#i am slightly autistic about christmas in the way most people on here are about halloween

[dappersautismcreature]

this is gonna be so sappy forgive me lmao

i have been alone on christmas before, ive been stuck at home while my mom was away with my sister, my dad was recovering from surgery, my dog was too, and just imagining how id sob if i had the community i have now to support me through that.

the qsmp team recognizing that and putting together a fun, funny, sweet, calming, gathering place stream is one of the sweetest things ive seen. i know if im ever alone on christmas, or ever feeling alone in general, i know i at least have this community to turn to. and that sweet vod to watch.

ive never been great at interacting online, its always seemed like a colder way of communicating to me, I struggle with it. but the people on here, you guys are full of warmth and genius ideas and are genuinely hilarious. every single one of you <3 its been a pleasure to post about qsmp with you guys for like, nine months.

due to a lot of weirdness surrounding friendships at the start of this year, with a few friends just totally ditching me, ive really needed to feel somewhat safe with people I interact with. thank you for being so kind and awesome, i feel safe in this space, lmao.

every single one of you, that celebrates christmas, i wish you the happiest of holidays. and if its not great, if its loud and scary and stressful and whatever, a bit of gary advice from someone who's been there, a day is a day, you can create the feeling whenever. do not hold joy to one day. holidays, even if nothing bad happens, can still be stressful, but that isn't eternal.

happy christmas, all that junk

[pyromantic-mishap]

So I worked at a large UK supermarket (who shall remain nameless but my uniform was an awful burgundy colour) and I worked there over the Christmas period i.e. from October through to Dec 31st. This was fine (it was hell).

Now, I worked in the General Merchandise department, so I didn’t work on food at *all* for the few months I was there. However, I did have to walk through food aisles several times because my department was split across the store, and I encountered a (to my innocent and slightly ignorant mind) surprising and concerning number of people shoplifting.

Now, when I say concerning, I don’t mean it in the sense of a 70-something lady with white hair and a leather handbag clutching her pearls at the merest hint of a gay person being within three miles. I mean it in the sense of a person who has never really experienced poverty, watching it play out in front of him for the first time. Now, being the little autistic maggot that I am, I am all for following the letter of the law. I like rules. I am comfortable when people follow them.

I am not, however, heartless enough to report someone for stealing a 75p can of rice pudding.

Knives? Definitely kept an eye on them. Dangerous chemical stuff like antifreeze? I looked after that.

But food? Drink? Small toys? Cutlery? Wrapping paper or cards? Never saw anyone steal a single thing, honest. I’d come back a little later to find an empty box or some opened packets, and that lot was all marked and discarded. The store didn’t even miss them. Those people would have missed them a whole lot more.

So what’s the moral of the story here? Why am I saying things on the Internet again (which I really should not be allowed to do btw)?

The point is that inaction can also be action.

You don’t have to protest by fighting and dying. You can just choose not to go to McDonalds, and maybe stop and listen to the march going on in the city centre.

You don’t have to get in fights over problematic writers and actors. You can just not buy the books, or see the films, or pay for merch.

You don’t have to put yourself in danger protesting the government about the economy and their disgusting attitude to dealing with poverty. You can just let people steal shit at Christmas.

It doesn’t impact you, and it may not feel like it helps, but it does more than most and even though no-one will thank you for it, it also takes no effort to do and to show support for a good cause. You can still absolutely protest things you care about and can fight intensely for, but no-one can do that for everything, and everyone, all the time. But there are thousands of little ways and easy choices to make that still add weight to the movement for a better world.

Find the little ways. Make the easy choices, the small sacrifices, and make them with confidence. Have hope, be better than you were, and one day the world will reflect that.

[echo-bleu]

all this time I had feathers

This is a fill for my @shadowhunterbingo square Christmas Fic. It's part of my map out a world series (with autistic Alec), but it should stand on its own. I only remembered I had a Christmas square on my Bingo yesterday, so this is written in two days and unbetaed!

Our boys run into some competing access needs over Christmas. I've given hints that Magnus has ADHD in this series and it's still not really explicit here, but I will write a fic more focused on that at some point.

The title is from a truly beautiful theater play that's unfortunately only available in French, Plume by Alistair Houdayer. The play uses a bird as a metaphor for autism and the full sentence is "All this time I had feathers and you lied to me?" (translation is my own). It's about discovering that you're autistic after years of being shut down and ignored.

Read on AO3.

-

Alec sighs internally as he opens the door to the loft and hears music. It’s been like this for days and he can’t take it anymore. Magnus has been hanging lights everywhere and blasting Christmas songs at every chance, and Alec’s headache hasn’t left him for days. Thankfully Christmas is tomorrow, so maybe it will stop afterwards.

Although that might be too optimistic. Alec has never really done anything for Christmas before, beside a quiet exchange of presents with his siblings, but he knows the decorations in shops don’t go anywhere until the new year. That’s one week away. He’s not sure he can do this without blowing up again.

He takes a deep breath. The last time he was here, this morning before his shift, Catarina and Madzie had dropped by to bake cookies with Magnus and Alec barely managed to contain himself until they left, exploding as soon as he and Magnus were alone. He said things he didn’t mean, and things he definitely didn’t mean to say in anger. He doesn’t even know where all that rage comes from – it’s just a deep, twisted feeling inside, his skin crawling until he can’t take anymore of the twinkling lights and the cheesy songs.

He stormed out and he and Magnus haven’t talked since, not even by text.

“Alexander,” Magnus says coolly when Alec finds him in the apothecary, bent over a potion of some sort. The smell coming from it is horrendously strong, though not bad per say. It smells like mint and maybe cinnamon – not that Alec is very good at identifying scents, but they’re ones that he usually likes.

“I’m sorry,” Alec forces out, even if the irritation is rising in his chest again. “I didn’t mean what I said. I don’t know what came over me.”

Magnus looks at him for a moment. “I have to admit I didn’t expect to spend most of Christmas Eve wondering why we’re even fighting,” he says slowly. “But you were obviously angry, and it can’t have been because of the flour all over the kitchen, since I cleaned that up straight away. Can we sit and talk about it calmly?”

Alec nods, breathing through his nose to avoid the now overwhelming smell of mint. “Are you nearly done with this?”

“Oh, yes, I’ll just bottle it up and then I can join you. Make yourself comfortable wherever you want.”

Alec breathes in relief that Magnus isn’t so angry that he’ll ignore their comfort for the sake of arguing. But it makes what he’s about to ask all the harder.

“Would you please turn the music off?” he asks as neutrally as possible. He knows it comes out monotonous and emotionless, and he sees Magnus tense at it.

But contrary to the expected retort, Magnus looks up and assesses him for a moment before he sighs.

“Oh, Alexander,” he murmurs, and the music stops. “Go. I’ll be with you in a minute.”

Alec nods and turns on his heels. The sudden quiet in the loft feels like heaven, although he can’t look anywhere without being assaulted by bright and colorful Christmas lights. In the living room, he freezes for at least a whole minute, trying to decide between the comfort of the couch and the table where there are slightly few visible light garlands if he sits facing the windows. The choice feels too hard to make right now and—

Alec makes himself move and goes for the bedroom instead. Magnus said wherever he wants. They usually avoid having fights in the bedroom to keep it a sanctuary of sorts, but maybe this is a needed exception.

He flops down on the bed, looking in dismay at the fairy light garlands hung all around the room. He doesn’t hate fairy lights, he’s the first to admit that they’re pretty – when used with some semblance of moderation. Not when they cover every square inch of the walls. He sighs and closes his eyes, slipping under the covers despite the fact that he’s fully dressed. The weighted blanket immediately grounds him.

He hasn’t slept properly in a while. Maybe that’s what’s making him grumpy. There’s been a surge of demon activity in the city, on top of all the Clave ceremonies he has to attend this time of the year. That means he’s been on call or in Alicante almost every night, and sleeping during the day with this damn music on is near impossible.

When Magnus finally joins him, he’s nearly asleep. He presses his fists into his eyes, trying to force the tiredness out of his head. Magnus doesn’t say anything as he removes his jacket and slips into bed beside him. He still smells faintly of mint and cinnamon.

“Darling,” he says softly after a moment. He reaches out, but he doesn’t touch Alec, settling his hand an inch away from Alec’s arm.

Alec tries to make himself cross the gap between them, but it feels too big right now, his skin still crawling. He makes an aborted motion of apology.

Magnus picks up one of the long golden necklaces he’s wearing and offers it to Alec, without removing it. It has a pendant at the end, tiny intertwined circles that can spin around each other. Alec latches onto it without even thinking about it, finding comfort in both the stimming and the connection to Magnus.

“Can you speak?” Magnus asks. He soft, gentle. Not angry. Alec doesn’t understand – he deserves all of Magnus’ anger and more.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. He’s not sure he can hold a long conversation, but here under the covers, the lights hidden by the blankets, he feels better, like a fog is lifting from his mind.

Magnus taps the mattress with a finger by Alec’s head. “Have you been overloaded this whole time?”

“I’m not—” Alec starts immediately, but he stops mid-sentence.

Oh.

That’s what it is. The irrational anger, the constant irritation, his inability to focus. His speech has been as unreliable as his sleeping pattern, but he’s long learned to make do with groans and looks. The constant buzzing in his brain, the exhaustion that only he seems to feel…

“I don’t know,” he amends. “Maybe?”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Alec bites his lip, focusing on the necklace he’s fidgeting with rather than on Magnus. “I didn’t realize,” he says.

“Was it just the music?” Magnus asks, unclasping his bike chain bracelet to match his fidgeting. Alec shifts his stare from his own hands to Magnus’, the repetitive movement soothing.

He tries to think about the question, to push it through his mushy brain and figure out an answer. He really is tired, in that way that doesn’t make him want to sleep so much as hide in a quiet corner. He knows that he’s taking too long to answer, but Magnus waits patiently.

“The music...the lights, too. Everything’s too bright. And...too many people.” They’ve had someone over nearly every day, wether it’s Cat and Madzie or Dot or Raphael or Clary and Simon, and occasionally Magnus’ other Downworlder friends Alec has never met before. After whole shifts at the Institute, coordinating patrols and trying to stay on top of things, or fighting demons in back alleys, all he wants is some quiet and peace.

“Alexander,” Magnus buries his face in the mattress. “I’ve been overloading you this whole time and I didn’t even notice.” He turns back toward Alec, his voice no longer muted. “I’m truly sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Alec says. “You didn’t know.”

“I did not, but you still deserve an apology. How did we let get so far?”

“I—” Alec hesitates. “You seemed happy.”

Magnus shakes his head. “My happiness cannot come at the price of yours. I want you to tell me when it gets too much. When I get too much.”

Alec catches Magnus’ wrist in his hand, intent overwhelming his touch-avoidance. “No. It’s not you. You’re never too much for me, Magnus.”

They’ve only spoken a few times about Magnus’ history with that phrase, about his own difference, his own deviations from the norm, but Alec knows it’s something deeply ingrained. Magnus has been told he’s too much too often in his life, and Alec will not let him belittle himself that way. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t realized it myself,” he says. “It’s like...background noise. After a while, you can tune it out and you don’t even hear it anymore, but it’s still draining.”

“But why would you tune it out, instead of just telling me to stop it?” Magnus asks, not moving his hand from Alec’s grasp. Alec releases him and intertwines their hands instead.

“I didn’t...think of it,” he tries. It’s not true, not entirely. He didn’t ask, because Magnus liked it. He didn’t ask because he didn’t want to be a killjoy, as his siblings have too often accused him of being. He didn’t want to take this little bit of happiness away from Magnus because he’s an oversensitive simp.

He doesn’t voice that thought, because he knows what Magnus would think of it. And he supposes that’s progress, in a way.

Magnus understands anyway. “You’ve been so used to your perceptions being ignored that you don’t know how to set boundaries,” he says slowly. “Am I wrong?”

Alec shrugs with the one shoulder that’s not against the bed.

“You like the lights, and the music,” he says. “And the baking, all the Christmas stuff.”

“I do. But we could have found a middle ground. You can’t sacrifice your comfort for mine.”

Alec bites back that it’s what he’s always done. It’s not true. It used to be, maybe, with his family, but with Magnus, he’s never had to do that. Magnus is always so attentive, anticipating his needs before he can even ask.

So the least Alec could do is let him have this.

“Why do you like Christmas so much?” he asks softly, rather than dig further into it.

“It’s not really Christmas,” Magnus confesses. “I’m not religious, and I don’t care much about the meaning of it all. But it gives me an excuse.”

He pauses, and Alec simply waits, nodding encouragingly.

“I often get...sad, in the winter,” Magnus continues. “I don’t know if it’s what the mundanes call seasonal depression, or if it’s because I’ve lived so long and lost so many people during the winter months, but this time of the year is always hard for me. So I do everything to try and cheer myself up. I usually throw parties almost every night, just to surround myself with living, breathing people – and vampires, who thrive on the longest nights of the year.”

“You haven’t thrown many parties this year,” Alec remarks.

“No, I know you don’t like them and I didn’t want you to feel excluded—”

Alec tenses. “You shouldn’t stop for my sake! Did I prevent you from doing something that helps you?”

Magnus shakes his head. “Only in the same way that I forced you to bear things that were too much for you. We neglected to talk about it when we should have.”

Alec sighs and curls up on himself a little more.

“Besides,” Magnus adds, “This year, I have you. My very own living, breathing Nephilim to keep me warm. I’m better than I’ve been every other year. I just...I got scared that it would happen again, and I didn’t want you to see me like that. So I went a little overboard with the Christmas cheer.”

“A little?” Alec gives a small laugh.

“Okay, a lot. You told me you’ve never properly celebrated Christmas before, so I wanted to give you the full experience, and keep myself busy in the process. I never stopped to think about how it could affect you. I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” Alec murmurs.

“Whatever for?”

“The...communication failure? I’m trying, but it’s not...easy.”

Magnus smiles softly, running his thumb over the back of Alec’s hand. “And that’s okay. As long as we’re trying. We just need to check in a little more often.”

“Okay,” Alec nods weakly. “We can try that.”

“No more music,” Magnus says. “I’ll dim all the lights.”

“Music is fine if it’s low,” Alec corrects. “And maybe not when I’m trying to sleep.”

Magnus closes his eyes in dismay. “I’m—”

“Stop apologizing,” Alec interrupts him. “Been there, done that. Let’s move on. I promise I’ll try to tell you if it gets too much again.”

“Okay. What do you want to do now?”

Alec thinks about it. “I don’t know,” he says honestly. He still feels slow and his head aches, though the worst is passing.

“Can I hold you?” Magnus asks.

Alec opens his mouth to say yes, but he’s not ready yet. He gives Magnus an apologizing look and a tiny shake of his head.

“I think I need to clear my head,” he says slowly. “Just...think. It’s not against you at all, I just need to be in my own mind for a bit.” He needs to center himself. He feels scattered, like he’s been open and exposed to the elements and he needs to just be himself again.

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” Magnus starts to rise.

“No!” Alec stops him. “I’ll go. Walking will help. I’ll be back soon, promise.”

He jumps to his feet, eager to go now that he’s made the decision. He forces himself to check that Magnus doesn’t seem too worried or angry, but Magnus simply nods, looking a little surprised but not overly concerned.

“I’ll be here,” he says simply.

*

When Alec walks back into the loft two hours later, he does it with a measure of apprehension. He feels better, but he’s not sure what to expect.

There is music coming from inside, but it’s different. It’s not a cheesy Christmas song, and not even one of the classical pieces Magnus tried that Alec enjoyed marginally better. It’s something modern but also slow, quiet even though it permeates the entire loft. It’s soothing.

The lights are out. That’s the first thing Alec notices, because everything has been so bright for so long. He thinks for a moment that maybe Magnus went out, went to celebrate with friends who actually enjoy the holiday. He feels a pang on guilt at that – okay, a whole bucket of guilt. He’s been a grinch, and he knows it. But he couldn’t think with all those lights and noises.

The only light on is a fairy light garland that’s magically running in a single thread over all the walls in the loft, casting a soft light without actually being bright. The rooms themselves are plunged in darkness, and Alec toes off his shoes and lets his coat and scarf fall to the floor and he pads over to the living room by feel, relishing the lack of pain assaulting his eyes.

The music is louder in the living room, but not so much that it’s painful. Alec blinks twice as he takes in the sight in front of him.

In the middle of the dark room is Magnus. He’s wearing nothing but a dark leotard, and his skin is lit by swirling strands of while magic, curling around his arms. He’s dancing.

Alec doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath.

Magnus’ face is briefly illuminated by his magic, his eyes closed and a small smile on his face. He hasn’t heard Alec come in. He seems to have banished all the furniture in the room, and he’s spinning on one foot, en pointe in ballet shoes. Small bursts of magic come out of his hands as the song picks up, swirling through the room like a wispy light whip.

Magnus starts moving faster, the ribbons of light following him. Alec knows very little about dance, but even he can tell that Magnus’ style is unique, not solely ballet but also not quite modern dance. Alec almost gasps as he does what he can only describe as a back flip and lands smoothly on his feet, spinning once more.

It’s an incredibly beautiful sight. Alec stands at the door, transfixed, until the song ends and Magnus ends the dance by lowering himself down to the floor, crossing his legs under him. The light around his body dims progressively – no, that’s not it. It seems to sink under his skin, until his whole body looks like it’s glowing. Magnus gracefully runs his hand down his arm, guiding the light inside him until it reaches the tip of his fingers and explodes in a shower of sparkles.

When everything quiets, Alec lets out the breath he’s been holding. It feels like he should applaud, but he’s loath to break the silence. Besides, he doesn’t know if Magnus would take it well, right now.

“Did you enjoy the show?” Magnus whispers, his eyes still closed.

So he did notice Alec come in.

“Magnus, it was incredible,” Alec murmurs, letting the quiet carry his voice.

Magnus opens his eyes and looks at him. They stay still for a moment, the dark room between them, eyes easy to meet in the shadows. “I like the lights and the sounds, but they’re just filling a void,” Magnus says in a soft voice. “I was trying too hard.”

“It’s okay if you need them,” Alec says. “We can find a way to meet in the middle.”

“But I don’t. I wanted to feel warm and safe, but I didn’t realize that I’ve never felt as warm and safe as when I’m with you.”

Alec smiles, the words seeping into him with their own warmth, after the cold of the streets.

“Dancing makes me feel alive,” Magnus continues. “And I’d forgotten that, too.”

“You were beautiful.”

Magnus stands up smoothly and extends a hand. “Do you want to join?”

“I don’t dance,” Alec says.

“Just let go and only look at me. My magic will help you.”

Alec tries to match Magnus’ light steps as he walks toward him. He feels a jolt when they link hands, almost like the first time, over that summoning pentagram. Magnus pulls on his arm and Alec lets go of his control, relinquishing himself to the light touches of magic he can feel over his skin.

The music starts again. Light ribbons swirl over them both as they spin together. Magnus jumps to his pointes and spins around in Alec’s arms, and their height suddenly match. The only light is the magic twirling around their limbs, immaterial and teasing. Magnus grips Alec’s forearm and lifts himself effortlessly off the ground, spinning around Alec’s body until he’s in his arms again, his back arched.

The light dims to almost nothing, sinking into their chest. Their mouths meet.

“Thank you, Alexander,” Magnus murmurs.

Alec kisses him again.

-

I'm working on an illustration of the dance scene but I wanted to post the fic tonight while it's still Christmas!

Maybe it shows that I've been watching Tiny Pretty Things. The show is kinda terrible but I love watching people dance.

Magnus here is technically dancing the part of a woman, which is why I've use the GNC Magnus and Nonbinary Magnus (as he's nonbinary in this series). Pointe shows are also traditionally worn only by women. In my mind, Magnus trained for both roles at different times in his life and he's fine with dancing either part.

[porkbuttsandtaters]

From a very young age I was obsessed with sex. I was like this years before I could even get hard. I have some additional theories that won’t be mentioned here as to why this might be, all based on the same foggy timeline, but I’m not comfortable sharing them. Either way, I was fascinated by the act, but in a completely non-sexual way. In some ways, I still am, and in the same fashion. I probably have an average sex drive, but I still find myself thinking about sex pretty frequently without a bit of arousal. It’s like there’s sex the act, and then sex in the abstract, and I find the latter so much more interesting.

The first time I saw two people fucking was in The Fly, during that scene where Geena Davis is riding Jeff Goldblum’s dick, or pretending to ride it, I’m not sure. I asked my older brother what they were doing and he said “They’re having sex”, and I didn’t ask any more questions. Television softcore was my only experience for the longest time, and it mostly made me uncomfortable. I watched a James Bond film in a hotel room with my older brother and older cousin some time after that, and it was my first experience with locker room talk. I had never heard people who weren’t adults use so many curse words and talk about the things that they talked about that night as I sat there mostly silent. James Bond began to make love to whatever Bond Girl was in that movie and the 13 year old child my uncle had raised said “I don’t know why they edit out all the good parts on TV when they know we just want to see some titties.” I inferred what titties were.

The first time I saw a woman naked was when my divorced dad was cleaning out his apartment, getting ready to move into a house in the suburbs. He was cleaning out under the sink, and pulled out a solved puzzle board featuring a brunette woman with nothing covering her skin but a long illustrious fur coat and a very full 70s bush. The juxtaposition of these two features was what got me. Dad threw it in the trashcan outside, but I kept sneaking out into the light drizzle, opening the lid slightly, and taking another peek at this woman. Suddenly it seemed to me like I had uncovered some animalistic facet of human nature that I had no clue of before. I couldn’t stop looking and I didn’t know why. 

From there, I began to seek out every piece of analog pornography I could get my small hands on. I’d sneak into my mom and stepdad’s room when they were gone and go through his Playboys he had in the closet, and their mail order catalogs full of lingerie and sex toys and graphic demonstrations. I would rent Friday the 13th films on VHS and study the sex scenes that were still softcore but definitely harder than anything on television. When I was at my dad’s house, my brother would often be at his girlfriend’s house, and I would stay down in his room playing on that beige desktop computer he had sitting on the floor. 

I would tiptoe around used condoms he left laying on the floor and open the drawers in his room to find his porno mags. One time, I saw a photoshopped picture of Eminem in one of the magazines, sitting with his legs slightly splayed and a sad, 4 inch erect penis sticking out of him. The caption read “No wonder he’s so angry!”. As far as I was concerned, the editor of this magazine had actually convinced Eminem to ignore any probable insecurities, remove his pants, and show his tiny little cock off to God and everyone. I didn’t want to listen to Eminem as much anymore after this.

The first time I saw internet porn was at a friend’s house, maybe around 2006. We had been playing Pokémon, and he got up and turned on the family desktop and motioned for me to come over. He went on a website called google.com and pulled up a picture of a fit man with an enormous 8 or 9 inch dick having sex with a waifish looking woman. I didn’t understand why my prepubescent dick was so tiny in comparison to this man. I’m not sure if this still bothers me or not. I found out later that, despite him clearing his browser history, his father eventually discovered this habit. His father was a balding Lutheran pastor, so I wondered what the conversation must have been like.

The first time I had a girlfriend was when I was 13. I was at a middle school dance and her friends came to me and told me that she wanted me to be her boyfriend. I had never even seen or heard of this girl before. Nonetheless, I went along with it because it seemed like what I should be doing. Plus, I didn’t want people to think I was gay. We all got off for Christmas break the next week and I managed to call her one time for about 5 minutes. I didn’t want my parents to know I had a girlfriend because it seemed dirty and embarrassing to me, so I went out into the backyard with the cordless phone in 35 degrees Fahrenheit. After that, I forgot that I technically had a girlfriend, and spent the rest of my break on YouTube. She broke up with me on Myspace a couple weeks of silence later and on the charge of emotional neglect, in spite of my last minute appeals that I could do better. Later that night, I cried for some reason.

The first time I actually fucked someone was in college, like most autistic males who do eventually manage to have sex. If you miss that window it’s a no-go usually. I don’t like talking about real exploits in too much detail because it feels like weird macho bullshit. I do wish there was a way I could talk about sex more without having to actually talk about specific people and what we’ve done, though. It was with a friend of my roommate’s. She was sort of cute, but I thought she was sort of off-putting too. She was like a “where’s my hug” type of guy, but was a girl. In general, you can get away with that kind of thing much easier when you’re a girl, but not with me. I’m a genuine touch-me-not. I don’t like to hug anyone I’m not in love with. 

I’m not sure if I even wanted to have sex with this girl, but I went along with it because it seemed like what I should be doing. So we did. It felt good to finally get it over with. Afterwards, I heard through the grapevine that she said something to the effect of “All Joes are hot”, referring to my deadname, and presumably every other Joe she had ever met. I had just watched Goodfellas for the first time a month before having sex for the first time, and these two memories mixed poorly. From then on, whenever I thought back to losing my virginity, I would vividly imagine myself fucking her in her dorm room again, except I was 6 inches shorter, had a suit on, my black dress pants were laying on the floor around my ankles, and I looked and sounded exactly like Joe Pesci. I imagined I was Joe Pesci.

[ladyofpurple]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[fawn-and-fellow]

Journal Entry #11

Prompt: Your siblings

My siblings are very different from me.

We’re all 5-6 years apart.We're half-siblings. My brother and I look the most similar but he definitely looks more like our dad (since I don't share genes with my dad, that makes sense)

My sister is currently in prison. She gets out in February, I believe.  Most of positive memories of her are blurred by her drug use and criminality. I barely remember who she was before then.

When we were younger, she was the typical big sister. Didn’t want anything to do with me. My very existence annoyed her. She pulled “pranks” on me. For instance, one day after school she waited until I peed my pants to open the door to the house. One time she put my head under a couch cushion and sat on it. I remember her forcing me to look at Christmas presents in our parents’ room. She basically blackmailed me. I remember her doing random chores in order to get a few dollars to go out with her friends. I remember her cooking and baking and how it was almost always good. I remember her teaching me how to “dirty dance.” I also remember her yelling at me during the dance lessons because my hips are worthless.

There was this guy she dated in high school named Mark. I really liked Mark. Most of the family did, actually. They did until she became pregnant and the drama unfolded. She decided to get an abortion and during this process my sister found him another girl. I remember how angry my parents were that she was pregnant. My dad still blames himself; he thinks he should have been the one to choose whether or not she got the abortion. To which I told him that it was her body and her choice.

Maybe my sister felt pressured into it. Things changed after that; she snuck out more and lied more and was caught coming in high.

She used to mention how old her child would have been had she kept it.

I’m definitely pro-choice, but like I said, I feel like she was pressured to abort.

Sometimes I wonder how she would have turned out if she kept it.

Would she still be a heavy drug user? Would she have had multiple stints in prison?

My parents believe she would have been the same but with a child that they most likely would have to raise.

My sister is/was a sex worker for drug money.One of the guys she was involved with personally (I don't think he was related to her sex work)(maybe) brutally beat her. He beat her and when the police came he tried to hide her by throwing her into the shower. For some reason, my dad showed me the shirt she was wearing and it had blood splattered all over it. I cried. My sister didn't deserve that. No one deserves that.

If you asked me why she's currently in prison, I couldn't tell you. I forgot; either a coping mechanism or just can't keep track since there's been so many.

During one of her prison sentences she was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. I don't know the specifics of it. I don't know if she's always had it or maybe it's a result of her drug use and trauma. Or maybe her drug use is a result of her mental illness and trauma. I don't know enough about it. I'll probably research it after I post this. [I looked it up; apparently people with manic bipolar disorder tend to make riskier choices and there is a high percentage of diagnosed mbd people who also suffer from drug abuse, which could be from the risky behavior thing or a coping mechanism]

My sister isn't all bad (to be clear, having a mental illness doesn’t make you bad. Duh). She's funny, goofy, pretty, determined, musical, a hard worker (when she wants to be), she can be caring and considerate, and I believe her #1 goal in life is to be a mother. Unfortunately, she was told a few years ago that she will have a hard time conceiving and carrying a baby to term. I don't know if the doctor actually told her this, but she claims it's because of the abortion she had when she was 16. I don't know. Could the abortion provider have batched her abortion on purpose? Is her infertility due to possible STIs? I don't know. Does she believe that infertility is her punishment for aborting when she didn’t want to? I may never know. She's had a hard life. Some of it was due to her own choices and some due to choices made for her as a result of the environment we grew up in.

My brother is a different story.

He's the baby of the family and definitely took advantage of it and still does.

When he was a toddler he put me through hell. He would chase me and friends with kitchen knives or throw plastic bowling pins at us. If he didn't get his way he would let out an ear piercing shriek, which would always result in my grandma yelling at me because I was "taunting" him. He got really mad at me once and bit my poor developing tiddy through my shirt. As you can probably guess, it bled and hurt a lot. I still have a scar.. somewhere around here... He also threw a metal salt shaker at my face and gave me my first and only black eye.

Other memories of my brother include him running through the house naked after a bath and slipping and sliding butt-ass naked through pickle juice (which I had just spilled on accident) and promptly being sent back to the bath.

A different time, he was in his room playing after a bath. He was playing with one of those toy cars that wind up when you rev it backwards. Well, somehow, he thought it was a good idea to let that car run over his little baby penis and it got caught. Most of the family was in the living room and he came running in screaming naked with the car stuck to him. Everyone's first reaction was to laugh and soon after our group chuckle, my mom and dad helped get his wee lad out of the car.

My brother was/is ridiculous and funny and frustrating. We fought a lot when we were younger and I probably should have been nicer to him at times.

He's currently in high school. He's in ROTC. He's looking at colleges. He's involved in sports and clubs and other hobbies.

He's awkward as fuck. He is probably somewhere on the spectrum and people get frustrated with him or they feel uncomfortable around him.

Thankfully, time apart and my own personal growth has helped me be more patient with him.

He's definitely more reserved than he used to be, which could be a combo of maturing and performing masculinity (not showing emotions) (he doesn't like hugs)(the hug thing could be an autistic thing)

Before I worked in higher education, he didn't consider going to college. Now he does. I know I'm not the only factor in that change but I want to believe I am a little bit.

He and my sister both had/have trouble with school. If he goes to college, it will be slightly harder for him than others. He's been tested for learning disabilities but nothing has showed up.

I'm excited to see how his life goes. I think we're both determined not to be in the same predicament our sister is in.

[mikeyd1986]

MIKEY’S PERSONAL BLOG 137, January 2019

I’ve spent the last few days reflecting on 2018 and everything that I’ve achieved this year.  

2018 has been one of the most challenging years of my life. It's been both progressive and regressive as far as my goals are concerned. I've started to embrace what it's like to be an "Aspie" or a High Functioning Autistic person, joining in several groups and social functions by Aspergers Victoria. I successfully become a participant with the NDIS and have began using my funding for services with Mentis Assist and Everyday Independence.

My fitness goals took a tumble especially in the second half of this year. It was to be expected following the change of my antidepressant medication with shifts in mood, motivation, poor sleep, high anxiety and stress levels. But this is something I am determined to work on for 2019. I want to lose weight again and maintain some healthy lifestyle habits.

I think this year I've become much more honest at times. I'm still a very sensitive person and yet I know when to cut the cord and not take any bullshit from others. I've burned a few bridges that ended up being blessings in disguise. I've learned a lot of things about self-care, forgiveness and where I should be focusing my attention. To challenge my negative thinking more and to realise that I’m stronger than I think sometimes, especially in stressful situations.

Local gigs took a back seat but my support for independent bands has never been stronger. I continue to promote and support them in my spare time. In particular, Windwaker, Reside, Ebonivory, Driven To The Verge, RESIST THE THOUGHT, Tapestry, Ocean Sleeper, Stuck Out, ÂME NOIRE, Hollow World, Greyview, Spectral Fires. Hopefully in 2019, attending local gigs will be a bigger priority for me again.

To say that 2018 was a rough year would be an understatement but I've certainty grown as a person and achieved many goals including taking on my very first civil claims case at VCAT, participating in the Men of Doveton program, beginning small group fitness classes at CinFull Fitness, attending yoga classes at Level Up Yoga, writing reviews for Behind The Scene, applying for the Disability Support Pension at Centrelink, seeing a psychiatrist for the first time (Dr. Ricardo Peralta from OPTIMIND at Nepean Specialist Group).

I used to get myself so worked up and depressed over the thought of being alone (All by myself, don't wanna be, all by myself anymore) on New Year's Eve. Or even worried that I wouldn't have any plans and have nobody invite me to their gatherings or parties. Now as a thirty-something year old, I simply don't give a shit that I don't have concrete plans for NYE straight after Christmas. I go with the flow and if a worthy opportunity comes along, then I'll take it.

Which is exactly what I did when Rhiannon Razzie Vergoz invited me out to a small intimate social gathering at her place. It was a last minute thing and I didn’t have any other plans so I figured why not. I guess I did have some concerns about whether I would click socially and get along with her friends but I feel like 2019 will be more about taking more chances in life.

I had to catch a train from Belgrave station to Camberwell station. It was then I realise that there was no services stopping at Auburn station and so I decided to walk it to Rhiannon’s place from there. My reusable bag filled with drinks, my Stephen King novel, antidepressants , a phone charger, glasses case, plastic wine flute and a jumper was heavy as but the walk through Camberwell Junction and along Riversdale Road made it worth the effort.

The houses were mostly 1920’s double brick English-styled cottages with weatherboard facades and lead-light windows. The streets were lined with towering oak trees. Once I found  Rhiannon’s unit, I was greeted by their black cat named Maddy. The social awkwardness was already kicking in as I stood inside the kitchen while my friend was busy baking some spring rolls and cutting up a milo-chocolate brownie slice that she prepared earlier. Eventually I did go outside and introduced myself to Rhiannon’s friends and housemates.

This was a group of friends that I normally wouldn’t associate myself with being somebody who is quiet, shy, introverted, Gay and Autistic. Plus most of the humour was “blacker” than I’m used to, to the point where my mind questioned whether we should be laughing at those things.  And yet I was willing to go with the flow. We spent the night playing Mario Kart on the Nintendo Switch, playing several rounds of Cards Against Humanity, chilling outside in the back patio area, eating loads of junk food and consuming lots of alcohol. There was also many weird and disturbing conversations had, nudie runs out on the street and the loud off-key singing of Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody and Cher’s If I Could Turn Back Time.

We briefly gathered outside the front of the street to celebrate the New Year and overheard the fireworks going off from the city. I passed out shortly after midnight as my body and mind were both clearly exhausted. I desperately wanted to fall sleep. I found a double bed inside the bedroom at the end of the hallway and swiftly collapsed into it. My thoughts did turn dark for a moment, wondering if the crew would notice that I’d gone missing or if my disappearance had gone unnoticed.

Thankfully they did and I was found very much mentally conscious but physically passed out. I was in some weird sleep paralysis like state where my body just didn’t want to move an inch and yet I was fine with that. Shortly after, Ben was sleeping beside me and I did my best not to move too much or disturb him from sleeping. But of course having sleeping problems of my own makes that almost impossible and I ended up tossing and turning anyway once the affects of the alcohol wore off.

Speaking up in a group filled with loud, wild extroverts proved far too difficult for me tonight. I also feel like I am capable of having decent conversations but it takes me a long time to finally open up and be comfortable enough with the people I’m around to do that. I think it’s hard blending in with ANY social group so I deserve credit for giving it a crack especially when I was meeting most of these people for the first time tonight. I could have snuck out during the night but I didn’t.

On New Years Day, I got myself out of bed around 9.30am, hearing birds chirping and a light breeze rustling the leaves outside the window. I was feeling slightly hungover and very groggy. I drank about 5 beers, a Jaggerbomb, a glass of champagne and 2-3 glasses of pink mascato. Everyone else was clearly feeling worse than me. Rhiannon and Ben cooked us up a lovely breakfast including rashers of bacon, hash browns, grilled tomatoes, mushrooms and toast. Talk about a great hangover cure!

We spent the morning flicking channels randomly from the CBS Today Show (featuring some painfully awful live performances of Hailee Steinfeld with backing dancers dressed up in raincoats) to the Morning Show Summer Series (featuring a highly disturbing segment with Larry Emdur trying to body roll with a group of male strippers at Sexpo) and a couple of episodes of Bondi Rescue (featuring dumb backpackers naturally!).

It certainly wasn’t a boring New Year’s that’s for sure and I was very grateful to be included within this small group of people. Did I feel uncomfortable and out of my comfort zone at times? YES! Am I glad that I spent NYE with friends rather than home alone though? YES! Sometimes risks are worth taking even if you don’t end with the desired outcomes. It was still an enjoyable adventure overall and I’m glad I went.

On Thursday morning, I decided to go for a walk around at Wilson Botanic Park Berwick. Unfortunately, it ended up being a brief stroll as my counsellor Ruth changed my appointment to an earlier time at the last minute. But instead of fretting and getting annoyed, I tried my hardest to appreciate the time I did have before 12 o’clock. I chose to walk around the lakeside track which passes by the Amphitheater and the lily pond near the entrance to the park. https://www.casey.vic.gov.au/facilities-hire/wilson-botanic-park-berwick

I only had about half an hour but it was a nice way to pass the time before my counselling session. Hopefully next week I’ll be able to plan things a bit better and have more time to spend exploring the other walking tracks and make a day of it. Plus the weather was heating up. Extreme heat always seems to have adverse effects on my ability to concentrate and function so I try not to stay outside too long when it’s 30 to 35 degrees or over. I also try to keep myself hydrated and wear a hat especially when I’m fully exposed to the sun. https://www.betterhealth.vic.gov.au/heat

On Thursday night, I did a Body Pump class with Sarah at YMCA Casey RACE in Cranbourne East. Despite how warm it was outside, I still managed to motivate myself to come down to the gym tonight as I’d rather deal with mid-20’s than the scorching 42 degrees tomorrow. Sarah put us through release number 106 which features tracks including I Am Here by Pink, Tell Me You Love Me by Galantis & Throttle, Coco’s Miracle by Fedde Le Grand & Dannic vs. Coco Star and Revenge by Pink & Eminem. https://www.siphilp.com/bodypump-106-music-track-listing.aspx

It was a very challenging workout particularly the painfully brutal lunge track with far too many lunge pulses and no breaks. And it’s not wonder as most people would be feeling the same way post-New Year’s Eve. Sore and unfit. I wisely selected and use mostly lighter weights for that reason as I didn’t want to burn out too quickly. But at least Sarah made it entertaining and highlighted her own struggles with getting back into routine again. https://www.lesmills.com.au/bodypump

“Oh, I think I've landed. Where there are miracles at work. For the thirst and for the hunger. Come the conference of birds. And say it's true. It's not what it seems. Leave your broken windows open. And in the light just streams. And you get a head. A head full of dreams. You can see the change you want to. Be what you want to be.” Coldplay - A Head Full of Dreams (2016)

“And you can say what is, or fight for it. Close your mind and take a risk. You can "it's mine" and clench your fist. Or see each other as a gift. We're gonna get it, get it together I know. Gonna get it, get it together and flow. Gonna get it, get it together and go. Up and up. Fixing up a car to drive in it again. When you're in pain. When you think you've had enough. Don't ever give up.” Coldplay - Up&Up (2016)