#i am having an extended downward spiral this month that is planned to go on until July so this is to be expected | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

imagine-loki · 5 years

Text

Scars Trigger Warning - Mentions of Self Harm and attempted suicide

TITLE: Scars

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: One-shot

AUTHOR: breemaggs

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki finding his favorite humans self harm scars. His reaction?

RATING: Mature

NOTES/WARNINGS: TRIGGER WARNING: Mention of self harm, panic attacks, and attempted suicide. Enjoy! Also posted on AO3.

I had almost, almost forgotten about the scars. I had forgotten long enough to put the swimsuit on. I had forgotten long enough to walk outside in it. I’d forgotten long enough to greet him with a smile full of sunshine when I found him standing in the garden; unexpected, but never unwelcome. And at first, he returned it and pulled me in for a hug. After a few moments I pulled away and he did the same.

And then the moment changed.

I saw it in his eyes first. The light in them faded and confusion flooded them. I saw the slight droop in his brows as the confusion spread from his eyes to his entire face. His lips thinned into a hard, flat line.

It took me only a second to follow his gaze to my arms, my stomach, and then my thighs. Realization was a swift, heavy boulder that dropped into my stomach.

The fucking scars.

They were years old at this point. Most days they were a reminder of how far I had come. A twisted sort of milestone for myself. Most days, I remembered to hide them after I gave in and carefully examined their patterns. But today…

Today had been different.

It was finally hot outside. Hot enough to swim. Hot enough to tan. And I had been planning on being by myself, making the scars a nonissue. And Loki… he had a way of putting me at ease. I felt… normal when I was with him. All of my crazy, all of my emotions, all of my thoughts… Everything calmed down and quieted in my brain when he was close to me. I felt safe with him.

But today…

I couldn’t read the emotions on his face. Anger? Disgust? Sympathy? Pity? A mask had fallen into place almost immediately after he’d seen them. I didn’t know what he was thinking. But it didn’t matter. I wasn’t going to stick around for the fall out. I wouldn’t take another rejection well.

I started backpedaling, some kind of excuse tumbling from my lips. I don’t know. I just had to get out. I stumbled down the path and into the house, slamming and locking the door behind me. I raced through the front room, heading towards the back bedroom that I called my own. I wouldn’t feel safe until I was being devoured by my blankets, free to let the dark thoughts consume me.

I should have known better.

Mere locks and doors could never keep him out. My breath caught in my throat and the tears that were beading on my lashes quivered before finally giving in and falling down my face. He was standing in the middle of my room. I tried to choke the sob down, I really did. But the anxiety was quickly becoming all consuming. A full blown panic attack was imminent.

“I…”

That one syllable almost broke me. It was nothing of substance, but it was surely the beginning of the end. I’d heard it all before. And it always started with an, “I.” I can’t do this with you. I can’t deal with your baggage. I don’t want to deal with your problems.

“Do-don’t,” I managed to get out, taking half a step backwards.

I couldn’t bear to hear what he was going to say. I pressed my hands against my mouth, desperately trying to keep the sobs at bay, but this made it hard to breath. I pulled them from my lips and instead dugs my nails into my arms in an attempt to ground myself.

It didn’t matter. The panic gripped me hard and I could feel the walls closing in. My chest tightened and ached. I felt like I was dying and for one, small, shameful moment, I wished I would. At least then it would all be over.

Logically, I knew this was a panic attack. Logically, I knew I would survive it. Logic has no hold or sway in the midst of a panic attack.

At this point, I was beyond the situation. Loki disappeared. The room disappeared. Everything disappeared until it was just me. Just me and my anxiety. I clawed at my arms, fighting the attack. I tried to slow my breathing, to bring it back into some kind of recognizable rhythm.

I wasn’t sure if I was still standing or not, so lost was I. I vaguely realized that I must have been because I felt myself teeter and start to drop. But there was no impact. Not that I would have felt it anyway.

But then I was feeling. There were arms around me. They wrapped me up and tightened around me. I was awkwardly cradled in a lap. There was a chin pressing against the crown of my head.

And almost as if magic, my breathing finally slowed to something close to normal. My hands loosened their hold on my arms. My chest relaxed and the tension I’d been holding in my body released. I’d never felt anything like it. And as the clouds in my head began to clear, I understood what had happened. It had felt like magic because it was magic. Loki’s magic. I wanted to be angry and frustrated that he could manipulate me like that, but all I could feel was peace.

“Stop, I mumbled against his shoulder.

“I would, but it would be counterproductive at this point.”

Infuriating god. I sighed loudly, accepting my fate. I had no other choice. I was a slave to the calm he was pumping through me. It was making me sleepy. And I was so comfortable…

“If you’re recovered from your ordeal, I would ask that you answer some questions for me.” His voice was quiet, barely a whisper. But I heard him. I sighed again.

I nodded. There was no escaping now. I waited for him to ask me something, anything, but it dawned on me that, even though he’d asked, he was waiting for me to open up to him. I didn’t know where to start. It had been a very, very long time since I’d opened myself up to someone. It was opening a door to hurt and disappointment.

I gently reminded myself that he was here. He had helped me through my anxiety attack. Granted, his methods could use some work, but he’d done his best to help me.

I took a deep breath and I started talking. I didn’t know if any of it made sense, but once I started, I had a hard time stopping. I bared my soul to him, hoping against hope that it wouldn’t be too much. That it wouldn’t scare him away.

I told him about how much I hated myself. I’d been made fun of for being different. Being different had been unavoidable; it was a product of my birth. Being a witch in a mortal education system had been hard. But I’d endured, if barely. By the age of fourteen, my magic was out of control due to my emotions and I was pulled from school.

I started cutting myself when I was fifteen and I was finally able to establish some control over my magic. The release I got from cutting was… euphoric. It was control. It was healing. Having control of my emotions extended directly to my magic.

But the control didn’t last. The longer I cut, the less I felt the control. It had lost its novelty. As I fought to regain that control, I was pulling anything remotely sharp across my skin. I started falling into a downward spiral. I secluded myself. By seventeen, my magic wasn’t the only thing out of control anymore.

I didn’t want to live anymore. Cutting became less of a habit and more of a dangerous game of roulette. How far would I go this time? Would I finally cut myself deep enough to bleed out? Would I finally surrender to death?

After one close call at the age of nineteen, I landed myself in a witch’s coven dedicated to mental healing. There I made friends. I learned control. And most importantly, I started to heal. I learned coping skills that didn’t involve spilling my blood.

It was the best thing for me. I had been on an upward trend ever since. I hadn’t cut myself in years, despite the fact that the temptation did sneak up on me from time to time. I met with a witch doctor once a month to regulate medications and meditation routines. I met with the coven every six weeks as a sort of counseling session.

I talked to Loki until my throat felt raw. I told him things I had never told anyone before. And he listened to it all. When I finally stopped talking, I waited for the fall out. I waited for the disgust. Or worse, the pity.

But it never came. What did come was a whisper soft kiss across my surprised lips. And laughter. He laughed at me. Probably at the ridiculous expression I was sure was on my face.

“You have been so brave for so long. There is no shame in asking for help when you need it,” he told me softly. As he spoke, his arms tightened ever so slightly.

I could only nod, agreeing with him.

“I am pleased that you are comfortable enough with me to share your struggles with me. And I am grateful that you are still here to do so.”

I was still waiting for the other shoe to drop. As he kept talking, I was beginning to accept that there was no other shoe. His nice words weren’t meant to soften a blow. He meant everything he was saying. That made my eyes well up with tears again.

“Shhh,” he entreated, rocking me gently. “I can’t promise that it will always all be all right, but for now, it is.” He swept a kiss across my brow and started humming to me softly.

And for me, that was enough. I gave in. I admitted defeat at the hands of the Norse god. I was at his mercy.

I was exactly where I belonged.

#Loki #Submitted one shot #Panic Attacks #Hurt/Comfort #AU #Others #Mention of Self Harm #Angst #submission #Trigger warning #breemaggs #attempted suicide #scars

238 notes · View notes

drgamenstein · 4 years

Text

My plan for now. Day 0

So I literally have no idea what I’m doing right now. I’ve had a Tumblr for a bit, but I don’t really remember when or why I made it. Bear with me as I figure stuff out, and just get through this mess of a situation I’m in. This may come out several hours after writing it, just because anxiety is a bitch right now, and I need to calm myself. Putting myself out there isn’t something I really do, even if I’m online and doing social media stuff. Plus I’m Dysgraphic, so Writing is a weak point and I keep going back to pour over any spelling mistakes or just missing words/sentences.

So I suffer from clinical depression. I’ve been struggling with it since I was in middle school to varying degrees of success. The last few months of my life, I’ve been in a downward spiral. My long term relationship ended on not so great terms. I caught Bronchitis, which caused me to lose almost a quarter of my total body mass, and due to the whole world crisis thing meant I had to spend an extended period of time alone and isolated from the world. The longer I spent alone, the darker my thoughts got, until I couldn’t take it anymore. I started having frequent panic attacks, most nights when I left work I would just lay in bed unable to move until I fell asleep, and whenever I would go out in public I’d start shaking uncontrollably. That last one got so bad that when I’d try to make myself stop my gripping by hands together I accidentally scratched myself and drew blood. As of writing this I am taking a leave of absence in order to recover and try to get myself back to a stable place. For the moment I’ll be away for 17 days, and the plan for now is to focus on what makes me happy, or at least what used to and try to rekindle some old hobbies. I’m also going to try and approach all of this as positively as I can.

I’ll be keeping this blog as a chronicle, mostly for myself to look back on and track my progress through the next 17 days. I’ll probably stick around longer than that, but for this time, I’ll try and make a post at least once a day to keep track of what I’m doing and if it’s helping or not. Today I’m planning on just relaxing and trying to calm myself out of this panicked mindset, but I have taken some steps to help myself. I took some money out, and bought some new headphones, an art tablet, a bike and a game for when I need to pass some time without doing other stuff. My plan is to focus on my hobbies and my health, and try to find something that I truly love doing again. I used to do a lot of traditional art, graphite and paper, most drawing anime and game characters from eye as closely as I could. I was always interested in digital art, but never really could afford to start it before, so this is a whole new journey, but I do want to start it. I haven’t drawn anything at all in almost ten years though, so regardless, I know I’ll probably be trash, but hey, that’s part of the journey right? I used to write fanfiction, but those are so old and bad that I’m super happy I can’t find them. I did however start writing a book while I was in isolation that I’d like to continue. I started doing Twitch and YouTube, as a way to burn through a massive library of games I accumulated at an old job, so I’ll probably work on those again too.

I want to do at least one of these things every day, plus put aside some time to exercise and regain some of my weight, since I know that’s got a huge impact on my energy levels. Like I said I’ll be keeping track of my progress here, though whether or not I do long form posts like this, or a bunch of short little burst posts throughout the day will probably be up to how I’m feeling at the time. I’ll try and keep track of them by numbering the days. I hope this works as well as I’m hoping it will (Does that phrase even make a lick of sense?) To anyone reading this, just thanks for your time.

1 note · View note

danachristinehare · 5 years

Text

i fell down the rabbit hole

in middle school i started listening to Fall Out Boy. i remember being obsessed with their song Sugar, We’re Going Down. i will never forget a moment in time, i had their lyrics printed out, and my room was a mess, and my mom came in one day and found the printed lyrics, and got mad at me for what i was listening to. the album as a whole is song after song pretty much about casual sex, and there’s a specific lyric in Sugar, We’re Going Down about taking aim at yourself with a weapon. i was probably 11? or 12? i remember my mom not wanting me to listen to them anymore. and now they are my favorite band, and have been since. this was like 14 years ago.

i was weirdly conditioned to like a band because my mother didn’t want me to like them. and i believe that reverse psychology level of thinking correlates with the things you like in general, including people.

in 2007 i moved to Florida and started high school and had the weirdest crush on a guy, Matt Hare. he was a year older than me, he definitely did not like me, but like a weirdo virgin pre-teen i found myself writing his name on my binders, and talking about him late night at slumber parties with my girlfriends.

now let’s fast forward to 2015. this is the part where i come forward about a lot of weird shit, and some stuff i am not so proud of that i have put behind me. i haven’t come forward on a lot of this stuff because my past embarrasses me, but it’s time to accept that my past has MADE me who i am today.

the year is 2015, and i am a little lost. all of my friends are graduating from college, but i never went. i had been working at the same dead end fast food restaurant since highschool. i was partying. i was getting caught up with the wrong folks. i was doing party drugs for the lack of not having any other hobbies. Matthew Hare and i re-meet, and in a weird drugged out terrible point of my life, we get together, and i immediately move in. the drug using gets worse; and i can’t blame it on Matt, as easy as it could be, that was me. those were my choices. quickly into my downward spiral, Matt and i on a whim get married.

now, this whole time, i have one girl i know telling me all these terrible things about Matt. “alleged” things of course. you all know what i am talking about. i also have three more girls i don’t really know telling me all these same/similar terrible alleged things about Matt. but i don’t even know them? i went to highschool with one of them, and we had ceramics class together but. i feel like i knew Matt way more than i knew even the one girl i can claim to be an old school acquaintance...but the one girl i knew? she pushed me, mentally, the same way my mom pushed me as a kid with listening to fall out boy. i WANTED to rebel. i wanted the attention. i wanted to be a big deal. i wanted to prove something. i don’t know what i was trying to prove, and i don’t think i knew what kind of attention i was getting myself into, but i was too far gone. i started calling all these girls the “Matt Hare Hate Club” ...instead of using love and reason to get to me and help me realize the mistakes i was making, they used scare tactics and fear. the way they approached me, i felt more inclined to help Matt, to protect him, stand up for him, over joining their side. once i started to stand up for Matt, these girls didn’t even try to continue to help me, even though they knew deep down i needed help. once i started standing up for Matt, they treated me as if i WAS Matt. the town of St Augustine, and the Matt Hare Hate Club (which extended to locals all over town) started pushing us out. i will never know who to blame for what, but my car got beat with bats (or some other blunt objects), we had a brick thrown in our window, we had the windows of our house punched out, i got thrown out of a bar just because my last name was “Hare” ...my life just kinda got turned upside down really quickly. so we moved to Tennessee.

life was okay. there was lots of ups, and very few downs, and the downs weren’t dramatically down. my drug use slowed down, because it was harder to find and more expensive, but i don’t think his drug use ever stopped. i think he just got way better at hiding it. and then, i got pregnant, and everything, and i mean EVERYTHING changed.

a lot of this hurts me to my core still, i don’t like admitting defeat, or admitting when i was wrong about something, nobody does really...and i am not really good at talking about it, i don’t like talking about it, and i wish it would all just go away, but i realize now that i need to talk about it before anyone else gets hurt.

so its late 2016 now and i got pregnant, and Matthew was dead set on me getting an abortion. obviously, i didn’t take this path. me keeping a baby he didn’t want, i believe, was the true start of problems.

one night mid 2017, i believe i was about 7 months pregnant, we got in an argument. i honestly don’t even remember what the argument was about? but that’s how every argument with Matt is. i remember he was drunk, he potentially was on drugs, i was obviously very sober (and very pregnant) ...all i really remember is that he came after me, i fell backwards on the couch, and he pushed my leg down towards my body almost past the point where i couldn’t stretch it anymore. he tried breaking my leg. i kept kicking. i stayed strong. he starting biting my foot, i still have a scar; and i kicked back so hard i knocked his front tooth out. i got away, scooped up the dogs, and drove straight to a friends house. i was hurt, emotionally and physically. i was terrified. i didn’t know what to do. i didn’t want to talk to anyone. i couldn’t afford to live on my own. i didn’t want to move home. i was about to deliver a baby in a few weeks? my life hit rock bottom.

life settled. he swore he didn’t mean it. “i was drunk, that’ll never happen again”

i thought i couldn’t abruptly move my life this far into my pregnancy. i stayed. i kept my distance, but i went back home, i stayed, i delivered my baby in Tennessee. things seemed as normal as they could be, given the circumstances. we started having problems, regular problems, but these regular relationship problems came with the background of being assaulted by my partner, pregnant, just a few months prior. i knew i wanted to leave, i knew i wanted a divorce, but i needed my safety. i didn’t know how to do it. thankfully at that point in my life i had my ex girlfriend, Chelsea, who i owe a lot too, despite how life changed between us and despite the breakup we had. she helped me come up with a plan that allowed me and Maggie’s safety. Maggie and I one morning packed up all our stuff, and moved back home to Florida, “for a better life and to be closer to family again” with the illusion that Matt would move back down with us when our Tennessee lease was up. this bought me time. time passed quickly. i didn’t complete my plans. before i knew it, the lease in Tennessee was up and Matt was moving back to Florida. to my house, with my parents. it lasted about 4 long rough months.

now it’s 2018, August the 16th, and i am at work. Matt’s at home, well, my parents home, watching Maggie while i work. i get a concerned text message about a rash. i hurry home from work, and the rash seems alarming, so we take her to the emergency room. i don’t get a lot of questions answered. i don’t know what’s happening. the doctors tell me they know it’s not a rash, but don’t know much else. suddenly late night, the cops show up with DCF and we’re all being questioned. turns out it wasn't a rash she had, it was petechiae. petechiae is the result of bleeding underneath the skin from blunt trauma, specifically asphyxiation/strangulation and loss of airflow to the brain, or at least that’s how the cops explained it to me. i told them what i knew. i was at work. she was in Matt’s care. of course they asked me if i thought Matt could be capable of harming our daughter, i knew he was capable, but i froze and said “uh...i don’t know” because realistically everything was happening really fast and i jumped to thinking NOBODY was capable of harming an innocent baby, let alone their own, but i am realizing now i was so very wrong, and so very lucky that my little girl is still with me. the day upon getting released from the hospital, DCF showed up to our house and ordered Matt out of the home and to not have any alone contact with Maggie without agreed upon supervision, being my parents or his parents. while in the hospital, Maggie underwent a full body bone scan X-ray. to this day i haven’t seen the results of that, though i have requested them. as far as my understanding goes, Matt was heavily investigated by the police and DCF and then the case was just closed. i didn’t tell the DCF agent on my case that Matt *could* have done something like this. i remember i was wearing a mustard yellow shirt that said “Mothers are Magic” on it, and she had the audacity to ask me if i wore that shirt to impress her, to prove to her that was some cool/good mom. i didn’t know she was coming that quick. that’s just the shirt i was wearing, i have a ton of motherhood related shirts. she pushed fear into me. i closed up. i didn’t tell her everything. i didn’t tell her he had hurt me. looking back on it now, i don’t know why i did half of the things that i did. but it’s what happened.

we’re here now. i am safe, and Maggie is safe. but i didn’t speak up when i should’ve, and because of that, the safety of another was put at risk. now Matt is in jail with a $4,000 bond for battery. thank god nobody died because of this man.

fear isn’t a good tactic to get someone to listen/trust/share...fear shuts people down. fear led me to go down a really deep dark rabbit hole, literally.

i never wanted to share my story. i was, i still am, embarrassed. i was wrong. i fucked up. but everything happens for a reason, and i am still trying to learn what some of the reasons are in this situation. but i am mad at myself for not speaking up sooner. but. we’re here now.

i don’t want to talk about this further. you can comment, you can leave praise, you can tell me i am “strong” or whatever other clichés you can think of, but i don’t want to engage in conversation further about any of this.

and to the Matt Hare Hate Club, i know y’all will see this. you can reach out to me in civil means. i don’t want any “i told you so” moments, i don’t want to be friends, i don’t want drama, just some solidarity. if that’s not what you’re looking for, please continue to leave me alone.

the silver lining to all of this? i got the most special little girl in the whole wide world. Magdalena, i love you, you’re 100 percent mine. i will raise you right. your dad is my life partner, Eli VeDepo. blood doesn’t make a family. when you’re old enough to understand why our family is unquestionably unique, i will tell you where you came from. but for now, you’re 2, and i am going to let you be a kid, and continue to do everything in my power to keep you safe. one day you’ll read this and know how much your mom loves you.

6 notes · View notes

angeltriestoblog · 6 years

Text

Welcome to my first blog post as an 18 year-old! And yes, I am well aware that I can legally drink and could be sent to jail, thank you very much. (Not that I have any plans to, though.)

I reached this milestone in my life last July 5th. As I mentioned in an earlier entry, I decided to not go the traditional route and instead, opted for a trip to Korea last April and a week’s worth of festivities with family and friends.

I kicked off the celebration with lunch at a Korean barbecue place with my parents, then had a feast with my extended family (mother’s side) in Italianni’s.

I even got my cousin, Miguel, to go on with me on the ferris wheel nearby where I tried my best to admire the beautiful view of Manila Bay before us while screaming my head off.

For my actual birthday, I treated my closest friends from high school at yet another K-BBQ place for lunch, and then went to my favorite buffet place with my family for dinner. My friends Junelle, Danna and I also finally pushed through with our months-old plan of dropping by the karaoke bar relatively near to us, which served as a great release for pent-up emotions and a showcase of our non-existent vocal abilities.

This year, I also decided to go out on a limb and hold a project of my own. I was originally planning on giving away some of the old books I had piled up in my room to nearby orphanages, but with the time constraints I had, I couldn’t really afford to execute something so grand. So, with the help of my mom, I decided that it would be best to start small. We bought these tumblers from the nearby grocery and filled them to the brim with candies and chocolate bars, then gave them to the kids selling sampaguita at our church. I was really iffy about writing this part, because I know it’s easy to misconstrue my intentions for doing so: some people will probably just dismiss this as some put-on act of charity posted for clout. But, the experience was just so rewarding for me I had to. The children were all so appreciative, beaming at me, expressing their gratitude through belated birthday greetings and musings of how they could use my little gift for school – it kind of made me feel like my heart was on fire, but in the best way possible.

Anyway, now on to the standard realizations I make sure to include in nine out of ten posts.

This birthday in particular was a big deal for me, for obvious reasons. I had always regarded 18 as the age of independence and freedom: I equated it to having the liberty to do whatever I wanted, go anywhere I pleased with anyone at all, make the big decisions and know the answers to all the questions I’ve been asking my elders since I was a kid. I guess I forgot that I’m not the protagonist of the coming-of-age films I grew up indulging in, but a sheltered kid who has had most things done for her and thus has yet to acquire the basic life skills needed to survive The Real World. My parents said that I’m this way because they wanted to give me a life of convenience, and thus did anything that required me going out of my comfort zone, for me. All these years, I never found myself complaining about it or demanding that something be changed but for some reason, this stage of supposed adulthood has pressured me into thinking that there’s something terribly wrong with this because now, I have so much growing up to do.

Obviously, the biggest life change that I’ll have to deal with would be college: having to balance academics, extracurricular activities and different people in an entirely foreign environment sounded so terrifying for me. People would always tell me that grades have and could never be an issue for me: I was born the Smart Kid™ with a lot of potential, remember? I was generally a star student in all the schools I had attended, and everyone knew about it: I didn’t have to exert any effort to prove myself to those around me, because my grades did the talking. But, suddenly I’m about to enter this prestigious university with a rigorous screening process that takes in the Smart Kids™ from institutions all around the country. How am I expected to stand out in a place like that and get the Latin honors I can’t help but aim for?

Extracurriculars also have a huge bearing and apparently are an essential part of the whole college experience, which is weird to me since I’ve never really committed to a specific club all throughout my grade school and high school life. It seemed like more of a requirement to me than anything else, so deciding which one to join was like playing pin the tail on the donkey with my friends.

And, while I’m on that note: what about making new friends? I do appear to be outgoing and loud—especially if you’ve heard my piercing shrieks in my old Grade 12 classroom—but I’m only like that around those I’m truly comfortable with, and even that number has dwindled over the years. It’s hard to find people with the same interests as I do, and I’m growing more and more unsure of the fact that there are Ateneans who like K-Pop boy groups and laugh at the jeje memes I have in my camera roll. (I will cry if I don’t find anyone who can watch Japer Sniper videos with me.) I haven’t had to introduce myself to a new person in two years both IRL and online and I let them lead the conversation for a long while before I can think of warming up to them.

I also have to learn how to drive, which can come off as a surprise to anyone who’s known me for a while. I’ve always been the type to let go of the steering wheel and cover my eyes when the situation got out of control at the bumper cars. But, once I found out that ADMU isn’t actually the most commuter-friendly of schools, I didn’t really have a choice. On my first day of lessons, I was scared to my very core: my mind couldn’t stop bombarding me with stories of vehicular accidents and picture slideshows of cats that got run over. Although I did pass all four days and am now eligible to have my own license, I still have much work to do before I can take our Civic for a spin along Katipunan: please pray I learn how to parallel park without crashing into anything. I guess it would also be a bonus if I learned how to commute to and from places. I love going out, and I wish I always knew how to get to where I wanted to go and what mode of transportation to take instead of always relying on trikes and taxis all the time.

Since I’m of legal age, I’m also qualified to register to vote. I’ve started immersing myself in current events and politics a few years back, and I witnessed several people my age get shot down by adults when they did so much as express their opinions. “Masyado kang bata,” they’d argue. “Di nga kayo botante eh, wag na kayong makialam!” (But, the indifference of the youth would still be met with biting remarks like, “Wala na ba kayong ibang gagawin kundi mag-Internet? Magkaroon naman kayo ng pakialam sa nangyayari sa paligid!”) So now, I feel a certain kind of satisfaction in finally getting a say in who runs my country. But, at the same time, there’s also an intense kind of pressure since I am expected to discern which candidate serves the people’s best interests and hopefully lead us out of the downward spiral we’re currently making our way through.

It was only very recently—towards the start of the final month of my vacation—that I realized how stagnant I still was a person. Must be surprising for some of you. I feel like I somewhat project this image of being constantly put together. Very rarely do I let myself be vulnerable around other people. This is probably why every time I turn to someone to talk about my problems, I’m always met with reassurance: I, of all people, would have it under control, they say. I have absolutely nothing to worry about.

But, that’s the thing: when we’re on social media, we have this tendency to present only our best selves, turning our accounts into heavily filtered highlight reels. This is not only pretentious but toxic behavior, because of its failure to put things into perspective and show that everyone has their own fair share of both good and bad days. My Instagram feed may be its busy and color-coordinated self at the moment, but it doesn’t show the many nights I’ve spent crying because of how overwhelmed I was by this sudden surge in responsibilities and my inability to handle all of them. I mean, things can seem way beyond your control when your brain refuses to shut up and calm down.

I guess my failure to prepare for everything could be traced back to the beginning of this summer. In hindsight, the goals I had set for my four-month break were all very short-term and not exactly centered on self-improvement. I looked through the bullet journal I was keeping at the time, and found items like “clean my room”, “delete Facebook friends and Twitter followers I don’t interact with” and “buy a new study table” – one word for April 2018 Angel: why? I easily could have used the time to learn a new language or pledge to write 10 posts, maybe even pick up an instrument so I could have started a career as a Soundcloud artist and gotten myself a record deal instead of going to college (Mom, Dad, I’m kidding.) But for some reason, I didn’t even think of setting my standards that high. I spent a lot of time lying on my back, scrolling through the same old timelines several times a day as if the constant refreshing would bring anything of substance in my life.

It's much easier to let the regret paralyze me, to beat myself up for all the mistakes I’ve made and wonder why I didn’t do better. But, we all know that won’t help me get anywhere. As of now, I’m trying my best to be more vocal about my problems with other people so they don’t build up inside of me until I spontaneously combust. I admit I’m also quite the emotional person, so I really want to work on having a rational approach to whatever I’m going through.

I found this thread of healthy coping mechanisms and emergency plans to use during times of distress floating around. In case you guys are too lazy to click on the link, it basically says that you should first identify the trigger thought or whatever is sparking the negative emotions, identify the unhelpful thinking style that you are subscribing to and counter them through coping thoughts and actions to bring your mood back to the center. Twitter user thecolor_teal also says that one important thing to note is that you should never believe in your thoughts without critiquing them.

I’ve been doubling down on the worrying and channeling all that energy on pursuing other interests and planning my life out. I’m on my fifth book in the span of two weeks (I have a post coming up on this, so watch out!) and I just hit the 2k word mark on this post, so I can pretty much say I’m on a roll. I also came up with three main goals that I want to prioritize as I venture into this new chapter of my life. I read somewhere that publicizing whatever you want to work on, jinxes them in a way but since there’s no scientific evidence to back it up, I’m taking the risk. It could serve as a constant reminder of what I have to do, or pressure me into following through because I’ve put it up here to everyone to see: either way, I win, I guess.

1. Be more involved – maintain a firm stance of my own in issues concerning the country, give back to my community, continue to take genuine interest in the lives of those around me and do whatever I can to help them

2. Be more sociable – judge people less; get to know and interact with people from as many different social circles as possible; learn how to make the first move, engage in small talk (!!!) and not end the conversation with an awkward laugh

3. Be more street smart – be confident when on my own in public places, distinguish when I’m being fooled by people, learn how to get out of sticky situations without having to ask for help

I don’t exactly have everything down pat yet but at this point, it’s become somewhat comforting for me to think that I’m not expected to, and that no one my age knows exactly what they’re doing. We’re all clueless kids with no idea what the future holds and if we’re truly capable of handling it – we’re all hanging on to our empty attempts at reassuring ourselves. Anyone who denies this is probably just trying to make themselves feel better and I’d like you lot to know that we see through you! Despite the sheer hopelessness of our situations, I hope you all make amends with your right to not know whatever the heck you’re doing with your life right now and learn to trust the process. You’ve probably been through worse in the past, but here you are: beaten and bruised and still dusting yourself off from the last time life let you down but still alive and valid and fighting and that’s all that matters. We got this, fellow adult-er. And that is not to be mistaken for adulterer, by the way. That’s not something we should strive to be.

#personal #very very VERY personal #adulting #angeltriestoblog #eighteenth birthday #it's 1am i have no idea what these tags are sorr

1 note · View note

amillion-littlepieces · 5 years

Text

2019 - Year In Review

Dec 31, 2019.

My anxiety had gotten so bad early this year I could no longer work. I was on extended leave from my job for the entire month of Feb. My parents being very worried, took me on a trip to Cuba.

Writing this gave me a chance to truly reflect on 2019. There were some growing pains but all in the effort of development and forward progress.

My journey of healing and recovery has been strongly correlated with self discovery. I've made a conscious effort to put myself out there and be vulnerable. To have the courage to be imperfect and share my story, all while trying my best to be kind to myself and as real, authentic and honest as possible.

Vulnerability can be uncomfortable, with shame and fear lingering from the past. However, vulnerability is also the birthplace of joy, creativity, belonging and love. It sounds like a bunch of bullshit, but I've been fortunate enough to experience the power of vulnerability first hand.

Vulnerability is not an act of weakness and shows how courageous we truly are, as emotional risk, uncertainty and exposure are part of our EVERY DAY lives.

I'm not perfect, nobody is, but I'm in the arena everyday fighting with everything I've got. It's a struggle, but those glimmers of hope and belief make the tiniest amount of progress worth it. Believe me, it is true.

Countless friends, colleagues and medical professionals have encouraged me to write and share my story. I hope these words do help someone out there. In 2019 I fought for my life and won. It can get better no matter how hopeless it may seem. Never give up and remember you are worth saving.

Happy New Year and I hope the New Year brings everyone peace and growth. Thanks for reading!

2019, what a ride...I had to fight for my life this past year...and would WIN each time.

At the beginning of the year in early Jan my long term battle with anxiety reached its tipping point. I could no longer work and was on extended leave from my job. Now at home, left to my own devices, my anxiety spiraled downward into a deep depression. I was off work and mostly confined to my own house - this was for a MONTH. Without question the scariest and most uncertain crossroad I've encountered.

By the grace of God, and the family, friends, and colleagues who rallied to my side, I returned to work in March. This was after multiple failed attempts. I was blessed enough to have a colleague graciously go out of their way, essentially hold my hand, and walk me back into the office. I may not have been ready at the time, but it was needed.

When April rolled around the waves had settled. I was as productive as ever entering late spring into early summer, with the sense or normalcy and routine returning. Then as summer progressed, and on the back of the Raptors winning a championship, I regressed back into the "fast life", with destructive behavior crashing me back into reality. As a result, old battles of addiction, anxiety and depression again entered the forefront .

As we entered the Fall months everyday was an excruciating, gut wrenching and mentally exhausting war. Compounded by a few trusted colleagues leaving for better opportunities. This was a very murky junction in my life, again with my personal and now professional aspirations all marred with uncertainty.

In October I abandoned my plan of buying a condo and moved out of my family home into my own apartment. What a whirlwind this period was, but words can't express how grateful and fortunate I am to have my own space to heal and recover.

I then began something brand new, which was recommended by many for years - meditation. This really led me down a rabbit hole of self discovery. I returned to therapy and began educating myself about trauma, anxiety, addiction and depression through TED Talks and reading academic research. Essentially learning as much as possible. This began the climb back up the mountain. Unfortunately, this was the same time I had a falling out with a best friend, a brother, and a very close buddy I've known literally my whole life.

Oct, Nov, and early Dec came with ups/downs, major steps forward, and painful steps backwards. Despite all this, I write this on the eve of a new decade, with as much hope and belief as I've ever had. I have the best support system of family, friends and professionals I can recall. This includes two current colleagues who are kind enough to lend an ear and counsel on a daily basis. I've also engaged with as many resources as possible - therapy, addiction programs and peer mentors.

It is now 100 + days of successful harm reduction, and this will be the first holiday season in YEARS where I did not spiral backwards with tried and true destructive behavior. Necessary changes I was previously scared shitless of are unfolding naturally and boundaries are being established.

Don't get me wrong there are still bumps in the road - ones that cut deep, hurt, sting, shake you to your core, test your character, break your heart, and seductively remind you of the old days. With that being said, for me it's the incremental growth, the slow progress, small wins, and little tangible improvements that make it all worth it.

Just a little while back I was fortunate enough to regain hope. Now I'm starting to really BELIEVE. To my surprise, the good times are beginning to hold more weight and value than the often experienced lows. This is an uplifting and encouraging transition. I believe the future will bring similar growth and development.

The best analogy that comes to mind is the end of Shawshank Redemption. I feel like I've crawled through all this shit and I'm just about to come out successfully and free on the other side. I'm almost there, and look forward to seeing you in greener pastures on the other side soon!

---

Please share with anyone who could benefit from these words. Thank you.

Dec 31, 2019.

0 notes

unlikelywallflower · 6 years

Text

on the futility of intellectual knowing

(Continuing to catch up with the posts I wrote but never shared: this one was written early January 2019.)

It was prudent of me to wonder how I was going to make it through that week and a half after our first attempt; I would have done well to turn that wonder into some planning (not that I’m sure that would have helped). I swore I could smell things more strongly than before. I swore I was more tired than usual. Everything became a sign of potentially being knocked up. I had several nights of waking up at 4am and my body deciding it was just done with sleep for the night. Even knowing that most pregnancy tests would not be valid until at least 10 days after ovulation (since it takes about 7-10 days for an embryo to implant in the uterus, and hormones go up to detectable levels from there), I took a test on the 8th or 9th day because I just couldn’t stand it anymore.

It was negative, as were the tests I took on days 10-12 (and I don’t mean only one per day). By the time my period arrived to confirm what I already knew, I was dramatically sad. There was a lot of crying involved, and, it was one of the many times in my life I have been grateful for all of my tools, as I managed to keep myself from spiralling completely out of control. I managed to catch the stories as they came up (mostly the story that this meant that I would never be able to get pregnant) and see them for what they were. I obviously knew, intellectually, that this process can take a while, and that very few people at this age get preggers on their first try, but knowing intellectually, as usual, was useless.

In between the first and second round, I took PSD2 home with me for my annual extended family Chanukah party (a.k.a. Latkefest!), at which he was a shining star, to no one’s surprise. My mom loved him. The next day, I got to go to his family Christmas party, which was both overwhelming and so great. On the way there, we took a little detour to visit the house and town he grew up in. I was so moved to get to see this part of his life, and so happy to get to deepen my relationship with him.

On the second round, I swung hard the other way: whereas with the first attempt, I had made it almost ceremonial, with my crystals and prayers and guided fertility meditations and visualizations, this time, I tried very hard (and surprisingly successfully) to not think about it more than I had to. I managed to keep the symptom-guessing to a minimum (though I was fairly sure that the mild cramping starting on the 8th day post-ovulation was a good sign). I managed to only have one night of too little sleep (the night before I could take the first test). I even managed not to freak out when the test was negative, or the one after that, or the one after that, or even when my period came. I was sad, yes, but at this point it felt like I had dug in for what could be a long journey. The days after, though, made me wonder: I went into a spiral of random sobbing, not triggered by anything to do with thinking about pregnancy, but more often by work stressors. It was so intense that it reminded me of coming down off the hormones after my egg retrieval surgery last summer, which was basically a mini-menopause of an estrogen crash. Maybe it was lingering sadness and/or disappointment that I just hadn’t dealt with; maybe it was a chemical pregnancy; maybe I was just exhausted after a long year. I’ll never know, but thankfully, it only lasted about a week and then I crawled out of it.

The third time, I tried to find a middle ground: I prayed, and I visualized, and I meditated, but I didn’t get obsessive about it. I promised myself I would not take a pregnancy test unless my period did not arrive by the expected date. Most of all, I promised myself I would ride the wave of the relaxing I did over the holidays and continue to practice equanimity.

I won’t pretend it was all peace and love, though; at some point, while googling something in the week after Attempt #3 (it may or may not have been whether it’s safe to have orgasms around the time of implementation), I somehow happened upon the website of a TCM practitioner whose practice is focused on fertility. In addition to a list of fertility superfoods and videos of acupressure points, she had some tips, including the tip that intense exercise, particularly weightlifting, is not great for fertility, since it puts “downward pressure” on the uterus, and for fertility, we want to promote the opposite. Also, apparently people who are trying to get pregnant should avoid excessive sweating. I freaked out at this, since weighlifting (specifically metabolic conditioning) is my primary form of exercise, and exercise is my primary form of self-regulation. I was so freaked out that I stopped exercising altogether, save for long walks, yoga, and swimming (all of which are apparently okay). I decided I could handle this until I saw my own TCM practitioner, whom I trust implicitly (my work with her has done more than anything else to get my chronic hives condition under control). She, thank goodness, was a voice of reason and moderation: from her POV, moderate exercise of varying modalities is fine. So, I won’t be doing intense quite as intense MetCon workouts as I have been, but at least I can get back to the gym.

To close out 2018, I did a ritual of writing down all of the major things that happened in each month of the year for me, then meditated on letting go of each thing, one month at a time. As I did this, I kept welling up in gratitude for the love, community, growth, guidance, and support that the year was so full of. There were some hard times, and there were also the things and the people that kept me buoyant and resilient.

Last night, at our very intimate Russian NYE dinner party (one of my closest friends is Russian, so we celebrate every NYE Russian-style, which involves somewhat of a feast and a gift exchange), my community and I closed out the year by saying what we were proud of, what we were grateful for, and what we were looking forward to. I am proud of the growth I did last year, of buying my first home (!), and of making the tough choices and taking action toward fulfilling what I truly want in my life. I am so deeply grateful for my community, for my spiritual practice, and for my burgeoning relationship with PSD2, with whom I’ve gotten so much closer over these last few months of trying to make a human.

Two more updates:

PSD1: Sometime in between rounds 1 and 2, I met up with PSD1. I was nervous as hell to tell him that PSD2 and I had already started trying, and just prayed that he would be as understanding as he’d said he would be. God bless the man: he was all of that and then some. He’d been on his own journey since we’d last talked, leading him to the realization that he actually does want to be a parent, and was grateful to have had that particular box opened up for him through our conversations. I’m so grateful that we both came away from the whole ordeal with more love and respect for each other than we’d ever had before, and a renewed connection.

The Roomie: He started coming to Choir!Choir!Choir! with me on the regular, and when we’d go out for food afterward (food which I was neither hungry for nor awake enough to be eating, but it meant spending time one-on-one with him), we had some pretty real conversations. Conversations in which I discovered that a) I may not be at all what he’s looking for, and b) he may not be ready for a relationship at all right now. I am, however, proud to say that I told him I have a crush on him; I figured I had nothing to lose. He stepped right over that little nugget and responded to everything else I’d said. So, that crush has boiled down to a low simmer for the time being, but has not died yet; the fact that he continues to flirt with me is all the flame it needs for now…

#singlefeminist #choicemom #donordad

0 notes

amysubmits · 8 years

Text

Two Sentences

Since we started 24/7 D/s we’ve always had these occasional periods where our dynamic starts to feel off. It used to happen much more frequently than it does now. The first big first step was really early on, when @cynicaldom recognized that I needed him to stay strict with my rules even if life was tough.

However, even with those walls of our rules being there all the time, our dynamic still feels a little off sometimes. It’s usually still the result of just tough periods in life, whether that is stress or chaos in our lives, or seemingly random bouts of depression. I often feel the shift in really minor day to day things. We might have fewer silly and pointless conversations throughout the day, or we might joke around less. He might swat me less frequently when passing by me in the kitchen. Minor differences in our usual behavior can add up to our relationship feeling just a little less warm, and a little less emotionally intimate.

It happened a little bit this week, and we had two stressful doctors appointments, illness, some ongoing serious problems with an extended family member, and multiple work-related stresses that contributed. It’s been a long week.

When CD was clearly frustrated today I started getting nervous. Did I do something? Did I not do something? What if this - what if that. Logically I knew we had several clear examples of stress in our lives right now that I have no control over, that I could point to as likely causes of his frustration. Still, my mind got spinning with other possibilities that might be my fault.

In the past when our dynamic was off in this way, we would power through during and then talk later. However, we recognized that waiting to addres it caused the situation to fester. I would find a way to twist a few crappy and stressful days into something that was somehow my fault, and something that felt much bigger. When I am struggling, I generally want him to be more involved. I get emotionally needier and I need to be on a short leash. Generally all that he needs from me is for me to be respectful, patient and supportive. However, in the past I would make things tougher on him by getting myself in a panic as a result of worrying about what was going on with him.

A few months back we made an agreement. If I’m stressed and he doesn’t pick up on it, I need to tell him so he can help. If he’s stressed, he would try to just admit it to me so that I am aware of what is going on, so that I don’t start worrying about other possibilities of what could be wrong.

We’ve had a couple of “off” periods since making this agreement a few months back. I did fail to speak up one time, which was a poor decision on my part. Every single time that we have followed this plan it has helped prevent us from that downward spiral that we used to go through.

It’s been a tough week but today CD said to me “I know I seem angry. It’s not your fault, and it has nothing to do with you at all.” I thanked him for addressing it. My whole body relaxed, and I went on to have an anxiety-free day. If he wouldn’t have said that I would have went through the motions of a normal day, with these little anxious possibilities in the back of my mind every time that he sighed or rubbed his forehead. Sometimes two sentences can make all the difference.

#amysubmits #sccwriting #d/s relationship #d/s lifestyle #communication #relationships #struggles #writing

204 notes · View notes

miraculoushipping · 8 years

Text

My (very big) Bellarke fic tbr pile

These are fics I’ve found but haven’t read yet.. Probably because I got distracted by another fic. It’s been in my drafts for a while, because that’s where I keep it so I don’t lose them.. I don’t know why I just don’t bookmark them tbh. I just find this easier.. So I thought I might as well share it.

**edit: I was about to delete the ones that I’ve already read considering that it is, you know, a tbr pile but now that’s it out there might as well just use it as a fic rec thing.. SO. Uh.. The ones I’ve already read are gonna be marked since I still use this to keep track of the fics I still have to read. And I’ve added some more fics, yay!

10 Years On The Ground by crystalkei

Abby looking back at how Clarke has grown up, how she’s never grown back to being close to her daughter, and how she pretty much tries to blame everything on that flop Bellamy and his horrible hair.

a lightning in your eyes by flonkertons

the pedal's down, my eyes are closed

"You're the one with the Masters funding." He says it like he already knows, is already using it as the whole basis of her personality. "I'm Bellamy Blake."

"Nice to meet you," she lies through her teeth.

Clarke Griffin is the newest member of the Classical History Review and Bellamy Blake is at the bottom of her list of people to befriend. Well, she's been wrong before. AU.

we raise the fire

"Tell her what we have to play this year," he says, very seriously. He bows his head like he's in prayer.

Bellamy pauses for effect (he's so fucking dramatic all the time) and Clarke adds in a drumroll in her mind. "Dodgeball."

Clarke finds out the CHR has rivals. (Timestamp to the pedal's down, my eyes are closed, but can be read as a standalone.)

Aces by winterwaters

Stack The Deck

Modern AU: When Clarke’s dad visits, she asks her friend and next-door neighbor Bellamy to pretend he’s her boyfriend to get her dad off her back. Bellamy agrees, though maybe he takes to the “pretend” part of it a little too eagerly. Inspired by episode 4x09 of The Big Bang Theory (The Boyfriend Complexity) where Penny’s dad comes to visit and she asks Leonard to pretend. Title and a couple lines of dialogue are from the ep.

Show Your Cards

Modern AU: Bellamy accompanies Clarke to her cousin's wedding as her "boyfriend." The day ends up being more eventful than either expect.

Wild Card

Clarke can't imagine waiting even one more night now that she knows Bellamy Blake returns her affection. So what if they're at a family wedding?

Winning Hand

Bellamy finally gets to take Clarke on that date - and a hell of a lot more, as their relationship progresses.

All We Know Is Distance (we're close and then we run) by LayALioness

She feels nervous, which she knows is dumb. They’re her soulmate. Whatever she decides to write, they’ll understand. They’ll probably just be happy to get something.In the end, she chooses something easy. Simple. She draws three little green stars on her opposite hand, and then holds her breath and waits.

all roads lead home by morningstar

Twenty-four-year-old heiress Clarke is hiding out at the Blake farm. For the past few years, Clarke has eluded her gold-digger stepmother who’ll do anything to gain control of her and Griffin Steel. But just when Clarke thinks she’s safe, a private investigator is hot on her trail, and her luck is about to run out in more ways than one.

Bellamy Blake is fresh out of prison for a crime he didn’t commit, arrives to claim the house his grandmother left him, and finds a strange girl living there, all hell breaks loose. He’ll try his best to get her to leave, but he’s met his match.

Alone Together by tellthemstories

Clarke shows up at Bellamy’s apartment at exactly two minutes to midnight on a Thursday.

He's not sure how she ends up staying the night — or why he doesn't turn her away, when it happens again. And again.

An Ocean Between the Waves by dropshipheroes

"I love you, but I'm not sure I want to anymore."

Bellamy comes back and nothing is the same.

Arsonist's Lullabye by marauders_groupie

Because, and it’s funny how things turn out to be that way sometimes, Clarke Griffin is thirty years old, an accomplished medical professional who was set to marry her fiancé in a month, but the only thing she can remember as a moment of pure happiness in her whole life is scorching hot Virginia summer, being seventeen and lying on the hood of a bright red Mustang, holding hands with a boy who wore the same pained expression as she did, but there were flames in his eyes.

In which Clarke's life spirals downwards and she goes back to the town of Ark, just like she did when her father died thirteen years ago, because the town and one Bellamy Blake helped then and she's hoping they can help now.

Best Laid Plans by FrisianWanderer

Plan B Stands For Bellamy Blake

Throughout their final year of college, and even after they graduated, Clarke Griffin and Bellamy Blake were each other's beard, their saviour in case of unwelcome advances or a bad dating emergency. And it had worked perfectly.

Until now.

Plan C Stands For Clarke Griffin

Bellamy likes Clarke, but instead of dating her, he becomes her beard.

And it sucks..

Big Damn Regency AU by queenofchildren

Call it Patience, Call it Hope

With both parents passed away and a younger sister to support, Bellamy Blake may not have drawn the easiest lot in life. But he had a plan: Rise through the ranks of the Royal Navy, find a good husband for his sister, make Lieutenant or maybe even Captain, and keep sailing and fighting until he died at sea. What he had not planned for was suddenly inheriting a title, complete with lands and fortune.

Instead of simply trying to stay alive long enough to get Octavia settled comfortably, now he had to figure out how to run an estate, bring his sister out into society while protecting her from rakes and fortune hunters, and remember his manners around one stubborn, haughty, irresistible Lady Clarke Griffin, Daughter of the Earl of Arkton – and very soon the bane of his existence.

Could never love by halves

As promised: The wedding night from Call it Patience, Call it Hope in all its smutty glory. Since I could not resist adding an extended wedding night scene but did not want to raise the rating on Call it Patience, I made it a different work. Beware: lots of feelings. So many feelings. They are very much in love, it's actually a little sickening.

You should probably have read Call it Patience, Call it Hope before this.

Bloodstains and Innocence: A Clarke Griffin Mystery by HawthorneWhisperer

Police Chief Clarke Griffin knows three things:

1) Charles Pike is dead.

2) Octavia Blake is the prime suspect.

3) Bellamy Blake a giant pain in the ass with no business being involved in a murder investigation, and yet here he is, working the case alongside her.

A hurricane is approaching the sleepy little island of Arkadia, NC as evidence begins to mount against Octavia and Clarke wrestles with her increasingly complicated relationship with Bellamy, all while trying to answer one simple question:Who killed Charles Pike?

by the prospect of the touch, by the memory of the feel by tacosandflowers

We Are Undone by Each Other

“We hate each other.”He raised an eyebrow.

“Do we?”She sighed, “You know what I mean.

”Bellamy shook his head, his eyes on her mouth.

“I don’t know left from right when it comes to you these days, Griffin.”

Dr. Clarke Griffin is the lead biological anthropologist at L'Arche, one of the biggest upper Paleolithic archaeological sites in Europe. Every summer, she runs the excavations at L'Arche with her infuriating co-leader, lead archaeologist Dr. Bellamy Blake. They've been at each other's throats for years, and the 2015 field season looks like it's going to be one of their most combative yet, thanks to some things that changed the year before. Clarke is ready work hard for the success of the dig and ready to fight him at every turn if she must. But Bellamy is tired of fighting.

Undone: Companion Pieces

She rose from her chair and looked him up and down like she was sizing him up and deciding in her mind how much shit she would give him that summer. She propped one hand on her hip and cocked it out just so and it made him remember what a nightmare it was to have a total fox for a nemesis.

“Fine,” she said.

“It’s no secret that we dislike each other,” he started to say, but she cut him off with a low chuckle.

“That’s an understatement."

Dr. Bellamy Blake and Dr. Clarke Griffin run an archaeological site every summer, and they've been at each other's throats for years. This season, things are different. Bellamy is tired of fighting. A set of companion pieces--that has evolved into a full companion piece--to my other story, We Are Undone by Each Other, told from Bellamy's perspective.

Thirty-seven Days

She laughs, because now that she’s said it, it sounds kind of silly. “You’re the first... lover I’ve ever had in this apartment, okay?”

A smile spreads across his face. “That’s fine with me,” he says.

“It’s not that I haven’t had people in my life,” she continues, and his smile vanishes. She chuckles indulgently at him and slides her hand down to interlace her fingers with his. “Don’t be jealous, you know you’re the only one for me now.”

aka: Clarke has Bellamy over to her apartment for the first time and things get real. A response to some reader requests / an epilogue to We Are Undone by Each Other / Undone: Companion Pieces, at least one of which you should probably read first if you want this to make any sense.

Future Tense

"You're right,” Clarke says, and it doesn’t sound like she enjoys admitting it. “I haven't been in a relationship with anyone in a while. But I am now." She pulls her hand away to gesture towards him. "Let's try this again. This is Bellamy. He's my boyfriend. It's serious."

Abby's eyes fly to Bellamy, appraisingly. Great. These expectations are going to be really fun to live up to.

Clarke and Bellamy go back to her hometown so she can give a speech at the opening reception for Wells Jaha Hall, and Bellamy finally meets Abby Griffin. A continuation of the "We are Undone by Each Other" universe.

coastal waters by saem

They reach the ocean two years after they come back to Earth.

Some of the kids decide to stay with their parents, of course. But many of the Camp Jaha residents choose to come with them to the sea. All in all, when they arrive at the coast, the procession is 126 people strong.

Clarke stands on the weathered highway, the weight of the pack on her shoulders suddenly lighter, so much so that she might float away. There’s a beach in front of the road, and beyond that, the ocean is an immense wall of blue.

(Clarke used to live in space, but somehow the ocean looks bigger than the cosmos ever did.)

Dawn by ihidemycrazy

When the snobbish Clarke Griffin moves in upstairs, Bellamy's pretty sure they aren't going to be friends. But with Octavia and Lincoln spending more and more time together, it looks like Bellamy and Clarke might just have to learn how to get along.

Aka the Bellarke Pride and Prejudice AU that no one asked for!

face it, tiger by hai_mae*

All Monty and Jasper have ever wanted was to become famous comic book writers. They have the talent, but they just can't manage to come up with any ideas that... well. Don't suck. But then they stumble across Coffee Grounders, where all the baristas and regulars are ridiculously, painfully attractive-- especially Clarke and Bellamy, who spend as much time staring wistfully at each other as they do screaming about who makes a better cappuccino. And Monty and Jasper should probably ask their permission before they use them as characters in their new webcomic, but hey. They figure it won't be a big deal.

(It becomes a big deal.)

In which Monty becomes one of the creators of the year's best new webcomic, drinks a lot of chai tea lattes, and falls hopelessly, pathetically in love with that one sullen barista who always wears a beanie.

Five Years by joeyjwitter

The three times the five years age difference between Bellamy and Clarke changes things and the one time it doesn't.

Hope You Raise Your Cup (When That Sun Goes Down) by jollyrogerjayhawk

Bellamy and Clarke have been together since the Day Trip. Now they are finally reuniting and moving forward in multiple ways after Mount Weather. OneYearofThe100 Fic Week Collection.

I Have Never Known Colour (like this morning reveals to me) by Pammcasso

The World is Brighter Than The Sun Now That You’re Here

The World is Brighter than The Sun Now That You’re Here (though your eyes will need some time to adjust)

As a child, Clarke liked to refer to someone's colour-match as their soulmate. For months she would talk loudly about how she couldn't wait to meet them... But that was a long time ago. Reality is more complicated.

Colour sure is pretty though.

Black or White or Vivid Colour (after a while it all runs together)

Continuation of World is Brighter Than the Sun 'verse, where the world is in black and white until you're in proximity to your soulmate. In the aftermath of the destruction of the Mountain, Arkadia is trying to find its feet, political tension simmers in Polis, and colour-matches remain more trouble than they're worth.Meanwhile, some witch called Alie claims to have a cure for colour blindness.

I held you like it was nothing (it was something) by 9crimes

4 times Bellamy and Clarke get caught, and 1 time they don't

I Threw Stones at the Stars (but the Whole Sky Fell) by somethingofatrainwreck

Everything about them had a steady pace: a couple hundred tiny steps and then one big leap, like the way the wind would blow against a door that never closed all the way, little by little until eventually it flew open all at once. Or the story of how two walking disasters gradually stumble into something beautiful.

Now with an alternate ending

In Words And Pictures by lettertoelise

It was something Clarke had never really thought much about, the stray marks of ink or paint that would appear on her body - the ones she had no recollection of putting there - the ones that took days to fade.She hadn’t made the connection until she woke one morning with a black eye and purple marks stretching across her torso, the words - Stop drawing on me - blaze across her forearm. Soulmate au where when you write something on your skin with pen/marker/whatever the hell you want, it will show up on your soul mates skin as well.

It Was Always You by Willaphyx

Inspired by a prompt on Tumblr: "We got involved in a fight at a bar and had to spend the night sharing a cell AU".

Octavia and Raven take Clarke out for a bit of fun. Clarke ends up punching a random stranger in the face, only to find out the next morning (after sharing a cell with him for the night) that he's Octavia's older brother who's in town for the foreseeable future as a visiting professor at the local university.

I've Fallen Out Of Favor (I've Fallen From Grace) by alienor_woods

“So that’s it. You led an army to Mount Weather for our friends and now you’re just gonna sit back let the Council decide everything else without even hearing what they want to do?”

"I'm done deciding who lives and who dies."

[Speculative post-S2 finale fic; Canon compliant through "Bodyguard of Lies."]

Just Like the Kids in Art School Said They Would by LayALioness

Raven gives them each a raised brow in turn. “So is this going to be a thing, now?”

Clarke and Bellamy share a look. It’s unclear what thing Raven’s referencing specifically; them, giggling over inappropriate jokes about Greek myths? Drinking coffee from cereal bowls? Clarke’s ridiculous sweatshirt? It’s not really very clear.

“Definitely,” Bellamy decides with a grin, and Clarke grins back because yeah, they might be friends now.

Or, Clarke moves into a co-op, and Bellamy steals all their food.

Lines in the Sand by AshVee

The ARC has fallen. Mount Weather is behind them. Clarke is about to find out that sometimes, you have to draw a line in the sand, no matter how much you care about those on the other side.

long day by crookedqueen

bellamy + clarke as co-dependent, twenty-something roommates (or, the one in which they’re dating already but don’t know it, and bellamy only realizes he has a heart when it breaks)

Lovely, Dark, and Deep by lordmxrphy

Bellamy and Clarke grow up together in Arksmouth, a village cowering in the shadow of a wolf. The wolf is only kept at bay by monthly sacrifices of the town’s livestock on the full moon. When the wolf murders Harper, Clarke’s sister, killing for the first time in 20 years, Clarke is caught in the middle of a wolf hunt. Who can she trust when even Bellamy, her best friend and the man she’s fallen in love with, could be the wolf?

Me Without You by rebelqueen

Begins after Season 2 (we are going to pretend for a moment Season 3 never happened for a moment).

After Clarke runs off after the events at Mount Weather, Bellamy spends months looking for her. When he finally finds her, she has lost all memory of the past two years. She doesn't remember coming down to Earth, but more importantly she doesn't remember Bellamy. Will Bellamy be able to handle losing her one more time? Will he be able to get his Clarke back, or is she gone forever?

No Other Explanation by NikeCastle

“Slytherin Princess.” He mouthed with an off-kilter smile that read more like a sneer.

Being a Slytherin meant being powerful, being ambitious, holding court. And that’s just what Clarke did with a smile just as serpentine as the rest.

“You want a Slytherin Princess?” She mouthed clearly at Bellamy half-way through the meal. “You have one.”

---

Three times Clarke Griffin denied she was falling in love with a Gryffindor, and one time where she accepted that she’d already fallen.

patient heart by glowinghorizons

“Going to stick around for more than a week this time?” He asks, his tone biting, and she winces.

“Bellamy--”

“O said you were alone. Gonna be hard for you to fix up that house without your Mom’s money.”

Clarke feels his words like a physical blow. Normally she would snap right back at him, accuse him of being a townie like she would have if she were still sixteen, but her wounds are too fresh, her heart too broken. She forces a smile. “Good to know you haven’t changed a bit, Bellamy. Still an asshole.”

His eyes flash. “That’s rich, coming from you.” She sees hurt there in his eyes, buried under ten years of distance between them, and she looks away.

“Well, as fun as this has been, I’m going to go.”

“Running away was always your specialty.” His words just barely reach her as she walks away, and she heads down the street quickly, before she feels the first tear fall.

OR;

Clarke spends summers in Arkadia in the beach house down the street from the Blakes. It's been 10 years since she left without a word.

Pistols at Dawn by queenofchildren

Bellamy Blake's political star is on the rise, until his opponents throw some dirt that sticks. So he calls in an expert: Clarke Griffin, professional crisis manager, has helped many a powerful person weather outrageous scandals with her team.

But Clarke has no idea that saving Bellamy Blake will unearth secrets that should have stayed buried – and change both their lives forever.

Poisoned Crown by FelicisQuill2

“Fine," he breathes out. "I want you. But I shouldn't, and you don't feel . . . we're . . . Damn it! I told you to come home with me, Clarke. What did you think that meant?" He throws it out into the space between us that’s lit only by hazy yellow emergency floor lights.

I’m pretty sure I stop breathing.

He takes a few steps closer to the rover.

“I know," I nod softly. "I'm sorry. But I'm not going to leave you, ever again. I swear to you. I promise," I say firmly. "If you want me, I’m right here."

“The price is too high. We don't even know if we're going to live. But I want you to have the best chance to survive. You need to get on a lifeboat and let me go, Clarke.”

~~~~~~

The Council decides to relocate the Sky People to a safe zone. But there aren't enough lifeboats for everyone. Bellamy convinces himself he doesn't deserve to start a new life after everything he's done. Clarke refuses to leave without him.

Pour Me Another by Shippershape

“Isn’t your job to get me drunk, not to sober me up?”

“My job is to take care of customers,” he replies dryly. “Besides, I’m legally responsible for making sure you don’t get wasted here and go wreak havoc in the streets.”

Clarke has a bad day, and tells her bartender all about it. She assumes she'll never have to see him again, but you know what they say about assumptions. Some of the tags refer to later chapters.

run off in the night by SmoakScreen (midwestwind)

i don't wanna live like this. (i don't wanna die.)

When Clarke packed up in the middle of the night and took off in her dad’s SUV, she wasn’t really sure what she was trying to find but the hitchhikers - a friendly outspoken girl and her mildly unnerving brother - she picks up certainly weren’t it.

know that i've been wicked. (the road to hell is wide.)

Bellamy just wanted to move across the country with his sister, okay? He didn't ask for all of this drama Clarke Griffin brings to the table.Except he kind of likes it.A sequel to i don't wanna live like this. (i don't wanna die.) from Bellamy's point of view.

Say You'll Remember Me by Willaphyx

Clarke wasn't expecting to find romance on her family's annual summer escape to Kennebunkport, Maine. But then, she also wasn't expecting Bellamy Blake.

Or a summer romance AU loosely inspired by Taylor Swift's Wildest Dreams.

Show Me What I'm Looking For by bitscrawford

The surviving delinquents are sitting around the dropship, knees pulled to their chests, heads buried between their knees. Clarke can’t blame them for looking so weary, really. They’re too young to have just fought a battle, too young to know war so personally, too young to live with the fact that they just finished incinerating hundreds of grounders, hundreds of people.

Death is everywhere on the ground; it’s unavoidable. It’s remarkable that so many of them had survived for this long.

Canon compliant through Season 1, but Monty never went missing, the Mountain Men never showed up, and the Ark never came down.

Sing the Rage of Peleus' Son Achilles by viansian

"I have spent my entire life afraid of men thought to be gods," he finally says. "I'll tell you a secret, princess: these men? The ones who claim to be deities? Their blood isn't ichor. They bleed red like the rest of us, and sometimes they need to be reminded of that."

Slow It Down by monroeslittle

It was strong, making her eyes water, and that was when she noticed that she’d drawn attention from a guy three stools down. “It tastes like gasoline with vague cranberry essence,” she explained, and his lips quirked up in amusement. “I’m Clarke,” she added.

"Bellamy," he said.

modern AU, a one-night stands results in a little surprise.

Something To Hold Onto by crystalkei

A 100 Big Bang fic!Clarke has been walking for three days trying to come to terms with her decisions and how to live with the person she’s become after everything that’s happened in Mount Weather. Bellamy finds her and offers a field trip if she wants in. Travel 250 miles to where another section of the Ark fell to collect a part Raven needs.

“Should take, what, a week to walk that far? If we don’t have any problems?” she asked and she watched Bellamy as he tried not to smile. He knew he had her.

Just pretend it’s a two week long Day Trip! With a found polaroid camera, an old man who swears a lot, a sexy library, and a good old fashion kidnapping by fanatics!

Suddenly I Sea by adventursplorer

On the Island of Terra, Clarke has gotten as job at the ARK Labs as a Marine Biologist. She's decidedly moved there away from her mother who she can't stand, to then months later meet Bellamy Blake the new Environmental Scientist.

He comes a few months after she has, uncovering her darkest memories and secrets in only days of knowing her. Clarke wonders how she trusts this guy so much with such little time from them meeting, but yet she still tells him.

Take Me By The Hand by HawthorneWhisperer

When Clarke Griffin summoned you, you answered. Bellamy's previous employment at Griffin Industries had been marked by constant, unceasing arguments with her, back when she was just a lowly division manager and he was her second-in-command, to the point where most of the staff would put money on what would cause their next blowout (Monroe once thanked him for picking a fight over a vendor, as that apparently paid her cable bill for the month). Still, they had an unmarred record of the best numbers in the entire company for three years running. If she was offering him a job, it was probably worth his while to leave work early and see what she had in mind.

“Good to see you,” Clarke said and clicked the door shut behind her. But rather than walk behind her desk she perched against it, her hands resting on either side. The sun was setting behind her and damn, he’d forgotten how pretty she was. Her hair was flowing down to her shoulders and her light blue blouse was open just one button too far. She took a deep breath and looked him straight in the eye. “There’s no good way to say this. I need you to marry me.”

(Bellarke Fake Marriage AU featuring the usual amounts of contrivances, angst, and smut.)

Take Some of Mine by Zovrin

The adults will not allow two teenagers to rule. A siege could turn into an assassination plot. Can Clarke and Bellamy survive it? Who wants them dead? What will happen to the 100 after Mount Weather? Follows the TV series through episode 2x09. Bellarke is the most focused relationship. I've changed the rating to mature because of chapter 12, it's basically teen before then.

Talk Nerdy To Me by jaegermighty*

"I would’ve gone to bat for you," Bellamy says, "if it’d gone the other way." (bellamy's a professor. clarke digs it. nerdy sex verse.)

Tell Me Where You've Been Lately by LayALioness

BELLAMY: Don’t freak out.

CLARKE: that sentence is always guaranteed to freak me out fyi CLARKE: why am i not freaking?

BELLAMY: I didn’t get a cat.

CLARKE: you seem to be under the impression that a pet cat is necessary for my happiness. the cat was your idea, i don’t care if you don’t get one. although i did come up with some truly awesome cat names while you were gone.

BELLAMY: I got a dog instead.

CLARKE: what.

BELLAMY: I got a dog. A puppy actually. She’s cute. What were the cat names?

CLARKE: bellamy you were supposed to get a cat.

BELLAMY: Sorry, can’t text and drive. See you in a bit!

CLARKE: bELLAMY

The 100: Down to Earth series by adventursplorer

Down to Earth

A 'The 100' story --- It's the 100 and they've just arrived down on Earth, the Princess Clarke Griffin and the rebel Bellamy Blake have to work together as leaders to try and help the 100 survive Earth and it's inhabitants. Will the leaders relationship continue to blossom, or will they tear the 100 apart?

Solid Ground

A 'The 100' story - Sequel to Down to Earth --- The ark has come down. Kane and Abby are trying to impose order to their new lives without a chancellor. Clarke is doing everything in her power to break free of the grasps of the mountain men to get outside and find Bellamy and the rest of her people. Bellamy and Jones encounter an old enemy and they all try to find a way to save the captured 100. There's only one problem, who has taken them?

The Art of Kissing by Rumaan

Monty Green's film project aims to capture first kisses. Bellamy is manipulated into signing up and Clarke is determined to prove that she is fun.

The Beat My Heart Skips by thearkdelinquents

“You just got beer all over our tent. That I have to sleep in for the next four days.” Clarke said, gesturing towards the now-wet tent and raising an eyebrow at him.

“Hey, you could always come stay in ours.” Bellamy winked at her as Jasper snorted and clapped him on the back.

“Or you could always pull your head out of your ass and watch where you’re going,” she fired back, staring him down.

Bellamy grinned at her as he sensed the challenge. It was going to be a long four days.

The Bellarke Music Festival AU I've been wanting to write forever.

The Horizon Lies Ahead by fawna

The first time Bellamy met Clarke she had a gun in her hand and blood on her face. The first time Clarke met Bellamy he had a gun to his forehead and fear in his eyes.

Or when Bellamy Blake and Clarke Griffin become partners in a zombie apocalypse.

The House Guest by Shippershape

Clarke loves her best friend, so when Octavia's brother needs a place to stay, Clarke doesn't think twice about offering up her loft. It's no trouble at all, that is until Clarke realizes what a surly, arrogant prick he is. When a few days turns into a few weeks it's too late to back out, and now she finds herself stuck with an unwelcome roommate.

PART 2 (Ch. 20-27): The second half of this story deals with some darker content. Someone from Clarke's past comes back to haunt her, and neither she nor Bellamy realize that there's something more sinister standing between them and their possible reconciliation than either of them could have predicted.

The Most Dangerous Word by clarkescrusade (alindy)

"Clarke’s laughter pushed Monty forward and gave him, despite him knowing that this word was the most dangerous of them all, the littlest bit of hope."

The Odds Are Good by tacosandflowers

He looks down at her and it's kind of too much, the wine and the emotions of the day coming down on her all at once, and there's something there in the depths of his eyes that's knocking on a door she keeps shut inside. So she buries her face against his upper chest and rests her cheek against him. She can feel his breath against her hair and she can smell his clean, masculine scent and feel the texture of his clean-shaven jawline if she moves her head just so.

His arms tighten around her and she feels like this is the physical manifestation of how they make each other feel safe, the way they'd talked about the night after she'd stitched him up. The way they fit perfectly together, balancing each other as they lean into one another and just hold on through the song

.**

Clarke Griffin has whitewater in her blood, and nobody knows the river better than Bellamy Blake. She's intrigued.

The whitewater kayaking AU that nobody asked for.

The Rebel Series by adventursplorer

Rebel

My name is Clarke Griffin. I am of the Sea Clan. I am the daughter of the vice leader of my clan, Abby Griffin, who is second to our leader Diana Sydney.

Our enemy clan is the North Forest Clan (or just the Forest Clan), always wanting to steal our land to gain territory for themselves. Their absolute insane savage of a leader will not give up on trying taking our territory. His name is Thelonious Jaha and ever since the death of his son, he has not been right in the head.

His second however, is saner than he is, but still will kill someone without a second of doubt. He goes by the name Bellamy Blake.

***** I am Bellamy Blake, Second of the Forest Clan and I hate it. I hate my life, I hate my leader, and I hate my position. I have to kill people on the command of my leader, and if I don't, I lose the only thing in my life I don't hate and the only I care about. My little sister, Octavia.

Well she may not be little anymore, but she will always be my most precious gem and will always be my little sister.

I am also secretly known as the Rebel King.

The Fallen

As Dante Wallace, leader of The Ship which rotates around the Earth, takes his last few breaths, he sees an illegal dropship being launched from the dropship station. As his eyes grow heavy and his vision darkens around the edges, his dying wish is that who ever was on that ship survived and continued what he thought was the last of the human race on Earth.

Seven friends and two stowaways make their way down to Earth, crash landing just off the coast in the Pacific Ocean. They find an island, but will their new life down on Earth be as happy as they thought it would be, or did they just land in a new hell. Friendship, love and trust will be tested which could potentially have serious consequences.

Could the nine all survive the perilous drop? Could they survive each other?

The Secrets We Don’t Keep by shadowglove

...Or the one in which Clarke thinks she's kept the fact that she's pregnant (and that Bellamy is the father) a secret, but she really hasn't.

the world was born in smoke and fire (and so were we) by forgivenessishardforus

The crown rests heavy on top of his head, eight pounds of gold encrusted with emeralds and rubies and a thousand tons of responsibility and duty. He can feel its edge digging painfully into the skin of his forehead, can already sense some of his curls getting hopelessly tangled around the prongs. He forces himself to hold still, understanding the importance and uniqueness of this moment.

He is the first ever king not descended from royal blood. The first king to usurp the previous before his death, and banish him for crimes of inhumanity performed against his people. He is twenty-two years old, and the streets whisper his name.

“Bellamy Blake,” Marcus Kane, his mentor and first advisor, intones, “King of Polis, Lord of the Stars and Protector of the Earth, you may rise.”

Through the Wire (Up in Flames) by flonkertons

Clarke had planned on spending her summer break sleeping in until noon, catching up on the last season of Bakeoff, and maybe flirting with Bellamy Blake. But when Monty asks her to investigate a fire at the bakery, she and Bellamy are drawn into a plan to destroy a bakery, and if they're not careful, the two of them as well.

Thunderstorms Instead of Blood by marauders_groupie

A Bellarke car racing AU.

It goes like this:

Nothing in the world except for the two of them. Haphazardly thrown smirks, the smell of gasoline and burning rubber. A 1974 Pontiac Firebird – phoenix rising from the ashes of the asphalt. An electric blue 1969 Camaro whose electricity coils up the air, overflowing with tension.

Nothing in the world except for Bellamy and Clarke, their cars and a vast racetrack in front of them that feels like a promise of victory.

Gasoline has always tasted better than water and their hearts don’t beat – they thrum in rhythm to their engines.

That’s the way it has always been. That’s the way it always will be. Go out in a pyre of glory or don’t come at all.

To Kill A King by nighimpossible*

Bellamy is an lowborn orphan daring to dream bigger than his meager beginnings, and Clarke is a princess engaged to be married to the prince of the Jaha Kingdom. In a land where corruption and greed rule both the castle and the city streets, both Bellamy and Clarke will learn the true cost of what it takes to kill a king.

Together by winterwaters

Tumblr prompt from rashaka: Clarke is having an argument (mom? murphy? jaha?) that gets really shout-y. She's storming out when she says "And another thing!" then grabs Bellamy (standing nearby watching), kisses him hard in front of the whole room, then lets him go and barges out.

~~~~ AU after 2x08, where Jaha is chancellor again on Earth.

Unlikely Alliance by rebelqueen

Clarke starts her first year of college at her mom's Alma Mater, where she is accepted as a legacy into Zeta Beta Theta. The only thing driving her more insane than the copious amounts of glitter and smiling is the president of Omega Kappa Phi, Bellamy Blake.

when the first bombs fell we were already bored by kindclaws

Rangers Clarke Griffin and Wells Jaha are drift-compatible but refuse to pilot together. When Kane pressures them to find a solution, Raven Reyes and Bellamy Blake step up to the challenge. The months that follow are a whirlwind of Kaiju, media speculation, and quiet moments between battles that let unexpected partnerships grow. In the aftermath of the apocalypse, everyone wonders who piloted the very last Jaeger. The ones who know, aren’t telling.

(Literally a mixed media fic. Don't try reading it on mobile I'm pretty sure it'll crash and burn.)

when lightning strikes marble by kindclaws

All the best stories in Bellamy's childhood began late into the night, by the orange glow of a dying candle as his mother finally put her sewing away and pulled him and Octavia close, her voice dropping to a dramatic whisper as she would say 'Once upon a time, in a beautiful kingdom just like our Arkadia...

'He never imagined he'd be living one of those legends, fraught with danger and magic, the prophesies of spectres, heartbroken dragons, and a certain blonde sorcereress with a knack for getting under his skin.

Where The Lines Overlap by goldenheadfreckledheart

Anon prompt: Modern day college AU where things got mixed up and Clarke and Bellamy get set as roommates. They hate each other at first, but kind of grow on each other.

You Are The Girl That I’ve Been Dreaming Of by wafflesofdoom

bellamy blake had one golden rule - don't fall in love (and never make a girl breakfast). then, he gets accidentally gets elected student council president alongside clarke griffin (long story), and they sort of maybe become friends, and his entire world gets shaken up.he was in trouble, and she was the cause of it all. though, her doucheface of a boyfriend didn't exactly help matters, either.

you better listen to the cat by MercuryM

“How exactly did you two get to know each other again?”

“Tinder.” Wells didn’t look all that satisfied and Bellamy elaborated. “My uh, cat, swiped right on Clarke’s profile and well, the rest is history.”

“What?” Clarke turned around to face him and Bellamy was pinned under her narrowed gaze. “You didn’t tell me about that.”

“What was I supposed to say? ‘Oh hey, my cat was playing around with my phone and she got us matched, but no worries, I think she has good taste.’”

You’re a princess and I’m your lionheart by Pepperish

Prompt: Bellarke Hogwarts!AU

It was hate at first sight.

She was an impressionable eleven-year old girl – filled with the appropriate barely-contained excitement and bubbling joy that comes with being a first year – who had just been told Gryffindors are evil. Ok, maybe she was told they were “self-entitled pricks with a fucking hero-in-shiny-armour complex”, but, as smart as Clarke was, she was not sure she got the proper meaning of it.

Of course, Clarke didn’t quite believe it at first – how could a whole house be evil? An esteemed Hogwarts house no less? Her father’s house -, but maybe now she was starting to understand.

The realization hit her in the form of Bellamy Blake.

(Or Bellamy and Clarke meet in Hogwarts and end up leading the resistance against Lord Wallace together. The hundredth Hogwarts!AU no one asked for)

You're My Joy, Always Remember Me by takemehome21

Clarke goes to Dublin to propose to her boyfriend on Leap Day. When her plan gets a bit off track the last person she expects to run into is Bellamy, her childhood best friend, whom she hasn’t spoken to in six years. And she definitely doesn’t count on him offering to take her to Dublin.

Leap Year AU

I’ve already read these but I wanted all of you to suffer as I have suffered:

Where's My Love series by insideimfeelindirty and These Words Are My Own by dirtytrix

*needs an ao3 account

#the 100 #bellarke #fanfiction #bellarke fics #fic rec #of sorts #tbr pile #long post #like #seriously #it got so long #how did i not notice #all the fics are complete #the individual ones anyway #some of the series are unfinished

41 notes · View notes

aymacarina-blog · 8 years

Text

Fast forward a couple months and here I am. Keep leaving this blog hanging, but truthfully, it took me quite a while to reach a mindset where I felt comfortable and confident enough to dedicate myself to something. I’ve finished my first quarter at University as a transfer student, and let me tell you, it’s definitely not an easy transition. I’ve heard it was hard and I let so much get to me mentally that I was pretty susceptible to being so easily affected and anxious about everything. Money, deadlines, workload, getting to and from school using the vanpool, emails, opportunities, my own mental health. So much proposed itself as a challenge, and all things were anxiety-inducing to a point where I pretty much wasn’t myself anymore.

Things got to a point where I pretty much cried every night. So much was different. I saw no familiar faces, had no contact with anyone I knew who attended the same uni, struggled with keeping my mind quite. Every morning started with the end of a nightmare. I hated so much and felt I couldn’t deal with things at some points. Every day was a struggle, every week was daunting. I only looked ahead and never kept my cool in the present. There were no pleasant dreams, only nightmares about school: getting there, making it on time, being late, forgetting assignments, getting less than an A on assignments, showing up on a day I didn’t have classes; waking up to thoughts of my future: failure, a useless degree, no job, no money, judgments, group interviews.

Fear and anxiety about the future was pretty much a motif in my life for months and those months were filled with self-doubt, perceived hatred of my life, depression, daily anxiety attacks, tears day and night, and worst of all... loneliness. I never imagined I’d be living with so much negativity being such a heavy constant in my life and it was definitely a daily struggle. I used to be so care-free, not worry about my future because things always sort themselves out, laid-back and full of positivity. I don't know what it was but the whole quarter was just a downward spiral in a sea of expectations. On the inside, I knew I had nothing to worry about because I’m a good student (got A’s as usual) but looking deeper, it was hard not to compare and even harder not to worry about everything. I’d never been one to worry, but this transition changed me as a person for a few months.

Although I usually have my pre-semester/quarter anxiety and nightmares, but it never extends more than a week into the session. I tried blaming it on a stronger dosage of this one prescription, but even when the dosage lowered after I expressed my troubles to my doctor, it continued...

Once I hit winter break, I felt freedom. I got to see my sister daily again and my high school and community college pals were free and back in town and I got to see them all again. I got to spend time to myself, I got to be busy with plans and I got to explore around and it was all so nostalgic.

Only recently have I started feeling myself again. I’ve relearned how to live, relearned who I was and for a moment, got to live in the present without worry. And I’m sure I will miss this when school starts up again soon, but I can assure you, I’ll be well aware, as this break has shown me, that things will be fine and I’ll get to be surrounded with friends and people who love me again. I’m assured that loneliness is not forever and often perceived in the moment. I had to just take a step back and breathe.

Glad to say I’m back and feeling confident about my near-future. Hopefully, I don’t have any long-term worries anymore because that’s just who I am. I need not surround myself with people who vocally worry about their futures in detail because that will only bring me down and back into the pit I finally go myself out of. I can certainly say, my first quarter at University was the worst part of my whole life up to this point, and trust me, there is no exaggeration going on here. I hated the school even before I stared classes, and after my last final for the quarter, I finally thought to myself, “I guess it’s not that bad.” So, technically I can’t say I even remotely like attending my university, it’s just one tiny step below hating it now. (It should be mentioned, it takes an immense amount of disliking on my part to hate something, and this is only the second thing I’ve found myself actually using the word ‘hate’ to legitimately describe. That includes all nouns... so, trust me when I say it was the worst part of my life thus far, despite my usual optimistic personality... I’m telling you, I was definitely not myself this quarter.)

So, I suppose I’ll end it here for today. This is what I’ve been through since my last few posts and now I’m looking forward to comfortably take on my next quarter. Four classes two, days a week, 18 units, and in search of a job because I’ve left my poor paying job. It got me by, but it’s something I certainly wasn’t enjoying and it wasn’t anywhere near the atmosphere I’m looking for in a job. Though I do give it props for teaching me the ropes of being a barista.

Here to a New Year, better me, and a good ol’ time. Hell yeah!

Carina, out~

P.S. I need to finish season 2 of Rick and Morty quick before the new season. Also need to finish LoZ: OoT before my friend heads back to Santa Cruz (been working on this game for years... need to return it to the dude who loaned it to me 3 years ago, poor guy haha). Tl;dr: ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE!!

#rant #update #transfer #transfer student #university #life #trying to deal #blog #motivational blog #finding yourself #4 #aymacarina #new year

1 note · View note

torentialtribute · 6 years

Text

British Boxer Callum Hancock opens up on horrendous childhood trauma

The evening crawls over Sheffield and Callum Hancock is alone in the gym and working on the bags.

That is his style – volume over power, they drown in numbers. And he's decent too, with nine wins from nine fights and fallen in the rounds in his sixth.

At this stage it is difficult to say how far he can go. He is probably not a world beater, but he is a promising super-middleweight, good enough to be on the undercard of Kell Brook last December and be able to reach the British title level, perhaps European.

[Hij is waarschijnlijk geen wereldklopper, maar Callum Hancock is een super-middleweight promotor] Callum Hancock is a promising super-middleweight champion of the world, but Callum Hancock is a promising super-middleweight.

He is probably not a world beater, but Callum Hancock is a super middleweight

& # 39; Who knows? & # 39 ;, he says. & # 39; I'm undefeated so it's all there for me. I will fight again in June and hopefully a few more times this year, so I think we'll find out soon enough. It is starting to rise. & # 39;

But boxing is only part of his story.

& # 39; I want people to understand this and I want to help others like me & # 39 ;, he says, handing out his gloves

& # 39; If something good comes out of this everything has to come, then maybe it's because of talking. & # 39;

And so a pretty devastating story begins.

Callum Hancock is now 27.

Last September he waived his right to anonymity after Lyttle pleaded guilty at Derby Crown Court, he was ten and lived in the Birkhill area of Eckington when he was raped by Jason Lyttle, a neighbor who was four years older than him. to buggery and two counts of indecent assault committed between January and July 2001.

Hancock gave up his protection because talking helps – it helps others and it helps itself, especially on its darker days. Fortunately, those bad times were not quite what they were – suicidal thoughts and attempts are over, the elaborate plans to capture and kill Lyttle are over, and the tantrums that once put Hancock in prison are also largely over.

But he accepts: & # 39; This thing will always be with me, chasing me when I let it happen, so the most important thing is not to be afraid of it anymore, and that means being open. & # 39;

With that his mind goes back to when he first came in contact with Lyttle. & # 39; I was just a little boy, seven or so & # 39 ;, says Hancock. & # 39; He has badly bullied me most of my early life.

& # 39; He had never done anything sexual in the early days, but he was the worst person in my life. I remember this one time when I was about eight, three or four came before me – Jason Lyttle and his brother, who was a few years older, and they had two boys with them.

& # 39; They caught me, undressed me, threw them in this dam and threw me in afterwards. They were terrible, those boys. I would always fight back no matter how many there were.

<img id = "i-b1b1bd36849f5162" src = "https://ift.tt/2JHGybp image-a-27_1553549715881.jpg "height =" 423 "width =" 634 "alt =" But boxing is only part of his story. A small part, actually, and it's not really why we're here "

<img id = "i-b1b1bd36849f5162" src = "https://ift.tt/2U851L7" height = "423" width = "634" alt = "But boxing is only part of his story. It is not really why we are here"

But boxing is only part of his story. A small part, actually, and it's not really why we're here

& # 39; I would scream on the floor, & # 39; I'll have you when I'm older & # 39; and they'd be smiling at me, saying, "Oh no, we're on the Hitman Hancock list."

& # 39; This stuff went on for years and it was terrible.

The day of the rape is brutally alive in Hancock & # 39; s spirit. I didn't think it would get any worse and then, well, it did. & # 39; I played in my garden and I crawled under the fence to get this piece of greenery behind the house & # 39 ;, he says.

& # 39; I tried to get back under the fence and grabbed my legs and pulled me back. But I couldn't say it easily. I went to get them and I remember thinking, "What is the catch, why is it fun?"

Hancock takes a deep breath and continues.

& # 39; Then I have always said: & # 39; This is what everyone at school does. & # 39; He did what he did and I was stiff, I wish my mother or brother would come looking for me. I remember having my things together and I thought, "What happened?" I cried out my eyes and ran into the house, to the bathroom and closed the door.

& # 39; The worst thing is, I didn't tell anyone. On a previous occasion my father had seen Jason & # 39; s father about the bullying and it got worse for me because they said I was a grass. I was 10 years old and had that *** in my head. "

There were further incidents with Lyttle and it didn't stop until Hancock moved home a few months later. I wouldn't tell another soul what happened until he was 18. & # 39; I loved this thing so long in, & # 39; he says. & # 39; It destroyed me. For years I was terrified that it might happen again, afraid people would look at me differently if they knew. I was even afraid of going to school to go to the toilet. It completely changed my personality.

Hancock (right) in action with Nick Blackwell during a fight in Sheffield in 2012 "in action with Nick Blackwell during a fight in Sheffield in 2012 "

Hancock (right) in action with Nick Blackwell during a fight in Sheffield in 2012

& # 39; This thing has crushed me and I finally learned to put on a mask to hide ho e this boy has violated me. For my friends I was fun, a joker, bigger than life, a tough kid. I started boxing in my teens and became these people, a tough man. Inside, I was just a scared child.

I was on vacation in Tenerife for 18 or 19 years when I finally met two friends after a few drinks. That's what I thought, "Did I really tell them?"

& # 39; I panicked and deliberately began to distance myself, which was terrible because they were my best friends and, looking back, I had to talk. & # 39;

Hancock regularly began to experience suicidal thoughts when he was 21. & # 39; I remember October 14, 2013, I had a serious accident at work on a jetty and I was sitting under the bridge in Eckington Woods that night and put a rope around my neck & # 39 ;, he says.

& # 39; The only thing that stopped me from thinking I couldn't do it to my father and mother. Nobody knew what was happening to me. I started as a boxer, undefeated in four fights. For everyone, that was all they saw. But my head was in a dark place. "

The darkness extended to detailed plans for revenge. He knew where Lyttle lived and had been watching him for months. & # 39; It was a terrible state of mind & # 39;" he says. & # 39; It was when I was around 23. I was sitting and watching him at the end of time, when murder and suicide were my best friends – I wanted to kill or kill him.

& # 39 "But how do you take revenge on someone like that? If you get hit, you want to hit back. If you get robbed, you might want to rob them back. But he raped me and I wasn't a rapist.

& # 39; I am not proud of what I thought, but I want to be honest, I was always looking at him and mapping where I could go, remote places where I could grab him and not get caught. I know that sounds bad.

Hancock (left) was 10 and lived in the Birkhill area of Eckington when he was raped "

) was 10 and lived in the Birkhill area of Eckington when he was raped "

Hancock (left) was 10 and lived in the Birkhill area of Eckington when he was was raped

& # 39; Once I wore a balaclava, I had a knuckle cloth and hid in the dark near his house. I wandered around every evening around 7.15 pm with a fagot and this time I looked closer and closer at him. He was about five meters away and a little boy was just coming out of the house, calling him and I stopped. When he left I fell backwards, head in hands, crying. I could not do it. & # 39;

One of the lowest points for Hancock came in 2015. A good friend committed suicide and it accelerated into a downward spiral that caused Hancock to be in jail for six months for beating a doorman. & # 39; My friend's death has broken me & # 39 ;, he says. & # 39; I remember at the funeral I thought I would soon join him.

& # 39; A few weeks later I was crying in my bedroom with my eyes out and I wrote the letter stating what had happened to me. I have it now and it has prints on it. That night I put it in my safe, went to shower, put a mask on the life of the party, and when a doorman jumped on my back, I answered.

& # 39; In some ways it went to jail aided. Three weeks before I went in, I sat down with my parents and told them everything.

& # 39; That was the hardest bridge I crossed. They blamed themselves, which is ridiculous. My mother just shouted: "No, no, no". I wanted to stop this thing to hit myself. When I was inside, it really touched me what I needed.

& # 39; I was listening to the Samaritans, where I spoke with other prisoners. He brought home how important it was to talk.

Despite the feeling that he had made progress, Hancock was still thinking of revenge when he was released in the spring of 2016. They were only exacerbated by a chance meeting with Lyttle. November 1945 [

& # 39; He was right in front of me and I hit him & he said. & # 39; His family was with him and they all looked confused. My girlfriend had pulled me away and I told her that night what had happened.

Hancock has a complicated relationship with boxing – it's a reminder of sorts of his pain "

& # 39; I went back to his house that evening and let his entire family sit down and demanded that he admit what he had done. He kept saying that he only reminded me a bit and that I got so angry. I shouted, "I don't need a judge or jury to tell me what you did," and I was ready to blow.

& # 39; A few days later my father sat down. He could see if maybe I had something bad and he gave me the most important conversation in my life. He said, "Unfortunately, Callum, this is you, you have been raped." You can kill him, but you are still raped and you handled that in prison.

& # 39; I stopped driving around with a knife in my car and a month later, January 2017, I went to the police. & # 39; Lyttle pleaded guilty and in October 2018 was sentenced to six and a half years in prison.

Hancock has a complicated relationship with boxing. The sport and the identity he gave him was once his shield for the outside world, but by extension it is now closely linked to a part of his life filled with trauma. It is a reminder of sorts of pain.

& # 39; Look at my nickname & # 39 ;, he says. & # 39; It's Hitman Hancock, but for me it's a bit connected to Jason and those boys who pin me down as a child. Sometimes when I think of boxing, it can feel close to what happened.

& # 39; When Jason was in the courtroom, it was also a good distraction.

& # 39; But now that Jason is gone, I must heal, love myself and my loved ones. I have worked with this great group, Survivors Manchester, to make up for myself and it is good that I am taking this time for myself. It is important.

& Then when I come back to fight in June, I want to be ready because boxing is a big part of the next phase. I want to draw attention to the super-middleweight division, because if this thing that I have been through could not hit me, I know that I have a heart for it. I want to give myself a new story.

Again, only time will tell how far he goes, and how much he can achieve in his mission to win titles and serves as a role model.

In the context of where he has been and where he would have ended up, the last one has already been checked.

Source link

#British Boxer Callum Hancock opens up on horrendous childhood trauma"

0 notes

sarahaltmanposts · 6 years

Text

The Invisible Side Effects

September 10, 2018

Just because you can’t see it, doesn’t mean it’s not there. I’m not talking about God. Or oxygen. Nope, I’m referring to the side effects of chemo.

This week marked the half way point in my chemotherapy treatments. And while there’s a part of me that finds joy in this milestone, I have to admit that mostly, I just feel like crap.

WARNING: Self-pity and wallowing to follow. If you’re not up for it, skip down to paragraph five!

True, the physical side effects of this regiment are so much more tolerable than the first round. There’s just a little peach fuzz left on my head now, barely visible unless you look really closely. My eyebrows and lashes have begun to disappear. I get sores in my mouth and the treatments leave me constipated, which lead to everlasting hemorrhoids. I also have a horrible metal taste in my mouth, so I’m alternately unable to eat and starving. And I have the beginning signs of neuropathy, where my fingers and toes feel like they’re falling asleep and on pins and needles. I am tired. All of the time. HOWEVER, I am able to complete many of my daily tasks, function in the world, and participate. So for that I’m grateful.

But I’ve realized that the physical side effects are only a part of what has been affecting my daily life. There is some serious stuff going on that’s problematic beyond the physical level. Stuff you wouldn’t see if you ran into me at the grocery store. It’s all about my psychological and emotional state. And it can be a bugger.

Ever taken steroids before? I hadn’t. I take a small dose the night before and morning of my treatments to help my body avoid a bad reaction to the chemo. I imagined steroids would make me feel the way I do on antihistamines…you know, that feeling like your blood is racing and you can’t calm it down? But nope, this is very different.

After I seemed to experience no obvious physical symptoms on my first doses of steroids, I thought I’d gotten by with a pass. I was energetic, even jovial. But steroids are a stealthy little devil.

I began noticing I wasn’t sleepy at bedtime. I’d fall asleep for maybe an hour and then be wide awake. But unlike bouts with insomnia, I wasn’t tired. I was alert and ready to keep going. I found myself creating all sorts of spreadsheets with end of year projections, cleaned up the contents on my computer, went through lots of pictures, all in the wee hours of the night. I’d do anything that was relatively quiet. Ok, that’s not so bad. I can deal.

Then I noticed how productive I was during the day. It was like I was working on hyper speed, ultra focused on the task at hand. I’d move from one thing to the next with great sufficiency. My house has never been so clean!

And then I noticed I was much more irritable than normal. I mean… MUCH more irritable. (In all fairness, it took two rounds of taking the steroids for me to notice the pattern. And although I was aware, this MAY have been pointed out to me by someone I love.) I overheard my husband, who’d taken my two boys aside. The conversation went something like this: “Boys, there’s a thing called Roid Rage and your Mommy is probably experiencing some of this, so it’s probably best to give her space for the couple days after her chemo treatment.” It reminded me of the old PMS days when my hormones would throw me into a state of ultra sensitivity to sound, taste, socks on the floor… you know, things that normally don’t put me over the edge.

But the part that has been hardest to deal with is the depression. I’m unsure if it’s the result of the steroids or the chemo drugs, but it is real. I get caught in some downward spirals that I have a hard time battling. And I’m triggered by things that, before I was highly medicated, wouldn’t have bothered me; like our financial situation, my choice to stay home with the boys (see Dark), or even being bald. Suddenly I find myself very self-conscious of the lack of hair on my head. I catch myself in the mirror and I’m stunned at how bald I am! Or I’ll be out in public and am suddenly mindful that I’ve got a scarf covering my bald head. In my right mind, I can get myself out of this type of negative self-talk, but these days it’s much more challenging.

I also find myself focusing on the negative much more than I did before. I’m impatient with friends and family. Intolerant of stupidity. (Well, ok, I was like that before.) And hyper sensitive. I feel lonely on a different level than before too. And there’s a part of me that just wants to be alone to avoid putting my bad mood, energy, stuff on the people around me.

Add to this my weakened physical state, and I have a sense that I’m always one step behind all the things I need to be doing, playing catch up a lot. I’m completing my ‘normal’ activities, getting the boys where they have to be, cooking meals, doing laundry, paying bills, homeschooling my younger son. But things like walking and exercising, that used to make me feel energized now leave me feeling depleted and weak.

Lack of sleep combined with my mental and physical state leaves me feeling unmotivated. To-do lists, which had been easy for me to prioritize and complete in the past, now sit stalled, swirling in my head (or on notes on my computer!). There’s a general fogginess that lingers and complicates clear thinking and it works in direct contrast to the steroids effects, leaving me feeling frustrated.

So on the outside I look normal. But it’s almost like I’m chasing my old life- trying to FORCE myself to be in a place that I just can’t sustain right now.

(My apologies to those who wanted to avoid the wallowing. It snuck in…)

Two weeks before I was diagnosed last March, we’d shared a big plan to take our boys to Disney World in May. The only vacations we’ve taken up until now involved meeting up with family, so this was a big deal. Unable to go then, we re-scheduled to November. But last week I realized that although I may appear to be doing ok, the truth is, I’m just not back to speed yet. The chemo is taking both visible and invisible tolls on me and I just can’t deny that any longer. Having to tell my boys that we would have to postpone this trip…again…nearly broke my heart.

It has been six months since diagnosis. A lot has changed. I’ve got eight more treatments, a surgery and many years of medication still ahead of me. Is it a wonder that I’m having challenges? Maybe it’s time for me to lighten up a bit? Perhaps I’ve set the bar a bit too high too soon? I’m so anxious to get my life back that I’m being a bit unrealistic, pushing myself too fast. When I was an actor, we called it ‘acting as if.’ But I can’t act my way through this one. And honestly, I really don’t want to. I’m too tired. Two more months of this seem insurmountable.

It occurs to me that perhaps I’m still coming to terms with this whole thing. Have I been in denial and this is another level of acceptance? I want to be very careful here because the truth is that I no longer have cancer. It has all been removed through surgery and these treatments are insurance to keep it away. But maybe this is an acceptance to the experience as a whole?

Friends ask how I’m doing and they share that I look good. I’m grateful to be looking healthy, for sure, but it’s not that simple really. It’s the invisible stuff affecting my experience that’s hard to articulate in a polite, concise manner. But I guess the gist is, this cancer stuff is still kicking my butt! And what you may not be seeing is that I am struggling. My body may look fine from the outside, but inside I’m fighting to stay vertical every day. Although the physical has improved, I am still drained and depleted and it takes a tremendous amount of energy to remain positive and functional.

So maybe I could be a little more patient with myself….

I look around and realize that so many people are struggling with their own challenges, both visible and invisible. I feel tremendous compassion and hope that my interactions may change someone’s experience for the better. I’m mindful to be kind to others because I just never really know what’s going on in someone else’s life. And I remind myself to extend the same courtesy to my own experience, as I try to be gentle, patient and kind to myself.

I know my situation is not that special. My challenge these days is just more concrete. But it IS temporary. It will end. And come June of next year, I hope to be in Disney World, celebrating my health, knowing that cancer has come and gone and I am back.

In loving,

Sarah

0 notes

bostonbun-blog1 · 7 years

Text

it’s been tough year

Anxiety turning into panic attacks. Debilitating depression. Being backed up against the wall, hands tied with tricky decisions. Fights and bickering with the beau and family. Not knowing how to be an adult or be strong enough to handle life when it reaches boiling point. No confidence. Low morale. Non existent self esteem. Obligations and responsibility when I just want to sleep and hide until it all goes away.

It’s all so exhausting.

And I wish I could contrast it with also positive occurrences this year but the ratio is too damn small.

This year was supposed to be a lot different, like I mean A LOT - 100 times more of a northward direction than the south it actually plummeted to...and I had the attitude to make sure of that at the time. I really thought I had the strength, but as it goes, I was holding water in a leaking tank I hadn’t patched up properly.

I was super motivated since I knew I could lose weight properly and consistently, since after 20-odd years of wanting to, I finally got off my ass to do it and partially succeeded last year. I did drop the ball thanks to a new life venture, perhaps for another post, but I had motivation at the beginning of 2017.

I’m really amazed at how hard I got blindsided.

Early January I was set to return to New Zealand from my holiday in Australia and shake things up and go hard. At the airport, I got picked up by Beau and there was another little bundle of joy in the back seat. He got me a puppy as a Christmas/New Year/Birthday present, but I didn’t know this until I saw puppers in his little tub in the back seat.

It was love at first sight but in deciding to keep him, it was to be the end of my progressive year and the beginning of my downward spiral into oblivion.

C e r t a i n l y there is no better advice than that which RuPaul reminds us after every episode of Drag Race:

If you can’t love yourself, how in the hell you gonna love somebody else?

And whilst always wanting a dog, it took someone getting me a dog to realise why I even wanted one. I’ll keep it real right now. I didn’t actually want one.

I just wasn’t in the headspace to look after something, and that realisation hit me like an atom bomb. I felt something close to what I can only think was post natal depression. And no disrespect to those who’ve suffered with it or by it.

Every time I had a thought of independence, like I would go to the gym for a good few hours or I’d go and get my shopping done and meal prep today, I would remember I had a dog to look after, a puppy nonetheless. And that’s not even my serious responsibilities like work.

As much as this cute little thing stumbled around, with his teeny body and rolls of extra skin, I was and/or am certainly still well and truly horribly selfish. I say horribly because of the tension I get and spikes that come out of my back when I had to think about taking care of something else rather than myself.

This year was supposed to be my year. The year I finally look after myself and put me first above all. I had not done this in 24 years of living and I was tired of other’s affecting my self-esteem. I needed to be the person who affected my self-esteem.

Beau took it upon himself to stay over a lot too, and did he help? Not as well as he could have. And there I was, feeling like I had to take care of two babies. January was intense, to say the least.

The puppy was only three months old. I had known about the whole “keeping him off the ground until vaccinated” thing so I had a month of full-time care of this wee baby before I could vaccinate him and then he’d be a bit more transportable. Problem is, I was due to go back to work in a week’s time.

Now, not that I don’t mind an extended vacation, but I took a week’s more leave to look after lil man and figure out what the hell to do. Beau followed in suit, stupidly, taking an unauthorised week of leave without our team leader’s knowledge. What the hell was going on?

So here is a lesson: Be Vocal. Him hanging around was a grievance to me as I just needed my me time with this dog. I did not need another body there to make me expect help but ultimately not get it. Of course, it’s on me, I don’t begrudge him of not knowing what I needed, he’s young and I’m not the type to ask. But if ever is the time to learn, this would have been it.

I learned .5% of this lesson, I guess, and erupted in hysterics exclaiming my thoughts...it was probably our first-ever intense argument. I blamed Beau a lot at the start. This puppy was the last thing I needed. And if he was going to stay over for weeks on end, at least be decent enough to tidy the room or clean up after the dog.

The dust settled and my point was somewhat able to be seen, and he did try and help from then on.

I was at my wit’s end still, running on unresolved anger and victimisation. Then came the time to tell my mother.

Her, her husband and I were renting and a lot of landlord’s are strict against pets over here in NZ. I really liked our landlords though, and I knew they would be super nice about it but would prefer it not be a permanent situation. This suited me fine because at the time, I was fully set on moving back to Australia.

No one knew this but me at the time, Beau included (let’s leave that for another pos) and all I needed was to get the puppy flyable then I would be out of everyone’s hair and everybody would be out of mine.

I got the all clear from the landlords and funnily enough, they were 110% more helpful than my mother and step-father. The apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree let’s just say that.

My mother reacted more surprisingly than I thought. She loves dogs, but...she didn’t like my one??? I saw a new side to everything and everyone and this only served as a reminder that sometimes you are better off by yourself.

She insisted I should re-home him and was counting on the landlord’s turning into some reckoning force against puppy that I should feel shame and ultimately find another place for him.

I saw right through this confusing turn of behaviour and told her I had the landlord’s permission to stay until I was ready to leave.

She had given me spiel after spiel about how I shouldn’t do this or that, how I shouldn't keep this dog and what I should do (not what I want to do) that it just felt like it had nothing to do with my issues anymore and was more about hers.

Our place of rent was expensive, no doubt. It was okay with us three, but should one drop off at all, there was only two options for the remaining: move out or get someone to subsidise. Mum and I aren’t all-loving just yet and we keep our circles tight and never-expanding so of course, the best option is to search for a smaller place.

I adorn my pessimist hat in this instance; my mother has not gotten over her compulsive need to keep moving house (a compulsion which stems no doubt from childhood). This dog and all this drama around him just served as the perfect excuse to pack up and move out yet again for the umpteenth time. Of course, she would never admit to this. She’s still got a few demons to slay but I hope she gets there.

Since she was not helping me, I may have been petty in what kindness I showed when handling the situation. I was juggling with the idea of moving anyway, the plan for me would be to wait until I could fly puppy over and say so long farewell to this beautiful country and back to the one I had left that fateful 2013.

I was already over a lot of the things here that nothing was concrete enough for me to stay. I had learnt what I needed to from the move to NZ and the years since, that it was time to go back to my second home, Melbourne.

I would only need two or three months tops. In that time, mum and husband could peacefully move to a smaller more affordable house and all would be well in the land. She had been complaining about the rent anyway and brought up moving a lot before this so I figured, piece of cake.

But...when you have a Mum such as mine, you never get the last laugh.

She beat me to the flag, finding another place to move to in record time and disclosing this information so nonchalantly that I actually felt betrayed. I felt a bit foolish for trusting that she would become more like my supportive and loving Dad but alas, I’m always the fool.

What’s more, I didn’t have any time to go over a backup plan of sorts. I had about four weeks from then on to make something happen. Minimal savings and money for any kind of bond to move out.

Heck, I would even be living on my own and paying the full rent for the last couple of weeks courtesy of them moving out and letting me be the storage until they had sussed themselves out.

I don’t know if my hurt is justified, I just know that there is a better way that you can help others, especially family. Helping someone is not moving out and leaving them on their own. Helping someone is not punitive measures because of a harmless choice they make.

To anyone who isn’t me, that is someone who is confident, skilled in the art of getting what they need to get done, they would have probably not been as mortified by the ticking countdown. For me it hit really hard. So hard that my dad sensed it and came over for the weekend to comfort me.

With my mother, I switched off any connection I had that was loving. It has been postponed to a later time when I have found happiness and consistently felt happiness and accomplishment “by my own-self”, as she would say.

As of now, she starts the conversations but I am too far gone down the road of jadedness that I’ve yet to reciprocate her reaches of concern. Of course that pessimist hat of mine tells me she’s just doing it out of guilt.

She justified her abrupt moving out with the old-fashioned favourite excuse of having no choice. Let me debunk this lie. I have a dog, I know I don’t make it any easier on myself by keeping him but I choose this path and as any parent I thought should be supportive, I thought she would help me even by giving me time to find a place. The chances to find a place that would allow dogs is slim but at least I would have had more time.

There is literally no excuse for leaving me out to dry.

If she couldn’t let me go because, finally, she had her daughter back under her wing, then she really chose a wicked send off.

Before I even go further, back track up to about midway in this shit storm. My fellow house dwellers decided it would be a great idea to voice their anger through a message to Beau. Someone who, whilst yes he got me the puppy, wasn’t the one who decided I keep it. So anything after that airport pick up is on me. But people have big pointing fingers that itch to be scratched and they put on a blindfold and go on a rampage but never end up at a mirror.

Beau did not take this well, and rightly so. I mean my step-dad was one to talk. I’m pretty sure my mother paid a greater portion more of rent than he did. So he didn’t have a leg to stand on when he decided to threaten Beau for literally no reason. His message achieved nothing and helped no one. It only served to add vinegar to a baking soda volcano.

I’m a pacifist. I don’t agree with the messages, and I accept someone has every right to feel angry but I don’t condone payback through hurt or damaging someone’s things. This opened a great divide in our team - how differently we reacted to things.

Beau and I’s second biggest fight followed, and was mostly me trying to stop him from physically doing something to the property as a reply to that message.

I was over it all. I just wanted to do my own thing, wait however long I needed to and get me and this puppy out of here. I was feeling this physically as well.

I’ve ballooned to my heaviest weight to date, my chest is tight and my breathing is always shallow. Back then I would feel so overcome with sadness and just want to cry all the damn time.

Stress is the joker of all demons isn’t it. It has the sickest humour.

But you know, I found resilience with my emotions. I held on to a solid timetable and plan that I had cooked up by some miracle despite this feud now with the parentals and Beau going on beside me.

Bless the heavens that my uncle had been crashing in the spare bedroom and personally was really good with dogs. He was able to look after the dog when I was at work until I could get him vaccinated and complete the next phase.

When the parentals moved out completely, I was on my own for about three weeks to almost a month. It was the best taste of freedom in a long time. I don’t even care if it ate my whole pay and then some, that peace and quiet was priceless.

Uncle had moved out by this point since he basically had the ultimatum of paying half the rent or moving out. He chose the latter. But I had a very nice lady come to mind the puppy while I was at work so things were okay.

My first week was sloppy, I’ll admit. I had full rubbish bins from missing the bin days, dirty dishes and overgrown grass, the place was starting to reflect my inner-psyche. I just had no clue how to adult and spent a lot of time sleeping and playing with puppy.

The beratement didn’t end either. I got shook, by fears that the landlords were unimpressed by the house and were looking to get me out sooner. These were my mother’s words. So I texted them pleading for more time and they said, “No problem.” As if they didn’t even threat such a thing. The distance between Mother and I then became infinite. Why was that shake up even necessary?

I pulled my head out of my ass and I cleaned the house so good. I had no idea how to turn on a lawnmower but I got help and I did it and the house looked amazing and continued to do so. Fear is a good motivator, true, but so is pettiness. Which I shouldn’t condone, but you might just get some self-respect points along the way, which I feel I managed to do.

I wasn’t fearful in a big empty house now. I was determined to defend it if trouble came knocking. It was good to understand what it takes to feel good about yourself by taking care of things that might not necessarily be yourself. It takes action. You gotta do what you gotta do for whoever you gotta do it for.

I’m in a situation that could be better, obviously. I could make it better, if I had the skills and the confidence. I wasn’t built up, if at all, in childhood but I should remember to be proud of what I have built myself up to when the reigns of my own life were given back to me so unceremoniously.

I wasn’t able to find a place of my own by the time the move date arrived, so I had to move in with my brother and his family. The house is owned by our aunty. I might as well have moved into the rubbish tip, that’s how disgusting this place was kept....no offence to their lovely natures.

I was about to go crazy once again, I could feel it. I was limited to a room, picked and poked by the four young children. I would come home to find their toys scattered around my room. The dog would be too hyper because of the kids and it was just all coming down to another visit to “I hate where I am right now” town.

Sporadically I would stay with Beau, and that made for a much calmer, quieter, low-key room to nest in and ultimately I’ve made the move here until further notice. It isn’t the most ideal situation but it’s the better of the two.

I haven’t been able to bounce back as well as maybe most can. I am content though, enough to hold on to hope (the one thing that makes me think “Oh it won’t be this bad for much longer, surely”) and faith; faith in myself because I know I deserve better than what ever bad decides to come at me and I have it in me to at least try.

Big actions or small actions, as long as the momentum keeps forward. Like rock climbing but only grabbing on to the positive grips. I’m quite proud of that analogy lol

This year has been a tough year indeed.

But through the glorious blaze, it has taught me how much I need to love myself and how much I’ve yet to go. How through action there will be change. How things aren’t so bad as what my anxiety falsifies them to be.

That I can do whatever I have to do when I have to do it, and when I don’t know how, ask someone who does know and learn how.

I’m really anticipating a bigger and better 2018 and perhaps in these approaching four months I can get a little foundation formed.

Healthier habits to put in place and some well-spent time towards things that will better my future. With enjoyment along the way, in passions and hobbies, and hopefully connection with others to share stories and experiences.

That sounds for an exciting journey ahead. I can’t wait.

#spongebob #sad #gif #bnw #be brave #be strong #be kind #textpost

0 notes

ibloggingkits-blog · 7 years

Text

New Post has been published on Blogging kits

New Post has been published on https://bloggingkits.org/what-humans-need-at-the-quit-of-existence/

What humans need at the quit of life

IN 2016 The Economist and the Kaiser Family Basis, an American non-earnings focused on health care, polled human beings in America, Brazil, Italy and Japan approximately their hopes and issues for their quit-of-existence wishes. We located that what’s most crucial to human beings on the stop relies upon on where they live. In The us and Japan now not burdening families with the expenses of care became the very best-ranked priority.

(The japanese may be disturbing approximately the value of funerals, which could without problems reach ¥3m, or $24,000; Individuals can be stressful about clinical payments, which may be ruinous.) In Brazil, in which Catholicism prevails, the main priority was being at peace spiritually. What Italians wanted maximum on the stop was to have their loved ones round them. Medical doctors’ efforts to extend existence near its give up might not usually be aligned with their sufferers’ priorities: residing so long as feasible become deemed least important of the seven things that we requested about, except in Brazil where it tied with not burdening family financially. How Are we able to Enhance Great of give up Of lifestyles in Extensive Care? To begin with, I do need to factor out that I in my view agree with that every give up of existence scenario in Extensive Care is unique, relying on various elements which includes scientific picture, cultural/religious history and the Own family dynamics. Moreover, I additionally think that each situation wherein a Affected person is loss of life wishes to be put in context of the way of life inside the Extensive Care Unit and how proactive an extensive Care Unit is running toward a very good death. For instance, Gadgets who carried out a ‘care of the death Patient’ pathway might have a higher satisfaction rate among their team of workers and households, in terms of stop of existence conditions. I am positive all of us have visible health experts burning out, if the dying in their cherished one isn’t always treated nicely and we’ve got also seen households that have been both grateful of ways the death scenario of their loved one has been handled- or on the opposite side of the spectrum- they had been devastated approximately situations or the conversation technique or the timing of the stop of life state of affairs.

I additionally need to point out that I agree with we need to begin the usage of the term “Exceptional of give up of existence”, as I trust there is Satisfactory even at someone’s cease of life. I take a holistic view there and that i additionally have a look at the perceptions of the Own family in an cease of lifestyles scenario. From my perspective the households belief and perspectives count lots in a way to address quit of lifestyles and also how we can Improve the Best of end of life in Intensive Care or outside of Extensive Care with additional services.

Basic, it is hard to qualify what a “correct loss of life” in In depth Care includes, but I also believe that we as fitness experts in In depth Care need to feel highly privileged to be in a function to be part of a Patient’s give up of life. We ought to also sense privileged because we can help and guide households via one in every of their most worrying and maximum traumatic instances in their lives. I in my opinion get a whole lot of (job) satisfaction out of these situations, if the state of affairs is dealt with properly and if the multidisciplinary team is working collectively to attain First-rate of stop of existence. In any case, now not many humans cope with stop of life situations in their daily work.

Now, each person who is familiar with In depth Care and who has labored in Extensive Take care of a considerable time period has had their fair proportion of stop of lifestyles reports and situations.

In over thirteen years of ICU nursing experience, I truely have had my percentage of people dying in In depth Care experiences and conditions, a few top and a few now not so precise. Common, from my angle it relies upon on a number of of things that I cited before, whether the dying technique is experienced an awesome one or no longer so suitable one.

One thing that I’ve seen over time is the recurrence of some sufferers drawing close their give up of lifestyles over many weeks or many months in In depth Care, whilst being ventilated with a Tracheostomy. From my attitude, in those conditions the overall force of exposure to struggling, ache and vulnerability hits home, when a Patient is slowly death on a ventilator with Tracheostomy in In depth Care. all people who has witnessed the slow dying of a Affected person demise in Extensive Care, will in no way overlook the enjoy. I take into account a number of instances vividly over the years, however the one which probably stood out most was a younger girl in her mid-Fifties. After a lung transplant had given her some extra years to live, she now changed into readmitted back to Intensive Care where she turned into faced with the full pressure of respiratory failure and organ rejection. Over a terrific 12-16 week duration the female and her Own family went through hell. Not often sedated and absolutely aware most of the time, she slowly however honestly approached her cease of existence and anyone knew it. The girl occupied a bedspace inside the middle of the unit, obtrusive at folks who passed by. within the midst of this busy 24/7 thoroughfare in Extensive Care was this female, surrounded by using her devastated Own family. I vividly keep in mind her husband, who at the start of her ICU adventure changed into complete of strength and constantly very pleasant and ‘chatty’ with the staff. The longer he watched the suffering of his liked wife he changed into barely in a position to stroll with a sore lower back. I think he felt the whole pressure of what him, his spouse and the relaxation in their Family were going via, regardless of of all the marvellous efforts of the ICU body of workers.

Quality of quit of life is not a term Intensive Care Devices, health services or even palliative services use and that i trust that it’s miles exceedingly underrated. Should not ‘Palliative offerings’ be renamed to ‘First-class of give up of lifestyles offerings’? Should not we attempt to offer Satisfactory of quit of life, just as much as we strive to get patients out of Intensive Care in a higher situation than what they came in for? Isn’t it a privilege to offer Satisfactory at the stop of somebody’s life? I strongly agree with it’s far. loss of life is a part of life- and the sooner we accept and embrace it and make it part of our day to day dwelling, the extra creative and accepting we get of the fact that there may be High-quality, even on the give up of our lives.

Can Hospice Make stop of existence Planning and Handling quit of lifestyles Troubles Simpler As an ageing senior, or the care giver of a medically declining loved one, Coping with end of lifestyles Problems is the maximum tough situation to speak about. give up of existence Planning can sincerely address the High-quality of lifestyles and offer care at your request. You may decide wherein you spend your very last days, supported by way of your family, in a supportive, being concerned surroundings in your property with hospice services.

For some quit stages of lifestyles can creep up on us slowly and for others it is a speedy and downward spiral into bodily or mental decline. stop of existence Planning can begin earlier than you are unwell to a time while the physician tells you that there aren’t any other options that might help a First-class of existence.

This company assists the ageing adult and their loved ones thru the end stages of existence and is there to aid, consolation and guide you as you address quit of lifestyles Troubles. Hospice encourages the growing older grownup to be involved in the choice making process. Hospice additionally entails the Circle of relatives and helps and educates them via the challenges they face at some point of to cease levels of lifestyles.

stop of existence Making plans makes Handling stop of existence Issues Less difficult as it opens the road of conversation between the getting old grownup and their households. ageing adults that have made plans for hospice experience in control over their care and revel in much less melancholy than the ones individuals that are receiving care in a hospital or nursing domestic. quit of life Making plans additionally gives the growing older grownup control as they go through the quit levels of life.

Caregivers additionally advantage from give up of existence Making plans. Coping with cease of existence Issues is made Easier via hospice for them. Caregivers, at the side of the hospice body of workers, develop an individualized approach that promotes Great of existence and keeping their loved one’s dignity as they development via the end stages of existence. Hospice enables the Own family to guarantee that their cherished one’s wishes are done. This gives the Circle of relatives comfort and reduces the pressure and tension in this hard time.

end of life Making plans makes Dealing with quit of lifestyles Troubles Less complicated while you are organized. Facing the cease degrees of life is one of the most hard times we are facing. Dropping a loved one is never clean. Speaking, shared selection making and presenting consolation to every different bodily, emotionally and spiritually can be the most rewarding gift you may supply the one that you love and your self. Hospice is capable of help.

0 notes