reader)

Word count: 724

A/N: Fluffy little thing. Is implicated that the reader and Remus are in an established relationship. Please, let me know if there are any spelling errors, English is not my first language.

“I give him 10 minutes at most.”

“I’d say at least until he walks through the door of the first class.”

“Have a little faith! I think he won’t go five minutes without noticing.”

A few professors were clustered in the entrance of the great hall, murmuring to each other. Remus thought that was a bit odd, but didn’t question it much, it was far too early, and his hunger was stronger than his curiosity at the moment. 

When his coworkers felt his stare, they quieted down, which was even more curious. Were they talking about him? Lupin wondered. But the hot tea in his cup was much more enticing than whatever they might have going on.

His gaze was fixed at a random point of his table, his mind lost in the haze of the cold morning and the memory of you saying goodbye. 

It was much, much earlier when your owl had woken up both of you by clawing at your bedroom window. It carried bad news for you. Thankfully, nothing tragic had happened, but the letter received demanded your immediate attention. That’s how, before the sun was out, you left the castle, not before hugging and kissing Remus goodbye, of course.

Breakfast passed without giving professor Lupin much time to raise his spirits, so he walked to his first class with his mind still elsewhere. 

The students were lively, in total disregard of the early hour or the freezing weather, as expected from the second-years. When he called for their attention, however, they fell silent ridiculously fast and started to whisper to each other in a way that reminded Remus of the professors in the great hall this morning. The nervous tic in his eye started acting up, he sighed and tried to make his student’s concentrate on the class once again. 

Overall, it was an all-right lesson, even outstanding considering Remus was fighting his neck pain, five hours of sleep, and the constant gossiping the students seemed to have going on through whispers and notes for the whole two hours. 

Stretching and comforting himself, Lupin thought “the second years always have some drama to murmur about anyway”. But his next class with the fourth-years was somehow worse! 

This particular group of hufflepuffs and ravenclaws was usually quiet, so much that he had to beg them to participate. But this morning, they seemed to not be able to hold their tongues, or keep their giggles at bay. 

“What’s going on with you today!” Even Remus had to chuckle at the unusual circumstance. 

In spite of that, he took advantage of the energy in the class, and used it to make an impromptu dueling class, which would have been impossible with these students any other day.

Sitting down for five minutes between lessons, he scratched his head, in an almost meditative state. Why was everyone acting strange? Is he missing something? 

While making sure he had a matching pair of shoes, and had not magically changed his pants for a multi-coloured kilt somehow, the seventh-years entered his classroom.

The older the students, the more tired they usually are, so this class went along ordinarily. They did seem to be smiling more, and Remus thought he heard one of them call him ‘cute’, but what were the odds? 

As the hours passed, Remus felt more worn out than other days, so every little bizarre experience in class or after it, he ended up attributing to his own tiredness-induced-paranoia. 

To his heart’s content, you were back to the castle just in time for dinner. With all these odd happenings, he felt like you were gone a week rather than just a few hours, but here you were, finally. 

The silly grin he had on his face when he saw you, rapidly faltered when he noticed how you giggled at the sight of him. Merlin, you too?

Blinking slowly, he felt your arms wrapping around him.

“Hello.” his voice was muffled against your shoulder.  “I missed you.”

“I can tell, darling.” Moving away from him, you looked into his eyes and took his face delicately in your hands. “Is that why you decided to leave my lipstick mark on your cheek for today?”

Then, he laughed heartily in realization, while you wiped his face to get rid of the remnants of your morning goodbye kiss.

(i hope no one minded the concept of the reader wearing lipstick, considering it's a gender neutral reader, but i think makeup is pretty genderless! even us they/thems have to wear lipstick once in a while!)

[titan-god-helios]

simply existing as neurodivergent is tiring.

no matter which it is, every neurodivergence comes with its own set of symptoms and traits that makes even sitting and trying to relax something that takes energy.

for me, my adhd makes it so that i have a CONSTANT inner monologue. and that "monologue" consists of SO much. it feels like there's a main monologue of my most prominent thoughts, another monologue in the background and another after that too, with music playing off in the distance, mental images flashing in and out and also having to stay present in the real world so i don't fuck everything up in real life. my brain is always on high speed and when it isn't there's still mental noise regardless from the monologue. and its fucking tiring. it makes my social battery lower than ever and means that i never truly get a moments' peace unless i superengineer my surroundings to force it. which again, takes energy.

if you add the fact that my autism connotes sensory issues, a baseline of anxiety for pretty much everything due to yk. uncertainty of situations, having to mask and be hypervigilant to keep up my masking etc, it becomes even more tiring. masking whilst being distracted in a conversation is even harder.

then my npd dogpiles essentially and makes it so there's a subsection of my inner monologue dedicated to screaming at me and mocking me or others all the time. that's fucking tiring.

i get intrusive thoughts. i disassociate a lot. my mood can change very quickly due to the emotional dysregulation that comes with my everything. that's tiring.

it feels like my brain is constantly doing its best to fuck with me at all times. and its doing a pretty damn good job at it.

that's not to mention other neurodivergences that other people may have such as did/osdd, schizospec disorders, cluster a, b and c personality disorders, down syndrome, dyslexia, dyspraxia, dysgraphia, dyscalculia, bipolar disorder, synaesthesia, intellectual disabilities, auditory processing disorders, anxiety disorders, depressive disorders, tourettes' syndrome, tic disorders, cerebral palsy, parkinsons', alexithymia (which i have and makes it exhausting to just. figure out how you feel at any given time and makes things such as giving consent much harder and lengthier) and so on

if you happen to have physical disabilities alongside neurodivergence, it's even fucking harder.

it's fucking hard. it's not a bed of roses, or doesn't only affect us when we're doing stuff. us sitting on the couch and trying to relax may take enormous amounts of effort that you simply do not see.

please be patient with us. we're trying our best.