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rocorambles · 4 years ago

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A Game of Cat and Mouse

Pairing: Iwaizumi x Reader

Genre/Warnings: Cop and Criminal AU (Cop Iwaizumi, Criminal Reader), NSFW, Sex Toys, Degradation, Overstimulation, Bondage

Summary: Bad girls get punished. And criminals who go out of their way to make Iwaizumi’s life hell on a routine basis deserve extra special punishment.

Author’s Note: This is for the NSFW Haikyuu HQ Gifting Event! @multifandhoem I hope you enjoy~ (I really got carried away with the plot in this fic. One day I will learn how to write porn without plot, but for now, please accept my porn with way too much plot.)

Irritating Iwaizumi Hajime might be your favorite activity in the world. There’s just something so satisfying about watching his usually calm and stoic face shatter into an angry feral mess. And maybe, just maybe, something deep in your belly stirs as he growls and snarls at you, something primal in you writhing in excitement as he bares his teeth at you and chases you.

You’ve lived a life of sins and crimes for as long as you can remember, but hard work has taken you a long way. So really, there isn’t any need for you to continue your petty thieving ways. You’re set for life with the money you’ve accrued from the countless successful exchanges you’ve made. It’s almost obscene just how much people are willing to pay for a few shiny stones or swatches of paint on a canvas.

And yet you can’t help yourself from revisiting your bad habits of creeping in the shadows, analyzing floor plans, strategizing routes. Only now, your plans are centered around a brooding spiky haired cop with the most beautiful green eyes you’ve ever seen instead of the number of zeros at the end of a number.

You don’t know exactly what about Iwaizumi resonates so strongly with you. Sure, he’s handsome, but you’ve run into your fair share of handsome officers. You dare say Officer Sawamura could give Iwaizumi a run for his money in the looks department.

Maybe it’s the hints of wildness you see underneath his straight-laced façade.

Maybe it’s the fire you see blazing behind his reserved countenance.

Whatever it is has you keeping tabs on him, has you concocting plans just sloppy enough for Iwaizumi to get tantalizingly close to you, but put together enough to have you escaping his grasp each and every time. And you cackle at the way his eyes light up when he thinks he has you pinned down, only to furiously scowl at your retreating figure when you taunt him with a flirtatious air kiss and a cheeky “maybe next time, sir”.

It’s an endless game of cat and mouse, but you don’t think you’ll ever tire of it. And you’re beginning to suspect that even Iwaizumi finds it amusing to a certain degree.

You had been at a loss for words when the officer had merely trudged into the jewelry store you had been waiting for him in at your last heist, only to casually lean against the wall, folding his arms across his chest as he regarded you holding the store’s most expensive strings of diamonds and pearls in your hands, teasingly holding them up to his face. And you hesitantly lower your arm, unsure what to do as the silence and stillness of the night stretches.

There’s no growled threats or pointed firearm in your face like there usually would be right about now. And you swear there’s a hint of a smirk on the handsome face across from you as the two of you just stand there, stuck in the strange heady tension filling the air.

But you almost drop everything you’re holding at Iwaizumi’s next words.��

“If you want my attention that badly, there are better ways of going about it.”

It’s Iwaizumi’s turn to laugh as your trademark smirk falls off the lower unmasked part of your face and he confidently saunters over to you, strong arms boxing you in against the glass counter, enjoying the rush of power he feels about the tables finally turning as you shyly look anywhere but at him. And something roars triumphantly inside of him when you gasp as he hooks his hand under your chin and forces you to meet him gaze on.

“I’ve spent the last few months wracking my brain for answers. Why were you suddenly committing so many meaningless robberies? Robberies of stores and items so far beneath your caliber? Was it just coincidence that you were only committing crimes on the routes and nights I was working? Was I just imagining that it seemed like you were actively trying to avoid injuring me every time we clashed? None of it made any sense. But then your stupid flirting started and it made me think that maybe there was some rhyme and reason to your suddenly erratic behavior after all.”

There’s silence as he lets you register his words and the rattling of jewelry as he plucks the expensive strands out of your hands and carelessly tosses them back in their case. But he softly smiles when you don’t deny his words and make no move to push him away or escape.

“I believe in new beginnings and fresh starts, so when you’re done with your thieving ways, come find me. I’m curious about the woman under the mask.”

It’s weeks before you have the courage to even secretly trail after Iwaizumi again after that encounter and even then, you don’t do anything but keep watch over him.

His words echo in your mind and you don’t have the urge to steal and ring an alarm to beckon him towards you. Not when the greatest treasure of all is just within your grasp whenever you’re ready to summon the will to finally reveal your identity and meet him person to person in broad daylight instead of slithering around each other in the twisted tango of cop and criminal.

But you aren’t ready yet and you merely keep tabs on him for now, curiosity and protectiveness getting the better of you, and if Iwaizumi notices the moving shadow that seems to follow him wherever he goes, he doesn’t bring attention to it. There’s something comforting, maybe even endearing, about how you’ve become a guardian angel of sorts to him, especially with the increasing body count and grizzly crimes being committed. And although he wishes you were safe and sound, tucked far away from the ricocheting bullets and corpses, his heart warms at the bouquet of lilies he finds on his doorsteps when he stumbles back home, empty and defeated, the weight of his partner’s death from a particularly bloody shootout still fresh on his mind.

There’s no note, no letter, but he knows. Knows that it could only be you, knows that no one outside of his team or the criminals they had been fighting with could possibly know about the death so soon unless they happened to witness the scene. And that night he sobs himself to sleep, clutching your flowers to his chest, unaware of the way you forlornly stare at him from the roof across the street, heart aching and wishing more than anything that you weren’t such a coward, that you were brave enough to slip inside and comfort him in person.

But life has a funny way of working, of not caring if you’re ready or not and your lives crash together once more in an unexpected way.

Iwaizumi is promoted to lead the new task force aimed at squashing down the rising crime syndicates. You’re proud of him, but you can’t quell the anxiety that courses through you as you watch every raid that takes place, wondering if and when the day will come where he’ll be outmaneuvered, keeping your own skills sharp, praying that you’ll never have to use them again, but just in case…

And you thank whoever’s listening that you had kept up with your training as Iwaizumi’s team is ambushed and overpowered one night. Your heart drops and bile rises in your throat as officer after officer crumples to the floor, but you force yourself to calm down, to find an internal steady rhythm as you glide through the shadows, swiftly and secretly making your way towards the man you’ve become so attached to.

You fight down the panic when you finally reach him, try to still the tremble in your hands as you quickly scan the growing dark red stain spreading across his shirt from his wounds, almost collapsing in relief when you find that they’re all superficial wounds, nothing life threatening or critical.

The silent scuffle between the two of you is awful and you’re thankful that blood loss and pain have weakened him as you forcefully drag him away, nails gripping tightly into his skin as you roughly lead him to your apartment despite his struggling, despite his desperate desire to go back and help his few remaining teammates. And you’re both fiercely snarling at each other when you’re finally safe inside your apartment, fury raging in both of you as you snap at each other.

“You should have let me stay and help!”

“So that you could end up dead like the rest of them? You were clearly outpowered and outnumbered!”

“Well you should have just let me die then, instead of helping me escape like a coward.”

A resounding crack echoes throughout the room and it takes you some time to register the smarting pain in the palm of your hand and the fresh red mark on Iwaizumi’s cheek. But before you can even stutter an apology, a hand is fisting the front of your shirt and lips are crashing against yours in an angry impassioned act and you whimper as you are forced to taste his frustration and gratitude, his losses and gain, his despair and hope.

And when he disconnects and the two of you gasp for much needed oxygen, you stand in the middle of your apartment, arms wrapped around each other, only the sounds of Iwaizumi’s sobs and your comforting words flitting through the air as he buries his face in the crook of your neck and you rub soothing patterns on his back.

The rest of the night is a domestic peaceful drawl and you gently lead Iwaizumi to an armchair in your living room before scurrying away to rummage for your first aid kit and returning to kneel between his legs as you clean his injuries, apologizing as he winces at the sting of warm water and soap against his open wounds. There’s a soothing flow as you tend to him and you relax with every swipe of the towel, fingers and hands lingering just a tad longer than they should on his skin. But you stiffen when his uninjured arm raises and calloused fingers lightly trace the bottom of your mask.

There’s an unspoken question in the way he delicately plays around with the corners of the fabric, but it seems deafening to you as your heart races. Maybe it’s the pure intentions in his eyes or the fact that your walls are weakened in the confines of your apartment, but either way, you don’t pull away, tilting your head up and stilling in silent confirmation. And something flutters in your chest as he gingerly removes your mask, heat rising to your face as green eyes stare at your face in awe for the first time, fingertips tracing every inch and line, mapping every groove reverently.

It feels like eternity before you resume dipping the towel into the soapy water and treating him. But bandaged and deemed well, Iwaizumi is ushered to your shower and you shove a pile of clean towels and the largest loungewear you have into his hands, fully intent on locking him in the bathroom as you get a grip on yourself. But he has different plans in mind and you’re speechless as he firmly grasps your wrist before you can retreat with your tail between your legs.

“Stay with me. Please.”

How could you possibly deny those honest eyes?

Swipes of a soapbar against skin become intimate caresses and before you fully register what’s happening, you’re being pressed against the wall as Iwaizumi plunders your mouth, rough hands roaming all over your body as he fully explores everything you have to offer. You whimper as the hot water is suddenly turned off, the cold air crashing against you, but you let out a content sigh as a hot body wraps you in its embrace, carrying you to the sanctuary of your plush bedding. And all you know before you blissfully pass out is the sound of your wanton moans as you break apart over and over again, on Iwaizumi’s tongue, fingers, and cock, tears and drool cascading down your face as you alternate between begging for more and crying for him to let you rest before you ultimately pass out from the deliriously overwhelming ecstasy.

The sun is barely creeping in, a few slim tendrils slipping past the cracks of your window blinds when his eyes flutter open and something warm spreads in his chest as he slowly turns to observe your still soundly sleeping figure, a small upward quirk of his lips betraying how right it feels to wake up beside your vulnerable state. And although he can’t deny the allure of your body creeping through the night, he thinks that you’re the most beautiful like this, unmasked and body unconsciously seeking his presence and warmth as you curl into his space, your face nuzzling into his chest, head perfectly settled under his chin, the soft glow of sunlight enhancing your natural beauty.

But he grimaces as his alarm continues to blaringly ring in the background, frowning as he reluctantly separates himself from you and carefully untangles himself from your bed sheets, quietly traipsing out of your room and dialing a number on his phone when he’s out of your earshot.

Guilt and dread claw at him as the ringtone goes on and on and his throat is dry when he hears the authoritative voice through the speakers.

“Iwaizumi? Are you okay?!”

Iwaizumi wishes he had a glass of water as he chokes out a polite greeting and he can feel hot tears prick at his eyes as he ceaselessly apologizes. Apologizing for abandoning his men. Apologizing for a failed mission. Apologizing for being such a failure as an officer, as a leader.

But he quickly shuts up at the sharp tone that pierces his ear as Sawamura barks his name and he waits and waits, holding his breath, preparing to give up his badge, only to splutter in surprise at the warm relieved chuckle echoing across the speaker.

“I’m glad you’re at least well enough to give me a headache with your wallowing. Good men died and we’re going to feel their loss for a long time. I won’t deny that. But no one blames you, Iwaizumi. You’re a good man, a great officer, and an even better leader. Rest up, grieve, mourn. Do whatever you need to do for the next few days. And when you’re ready, I expect to see you in my office so we can strategize about how we’re going to honor our fallen teammates by giving these criminals hell.”

He barely has time to stammer a “yes, sir” before the line clicks shut and the tears finally roll down his face as he clutches his phone in his hands, bittersweet gratefulness and sorrow blending together. And as his cries come to an end, a determined glint flickers in his eyes as he wipes the last of the salty trails away, the resolve of a man seeking vengeance forming inside of him.

But that could wait until he was back in the swirl and chaos of the precinct. For now, he has other loose ends to tie and he quietly walks back to your room, smiling at the sight of your still slumbering figure nestled in your blankets as he makes his way towards you, intent on slipping back underneath the covers besides you. But he lets out a muffled pained curse as his foot knocks over a box besides your bed, the crash of objects dispersing across the wood floor rattling you awake, and you blearily blink your eyes open only to stare in shock and horror as Iwaizumi curiously holds up a set of black bondage restraints and a jeweled butt plug from among the scattered items, before sending an amused look and a quirked brow your way.

If you were drowsy before, you’re wide awake now as you lunge out of bed, throwing yourself at Iwaizumi as you frantically try to regain possession of some of your most intimate belongings, pouting when he holds the items out of reach, a mischievous grin on his face as he looks down at you.

“Are you familiar with the stoplight system?”

You pause your futile jumping as you try and bat your toys out of his hands, balking at the underlying meaning in his question, waiting for him to just laugh it off and move on. But when all he does is bring a warm hand to gently cup your face, his thumb brushing against your cheekbone as he patiently gazes at you, letting you make the final decision, you melt and lean into his touch, shyly nodding your head as you blissfully sigh at the way it feels so right for him to be touching you.

“Words, princess. I’m not going to be gentle. Not after all the teasing and headaches you’ve caused me. So I need to be sure you’re ok with this, that it’s what you want.”

Brief descriptions of red, yellow, and green are barely out of your mouth before you’re suddenly being forcefully shoved onto the bed, body instinctively flailing in self-defense as you try to register what’s happening while binds are roughly being wrapped around your wrists and ankles. But you mewl in arousal as Iwaizumi’s weight settles on top of you, his hard chest pressing you against the bed as he dexterously ties you up until you’re in a spread-eagled position underneath him, unable to move even an inch. And your breath hitches at the hungry look he pins you down with as he sits back and enjoys the view of your trussed up body on complete display for him.

But you grow impatient as the minutes drag by and Iwaizumi gives you an unimpressed look as you begin to fight against your restraints, whining for him to get on with it already. And he shuts you up with a punishing pinch to your inner thigh that has you yelping before getting up from the bed and perusing your box of toys.

You crane your neck in every way as you try to get a sneak peek of what he has in store for you, but Iwaizumi puts that idea to a screeching halt as he slips a blindfold around your head and all you know is darkness and anticipation. Despite the way you try to intently listen for any warning, you squeal in surprise when a hot wet mouth latches onto one of your nipples, fingers tweaking the other and your entire world narrows down to your two perky buds, the lewd wet sounds of sucking filling your ears. Mouth and hands alternate and you can’t keep up with the fluctuating patterns, your breath coming out in pants, your pussy beginning to glisten with arousal, and you sigh in relief when the assault stops, glad to have a moment of reprieve, only to wail when the intense pressure of nipple clamps sears through you, the cold weight of the chain connecting the two clamps piercing your senses as it settles onto your skin.

Pain and pleasure echo through your mind so loudly that you don’t sense Iwaizumi moving until fingers suddenly slip inside your dripping pussy and your back arches, the nipple clamp chain jingling with the movement and a rush of humiliation courses through you when Iwaizumi chuckles, commenting on how wet you are already.

“I was going to prep you a bit more, but looks like this cock hungry hole is more than ready.”

You’re practically salivating as something hard nudges against your entrance, already delirious just from the prospect of being filled with Iwaizumi’s cock once again, but enthusiasm turns to confusion which turns to pleasured shock as your rabbit vibrator is shoved inside of you and immediately set to its highest setting, your clit and walls stimulated so sharply, so suddenly.

It’s so good, but it’s not enough, it’s too much, it’s not what you want.

“Haji-Hajime, please. Want to cum on your cock. Don’t want a toy! Too much. At least turn it down. Haji-AHHHH!”

You scream as you’re forced to an orgasm, body convulsing, jaw going slack, and you wait for the toy to be removed, wait for the settings to be lowered, only for dread and disbelief to fill you as a sticky thick substance is being inserted into your puckered hole, a lubed finger slowly entering you, taking its time to explore and spread your tight hole as the vibrator continues to ravage your pussy and clit at full intensity. And drool begins to seep from the corners of your mouth as you tumble headfirst into overstimulation as a plug replaces the fingers inside of your ass, nestling inside of you as you come to terms with the overwhelming feeling of being double stuffed.

“Ha-Hajime please please please. Too much. I can’t-”

The plug inside of you is teasingly pulled just enough for you to feel the stretch of your hole, only to be shoved inside you once again and words are too hard to think of as the vibrator is thrust in and out of you, the slick sounds of your gushing cunt embarrassingly loud even above your whimpers.

“Maybe I should make you cum for every robbery you ever committed. Maybe then you’ll actually behave and be a law-abiding citizen. Would you like that? Being too fucked out to even think about breaking the law?”

“No! Please! I’m sorry. I’ll be good. I swear. Just please let me rest.”

“Sorry, princess. Bad girls need to be punished.”

A strangled sob escapes you as the vibrator is pushed even deeper inside of you, the smaller tip grinding even further into your clit and your cries are swallowed as Iwaizumi settles besides you, affectionately capturing your lips with his as he watches you break apart once again, smirking as your body and face try to draw closer to him, seeking comfort and relief as overwhelming pleasure drowns you.

But he doesn’t stop. Not even when your begging and pleading turns into incoherent babbles and wanton noises. Not even when you’re too tired to even move, your body only twitching here and there from overstimulation, completely slack and mindless as pleasure melts your brain into mush.

Only when the vibrator finally runs out of batteries hours later, the mechanical whirring coming to an end, does he finally relieve you of the object and you dazedly stare at him as he removes your tear-stained blindfold, slumping in relief that it’s finally over, wanting nothing more than to curl up in Iwaizumi’s arms and sleep for a long, long time.

But he has other plans for the two of you and even in your exhausted state, your eyes fling wide open and you weakly whimper as he positions himself in between your legs, guiding his cock to your spent hole and easily slipping inside before caging you with his arms.

Your eyes roll back at the sudden intrusion and despite how wrecked you are, how used you feel, arousal once again begins to coil up inside of you as your walls accommodate the new object.

All you can think about is the cock inside of you. All you can think about is the way it fills and stretches you. All you can think about is the way it drags against your sensitive walls as Iwaizumi begins to piston his hips in a brutal steady rhythm.

The room is a cacophony of Iwaizumi’s grunts, your broken moans, the sound of skin slapping against skin and you can feel yourself losing to the pleasure as the now all too familiar knot in your stomach tightens once again, your body tensing and pulling taut against your restraints as something builds up inside of you.

Iwaizumi isn’t doing much better, so pent up from watching you beautifully fall apart over and over again in front of him, so close to the real thing as he hovers above you, memorizing the blissed out look on your face, mentally recording every gorgeous sound that slips past your lips, and this time it’s all because of him.

He increases his pace, groaning as your walls tighten around him as if they don’t ever want him to leave them empty, something feral inside of him howling as your mouth opens in a silent scream as you crash one last time, your body shaking and trembling, your cunt spasming around him as he spills long thick stripes inside of you.

When there’s nothing left to give, every last drop of his essence deep within you, your body boneless and limp beneath him, he gently lays on top of you, burying his face in the space besides yours, murmuring praises and words of affirmation as he blankets your body with his.

And when you finally come back to him, eyes looking a little more clear, voice regaining your sassy tone as you demand that he undo your restraints, he’s more than happy to oblige, carefully releasing you, rubbing every sore limb, letting you use him as your personal body pillow as you throw your arms and legs around him and bury your face into his chest, almost instantly falling into a deep exhausted slumber in the safety of his presence.

There will be proper, much needed conversations and discussions when the two of you are both awake, sitting across each other with steaming mugs of coffee placed in front of you, hesitantly yet hopefully probing for answers. What are the two of you? What does the future hold for both of you?

But for now, Iwaizumi lets his eyes shut, lets himself be lulled by the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest as he holds you close to him, protectively curling around you as sleep embraces him.

#haikyuu smut #iwaizumi x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu fic #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #Iwaizumi #Iwaizumi Hajime #haikyuu x reader

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grossboness · 3 years ago

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…I just fucking binged.

I ate over 3 thousand worth of calories in one sitting. I had to keep purging mid binge to fit in my stomach because it hurt to keep eating.

I’ve gained 0.5-1kg after my binge even though I kept weighing myself during to make sure I got as much of it out of my stomach as I could. I could only get stomach acid out and remnants of food I had in the morning. I wanted to buy more food. Entire cheesecakes, sweets, literally everything. I often binge of foods I don’t even necessarily like. But I’m so broke at the moment I essentially spent the last of money on this stupid binge. While harbouring the guilt that people would love to be able to afford or have access to food. I have to have some weird ritualistic depraved relationship with it.

Eating disorder wise: I feel like a failure my stomach is so bloated now and my throat hurts.

I just ate a laxative that I’m hoping will flush out any water weight but I genuinely hate using them as I’ve abused them in the past and they definitely do nothing for weight loss. I know this. But I’m mentally ill and need to cope with my anxiety.

I’m not trying to glorify my illness, I’m hoping I can look back on this when I’m in recovery and be so proud that I’m not like this anymore. That I can enjoy food again and to not feel like I don’t deserve it or or that I’m some gluttonous monster that needs to be punished if I want too.

I’m ashamed. I was so close to my GW but I’m hoping this is the kick I needed to liquid fast for the next few days. (Treatment isn’t far away)

#relapse #an0r3x14 #b1ng3 #triggering content #trigger warning #personal #b0dy chex

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fishmongeringstudies · 3 years ago

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forty one: to the 2013 facebook post in which i started a six-year countdown to a day of salvation that never came

at risk of sounding like someone with zero grasp on reality when i flew to america in february the combined weight of traveling by myself for the first time to a country i hadn't been to since 1884 while in the middle of a raging pandemic set my anxiety off like a bomb and led to me spending every waking moment on the plane genuinely convinced i was going to die. i won't go into the details because i don't think reliving an extended fifteen-hour panic attack one day prior to a six and seventeen hour flight respectively will make either of those things any easier to bear, but it is pretty fucking funny. like the moment i walked through the glass doors into immigration and dropped the hand that had been waving of its own accord for the last five minutes, i just lost it. not that i had been holding onto much to begin with by that point. but if there was anything still left, it left for good.

the term 'five months later' also implies five months spent in the aforementioned country i haven't been in since 1840, so i'm inclined to say that the bomb has a longer fuse this time. in fact i am willing it into reality. the alternative is unbearable so this will have to do. i left singapore with a supply of kopi candy in the front pocket of my backpack. this time my hands are empty. so fill them with something, you say in a matter-of-fact voice, feeling intelligent and on top of things. but one of my seventeen greatest flaws is a proclivity for inaction when it comes to all matters concerning myself. i think i will walk to the airport with these empty hands, clenched into fists, pressed into my pockets.

travel means something different now. when i was a child i associated travel quite strictly with vacations and idle weekends spent with faraway relatives i met once every three or seven years. to fly was to get away, and to get away was to cease to be myself for a set number of days. having spent most of my life feeling like someone was trying to snap a wooden board in half over my back, i found the idea of dislocating my soul to be liberating. but the thing thirteen year old me with a face full of jiaozi didn't consider is that the difference between living and leaving is captured in the extra money you add to turn a one-way ticket into a round trip. deciding to go to college overseas means permanent dislocation of half of your being. it means being split down your asshole. it is no happy week-long jaunt in taichung, where the streets are lit with gold lanterns; it is an act of violence.

which isn't to say that it's inherently bad, destructive, or problematic, et cetera et cetera, it's just that something has to break in the process and you don't get to choose what. afterwards you spend hours on your hands and knees scrabbling to pick up the pieces of yourself. eventually you get bored and start to build something else. it's like playing with legos. you recreate yourself in the image of god.

i've always had a foot in singaporean soil but the other foot kind of just floated around in mid-air, waiting for something to stick itself to. this spring that foot hit the ground. see? asshole.

looking back i'm not sure what thirteen year old me wanted to achieve by leaving forever and never coming back. it never occurred to me how hard it is to remake yourself up until i got on that plane and was hit with the full force of the unknown that had always lurked three inches out of sight, and then i proceeded to misread every signal and break every personal rule i had ever set with myself over the course of thirteen weeks of unimaginable color, so i'm not sure what i've achieved in the past semester either. fish mongering studies was started in the hopes of clarifying that point. perhaps if i wrote about winter, and then spring, if i relived every bizarre and ridiculous moment, then i would come away with an understanding of who i had been and what i had become. but i got bored. i lost interest in reminiscing about what had, in retrospect, been a surprisingly shallow series of encounters with evil, greed, lust, whatever. so i followed the wrong lighthouse home. it happens. when you're nineteen, you'll get lost in the woods for anyone.

but hey, maybe i'll figure something out once i hit home. for a long time i told everyone that i was running away forever, but today i want to employ the metaphor of a boomerang. you throw it, it breaks some shit, it comes back. it's still the same boomerang. but each time it goes away it gains something new and something about the world changes just enough for it to etch the image of that flying spinning thing of damnation into its mind. i guess what i'm saying is after twenty years of wandering around the luggage claim area i've found my bag. it's not the bag i wanted when i was twelve, fifteen, or eighteen and a half and ready to prove my wrongness to the world as a course of correct action. but it's mine. and there's something inside i want to show you.

06.30.21

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lueurdelune · 4 years ago

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I’m gonna vent anyway even tho nobody here gives a fuck I’ve had this blog for 5 years and I only have 200 followers and I have made no friends

If whoever created me on this planet was going to give me severe depression and anxiety with a big dash of undiagnosed adhd for 16 years of my life couldn’t they have ATLEAST born me into a financially stable home like honestly that would be so beneficial

I have no motivation to do anything ever for anybody including myself I literally failed my last semester of school. I’ve never done that before and I’m so scared I’m not gonna get into college and I’m never getting any scholarships and I don’t know if my parents can even afford college I’m basically poor but not really I just mean that everybody else around me has so much more money than I do and I feel so shitty all the time I can’t take care of myself I’ve gained so much weight since developing depression over the last 3 years and everybody makes me feel like shit about it but I’m too poor to do anything about either like how the fuck did I go from a size 00 to an 8 I fucking hate myself over it but especially because of how I’ve let others influence how I feel about myself I have literally starved myself for so long AND EVEN THAT DIDNT WORK WHAT THE FUCK??? Anyways like,,, THERES NOTHING WRONG WITH BEING A SIZE 8!!!!! But I’m severely short I’m literally 4’10 and all my life I was a naturally thin person like you know how there’s some people that just ARE thin yeah that was me AND NOW IM NOT BECAUSE IVE SPENT YEARS CRYING IN BED WATCHING TV SHOWS I have no motivation to get up out of bed and it’s been a problem for years but especially now with quarantine it’s so much worse. I have no joy in literally anything. AND I CANT EVEN DO ANYTHING ABOUT ALL OF MY WEIGHT GAIN BECAUSE IM SO DEPRESSED I DONT EVEN HAVE THE WILL TO LIVE ANYMORE I WISH EVERYTHING WOULD STOP AND PAUSE AND THAT THE NUMBERS ON THE SCALE WOULD STOP GOING UP AND MY TEACHERS WOULD STOP ASSIGNING ASSIGNMENTS AND THAT I WOULD STOP LOSING FRIENDS AND THAT I WOULDNT EVER HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT MONEY EVER AGAIN.

And I can’t even get myself out of my financial situation literally ever because I fucking hate school so much I used to be so good at it but the thought of writing one more essay could really be the thing that drives me off the edge and this screwed up system is rigged so the only way to confirm good and true success is through college degrees and I am just now getting treatment for adhd that I’ve had all my life but was too poor to get diagnosed with and that’s been a huge disadvantage to my academic life like insanely and since I’m now horrible in school I won’t go to college and since I won’t go to college I’ll live my life being dirt poor as always and whoever said money can’t buy happiness is a fucking ugly ass liar if I had money I would still be good at school because I would’ve gotten treatment for adhd way long ago which means my depression and anxiety wouldn’t have gotten as bad as they are which means I wouldn’t have gained as much weight as I have which means I wouldn’t be as insecure as I am to the point I literally want to die. Money could’ve made this all avoidable.

I’m having such a pity party for myself right now. Everything that could be wrong in my life currently is except I’m not homeless but I’ve been living in a tiny ass apartment my whole life. Also my family isn’t physically abusive but I’m their mental punching bag which is so hard to accept because I love them so much.

And I’m putting tags on this just because I at least want somebody in this universe somewhere to hear me, to see me, to let me know I’m not as invisible as I constantly feel.

Also if there’s any teens out there who want to be friends 🤪😎😏 slide in my chats I swear I’m funny and pretty (debateable) what other qualities would you want?

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meltalks · 4 years ago

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my experience with addy / hiqey

i’ve contemplated posting my history with addy/hiqey for awhile now. my friends have encouraged me to do so, but due to her stance in the rpc i was always far too scared to do so. with all that is coming to light with her recently, not only is a huge weight off my shoulders as far as comfortably roleplaying as my escape, but knowing i’m not alone. my story with addy dates back to about september 2018. i do warn you this will be long, and i’ll try to include enough details to make it make sense while not dragging things on and on. this includes both my personal relationship with addy, as well as my experience with her in groups one where she she was an admin, and groups where i was an admin. as well as i believe we coadmined one together. i’ve put screenshots where i could, but some of this dates back to 2018 and i just don’t have access to those texts/rp accounts anymore.

a huge huge shout out to @bumkeyz for starting this avalanche, and for also supporting me one on one along with all my friends to feel safe enough to come forward. i’ll put all of my story under a read more.

i’m going to start this by saying, my name is mel/melanie. you may have heard of me because back when addy was on rpslayed she wasn’t a big fan of me for awhile. predominantly my group the cape(?) the main isn’t up anymore so i can’t remember the exact @. i’m 21 years old, i will be 22 this month. i am married & i have a 3 year old daughter. this is information i don’t normally tell people i’m married / have a child, because well, i just feel a little judged. not because anything anyone has specifically done or said, but my own anxieties worried that people will think it’s weird to be married with a child and still in twitter rp. but it is important to my story with addy, which is why i’m letting everyone know right off the bat.

i met addy in a group called producers. this group is from september 2018, so i’m not able to access anything right now, but am digging. i played (feel free to clown me) a g-eazy character named pierce. addy played a carlson young who’s name i can’t quite recall, and a gracie abrams named lolly. lolly & pierce became friends first & at some point we exchanged phone numbers. lolly & pierce flirted a lot, pierce was a player yada yada. eventually she ended up getting a different ship on lolly & pushed her carlson young onto pierce. pierce had a different love interest & didn’t end up going for her. this should’ve been the first negative sign/red flag. when pierce didn’t get with her character, she got very short & snarky ic and ooc. i believe both of her characters blocked me ic. even though pierce had made no ic promises to either to not be with someone else. we still maintained some level of friendship, but she was extremely weird about when i mentioned my ship. our friendship ended for a few months because of an incident that started ic between me and another character. the mun who played this character and i had bonded ooc over having been pregnant, we talked somewhat often about her dealings with her pregnancy. so i felt close enough/friendly enough with this mun that when something happened with her character & another character ic i dm’ed her to see if she was ok .long story short it went bad. i texted addy and told her that. i explained that i felt as if this mun & i were close and it was like dm’ing a friend. she held onto the fact that i shouldn’t have messaged her. when i didn’t immediately conform to her thought she kicked me out of the group. i was literally devastated. i loved that group, that character, my ship; all of it. she blocked me. though this story is 2 paragraphs long, it’s minor in the grand scheme of things. after this she smeared me on rpslayed for months until our paths crossed again in a group called glitches/glitch? we decided to squash our beef. this was december 2019.

in december 2019 we became friends again. honestly, i wish we never crossed paths. we got very close right away. she started telling me about a bad friendship she had, with someone we mutually knew from producers who i will not name since it’s not my place to put their name in this, and gained my sympathy. so much so that i ended a friendship with that person based solely on accusations that addy had told me. this is something that i can now realize i did wrong. i literally cussed this person out on the phone, solely based off things addy told me. i didn’t listen to someone who had been my friend for months, who defended me and picked me up when addy was tearing me down on rpslayed. i turned my back because addy convinced me to. she made this person seem awful. and again, i’m not naming them, but they know exactly who they are. and when thy do read this, i’m sorry.

now this is where things get out of hand. addy & i begun an intimate relationship. this is very personal, and i know some may pass judgment. but my husband was cool with it. addy also began talking to my husband, they texted. we had a groupchat. not to get into details about the relationship, but it was romantic. i am going to try and organize my thoughts. into themes.

money

this relationship lasted from about january ish to april romantically. i became addy’s crutch. she began going through personal issues with her family. and i started sending her money. to be frank i don’t remember how it started. i helped her with a job search, supporting her through these tough things that were going on. the money started casually i suppose. it was $10 for lunch. $25 for nails. but then it got worse. i bought her a phone. and slowly she grew more entitled to my money. asking for it. demanding it. guilting me when i didn’t give it. i lied to her and told her i lost my credit card and turned it off, but the guilt i had i told her that i could turn it on when she needed it. in screenshots i will post below she guilted me because i was sick and fell asleep before turning my card on. whether what she’s saying occured is true or not, it was just one example of how she made me feel. at one point she had my credit card on her uber, and charged nearly $400 of ubers on my credit card that i didn’t know about. she claimed it was an accident, because i let her put my card on her account under the agreement that she would turn it off. we had an agreement of what she would pay me back, some things that i got her were gifts and i didn’t want/need back. other things it was always an agreement she would pay me back. however whenever i would mention sending me a payment she had an excuse. one time even guilting me by reminding me how much better i have it than she does. all in all i spent / sent upwards of $2500/$3000 on her. only about $1500/$1800 i wanted back. i never saw a dime back, she never made good on her promises. at some point i gave up on asking.

ETA: as far as the uber situation goes, she did apologize and state that it was never on purpose when i found out that there was nearly $500 in charges. she said she thought she was charging her moms card. this shows a photo of 1 page of a 5 page statement of all the transactions put on my card by her in one month. there are only 6 of these transactions that were me. all of the ubers and venmo were her. i didn’t make her take off my card, which in hindsight was obviously a very bad decision. i just didn’t want to leave her stranded without ways to get home/where she needed to be.

this is her demanding money. this was in the summer. at this point i was so manipulated by her/scared of her/scared of losing her that i didn’t know how to say no. in this instance i deflected with a picture of my child. screen shot.

in the screenshots here, this is where i fell asleep. i was on vacation and got extremely dehydrated in the sun. i literally felt so sick and she made me feel guilty for falling asleep. X X X

this screenshot shows one of the times i actually asked her when she would repay me. at this point my credit card was nearly maxed out from ubers and sending her money. i was anxious about it and she made me feel bad for asking because her situation was worse than mine. this was the same day she asked me for $250 for a down payment on her car. X asking for money. X making me feel bad for asking when she’s gonna pay.

literally to this day im still in credit card debt because of this. yes i make good money, yes my husband does too. but credit card debt is hard and everyone knows it. i do fine for myself, but i don’t have hundreds extra to pay this down.

also, i cannot locate the bank screenshot. but as recent as this february, six months since she spoke to me, she still had my card on her uber and usted it again. i can’t find the screenshot of the actual of the bank transaction because i’ve completely had to close that account for fraud and transfer my balance to a new card. but here is a screenshot from february 12 where i tell my friends i caught her doing it. X .

manipulation in groups/related to groups

orbis. i ran a group called orbis, it was a reality show group. addy was one of my friends who really wanted me to open it. all of my groups i’ve adminned i’m the lead. i just always take on that roll so i do get very busy with them on top of my real life. i work full time and i’m a mom so i spread myself thin.she made me feel really guilty for this, saying i wasn’t giving her enough time, she wasn’t anyones dog. so i posted my unfollow. then she told me i was stupid for doing that. so i deleted my unfollow. then she said that me deleting my unfollow showed that i didn’t really care how she felt. screens. X X

lumeer. very similar situation to above. only this time i left the group completely for about 3 weeks. i called my coadmin crying about what she was doing to me, sent her the psds and templates for grpahics and left fully, though i helped them out if issues arose/they needed anything.

impulse. this was recently and this got brought to the tags. im going to copy & paste what i sent to bumkeyz as far as the story goes for what happened.

“ what happened in impulse is only one of several examples of addy being awful in groups i've adminned. this goes back to our friendship but specifically here's what happened in impulse. addy played a character named briar, the other characters involved were as mentioned in other posts loki & khalil (fai fc). one of he first days of the group khalil hooked up with both loki & briar. when the "updates" account posted about loki & khalil's hook up (we posted any and all plot drops that were sent in, it was a reality show so we consistently updated what the cameras caught), briar got upset on main. addy then messaged khalil's mun ooc and asked for the plot to be erased. essentially because she didn't like that khalil had hooked up with both her and another girl in the same day/same manor. as odd of a request as i was the khalil mun agreed to wipe it & asked that if there was anything that ever came up again that made addy uncomfortable to please not hesitate to dm. addy then softblocked khalil. which is strange. why soft block with briar's reason to dislike khalil has been wiped? that night addy posted on her personal tumblr hiqey "i forgot all fai khadra fcs are weirdos" or soemthing along that line. the khalil mun reasonably got uncomfortable with that, but was softblocked & didn't tell the main. they just ignored it since their characters weren't interacting now. for the next few days addy continued to shade khalil and loki on main, despite any ic reason for disliking them being wiped. loki then approached briar IN CHARACTER asking what was wrong/why she was shading/why they didn't like her. i don't know all the details of that conversation, but i know it ended with loki saying she was going to block briar & briar saying that was fine. bear in mind the admins had no idea any of this was happening at this point. addy then dmed the main, playing victim. after more shading of khalil, khalil's mun decided to block briar as well. addy despite wiping this plot and having 0 ic communication with khalil continued to shade the characters ic. so addy dmed the main playing innocent. asking for us to have them unblock, saying she had no idea why they blocked or what she did. as admins we had no idea why either, figured it was something ic so we dmed both muns. khalil's mun agreed after some hestiation, and asked if they had to follow her and i said no. they didn't elaborate. loki's mun however refused, & i'm glad she did because she told us what was going on. of course once we were told everyting we didn't make her unblock. up until we told addy that we were not going to make those muns unblock her, she was extremely sweet to us. she praised us on her rpt. said she loved the group. fed the main compliments. but when she didn't get her way out of us, and was essentially told on, she started causing issues on the timeline with different characters. she sent us a dm on the main telling us to "learn how to handle your group melanie" and deactivated before i could get a chance to reply. “

what i didn’t tell bumkeyz is that deejay/rpslayed played khalil. another example of addy’s manipulation is that when she saw deejay getting anons she followed deejay and texted her after several months of no communication, starting to tell her side of the story and play innocent -- not knowing that deejay was the person who was behind khalil the entire time. she made khalil out to be the bad guy, not knowing that it was deejay. after finding out deejay and i were friends, when deejay posted on rpslayed for people to follow me shortly after trying to get deejay on her side, addy blocked us both (again).

manipulation between friends (?)

i don’t really know a great way to title this, but this is similar to the situation i mentioned with the unnamed person above -- how addy made me think that person was the worst so i would stop being friends with them. this is a few more examples of that.

the entire time i was friends with addy, she told me that deejay hated me. she told me that deejay was convinced that i was this person who tried to get her kicked out of a group. she told me that she did her very best to convince deejay that it wasn’t true, but no matter what she did deejay just hated me. nearly a year later deejay and i cross paths in a group. we started talking ooc and i mentioned this. i asked her why she thought that was me. we found out that basically, while addy was telling me she was trying to convince deejay it wasn’t me, she was telling deejay that it was me. she would also tell me personal information about deejay that i had no business knowing, whether it be real life information or just telling me the groups deejay adminned when she knew deejay didn’t want anyone knowing.

i have found out recently that addy has recently been telling people a lie about when she came to visit me. on one evening when she visited me in june of 2019, we went to my friend’s house. we both drank, and smoked. i am someone who neither drinks nor smokes, and i got a very bad mix from it. my anxiety sky rocketed. i was crying on my friends couch practically paralyzed. i didn’t want to move. i felt sick. i felt scared. my friends were going to drive us back to my house and shortly before we were about to walk out addy said she needed to go to the hospital. my friend’s boyfriend drove her there, and when he came back they took me home. this night is very blurry for me. i remember barely being able to see straight, my friend helped me walk to and from the car. addy has told her friends that i refused to pick her up from the hospital that night, and i’ve now heard this from two of her close friends. when in reality, i was so far gone that not only was i sick and scared, but i couldn’t see straight. i had absolutely no ability to be behind a wheel. i’m not surprised she twisted this against me.

i provided a few people screenshots where addy was telling me to block them/trying to convince me that they were awful and hurting me. at the same time that addy was telling me this, she was doing the opposite to them -- to keep us apart. i believe this is some sort of power. always wanting to be everyones number one.

i don’t have a lot of screenshots for this, so i won’t go into much detail, but i can say on more than one occasion, or more than five or ten she told me who to and not to be friends with. told me to block people who had been our friends who were no longer friends with her.

flat out manipulation.

i don’t want to go back through my texts too much honestly. it’s still a sore spot. it still sucks and it still hurts. but i think anyone and everyone involved with addy at some point or another has similar stories about the way she treats her friends. there were points where i begged. begged and begged her not to leave me. i can’t even count how many times she blocked and unblocked me. how many times she made me feel the worst and then came back. she came back because she knw i was there. and that my generosity was practically endless. i couldn’t say no to her, frankly i can’t say no to anyone. if anyone dmed me today and said hey i need $15 for a ride home. i’d probably send it. that’s just how i am. addy completely had me wrapped around her finger. to the point that i left friends who were good to me. i left my own groups i worked hard on. i nearly ended my engagement (which cannot be entirely blamed on her, but the relationship she and i had was built off lots of manipulation). i know that i could go find 100 screenshots and texts of her manipulating me but honest i just don’t want to do that to myself again. she has made me out to be the villain to anyone she can. i have had 2 different people tell me that she told them i say the n word, which is the furthest thing from the truth. i fear the things she’s said about me to people. if she can 100% make something up, what can she twist from actual arguments or issues we had?

i know this sounds like a lot of rambling for nothing. but for nearly two years i’ve lived in fear in the rpc of addy. less so when we were friends. i’ve feared telling my side because i felt invalid. frankly even as i type this im scared. scared she’s already convinced everyone i’m awful and no one will read this or care. i just am thankful that this finally came to light. i am glad that i won’t feel scared anymore. roleplay is my one place to be free. as a mother, a full time worker, i don’t have a lot of time for hobby’s and frankly i don’t have a lot of them. i don’t draw, or read. i like to write. and i’m just thankful this can finally be lifted off me.

#twitter rp #rpt #rpc #rph #addy tw #hiqey

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songlordsbug · 4 years ago

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Lost in Translation Prompts

I got the book Lost in Translation a couple of Christmases back. It’s a book of words that don’t have direct translations in English. It’s a gorgeous combination of descriptioin and illlustration. I thought it would make a fabulous prompt list.

So recently @fluffyhallokitties and I have been using it as such. I thought other people might like them as well, so I’ve typed them up, though it doesn’t include all of the description or of course any of the wonderful illustrations. If you like the list, go ahead and create, but also consider checking out the book, it is amazing!

Palegg, norwegian- n. Anything and everything you can put on a slice of bread.

Commuovere, italian- v. To be moved in a heartwarming way, usually relating to a story that moved you to tears.

Mangata, swedish- n. The road-like reflection of the moon in the water.

Samar, arabic- n. Staying up late long after the sun has gone down and having an enjoyable time with friends.

Gesellig, dutch- adj. Describes much more than just coziness- a positive warm emotion or feeling rather than just something physical- and connotes time spent with loved ones, togetherness.

Glaswen, welsh- n. This leterally means a “blue smile”; one that is sarcastic or mocking.

Meraki, greek- adj. Pouring yourself wholeheartedly into something, such as cooking, and doing so with soul, creativity, and love.

Kilig, tagalog- n. The feeling of butterflies in your stomach, usually when something romantic or cute takes place.

Pisan Zapra, malay- n. The time needed to eat a banana.

Jugaad, hindi- n. Ensuring that things happen with minimal resources, if they happen “by hook or by crook.”

Fika, swedish- v. Gathering together to talk and take a break from everyday routines, usuallly drinking coffee and eating pastries- either at a face or at home- often for hours on end.

Hiraeth, welsh- n. A homesickness for somewhere you cannot return to, the nostalgia and the grief for the lost places of your past, places that never were.

Tima, icelandic- v. Not being ready to spend time or money on a specific thing, despite being able to afford it.

Komorebi, japanese- n. The sunlight that filters through the leaves of the trees.

Razliubit, russian- v. To fall out of love, a bittersweet feeling.

Kummerspeck, german- n. Literally meaning “grief-bacon”, this word refers to the excess weight we can gain from emotional overeating.

Boketto, japanese- n. Gazing vacantly into the distance without really thinking about anything specific.

Vacilando, spanish- v. Traveling when the experience itself is more important than the destination.

Karelu, tulu- n. The mark left on the skin by wearing something tight.

Jayus, indonesian- n. This refers to a joke so terrible and so unfunny that you cannot help but laugh.

Shlimazel, yiddish- n. Someone who seems to have nothing but bad luck.

Ubuntu, nguni bantu- n. Essentialy meaning “I find my worth in you, and you find your worth in me.” Can be (very) roughly translated as human kindness.

Gurfa, arabic- n. The amount of water that can be held in one hand.

Trepverter, yiddish- n. A witty riposte or comeback you think of only when it is too late to use. Literally, “staircase words”.

Struisvogelpolitiek, dutch- n. Literally, “ostrich politics”. Acting like you don’t notice when something bad happens and continuing on regardless as you normally would.

Wabi-Sabi, japanese- n. Finding beauty in the imperfections, an acceptance of the cycle of life and death.

Mamihlapinatapai, yaghan- n. A silent acknowledgement and understanding between two people, who are both wishing or thinking the same thing (and are both unwilling to initiate).

Resfeber, swedish- n. The restless beat of a traveler’s heart before the journey begins, as mixture of anxiety and anticipation.

Tiam, farsi- n. The twinkle in your eye when you first meet someone.

Ya’aburnee, arabic- n. Meaning “you bury me”, a beautifully morbid declaration of one’s hope that they will die before another person, as it would be too difficult living without them.

Feuillemort, french- adj. Having the color of a faded, dying leaf.

Poronkusema, finnish- n. The distance a reindeer can comfortably travel before taking a break.

Warmduscher, german- n. Refers to someone who would only take a warm shower (not an icy cold or burning hot one), implying that they are a bit of a wimp, and unwilling to step outside of their comfort zone.

Nunchi, korean- n. The subtle, often unnoticed art of listening and fuessing another’s mood.

Akihi, hawaiian- n. Listening to directions and then walking off and promptly forgetting them means that you’ve gone “akihi.”

Murr-Ma, wagiman- v. The act of searching for something in the water with only your feet.

Goya, urdu- n. A transporting suspension of disbelief -- and “as-if” that feels like reality -- such as in good storytelling.

Drachenfutter, german- n. Literally, “dragon-fodder.” The gift a husband gives his wife when he’s trying to make up for bad behavior.

Szimpatikus, hungarian- adj. When meeting someone for the first time, and your intuition tells you that they are a good person, you can refer to them as “szimpatikus.”

Iktsuaropok, inuit- n. The act of repeatedly going outside to keep checking someone (anyone) is coming.

Forelsket, norwegian- n. The indescribable euphoria experienced as you begin to fall in love.

Tretar, swedish- n. On its own, “tar” means a cup of coffee and “palar” is the refill of said coffee. A “tretar” is therefore a second refill, or a “threefill.”

Tsundoku, japanese- n. Leaving a book unread after buying it, typically piled up together with other unread books.

Sgriob, gaelic- n. Refers to the peculiar itchiness that settles on the upper lip before taking a sip of whiskey.

Kabelsalat, german- n. A word to describe a mess of very tangled cables, literally a “cable-salad.”

Naz, urdu- n. The pride and assurance that comes from knowing you are loved unconditionally.

Luftmensch, yiddish- n. Refers to somone who is a bit of a dreamer and literally means “air person.”

Saudade, portuguese- n. A vague, constant desire for something that does not and probably cannot exist, a nostalgic longing for someone or something loved and then lost.

Cotisuelto, caribbean spanish- n. A man who insists on wearing his shirt tail untucked.

Waldeinsamkeit, german- n. The feeling of being alone in the woods, an easy solitudeand a connectedness to nature.

Cafune, brasilian portuguese- n. The act of tenderly running your fingers through the hair of somebody you love.

Kalpa, sanskrit- n. The passing of time on a grand, cosmological scale.

#words #prompts #language #linguistics #lost in translation #ella frances sanders #long post

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xflower-childx · 4 years ago

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Talks until 2 am.

Breezy messaged me while I was stuffing my face with a slice of pizza bigger than my head, she said she had some family tea to fill me in on and apparently it involved me. Immediately I knew it had to do with me telling dad it wasn't up to me to fix mom's depression so I knew it wasn't going to be pretty. After inhaling the pizza I called her and she explained how she had a talk with Aunt K that sorta blew my mind, that we spent our whole lives believing that mom and dad had kept us away from that plastic side of the family for our sake because we weren't as... Plastic as them, when in reality we were actually shunned by them. I guess Aunt K and Gamberry decided they didn't want us involved in in holiday functions or anything else besides Christmas and New years because they didn't like my mom, they even put 'Wicked' and 'Witchy' before her name when speaking of her (Which how dare they uses the Witches name in vain.) I asked Bree to elaborate more on why they hated her so much and she said that mom was clearly out for the money they had and that she was a manipulative bitch, now while this information isnt crazy new to me, it just is surprising to really hear it confirmed outside of my sister's, although she also said that mom and dad were never able to keep any friends because mom was always controlling over dad and the friendships.

Which leads into my favorite topic of the video call, I mentioned to Bree how I didn't really have much recollection of childhood memories, that I have sort of blips of memories, I've always pegged that as a few things thoughnsuch as, Growing up and being forgetful, being a pothead, or trauma and just putting a wall in front of it all... But Bree brought up and explained that I was always drugged up as a kid, that mom couldn't control me as a hyperactive child so she was constantly having me pop pills to turn me into an 'emotionless cooperative zombie' so that I wasn't a burden to her, how I was this incredibly curious hyper and happy child one minute and then mom would give me different pills (Ya know the ones she wouldn't keep for herself) and I would completely shut down and have zero emotion the next, which now thinking on that it makes sense, along with other reasons as to why I've had such a hard time processing emotions (I mean we've never been a family to show emotion, but completely stripping a child from the ability to express emotions while they are developing is bound to fuck them up in the future and create a butterfly effect of other issues.) She even explained that one of the drugs I was put was so strong that I wasn't allowed to take it everyday because is stunted my growth, I could only take it during the school year and during that time I stopped growing, stopped gaining weight and eating so I was skin and bones (Which I actually have a small memory of this and being able to literally hold my rib cage) and had no emotion to me whatsoever, and then during the summer I would come off of it and then hit a growth spurt and have all the energy in the world that was cooped up in me for school, and she let this happen for multiple years like wtfffffffff. All so she could make money off of me having a disability that part of me doesn't believe I maybe never even had, like whose to say that maybe my issues developed from being a guinea pig child to all these fucking drugs I was put on. I mean fuck man I know that my teachers thought I didn't have it and Bree even said doctors told mom I didn't have it but she kept going to different ones until they gave her the drugs for me. Like fuck man did she want the drugs for herself? I don't know it's just so fucked up to me because it fucked me up for so long.

So that leads to final topic for now as I don't have anymore in me for this right now, and that's trauma bonding. I told Bree how I got yelled at at work yesterday because my boss hasn't been impressed with my work ethic the past few days and how she done so much for me and blah blah blah. I was literally sobbing the entire talk because at that point all my anxiety and depression with my job had hit me and I couldn't hold it back anymore. She started off with getting mad at me for unloading/reorganizing the sprinkle cart because the wheel broke off and how 'That wasn't and important task a few days before Easter and I should have given it to one of the other girls' and then went into as Bree put it, humiliation tactic by counting how many seconds I took to spray a sheet pan to bake cookies on and then scolded me for that. It's shit like that that makes me wake up every morning vomiting from anxiety about going to work where I feel like my every move and word is being judged. She then hugged me after and told me how she loved me and cared for me more than she should since I'm her number one employee and how I'm like a daughter to her which literally during the hug reminded me of myother and how to me it felt like manipulation. How that's literal abuse, ripping a person down to nothing, humiliating them, filling them with so much anxiety, and then praising them and rewarding them so they don't hate you and run from it.

I literally ran away from my mother to then replace her with someone else. We love trauma bonding.

That's all I have in me for now with this though, next time shall be about Bree explaining more on her discoveries of our childhood being much more cult like then we thought and how my parents are so petty and childish that they couldn't even properly show up to my grandmother's funeral because Dani was there. Also how my parents continue to blame us for the inability to have a healthy relationship between us all because they can't properly grow, learn and evolve as human beings because only they can be right with there stupid fucked up religious ways.

It's so hard because while I firmly stand behind giving people a second or even third because I truly believe that people can change, and things get said and done when someone is hurting or confused and it's an automatic reaction, but it's how a person acts after they react negativly, it's whether they strive andblear and grow from their fuckups that matter... I don't see them growing though. I just see them sitting there, stubborn and stuck.

But hey, at least mom's getting her money from grandma's death that I'm sure she was dreaming of so hopefully that will make her happy.

As for me, well I may not be my happiest, but at least I know how to make myself happy and provide for myself so don't need to marry into money to be happy, so I call that a win.

#my writing #april 2021 #wsnc #nc #talks until 2 am #fuck family

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myrecovery18 · 4 years ago

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A year in Recovery

After a year in recovery from restricting there are things that I noticed I did before that I no longer or rarely do or that I’m able to eat now. Plus a little tips on what helped me recovery and stick with it.

TW: MENTIONS OF RESTRICTING, ANAMIA, BIRTHCONTROL, RECOVERY, TO THE BONE, TRAINING, LEARNING TO LOVE YOURSELF, SELF RECOVERY TIPS, & LITTLE HEALTH RANT IN THE MIDDLE.

I’m aware I can’t count calories anymore because I mentally will go under 1,500 calories without fail.

When I use to eat I use to watch an edit of “To the Bone” religiously, I only watch it now when I want to. I don’t want to watch it when I eat.

I use to sit in class and save food recipes or pictures of food to a Pinterest board instead of paying attention because I got bored and was thinking about food

I use to workout for an hour and a half in the morning and would get pissed if I couldn’t. I quit working out for a year until I was able to and injured my knee only to restart this year because working out is the one thing I know that helps relieve stress. Instead of focusing on working out as a form of losing weight, I focus on it now as a hobby, if I don’t do it one day that’s fine. I don’t get upset at myself. That took awhile to build that mentality especially coming from a 10 yr athletic background with a physical sport that required you to train 3 hours a day like volleyball.

I used to eat and feel panicked about being watched by others; rarely do I think about that now. I can’t give you advice on how to stop that mentality.

I avoided eating Garlic bread for six years, it was apart of my fear foods. I nearly cried when I ate it for the first time this year and didn’t feel an ounce of anxiety. It still scares me the idea of eating it, but physically eating it doesn’t bring me anxiety.

There are days where I eat one meal and I don’t blame myself, but I do let others know that I forgot to eat because my hungry cues didn’t signal that I was in fact hungry and needed to feed myself.

While in recovery, I’ve come to realize that when I miss a meal, my body will pick up either the next day or two days later and tell me it’s hungry. I don’t force myself to eat if I’m not hunger.

I use to cook myself every meal so I knew what was going into it or I monitored what my family was putting into the food. I don’t do that now or I use to make my own plate and make it smaller than I needed it to be. I allow for them to cook my food and plate it if they want to.

I use to have bad mood swings; I rarely do.

I use to drink coffee because I knew it is a natural laxative for me when I was having a bad day; I don’t drink it anymore for that reason. I drink it because I like the taste and enjoy coffee. The upset stomach is a negative now.

Being told to lose weight by doctors or family members or that I was getting bigger would trigger me but now I don’t bother to acknowledge it since I know most doctors don’t acknowledge the pills I’ve been on caused the weight gain. The only doctor I’ve accepted the weight loss advice was my neurologist because I went through all the test and they came back normal, so I know I suffer from migraines naturally.

Birth Control Pills: I’m not a fan of them and refuse to be placed back on them despite the other ladies I go to pushing it on me to regulate my abnormal bleeding I recently had. Despite the fact I told her it was caused by the other Gyno’s failure to notice that it counteracts with my migraine medicines and caused the bleeding to extend by putting me on the birthcontrol pill I didn’t want (Side Note: I have iron deficiency anemia that no one can really fix because my panels come back with a weird combination so due to the gynos mistake it kicked in and I had to take my iron pills because I was getting exhausted too fast because of my blood loss which made me have more headaches. I do not take them daily because my previous doctors said I had too much iron in my system but I have a hard time storing it which is why every doctor I see can’t really fix it or diagnose it again because my panels read either too high, normal or low, so cheers to that.) I know this because my recent period lasted 7 days and was normal flow similar to how they use to be before I got on before control. I say this because your doctors won’t listen to you and will prescribe you a medicine regardless of your wishes. I decided not to take it and even now I’m losing the weight I gained slowly.

My migraine medicine: Is used for both migraines (my neurologist wanted to boost it to the highest dose which I didn’t agree with since I already have the muscle tingles that happen all day and are annoying and could get kidney stones and I know I don’t drink enough water to stop that from happening; so I stuck to the dose I’m on. Again sometimes your doctors can be wrong. GO with what you’re comfortable with) and weight loss. The weight I’m losing could be contributed to that or the fact I stopped my BC pills, I’m unsure which or the fact I’m working again.

So what helped me recover?

For one, I had a support system that kept me accountable in the form of my boyfriend who knew I struggled with eating. Including one of my highschool friend who kept track of if I eat in highschool when we were at lunch together, when my boyfriend couldn’t be there. Once I got into college, it became my own responsibility to hold myself accountable for eating and sometimes that didn’t happen because I become hyper-focus on one thing (still do) and fail to remember to eat. My boyfriend still checked in whenever he could to make sure I did eat whenever he choose to

I changed my mentality. I no longer look for a diet to do. If I eat what society sees as unhealthy or healthy that doesn’t concern me. I’m going to eat what helps my body because I know what helps it. I know personally if my body doesn’t get enough nutrition I’ll suffer a headache and will get tired later on that day. You have to know your body and that starts with your mental. Some days will be bad and that just comes with recovery.

Eating the foods you like. I’m lucky enough to be on a college campus that allows us to be back in person during a pandemic and is serving us food. By them do this, I don’t often eat in my dorm room so I can save my food or don’t eat out or order in as often. Last semester when I lived in my own apartment, I ordered food a lot and I wasn’t ashamed by it. It just took a lot of my money. My college thankfully has the healthier options available for students who can’t eat meats or doesn’t prefer it. If I don’t eat in my cafetria on campus, I’ll go to our schools tea room if it’s open to grab something to eat if I don’t like anything they have, unless I ultimately have no time left I’ll eat in my room.

I choose to eat whatever. Some days I’ll eat more vegetarian than meat or vegan that vegetarian or I’ll eat more meat if I want it. However, I do know that there’s days I’ll crave pizza. I don’t hold back and I’ll go get a pizza and it’ll last me three or two meals depending on how hungry I am or if I get Chinese food, that’s two meals. I learned to stop holding myself holding myself back from my cravings. If I want something, I’ll eat it.

One of the last things that helped me was watching over people go through recovery the same time I was choosing to. These people have already recovery so they don’t have many videos up anymore from that time in their lives so I can’t tag their channels here and probably won’t ever. But they helped me get through and see that I wasn’t alone. That it was okay to feel the things I was feeling.

Lastly, I learned to start to love myself. I haven’t fully done it yet. But I don’t hate myself either. It’s taking time to realize that I deserve better in life. That despite what I look like, even if it’s at my heaviest or at my lowest I won’t care what people think of me as long as I love how I look. Now that’s been a struggle to work with and I’m only a few months into that mentality, but it feels good. I spent majority of my life avoiding mirrors and avoiding taking pictures with my family to the point I don’t have many pictures of myself from the times I grew up to now. Or I hardly understand some days how I look because I don’t look in the mirror. But I slowly starting to. I can tell in pictures on days where I do love myself and have confidence that I’m happier. I also learned to understand my worth and know that I shouldn’t feel miserable in a friendship.

There’s small things you can do to recover now. It’s not an over night thing. There’s days where recovery will see pointless or if you’re even doing it right or if you’re just faking it for the shits and giggles, but you’re doing a good thing. Ultimately, recovery is about you. It’s not for anyone else. Not for your family, or your friends or your boyfriends or your pets. It’s for you and you alone. Because it only effects you physically and mentally and emotionally. You’re the one who has to deal with it 24/7 and has to actively choose to heal and keep healing every single day. It’s not going to be easy. I only listed a few things I’ve been through that was singular for me and important to me to voice, there were more things I did. I wish you all the best whether you choose recovery now, tomorrow, or in the future. Please stay safe.

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boydsfm · 5 years ago

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❛ ✶ ( ALEX WOLFF , CIS MALE , HE/HIM ) — did you see LUCAS BOYD walking around campus earlier ? i hear a lot of people talking about the NINETEEN year old SOPHOMORE . from what i know , they are studying COMPUTER SCIENCE and are a part of PHI KAPPA DELTA . they come across as + KIND-HEARTED but also - TIMID , which makes since because on their instagram ( LUCAS.V.BOYD ) it says they are a VIRGO . when i see them , i think of A DESK COVERED IN EMPTY COFFEE MUGS, DANDELIONS GROWING THROUGH THE SIDEWALK, THE UGLIEST GODDAMN SWEATERS YOU’VE EVER SEEN. the most interesting thing i’ve heard about them though , is the fact that REDACTED , but don’t tell anyone i told you that . ooc info . ally . 22 . est . she/her .

hello hello hellooooooooooooooo. i’m ally, i’m from canada, and i’m addicted to tik tok i’m so excited to be here!! this has been an opportunity to bring back an old and beloved muse of mine, one lucas victor boyd ! if you like this, i’ll hyu on discord, or you can hmu at known simp harry hook#3923.

statistics.

full name. lucas victor boyd nickname(s). just lucas. not luke or lou, just lucas. occupation. undergraduate student, beaumont campus tech support age. nineteen. date of birth. september 2nd, 2001. nationality. american. ethnicity. ashkenazi jewish, scottish. orientation. gay. gender & pronouns. cis male; he/him/his.

height. 6′0”. weight. 145 lbs. eye color. hazel. hair color + style. dark brown; usually messy and curly. he gets it cut short at the beginning of the semester and then by the end its a mop. really doesn’t style it. dominant hand. right-handed. distinguishing features. distinctive nose, lanky figure, messy curls, undereye bags, that cute li’l mole.

background. (tw alcoholism, death of a parent)

SO. lucas was born in portland, maine, to a pretty lower middle class family. his father left when he was two years old, and he was largely raised by his mother, florence weber.

florence was a hardworking and loving mother, but she was also quite depressed her entire life. she was a recovered alcoholic when she met judas, lucas’s father, but once he left, she slowly slid back into her old habits.

by the time lucas was eight, he was having to start to pick up some household responsibilities. cooking, cleaning, packing his own lunch. waking his mom up in time for her shifts at target.

by the time he was in middle school, he’d learned how to forge her signature on cheques, he’d applied for unemployment for her after she got fired, and he was taking any odd job to make money.

school was his favorite distraction; he was always a brilliant kid, and if it weren’t for the fact he was already a terribly shy and awkward kid, he could have skipped a couple grades. he threw himself into schoolwork to avoid everything; his mother’s worsening condition, his crippling loneliness, his fear that he might be as gay as every one of his bullies insisted.

this was, also, around when he picked up his most lucrative but troublesome odd job; hacking into the school board network to get test answers. he could get fifty dollars per person per test, and he was able to buy groceries besides beans and rice, was able to buy new clothes for himself and his mom. he felt awful about it every day, but... he still did it.

(death tw) at sixteen, when he found his mom motionless and cold on the floor of their apartment, he buried himself in his work, too. he couldn’t help but feel guilty, though; it was his work, his taking care of everything that had allowed his mom to keep her addiction up for this long.

so, yeah. there’s a very good reason why he doesn’t go back to portland anymore. he spent last summer in cambridge. well, that and his Secret.

since the beginning of his freshman year, lucas has had something of a glow-up. he signed up for the school’s counselling services before he even got to campus, and he’s been making great strides.

additionally, he pledged phi kappa delta, which... he never saw himself pledging a frat, ever in his life. but all the guys there were so... cool. and so supportive and nice and... and they’re like the brothers lucas never had. having that little family has helped him gain that much more confidence in himself.

personality.

if there was an onion headline for lucas’s life it would be Nervous Wreck Slowly Becomes a Functional Human Being.

very virgo, very type a. but also a pisces moon cancer rising. so he needs everything to be in alphabetical order or he’ll cry.

ever since he’s started college, he’s transitioned from being As Plain As Possible to being more outwardly soft as he’s gained confidence in himself. he wears the dorky sweaters and neat socks he likes, he has a small collection of plants on his desk, he knits scarves for his friends. big hufflepuff energy. again, this comfort largely comes from the acceptance he’s found at phi kappa delta.

slowly getting over his Big Anxiety. slowly learning how to talk to people. still awkward at parties. still has panic attacks every day during exam season. but he adores his therapist and takes his zoloft every day and he’s… he’s doing alright.

there are things he is sure of. his intelligence, his diligence, his ability to get shit done. he’s recently mastered asking fellow customers to please be kind to servicepeople.

still he’s that guy who doesn’t want to tell the waiter they got his order wrong.

he’s literally highkey fucking brilliant. he’s literally at the top of his class in one of the most difficult programs at one of the most difficult universities in the country.

a chronic people pleaser up until the point that it breaks his moral code. like if you want him to help you cheat or help you toy with someone he will put his foot down. he’ll do it very softly, but he won’t budge.

(though he is known to do mathematics and computer science homework for his friends when they’re overtired. he’s always the one to offer in that case, though.)

the rare gay who is extremely capable in math. legit he gets so excited about math it’s actually really cute.

theres a part of him that still believes in magic, to some capacity. he still wishes on shooting stars and pennies on the ground and dandelions.

his greatest strength and fatal flaw is that he sees the best in people. even if he knows you tried to hurt him, he will give chance after chance.

(but he works in tech support rn So. he’s slowly losing his belief in humanity.)

in conclusion, here are some tik toks that describe lucas

him in kindergarten

he can’t write i’m so sorry

just.... the Vibes

wanted connections.

skinny love. lucas is extremely shy, especially in romantic situations. he cannot flirt to save his goddamned life. he also probably thinks this person is out of his league. (honestly i want a romantic plot for him so bad gimME)

close friends. GIVE HIM FRIENDS FOR THE LOVE OF FUCKING GOD he’s such a good friend he just wants to love people.

lawyer for real life. based off this john mulaney bit. someone who reminds lucas that someone is mistreating him.

lab partner. idk man i just like that easy camaraderie. or maybe they make lucas do all the work in which case he will eventually snap.

tutoree. someone that lucas basically helps out of the good of his heart.

bad influence. someone get this boy TURNT

manipulator. lucas does have a bit of a backbone, but he is incredibly naive and very easily manipulated. basically he will do your stats assignments for you if you say he’s your friend.

academic rival. lucas is not typically an antagonistic person, but having someone be so obviously smarter than him grinds his gears a little bit. his mood when talking to this person is :))))))))))

literally anything pls i’m desperate and he’s baby

#bu.intro #alcoholism tw #death tw #just realized this edit clashes with my blog but #what !!!! ever yk

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ladyofpurple · 5 years ago

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here it is: the post Literally no one was waiting for. i'd put it under a read more thing but i'm on mobile and can't be assed to get out of bed so fuck it. we air our dirty laundry on main for the world to see like men.

so waaay back in february or something, i started seeing a psychologist again. i'd been seeing a psychologist for a while last year, but she had a private practice and got too expensive over time, so i had to stop. now, however, i finally got a referral to the public mental health offices in my county. which is nice, because norway has this neat thing that means when you go to the doctor, public health care facilities, refill prescriptions for medications you have to take daily, etc, the money you spend on those things gets recorded and after you've spent like $260, you get a free card that gets logged into your medical records and you don't have to pay for any of those things for the rest of the year.

anyway, i mentioned a couple of years back that i finally got put on antidepressants for the first time. they helped a lot, but then i just... stopped taking them. there wasn't a reason, really. i just forgot to take them one week when i was stuck in bed with a headcold, and then it was hard to get back in the habit again. i tried to get back on them off and on for a long time, but i'd inevitably just forget again. until, like, i wanna say november/early december last year? i started taking them again. there were still some slip-ups every now and then, but for the most part i took them almost every day. any gaps were no longer than two, maybe three days at the most, and those gaps were maybe once a month or so on average. averages aren't really useful in this context, but i hope you get the idea.

anyway, i finally convinced my doctor that, no, seriously, i really need to see a psychologist, i've always needed to see psychologists my whole life, seeing psychologists help me, i can't afford a private psychologist so i need a public one, and after a lot of begging and insisting on my end and a lot of hemming and hawing on her end she finally agreed to refer me. except she forgot to actually send the email she'd been typing in front of me, and then she quit, so there was a lot of confusion and time spent sorting things out until i got my first appointment.

i didn't like my psychologist at first. she was way older than i'm usually comfortable with (that's a personal me-problem that i know is irrational, and i'm not gonna go into the why but yes i'm working on it), and very blunt in an exasperated sort of way. she made me angry sometimes. she made me feel like i wasn't trying hard enough. but she helped me get shit done, so i guess she was doing something right.

in june she called in a psychiatrist to help adjust my medications, so i started taking zoloft in addition to the other medication (remeron, aka mirtazapine) that i was already taking. the mirtazapine was helping with my depression, but my anxiety was still pretty bad. the zoloft helped.

by my second appointment with my psychologist, she asked me whether i could have adhd, or if there was a history of it in my family. now, i have a lot of family with adhd (how closely related we are by blood is a bit of a mystery to me, my family tree is more like an overgrown hedge and who knows who fits where), and my grandma used to joke that the women in our family "all have a little bit of that adhd brain in us", but as far as i knew, nobody in my immediate, direct bloodline had such a diagnosis. i had my suspicions about myself, of course — i knew that not every focus or attention related problem necessarily has a specific attention disorder source, but i also knew that what i was experiencing couldn't be "normal," in the sense that if i walked into a room with 100 people in it, 86 of those people wouldn't necessarily look at a list of my symptoms and go "oh same hat." i've had add on my about me for a while now. maybe that was silly of me; i hadn't been diagnosed with it, and what i knew about the specifics of it were picked up piecemeal off the internet. you know, that super-reliable place where everyone is honest and factual all the time?

anyway, this began the process of investigating the merits of such a potential diagnosis. research was begun. questionnaires were taken. my mom was invited to one of my sessions, in which she revealed that, oh yeah, bee tee dubs, she's always suspected i have adhd. did she mention that she has also apparently always suspected ocd and that i'm autistic? no? whoops, well, she has now.

end of june i was referred to the neuropsychologist devision of the public health care place. over the course of a little over 6 weeks i went in for 2 interviews, in which i answered several questionnaires, talked about my life and childhood and traumas and what my mom had told me about her pregnancy and labor, every possible symptom i'd ever had, and was sent home with even *more* questionnaries. in addition to these, i went in for two rounds of "testing," in which i was tested on my memory, pattern recognition, reaction time, impulse control, and probably a dozen other things. i was nervous. it was exhausting. i wanted answers but was terrified of what those answers would be.

end of august, my mom came with me for the big reveal. and guess what? she was right. primary diagnosis: adhd, special emphasis on the attention deficit part. bonus diagnosis: asperger syndrome. surprise! i'm autistic, i guess.

it was hard to come to terms with. which sounds really silly, since i wouldn't have even been taking those tests if i didn't think the outcome was a possibility. and it's not like the diagnoses were surprising either. the adhd part was easier to accept, mostly because i already felt pretty confident i had it. but the asperger diagnosis was harder. having to unlearn all those ingrained ableist stereotypes and social stigmas is hard, especially when you had some you didn't even realize were there. it's very surreal to think a thought and be like "no, wait, i do that. that joke is about me." it's a very surreal and slightly upsetting experience to realize how biased you are as general rule, but especially about a facet of your own identity you weren't aware of. and the feeling of everything and nothing changing all at once. i've always been like this. a doctor telling me i have two cognitive/developmental disabilities isn't an event that magically gave me these disabilities. my brain has always worked like this. the only difference between me now and me a year ago is that i have an official, medical reason for Why now.

that's another thing: coming to terms with the idea of being "developmentally disabled." it's not like i'm suddenly a different person — i have to constantly remind myself that my brain has always been like this. but having a piece of paper confirming that i am legally entitled to special allowances in the workplace or at school because i have not one, but two "disabilities" is absolutely buckwild to me.

it makes me reevaluate my life and my past. how many situations did i make worse because i did not have the capacity or knowledge about how my own brain works to self-reflect? was i high-functioning in the past because life was simpler? was it because i subconsciously had a better handle on what works for me and what doesn't, and somewhere along the way i lost that? or was it simply because i didn't have the option to be anything other than high-functioning? it's confusing.

i also lost my spot at college. i can still reapply next year if i want, but at least now i know why i was failing out lmao

anyway, by my birthday in september we started the process of adjusting my medication again. upping my zoloft, getting me off remeron, and as of 6 weeks ago or so, beginning ritalin.

it was a rocky start, but i'm up to 60mg now. two pills in the morning, one in the afternoon. i have a goddamn alarm for 8am every day, even weekends. my sleeping is still wonky, but at least im genuinely tired by 8pm every night. the psychiatrist still wants me to try melatonin for a month (even though i told her multiple times it has never worked for me, and my problem has never been "i'm not sleepy enough"), so i'm on a whopping 2mg of melatonin for the next 30 days. norwegians are fucking WEIRD about melatonin, don't even get me started.

a slightly unexpected side-effect (on my end) of these medication changes: remeron made me gain weight. like, a lot of weight. and i was constantly hungry all the time, overeating to ridiculous amounts. why did nobody ever tell me that weight gain and metabolism changes are a side-effect of anti-depressants? i was more active this summer than i'd been in, like, three years and i just got fatter. which was incomvenient because i kept outgrowing my clothes. anyway, a side effect of ritalin is a loss of appetite and general weight loss. the combination of regularly taking ritalin and dropping remeron entirely? i eat a fraction of what i used to before, i've almost entirely stopped snacking, and i've lost 15 lbs in less than a month. i've already noticed my face is slightly slimmer now. maybe by christmas i'll be able to fit into my old tshirts again.

anyway, my psychologist quit, so i have a new one now. i've only seen her a few times, but she's veeeery different from my old one. i can't decide if i like her or not.

in the middle of all this, i've been going to the social security office as well to kind of get some of my own money, possibly help me get a job at some point in the future. my caseworker is super nice. if she's over 30 i'd be shocked. i relate to her really well, she's very helpful and understanding, and she's very patient with me and my bullshit. she's the kind of person where if we met at a party or something we could probably hang out.

anyway, she's helped me get out of the house sometimes. she introduced me to this youth club volunteer group thing called the fountain house, designed for young people who've dealt with or are currently dealing with mental illnesses and such. i hung out there yesterday and the day before and did some basic office work. it's nice. and then there's a work placement place that can either give you a job on site in one of their four departments, or help you get a job at an actual business elsewhere with more support and leniency than you might get if they just hired you off the street. i'd start in their second hand store. they clean and restore all donations they recieve, and they're super fucking cheap. i treated myself to my literal lifelong dream of owning a vintage typewriter (!!!!!) yesterday, because it's almost christmas and goddammit, i've been doing so much shit the past couple of months i deserve it. do i have space for it? not really. do i have a plan on what to use it for? no. was it heavy and miserable trekking through the snow and rain yesterday back and forth? was it worth the backache in the morning? fuck yeah it was.

a fucking lot of things are happening all at once. diagnoses, medications, lifestyle changes, work placement, social clubs, dealing with bureaucracies on all sides just so i can feel like a person again, not to mention juggling hobbies like writing and drawing and maintaining my irl friendships. i'm getting as many balls rolling as i can while i have the opportunity and mental/emotional capacity to, but i'm worried i'll burn out again. i'm stabilizing and slowly building my life back up, but jesus christ it would suck if this stupid house of cards collapsed again. but i'm tentatively optimistic. who knows, maybe it's not to late to course-correct my mistakes.

so long story short, that's why i've barely been active on tumblr for months. that's why i haven't been writing, drawing, or reading fic. it's coming along, but it's slow.

i guess the most important thing is that it's coming along at all.

#the tmi nobody asked for and will probably never read — you're welcome #Lady of Purple's slice of life #mental illness #medication #adhd #autism #personal

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rapierdagger · 5 years ago

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tw: coronavirus / covid-19 anxiety

my 21st birthday was yesterday, wow. my dad came up to visit the day before + I went home for a family celebration today, but the day itself I was in oxford with my friends. it was both a very good celebration in that my closest friends were there and I received some lovely gifts (no useless tat, but wine and food from friends, money and wax stamps and a recipe book from family) (I know it’s not rly about the gifts but I do appreciate them, especially as they were all so well thought out). two separate people - my brother and my friend - baked me cakes. my dad took me and my best friend out for lunch when he came to visit, and today my mum made me a delicious homemade dinner.

I’ve been v lucky but it was also a rough birthday in that I’ve spent the whole time crushed by covid-19 stress and panic. I’m not scared for myself but for all the elderly and disabled people who just are going to die, and I’m outraged that my government is mishandling the situation and that austerity policies have left the NHS in no state to cope, and now my medical student friends might be called up - some already have been - and they’ll be choosing who lives and who dies. on a pettier note, a lot of friends flaked on my party last night and I’m quite upset since they had no excuses and didn’t say in advance - they either messaged mid-party to say they weren’t coming or just never rvsped. and then one of my friends’ grandparents had a bad fall and my friend is naturally really worried; I gained weight last term and am feeling crap about it; my digestive problems are flaring up again, probably due to stress; I had two panic attacks at my party; and a trip to Glasgow to see my girlfriend, which I’ve been looking forward to for weeks, is now possibly cancelled (for covid-19 reasons again - nobody’s fault, but disappointing). all of which culminated in me sobbing in the street today because people are being idiots and stockpiling food, and I just wanted risotto for dinner and there was no fucking arborio rice (or any rice in fact) in 3 different supermarkets.

we eventually found the rice and I’m feeling better now, but boy. it has been a Long Week and even though term is technically over, I still have one more essay to write for tuesday.

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1998tales · 5 years ago

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4 APRIL 2020

11:25PM

I continued my habit of waking up late and taking an afternoon nap. I kept scrolling through https://www.worldometers.info/coronavirus/country/us/ all day to see the death tolls and infection rates.

Aside from that, I watched the 2017 version of Truth or Dare. I liked the movie overall, only I would have tweaked the dares for people to be able to survive them. A few of them were impossible to survive. Plus, when it’s revealed that the demon/evil thrives on your fears and secrets, we should have found out what each person was hiding. I don’t think that was probably shown, or maybe I’m just dumb and didn’t realize what was going on. I looked up spoilers and youtube reviews for the Blumhouse one made in 2018. I bet I would have liked that version too. Something that I’ve always liked about horror films is that you see young people with such independence. Where are the parents? LOL

As a teenager, I didn’t have much independence. In college, I was mainly stuck in my dorm or apartment with no one to hang out with and nowhere to go. Even now in my 30s, I’m dependent upon other people and my friendships aren’t really my own. I’m just the third wheel in most situations. Middle age is dawning on me and I feel like I’ve never really lived. I haven’t experienced very much in life. No guys have ever really liked me. No one really seeks my friendship.

I was convinced through movies and books that we all go through an awkward stage and that stage will end. Some guy will notice you and like you. You’ll find that quirky group of friends who will have your back. You’ll have moments of euphoria and transcendence. No, no, and nope. A few of us will never experience what it is to be loved by someone. That’s just reality.

We don’t need excuses from people. We don’t need cliches. Life does not work out for all people, no matter what they do. The pretty girls at my work get handed life on a silver platter. All of my life boys and men have made sure to tell me, that I am worthless. Sometimes, your self-esteem is already so broken by your family that the rest of your little world adding to it just hammers the nail in.

I’ve been called ugly, masculine, and stupid in both direct and indirect ways my entire life. My mother would call my hair “shit colored”. To this day, I hate having my haircut. I hate going to salons. I remember as a child having my hair insulted at them because I would wear it up so much. I wore it up so much because people would make rude comments when I wore it down. People do not understand the damage they do to children. I’ve been wearing my hair up because of this since 1993. I haven’t had a professional haircut since I was in my early 20s.

Boys would call me masculine. I can’t figure out why, but they would say I had a penis. I dreaded being misgendered on the phone. I still remember one Halloween where a man called me a boy. It ruined the entire night. I realized at the time he couldn’t really see me in the dark, but it still hurt. A group of friends were all out somewhere and one of them got into a conflict with a guy. Then the guy looked at me and them, and said “go back to hanging out with that girl, or whatever it is.” I truly do not understand why this was said to me. I didn’t look like a boy.

As an adult, this transitioned into calling me gay. Now, gay people do not like to hear it, but a straight person like myself does not want to be called gay. I want to attract men, not women. I’m not being called gay because I’m popular with women, it’s just another way to say “You are ugly, masculine, and are repulsive to men.” My co-workers think I’m gay. One of the few times I’ve went out in my life, I had some man accuse me of being gay (repeatedly to taunt me), all because I was wearing a button up shirt. No doubt if I were blonde and pretty, that would have never happened.

To this day, if I wear a dress, I always get a comment from someone. As if it’s the wildest thing that I could wear a dress. I feel so self-conscious wearing them that I rarely ever do. I have only worn them 4 times in the last 5 years despite really wanting to wear them. I’m saying this in the nicest way, but if men can walk around wearing them, why should I get these weird comments? Why do people always have to insult me?

My goal once I lose weight is to wear them more frequently.

I think all of my issues with people judging me as masculine have influenced my near obsession with makeup. I used to not feel entitled to wear makeup or anything feminine, because of how people would insult me. That changed a few years ago and now I usually wear a full face every day. I feel like it’s my only way to ever be feminine. And I didn��t wear makeup as I do now. I started to wear foundation to help cover up how red my face would get. Then, I moved on to wearing mascara and a wash of color on my eyelids. It took a long time to get into lipstick because I knew someone would make a comment. They did.

When you suffer from shyness that is so painful, you might exaggerate the negative contact you have with others, but when there’s a recurring pattern of being insulted in a particular way by people, you have no way to escape certain phobias or avoid developing certain anxieties.

I’m at the weight I am now partly because I always thought my body was disgusting. I thought that way because my mother would tell me I was fat. She started telling me this when I was 114 lbs. I had a really distorted way of looking at myself. I gained a little bit of weight and had stretch marks too. She made a negative comment to me about it when I was 16. I felt like there was no way back from this and that I could never let someone see me naked or even in a bathing suit. Now I realize at 230+ lbs, that I wasn’t a fat person then. Now, I have real damage to my body.

But then I wonder too: if I wasn’t really fat and was at my youngest, why didn’t anybody ever like me? I never received compliments from anybody. No guys showed any interest. If I lose all of my weight, I’ll still be me. Someone they never liked and now I’m older, which they dislike too. You really can’t win in life at all. I think the cards were always stacked against me. And sometimes, when I have to play along with other people’s happy lives, I get sick of it. You generally have what you do because of your looks or money. That’s the truth. Pretty people and well off people don’t want to admit it.

Even the man that I really care about, could even say that I love him, he is really handsome and masculine. I wouldn’t like him if he weren’t. That’s just the truth. Anyway, I’m tired of this subject. Just wanted to share “my truth” as the say.

I’m so terrified of going to work on Monday. Now, I regret sending that email to my colleagues. I could have spent this entire time not worrying. Now, I know that on Monday, I will have the review. I might get into serious trouble. The only comfort in my mind is that it will be over next week. Whatever happens, it will be over. If I get into trouble, I get into trouble. If I don’t, I don’t. I’m so anxious that I feel sick.

#covid19 #coronavirus #truth or dare #horror #lonely #gender stuff #gender #feminine #childhood abuse #bullying

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numeronubisexualhawkeye · 6 years ago

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Tuck and Roll

3060 Words

sequel to Take Cover

(got like 4 requests on here and another 4 on ao3 to finish this so i’ll be posting the next 3 chapters on my ao3, MajorMinor)

The first two weeks in Portugal were infuriating. Despite the fact that Theo was a big donor to the graduate school Clint and Natasha were pretending to be enrolled in, he was elusive. Natasha had gone against all logic and spent her days trying to go after Theo by herself, spending hours out in town and in the university, scouting out the locations they had been tipped off about Theo’s trafficking. It was hard doing it alone, or at least she felt as though she was working alone.

After their argument that first night, Clint had become reclusive. He only ever signed to her, which she only managed to catch bits and pieces of, she had only just started learning ASL which was miles different than the Russian standard she had been taught in the Red Room. Natasha had only spoken to him in Russian some days, trying to reciprocate his stubborn attitude. She knew he didn’t understand it well enough to respond, and felt it was a fair trade for him only signing to her for the first few days after their fight.

By the end of the first week though, their silent treatment had run its course. They needed to speak to each other to work and to survive, but since Clint was still too much in his own head to do that, they took to treating this as if it were a solo mission. Natasha would go out during the day and talk to Theo’s colleagues and clients, coming off as an enthusiastic grad student that just wanted to get to know him. Clint going full covert mode and spending night after night in the tow, putting that Hawkeye codename to use as he watched Theo move about the city.

Neither one of them ever had much to report back at the apartment. Theo was elusive, working as indirectly as possible when he could. Clint had caught mostly only been able to watch him through the windows of his home, which was occupied only by him and his house staff. There was nothing redeemable about what Theo was doing, but at least he had the nerve to not have a wife or kids amongst his business. By the third week, both of them were tense from their own emotions and lack of action. Clint wanted to spring a trap in Theo’s house, draw him out and ambush him. Natasha wanted to catch him off guard, get under his skin, and work her way to where she needed to be to get this job over with.

On the Friday of their third week however, there was a breakthrough, a gloriously simple one, but a breakthrough nonetheless. Natasha had been in the library of the university, flipping through some tome on Portuguese art, when she heard a murmur of voices behind her. She shut the book and looked around the shelves, and there he was; Theo.

There was a gang of students and staff going up to him, telling him how grateful they were for his generous donations to the library and various departments of the school. Natasha made her way toward him, and he caught her immediately. He waved off the people around him and stepped to her.

“Hello! Long time no see. How have you been?” he started.

Natasha slipped into the sugary voice she had used the night they first met. “Oh fine, same as always. Me and David have been meaning to get out, but work and school keeps us busy.”

Theo smiled. “Well, I’m sure I can help you with that.” He took a card out of his pocket, wrote down an address and phone number and passed it to her. “Join me for dinner someday. You can set it up with my assistant. I’d be more than happy to show you the more...secretive pleasures this city has.”

Ew. “Thank you. I’ll tell David, I’m sure he’d be glad to get to talk to you.”

Theo’s expression wavered a little at that. “Ha. Well, I hope to see you again soon Anya.”

When Natasha had told Clint about the set up, he looked annoyed, but she didn’t wait for him to have any smart remarks. “I’ve already set it up for Sunday evening. Clear your nesting hours.”

When Sunday rolled around, Natasha was itching with anticipation. Finally, something to fucking do on this mission. The restaurant wasn’t far from the apartment they had been holed up in, so she walked, Clint following closely on the adjacent streets until they both reached the restaurant, where Theo was waiting outside.

“Ah, Anya, I’m so glad to see you.” he had his arms stretched wide for a hug. “Where’s David?”

“He got food poisoning, but he sends his regards.” She heard Clint chuff out a laugh in her comm.

Theo led them inside to a table toward the back of the restaurant. There was a guard standing on either side of the table, which put Natasha on alert. Theo may have presented himself as an elusive and private man, but this was a clear indicator of his shady dealings on the side.

Clint was somewhere in the upper floors of the neighboring building, watching through windows and seeing she and Theo's every move while being completely invisible to any untrained eyes. Natasha felt about as safe as possible on missions like this. Even if Theo or either of the men standing guard beside him tried something, she could take them out, and if she couldn't, well, Clint's code name wasn't Hawkeye for nothing.

She drank one glass of wine and picked over her food. She may not have been as susceptible to alcohol as Theo may have been, but she didn't want him to get the idea that she was too comfortable around him. This had been arranged as something strictly professional, discussing the programs at the university, gaining his trust so she could get into his professional circles, not personal.

“So, Anya,” Theo said, “what exactly brought you and your um, husband, here?” He said ‘husband' the way little kids talk about broccoli. It was something gross and annoying, something he wanted to push to the edge of his plate and flick to a dog waiting under the table.

Clint could hear everything through the wire she was wearing. Natasha gave a small smile. “Well when we met in undergrad, we were both on a humanities track, European history and all. So when we graduated, and then married, we decided, why not come to the heart of where all great exploration began y'know? Get a hands on experience in that history.”

Theo smiled and laughed. “Smart girl you must be. Not many people appreciate a woman with so much, curiosity and appreciation for the Old World.”

“Well we both paid 35k to get degrees in it, so I would hope to have a bit of appreciation for it.” Natasha tried to keep bringing Clint, well, David, in the conversation, keep Theo's focus professional. His files had said that he worked with his traffickers and clients through his allies, professors and politicians with a taste for their students and interns.

Professional is what was preferred, but Natasha had a sick feeling that she was going to have to take the personal route. This mission was already going into its third week without much progress. The stress of this mission plus the added weight of the tension between she and Clint made working conditions seem far worse than they actually were. Natasha just wanted the whole thing to be over with so they could go back stateside, and she could request a new partner.

“Ah, you Americans and your money. I can respect it though, spending it on such a quality education.” Theo said as he waved down the waiter. “I’ll take check now. Both our meals are together.”

“Oh no, I can pay.” Natasha said determined. Professional, this was professional, she didn’t want Theo to get any funny ideas. But he had funny ideas when he first saw her, and when she took this dinner. He was expecting something from her now, especially after three weeks of trying to weasel herself to this exact scenario.

“Please, it’s my pleasure.” Theo’s voice dropped to that low gravelly tone older men take up when they think they’re being sexy, when in reality they sound like a dog with a bad chest cold.

“Natasha.”

Clint’s voice in her ear was a shock, and she fumbled with her reply after he disrupted her. “Well, if you insist, but I’m not making this a habit.”

“Natasha.” Clint was sounding more irritated. The fact that he was saying anything at all was a surprise to her. There hadn’t been anything especially insightful during this dinner. All she had learned was Theo was the same as every old sleaze that preyed on women; too much money, and not enough people telling him no. Natasha was begging for anything, anything to happen so she could get an opening on this guy. How could someone this simple be so hard to infiltrate?

The waiter left to bring back the check, and it was just the two, well three, counting Clint’s now active part in this conversation, of them.

“So,” Theo started, “any plans for the rest of the night?”

Fuck. It was such an obvious move to get any intel that she needed to wrap this mission up, but she didn’t want to do this. But why? She had slept with more men for work than she had for her own enjoyment, it was the one death she couldn’t escape, even now after so many months with Shield.

“Don’t you dare.” Clint’s voice said harshly in her ear. She wanted to be irritated with his interjections, she dealt with men like Theo for a living, she could handle this. But something about having Clint in her ear made her anxiety worsen. He was watching her, he could see everything, hear everything, Theo didn’t know, but what if he did? Was he trying to set her up? Would they get back to his penthouse and there would be Clint, tied up and beaten to a pulp by one of Theo’s goons? No, he couldn’t know, he had barely lifted his gaze up from the neckline of her dress, even with the modest cut he wouldn’t stop staring.

Why was she so worried? This was work, Theo was work. Clint was a part of work. But when Theo reached his hand across the table and placed it on top of her’s, she pulled back harder and faster than she had meant to. His touch snapped her out of her stupor.

“I’ve got to get home to David.” she said. Clint’s cover name felt like an anchor, and just like everything about this night and this mission, she hated it. Why did he have such a hold on her all of a sudden? Why was she letting Clint’s hooks get into her? Natasha had dealt with men like Theo, would keep dealing with them even if she ever had the chance to leave Shield. They had barely spoken to each other since the first night, but now all of a sudden, she wanted to be home, no, in the apartment, don’t make this personal Natasha. She wanted to be in the apartment with Clint. Why? Why, fucking why?

“Ah, perhaps another time then.” Theo said, if he caught wind of her sudden anxiety, he didn’t show it. He leaned across the table to grab Natasha’s hand and kiss it, but she snatched away and got up abruptly.

“Until next time senhor.” Natasha said before she whipped around and walked out the restaurant.

The entire walk home, Clint was silent in her ear. She caught a few quick glances of him moving through the streets as they both made their way back to the apartment, but neither one of them made a sound. He had reached the apartment before her, the door already unlocked when she got there. Inside, he was sitting on the couch, but his posture was rigid, and he stood up when she stepped inside.

He opened his mouth to say something, but stopped.

“If you have something smart to say, just say it Barton.” Natasha snapped. She didn’t give him time to answer, just kicked off her heels, and shut the door to the bedroom.

Again.

No.

You sound like a porn star.

Do it again.

Come on babe.

Fucking Christ Natalia, do it again.

Again.

Natalia!

You’re so fuckin’ gorgeous

“Natasha.”

Do you want to go back under?

Do it again.

“Wake up.”

Anya.

You’re not like the others.

Do you like that?

Natalia.

“Nat.”

Any plans for the rest of the night?

“Natasha. NATASHA!”

She bolted upward, butting her forehead against something hard. She winced and pushed away at whatever she had hit, hands fumbling in the dark. Her fingers brushed against skin, and she screamed.

“Hey, hey!” a light switched on, and there was Clint, kneeling in bed beside her. “Chill, you’re okay. You’re okay.” his voice was soft but stern.

Natasha got out of bed and stood there staring at him for a few seconds, breathing heavily. The back of her neck was beaded with sweat despite the fact that the air conditioning was on full blast. She felt shaky and a little disoriented. She stumbled forward, trying to muster up the attitude she had had with him the last couple of weeks so she could push him out of the room and go back to sleep. But she tripped over herself and had to put her hands down in front of her to catch her on the mattress.

“Woah, are you okay?” Clint inched forward on the bed, hands outstretched cautiously. Did that Theo guy give you something?”

She shook her head. She was fine, wasn’t she? Theo was just another disgusting human to be dealt with, she could handle this, she could. But why was his voice in her head hours later? But it hadn’t just been Theo’s voice. It was never just going to be Theo’s voice.

A shiver ran through her body, and Clint noticed. She felt his weight settle next to her on the edge of the bed. “Nat.”

She swallowed hard and took in a gulp of air. What did she want to say? What could she say? Sorry for waking you up with my nightmare screaming. Go back to the couch, I’ll be fine once we kill this guy.

“Do you need some water? Aspirin?” Clint asked.

Natasha’s voice finally remembered how to work. “Vodka.” she said hoarsely. “Well, anything alcoholic, if we have it.” Clint nodded and went to the kitchen.

Natasha sat in the same position, barely moving while he was gone. There had been so many men like Theo before that she couldn’t count them if her life depended on it. Human traffickers, drug peddlers, arms dealers, straight up fucking war criminals, why was he sticking so hard and why had he brought them all back into her head at once? And he hadn’t just brought up the men she had killed or put away. Fucking Christ Natalia, do it again. The Red Room. The instructor who had trained her to do the very thing she was supposed to do without any fear or anxiety was coming back years later, and her voice still sent waves of emotions so horrible Natasha didn’t have words in any language to describe them.

She was glad when Clint finally came back into the room with a glass of vodka in one hand and the entire bottle in the other. She took the bottle and shot back a few gulps before setting it on the nightstand.

“Bad dream” Clint asked.

“Bad life.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Both of them taking swigs from the bottle, the glass forgotten on the nightstand. She was starting to cool off, the sweat on the back of her neck feeling too cold against her skin. The shakes in her body had stopped, and she could breathe easily again. Despite all that, she was wide awake.

“How did you hear me?” she asked suddenly.

Clint passed the bottle back to her. “What?”

“You. How did you hear me?” she looked over to the alarm clock on the nightstand. It was 2:36 in the morning. “I know you don’t sleep with your hearing aids in, especially not on non-violent missions like this. So how did you hear me?”

He turned his face away from he, unable to answer. He might not have been looking, but Natasha knew the body language, it was shame. But what for?

“I kept them in tonight.” he finally said, face still away. “You looked so rattled when you got back, thought that guy might have slipped you something, so I stayed awake as long as I could until I was certain you were asleep and no one would break the door down. I heard you screaming about thirty minutes after I fell asleep.” His words came slowly, like he kept debating if he should stop, or change his story, but he didn’t.

There it was, that concern that she didn’t need. She tensed again, preparing to be angry, but the feeling swelling in her chest wasn’t hot, it was a different kind of heat. Her entire body felt flush with embarrassment.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. We all have bad nights. Comes with the job. Just gotta hope they don’t turn into even worse days.” He got up from the bed. “You can keep the bottle.”

“Clint,”

But he was already to the bedroom door, closing it gently behind him. Natasha let out a sigh, took a few more swigs from the bottle, and went back to sleep. She left the light on, just in case she woke up again, but she didn’t.

When she awoke that morning, Clint was gone. She called him a couple times, but there was no answer. No note, nothing missing from the apartment, his bow and arrows still stashed in the closet by the front door. What she did notice though, was the news report on the tv when she switched it on as she sat down to eat breakfast.

Theo was missing, and so was her partner.

#k.txt #clintasha #fic tag

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a-woman-apart · 6 years ago

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Sometimes You Just Need a Nap (The Effexor Saga Continues)

So today, I started the day off well. When recording my voice diaries, I started to ramble a lot about how I’ve exceeded my food budget and spent money on medication I couldn’t even use. I was able to course-correct, though, and I came to the realization that my actions were justifiable considering everything that was going on. Also, even if I did make some poor decisions, this did not indicate a pattern of irresponsibility. I could forgive myself for being human and making mistakes. The only reasonable action to take following that realization was to strive to make better choices in the future.

As the morning bled into the afternoon, I started to feel more and more depressed, even though I had made some progress against self-criticism and self-doubt. I wanted to go to the laundry mat today and pick up around the house a little more, but I felt too weak. It was all I could do to go pick-up lunch (the responsible thing to do rather than paying for it to be delivered) eat it, and then collapse back onto the couch and cover myself with a blanket.

When I finally did go to take the nap, my sleep initially seemed fitful. I had strange dreams and thought I was hearing all sorts of noises. I woke up to what sounded like banging on the door, but when I looked out no one was there. I think the neighbors were just being super noisy today. Surprisingly, though, when I was able to get over the strangeness of it all, I realized that I felt so much more refreshed and energized than I had before. I still didn’t have the strength to run any errands, but I felt chipper enough to watch a movie, and so I did.

Sometimes, you just need a nap.

Of course, at the end of the day, I was back to being in an existential crisis. After my terrible experience of withdrawal with Effexor/Venlafaxine, I have decided that I want to take action against the manufacturers of the drug, or at the very least raise greater awareness about the harm that it can cause. If my experience with Effexor were unique to me, I would write it off as bad luck and would not be concerned. However, hearing the testimonials of so many other people who have been hurt by this drug and others like it, I am compelled to take action.

My boyfriend does not fully agree with my taking this course. He points out—rightfully so— that waging a war against a specific drug or class of drugs might be a waste of energy. The entire pharmaceutical industry, he said, was bork. We discussed how doctors are sometimes paid to prescribe medication. This is not to say that no prescribers have their patients’ best interest in mind, but it does mean that what they say needs to be taken with a grain of salt.

My boyfriend also cautioned me against strictly refusing to take a medication just because it falls in a certain category. I assured him that I still believe in medicine compliance but pointed out that the only psych drug that I have taken—as a bipolar patient— that has been more beneficial than harmful over an extended time period has been lithium. Even when things like antidepressants worked, I would have to be switched to a new one because they would not remain effective over time. Invega was wonderful, but the reproductive side effects were so bad that I had to be removed from it. I actually brought up the idea of my not needing antipsychotics for a long time, citing the irregular periods as a harm that I wasn’t sure was good for me to tolerate over the long term. It took me bleeding on/off for 40 days for them to listen to me.

I have now effectively become skeptical of anti-anxiety medication as well, even as my anxiety continues to be a problem. Lithium, on the other hand, has been doing its job. It hasn’t eliminated the symptoms of bipolar disorder (or I wouldn’t be taking other drugs along with it) but I have not had a major depressive episode or a full-blown manic episode since being on the drug.

I told my boyfriend that I did not feel like I should sacrifice my physical health for my mental health. He rightfully said that sometimes you cannot strike that “perfect balance” where your psych medicines do not cause other health problems. I pointed out that it depends on what you are willing to tolerate. I have tolerated weight gain, excessive thirst, and the risks of serious—even life-threatening side effects— so that I can exist at a healthy baseline of functioning. I have actually been very fortunate that I haven’t had to deal with some of the gnarlier side effects, but I’ve had my moments.

On Wellbutrin (taken for depression), my vision was poor enough for me to need to wear glasses to read; I first noticed the vision problems upon taking Wellbutrin but thought that they were exacerbated by a physical problem. Surprise— no more Wellbutrin, no more eye problems. Were the vision changes more annoying that truly harmful? Yes. Would I take Wellbutrin again knowing that they caused that? Nope.

For me, habit-forming drugs and drugs that cause discontinuation syndrome are deal-breakers. Drugs that cause excessive drowsiness that does not go away are deal-breakers. Drugs that cause hypomania/mania are deal-breakers. Drugs that are used to treat anxiety—but may instead cause it—are deal-breakers. Effexor fell in the latter category for me, but because I was using it to treat depression, I was willing to tolerate the slight uptick in my anxiety. This was a mistake. When my psychiatrist implicated it in my mixed mania, it went from a small mistake to a big one. I had always known that antidepressants carried a mania risk if they were used for a long time, but I took the risk. Taking that risk almost ended me in the hospital.

There is also a possibility that the Effexor and the Abilify don’t mix well, because adding that second dose of Abilify fucked with me, too, and was actually a partial catalyst for everything that transpired after that. My psychiatrist both removed the extra Abilify and Effexor at the same time, and that was when my symptoms went from “hard mode” to “nightmare mode.” The rest is history.

Look, I only have one point here. My boyfriend has been on the same antidepressant medication—with excellent results—for years. Antidepressants save lives.

They also take them.

I am not saying that these drugs should not be available. Also, to the manufacturer’s credit—but not that much because they are forced by law to include drug information— if you go to the website and read the boxed warning you can see that there is a warning about discontinuation syndrome. It is true that it is the responsibility of the patient to read the warnings and be informed about the drugs. However, in most pharmacies when you go to fill a prescription, if a drug carries a particular risk, you usually receive consultation regarding how to safely take that drug. In the same way, just as doctors now warn about the risks of suicidality for children and adolescents who take antidepressants, they should be required by law to warn patients about the severity of discontinuation syndrome.

I am not convinced that it is necessary to push for Effexor to be removed from the U.S. market—even though it is already banned in parts of Europe—but I would like to see patients being more informed about what they are putting into their bodies. When you go to a psych doctor, you often trust them to make decisions with your best interest at heart. In my opinion, this is sometimes a misplaced trust. They either are not aware of the consequences of certain medications, or they are deliberately downplaying the side effects of these medications, so you won’t be “too scared” to take them. This is disingenuous and must be stopped.

My boyfriend is concerned for my health, but I assured him that I wasn’t becoming anti-medicine. I know that alternative medicine can be just as bad—if not worse— than traditional western medicine. Depression can often not have a “cause” outside chemical issues in the brain, and if those issues are not first addressed, additional treatment may be ineffective. If a person struggles to get out of bed, exercise, and participate in work, family, and group activities, they may need a “jump start” to at least raise their level of functioning to where they can begin to slowly reintegrate into society and their lives. It’s true that medicine works best when paired with therapy and the use of coping skills, but the most important thing is to get that person well enough to participate in their own recovery. Like I said, too, lithium has been a wonder drug for me. It doesn’t “cure” everything, it just brings me up to where I can handle doing the hard work it takes to maintain a healthy life.

Even lithium, though, is dangerous. It can cause thyroid and kidney problems, so frequent blood tests are required. There is no drug that is risk-free. If I want to get off lithium though, I won’t start sweating, vomiting, and having seizures. Capsule sizes exist in enough variety that I can taper off slowly and safely. I just feel that if withdrawal is at all a concern, that concern should be discussed upfront with the patient. There are no exceptions.

Even though today has been better than a lot of days, I still don’t truly feel like myself. The intermittent gastrointestinal problems and dealing with fatigue are still affecting my day to day life. It’s true, sometimes you just need a nap, but sometimes you also need to be able to trust the people who are involved with your mental health.

I don’t think that’s too much to ask.

#effexor withdrawal #venlafaxine withdrawal #Depression Symptoms #self-doubt #sometimes you just need a nap #but sometimes a nap is not enough #patient-doctor relationship #trusting your mental health providers #discontinuation syndrome #the dangers of SSRIs #the dangers of SNRIs #do not discontinue antidepressants without doctor assistance

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