#i am such a failure i failed a class i failed recovery i suck at having an eating disorder i am going back to treatment and i

[whsprings]

.

[arcticdementor]

Some liberal goof asserted that Ron DeSantis resided somewhere on the Asperger’s Spectrum in a recent tweet that I can’t dig up with just a cursory search, but said pinko tweeted that like it was a bad thing. It’s not. It’s a great thing, and we need more GOP pols with that condition’s political manifestation. People with Asperger’s tend to miss social cues and fail to respond as society expects, but many are also focused, driven, and generally amazing in their areas of interest. When you put those qualities together in a right-wing officeholder, that means you have a Conservative Terminator. Conservativing is what he does; it’s all he does.

So, bring on the Asperger’s Republicans.

Far too many Republicans, for far too long, have found themselves distracted and/or enslaved by the elite consensus, restrained by norms and conventions that the liberal elite demands we observe, but that it itself flaunts when those rules limit its options. These Fredocons care what people who care nothing about them think, and they find themselves responding to the outside stimuli of the garbage mainstream media instead of focusing intently on conservative change while disregarding the slings and arrows of the haters. When it comes to fighting the establishment, political Asperger’s is indicative of awesomeness.

And our next generation of Republicans needs to embrace their place on the Spectrum – the more inappropriate the liberal elite finds their reactions to its cues and signals, the better. No more tame, pliable sissies like Mitt (R-ish – Miracle Whip). No more of Nikki! Haley’s sucking up to the establishment while trying to grift the base by leveraging hack conserva-cliché’s from 2005 to present to us as hardcore instead of Jeb! in a dress. No more Kristi!s and Asa!s fronting as all tuff about men pretending to be girls to win races then folding the second the establishment disapproves. Instead, we need GOP politicians who are utterly immune to the siren song of a media and an establishment that seek to draw them in and crash them upon the rocks. Our pols need to ignore MSNBCNN and its hysterical horsehockey. They need to stop reading the NYT and WaPo and being scared that a bad write-up will get them uninvited to all the cool parties. They need to lock onto their target and take it out like an Israeli missile flattens a Hamas/AP frat house.  

Look at Ron DeSantis – he just doesn't care what the bad guys say. Not at all. They scream that he won’t enforce face-diapering, that he’s too hard on election fraud, that’s he’s declared open season on those Antifa/BLM nimrods who trap normal citizens in their cars on public roads, and then DeSantis just goes ahead and does what he wants anyway. And it works – he’s super popular.

This was not Donald Trump’s style – Trump would engage the haters, if only to sock them in the gut, often with his apocryphal mean tweets. But not Ron the Conqueror. No, DeSantis’s accomplishments are his mean tweets.

See, the liberal elite always misunderstood the nature of Donald Trump, and the elite failed to appreciate the popularity of his ideas. In dealing the pain, Trump was the right man at the right time – we needed his punch-back then to show the simps we could counter-attack. But that strategy had a cost. The elite gleefully exploited Trump’s colorful antics, and it leveraged his feistiness into a weapon to energize the pinkos while alienating the softcons from fully supporting the most conservative president since Reagan. They focused on attacking Trump in terms of social class and style instead of in terms of substance. They couldn’t, and it’s only now that many people are noticing just how amazing Trump’s accomplishments were in contrast to President *’s unending series of failures.

The elite finds itself at a grave disadvantage when it comes up against a pol it can’t provoke into fighting on the elite’s preferred ground, the favorable terrain of social class and style within a culture the elite controls. An Asperger’s Republican has a relentless focus on conservative achievement, of doing what he/she wants done, and he/she is not distracted by the disapproval of the media or even his/her peers. An Asperger’s Republican simply does conservative things, heedless of liberal howling and calumny, and then the liberals are stuck having to battle on the hostile terrain of actual achievements. What is someone going to say to DeSantis as Florida leads the recovery out of the pandemic paranoia? “Sure, there was no tsunami of death when you took the lead in eschewing flu hajibs, but you still should have made people wrap a hanky around their mugs forever because of reasons?”

There’s a lesson there for Republican pols – and all of us.

Stop giving a damn what people who hate you think and say, and just do what you promised to do. Don’t ask permission – and don’t ask forgiveness either. Get it done.

This is where I must join the Spectrum Caucus because there are going to be some folks who pretend to be highly offended, outraged, and literally shaking over my analogy to Asperger’s and “The Spectrum.” To them, I say this: I don’t care if you’re offended. I am going to do and say whatever I want, all the time, in whatever manner I feel like doing and saying it, and you are going to sit there and cry. Buzz off.

We need more people saying things like that, especially among our politicians.

[thepaininurneck]

so not to literally get on my Tumblr for no reason and vent some but I saw a TikTok today talking about how Tumblr affected them/treated their eating disorder so I wanted to add my two cents for any of you remaining pro-anas or whatever you’re fucking calling yourselves now that tumblr banned your stupid tag or whatever, I haven’t checked since I was 14 and I won’t be changin that.

I started restricting my eating when I was 14. I’ve never been as bad about it as some people and I quickly learned to avoid pro-ana content ( to the point of avoiding Tumblr entirely for a while ), but I still avoided food where I could and it caused a lot of fights with my parents. But I’ve always been a small kid, so when I stopped putting on weight, it wasn’t obvious. The only time anyone would notice something was when I was trying to eat a meal around them.

I wasn’t active, either. I was homeschooled and, after moving twice, I wasn’t in any sports or groups ( like Girl Scouts or whatever ), so I could stay home and do nothing. I didn’t need energy - I just stayed in bed all day and ate when I was forced to. I stayed at around 90 pounds from ages 14-16, with no changes to my lifestyle until early 2019. I think I was 5’5 when I started restricting my food, and I’m currently 5’8 and a big bag of bones.

The first thing I want to say is this: it’s not pretty. My body is boney and angular in a way that’s reminiscent of horror, you can count every rib and every plate of my spine with your eyes. I can stick a finger under my collarbone, and if I suck in a little, I can get my hand under my hipbones. I feel ugly and like I can’t be graceful: I wear baggy clothes constantly and if I wear revealing clothes they can’t show my arms, or my back, or I feel gross. My legs were a huge insecurity for me for years too, and up until I made some huge changes recently, I had a fairly big thigh gap and my knees were as bony as the rest of me. It’s not pretty. There is nothing gorgeous or attractive about being this underweight, and not only does it make me despise my physical appearance more, the effects it has on my health are bad too.

I had blood work done in November 2019 that showed I have low iron, b12, and d. I am constantly tired in a way that makes my bones ache, and I get dizzy and have to sit down a lot just from walking or leaning over a little bit. I feel sick, physically, and on bad days even my teeth ache. I’m always insatiably hungry but I can’t stomach much food and only certain textures are okay for me now. Thankfully I never started calorie counting, but portioning was an issue for me and I’m trying to use that to my advantage. It’s hard. I always feel like I can’t sleep enough, I get sick quickly if I do too much physical activity for too long, if I eat too much, if I think about food too much.....etc.

I started doing aerial silks in July 2019 thanks to a video Markiplier had posted a while prior. At first it went great - my first few lessons made me so sore I couldn’t notice what else was going on. It was doing these once weekly, one-hour lessons where I was spending at most 20 minutes on the apparatus that was making me faint and dizzy and sick and horribly tired in a way that felt wrong. I also developed lactose intolerance during this time, something that showed up completely randomly, but for all I know it could be because of how I was restricting myself. But that’s why I went and got the blood work, and a few months later in March 2020, I started really trying to gain weight again.

Let me tell you - I am miserable. I have been working since March to correct my eating habits and to gain weight and the last time I checked, I had gotten up to 107.5. I can, in a good mood, eat a plate of certain foods. Sometimes I’ll even manage three meals a day, an on really good days I can do a little extra. None of this feels like enough and I feel worthless because of it. In my class I am the tallest and the thinnest, and because of my awkwardly bony joints and thin upper body, I lack grace and beauty and look like a Halloween skeleton on a pole. I feel miserable, and cramps, and tired, and I often make myself sick pushing myself to try and be just a little prettier on the silks or to just try that drop one more time. Three days ago, I puked after a rough session at Open Aerial. I’ve spent the days since sleeping and can remember eating two meals max. Writing this down, my head hurts and I’ve forced down some food, but I’m tired of seeing posts in fucking 2020 glorifying eating disorders in any way - even seeing jokes, or comments made about not eating dinner, make my stomach clench and it reminds me of the four years I’ve wasted because of this shit. I can’t do what I love like this - aerial is too physically demanding for what I’m capable of, and what about long term? What about my girlfriend, my aspirations? They’re all incredibly out of reach because of this. Because I can’t stomach a full meal and if someone’s mean to me I won’t eat for three days.

My eating disorder has not been diagnosed professionally. I have considered seeking hospitalization but mine has never been life threatening. I have gone days without food, I’ve watched my portions and I’m miserable now. I feel disgusting and my body can’t hold its own heat. But there’s a million people who are worse than I am, and there’s a few that have lost their lives because of it. And for all all of us - recovering or not - seeing this shit glorified on social media is a slap to the face. It’s a disappointment to see the community even still exists, and a failure on the part of whoever owns Tumblr to not outright fucking ban it ( like it should’ve been in the beginning, before a whole generation of small teens found it.) and I hope that by explaining that I feel like my body is failing, my mental health has never been worse, and even my fucking teeth are suffering, I can get through to at least one idiot on this website and get it through their head that you will not be beautiful if you stop eating or even restrict yourself in a significant manner. You aren’t guaranteed to drop any fat, fat that you need on your body - it’ll stay. Your teeth will fall out, you’ll be fainting daily, but all that weight you’re trying to drop? It’ll stay. Depriving yourself and ruining yourself is not going to make you pretty.

I can continue on, I think. I’m really upset and I don’t think any of this stupidly long ramble makes sense, but here’s my last words for anyone considering doing this shit. Imagine the ugliest, worst version of yourself. Now amplify it - that’s how you’ll feel. You’ll feel nothing short of worthless.

And for anyone reading this in recovery, or having made it past that, I’m proud of you. It’s so hard to force myself to eat even one plate a day, much less trying to keep up with the exercise I force myself through, and the mental hoops you have to jump through to get past this mentality. It takes a lot of strength and resolve that I’m just now realizing is a learned skill. I hope you continue down the path of recovery and health and happiness.

[awbrainno]

i.

It rankles. It itches, burns, rubs up against my PTSD and my contrary nature. It’s infuriating, sure; it pisses me off, just like almost everything does. But it’s more than just infuriating: it’s terrifying.

I am not self-sufficient. I am not an island. I am not self-reliant, and I never will be.

My entire existence relies on my ability to suck up to those who may deign to help me. Doctors, teachers, supervisors, coworkers – I am at their mercy. It’s more than just being nice or being respectful. My survival depends on being exactly the right kind of dancing monkey, entertaining and non-threatening and properly cowed, properly humbled in the presence of my betters.

Sometimes, a nurse once told me, we have to eat crow. I was trying to self-advocate, to explain, to ask why the doctor hadn’t done as she’d promised. Sometimes we have to eat crow, the nurse scolded me. Be more properly grateful, more acceptably humble. Your doctor doesn’t have to help you, you know. You should show her some respect.

People with access to resources and knowledge I desperately need dangle them just out of my reach. “Maybe,” they sneer, “you should ask nicely.” I do not correct the police as they misgender me because I want to leave here unharmed. I do not speak up when my coworkers and bosses refuse to learn my pronouns, my title, do not speak up when they glare and sneer and demean the junkie trash, the whores, the psychos. I am admonished, given a warning – my email greetings are not respectful enough. I must treat lightly if I want the powers that be at my job to continue to deign to assist me.

I am helpless. My shoulder dislocated, I smile placidly at the cop who cuffed me. My gender a dull, constant ache deep in my soul, I write out polite, charming personalized greetings to my superiors. My brain broken and constantly in recovery, I quietly turn away, pretending not to hear coworkers laughing at psychos.

There is no place I belong. There is no safe space. I bow and scrape and beg, desperate for any scrap of kindness, desperate for access into a wider world. I bring my service dog, but we are turned away.

My world is shrinking. I wish I were shrinking to match.

ii.

This is how we burn out. This is how burnout propagates, reproduces, becomes a raging wildfire of despair, of anger, of hurt. This is how we burn out.

We begin by wanting to help – its so simple, so unassuming, so naïve. We begin by wanting to help, to do a good job. We begin this way and are greeted warmly and told to reach out for help, reach out for support, to reach out because we are a team, and no one can do this alone. This is how we begin. We begin by reaching out, by asking questions, by requesting help. We have high hopes, at the beginning.

It begins the first time help is not forthcoming. There will be no explanation, though there may be an admonishment, a scolding; yes, they will say, reach out, but do so in exactly this way, exactly this tone; be humble and be respectful and be constantly aware that you are nothing. You are needy and you are no one, so show some g-ddamn respect.

It begins when the humble, needy begging, the carefully cultivated persona, kneeling at the feet of those in power, is not enough. No one responds, no one reciprocates, no one deems us worthy of their time. It begins when we realize we are nothing in their eyes, and no amount of placating them will ever render us worthy.

We begin to burn, tired of begging and scraping and kneeling. We give up hope, exchange optimism for harsh realities, for learned helplessness, for frustration, for rage. We burn, our efforts pointless and no end in sight. We burn out like this, like pile-on principle, like a lifetime of failures and pointless endeavors.

We burn out, ultimately, alone. We burn out resigned. We burn out in pieces, until nothing of us remains. We burn down to ashes. We burn, and we burn, and still we keep throwing our broken bodies into the fire. We burn because we have no choice, no options, no hope.

This is how we burn out.

iii.

Burnout is a strange concept for me. I’m… not sure what it means, really. We talk about it in classrooms

make sure you take care of yourself, you don’t want to burn out

but never really define it. Come to think of it, we don’t really define the other part, either: “take care of yourself.” What does that mean?

she’s going to have to get over herself if she wants to like, exist in the real world…

We talk, in my social work classrooms, about self-care and burnout. We talk about self-care as if it is a flame-retardant suit, or some kind of magical fireproof sunscreen: apply enough self-care every day to ensure you don’t burn to ash.

I’ve seen things you can’t even imagine, working in this field

But try to define self-care and you get the same responses, over and over, repeated verbatim from abled mouths and neurotypical minds: take a long walk. Get enough exercise. Use a fancy lotion. Relax, journal, sing, talk with friends, put your burden down and walk away from it. Care for yourself – simple. 

so… it’s a therapy dog? For your clients?

We talk about burnout in terms of The Work – always capital letters, always job-related but separate from the job. We are social workers, getting jobs and doing work so that we can do The Work. This phrase, this mantra, this all-important Sisyphean task set before us is, predictably, never defined. We are social workers; we do The Work.

don’t you have class this morning? Why are you still in bed?

I am not in school any longer. I am a social worker, employed, working, doing (I think) The Work. Still, I think about these things, these concepts that dominated my education. These big ideas, undefined, nebulous, all-important and impossible to understand. I wonder if it is only my broken brain, making things more difficult for me as usual. Self-care. Burnout. The Work. 

it’s important to have a good work-life balance so you don’t burn out

Some days, my self-care looks almost neurotypical. Some days I take a bath, or eat a chocolate, or pet my dog, and I feel… better, I think. It’s hard to tell. I’m not neurotypical, and I’m not able-bodied, and I’m never going to achieve that level of “healthy.” Self-care can’t get me there, but I can feel… better. Other days, my self-care is less like a suit of fire-proof armor and more like burn cream, trying to undo the damage already done by all the ways I’m already burning out in my day-to-day life, trying to patch me up so I can go to work and do The Work.

social work isn’t for everyone: we have to ask ourselves, really ask ourselves, if we’re suited for The Work

Some days I’m more burn than person, more ash than human, more smoke than breath. Some days I think I’ve failed, I’ve burned, I’m finished. Somehow, I keep going anyway. What choice do I have?

watch out for each other – the last thing we want is for anyone to burn out

What choice do I have?

[squirrelly831]

Fainting [Seokjin, Yoongi, Hoseok, and Namjoon]

Warning: Namjoon’s reaction has to do with a panic disorder, so read at your own risk.

Enjoy~

Seokjin

May was a web comic artist and she was known to pull all nighters. Due to that, her boyfriend, Seokjin, would make it a priority to check on her at her apartment especially on days that she didn’t answer his phone calls or text. Sure, call him overbearing, but he knew how May got when it came to her work. She’d work herself to death if she was left alone too long.

So, when he found out that they had an early day, he was excited. He knew May was in a crunch as her deadline for her weekly post was nearing which meant to him that his girlfriend wasn’t taking care of herself. He sent her a text to let her know that he was going to stop by that night and make dinner, but his text went unread.

That night, Seokjin entered her dark apartment, “May?” He called out as he took off his shoes and headed to the living room. When he flipped the switch he was greeted with horror. “MAY!” He dropped the groceries without a care when he heard the eggs break as he rushed to his girlfriend’s side. May was twisted in pain. Her eyes didn’t open when he grabbed a hold of her burning flesh. He felt her forehead and cheek, “You have a fever…” He whispered. He picked her up and took her to bed before he went scavenging for medicines and a wash cloth.

After he cleaned up the groceries he dropped, he gave Namjoon a call and explained the situation as well as to let him know he would not be returning home that night. Seokjin made a quick stop to the convenient store and got some soup ingredients before he returned to May’s place.

Seokjin finished the soup and brought it to May’s room just as she was sitting up. May sought out her glasses when Seokjin rushed to her side, put the soup down on the night stand, and handed her the glasses.

She put them on and looked up at Seokjin, “Jin? Why are you here?” She glanced around the room. “Why am I in bed?” Her eyes widened, “Shit the comic!”

Before she could get out of bed, Seokjin’s shot out and pushed her on the bed, “You’re not leaving this bed.”

“Seokjin.”

“No, don’t Seokjin me. You were unconscious in the middle of the living room” he snapped. May opened her mouth to say something, but she quickly shut it and bit her lip. “You promised you’d take care of yourself. Instead you were overworking yourself even though you have a cold.”

“I’m sorry… I was going to deal with the cold after I finished my panels.”

Seokjin wanted to be mad, but the sad regretful face his girlfriend made was impossible to stay mad at. He took a seat on the edge of her bed, “Good. Now, you need to eat.”

Once May recovered, Seokjin took her out to celebrate her recovery and for hitting 100,000 likes on her latest chapter.

When her food was placed in front of her, Seokjin snatched it. She gave him an exasperated look, “What the heck?”

He grabbed his chopsticks and picked up some of her food, “Say ah~”

“Jin, I’m not a baby” she complained. He held the food there for a moment and May leaned forward to eat it.

However, he pulled it back and ate it with a satisfied look, “Too slow, jagiya~”

She rolled her eyes and grabbed her food, “You’re so lame…”

“No wait, I want to feed you once. I promise I won’t take it again.”

She grabbed her chopsticks and shook her head, “Nope. Too late.”

Yoongi

Amanda always told her best friend and boyfriend, Yoongi, to rest and not to overwork. She didn’t understand the life of an idol as she was just a normal college going girl, but she did know when Yoongi was neglecting his health. Though they dated, sometimes she had a habit of acting like an over bearing mother and not a girlfriend.

However, though Amanda was always on his case, no one was on her for the same neglect. As a college student, she had her own stress to deal with. One being the horrid final exams. Most of them weren’t bad, except her one chemistry exam. She wasn’t even a science major, but it was a basic requirement. Unlike other basic requirement course professors, this one was serious about her class. So much so that the final was 60% of the overall grade. Amanda struggled with barely scraping by with a 75 in the class. Failure was not an option.

Her neglect started slowly, missing one meal or scraping off a couple of hours of sleep, but as the exam steadily approached Amanda pulled more all nighters or ate a small snack through the day. Her head buried in a book and Yoongi would have never expected what she was doing. He had decided to leave her be until after finals season as he knew she wouldn’t so much as glance at her phone.

The day of the exam, Amanda’s nerves were haywire. She was surviving on coffee and an energy snack. Her eyes developed large bags under them that makeup couldn’t hide. Her hair was unkempt and thrown into a ponytail. When she finished her exam she stood and a wave of dizziness hit her. In her head, she reminded herself that she’d get sleep when she got home. She unsteadily made her way down the stairs as the steps blurred and refocused.

Her professor looked up at her, “Are you okay?”

Amanda’s head felt hazy. She saw her professor speak, but couldn’t make out the word. Her eyes rolled as she collapsed in front of the desk. She didn’t hear the gasps of the other test takers or when her professor grabbed her phone to call an ambulance.

Malnourished. That was all the doctor had to say to Amanda when she woke up with an IV attached to her arm. The doctor insisted on keeping her overnight much to her disappointment.

So there she was in the hospital bed as she waited for the nurse to bring her nasty hospital food. Her mind wondered to her exam. Had she been able to turn it in? Her trail of thought was interrupted when her door swung open and her boyfriend ran in out of breath and looked frantic. “Yoongi” she breathlessly called out. “What are you doing here? I thought you had a photoshoot.”

Yoongi shot her a look “I’m your emergency contact, stupid. I ran here when I heard you fainted. Exhaustion, fatigue, dehydration! Are you mental?”

Amanda looked down with guilt riddled on her face. The last thing she wanted was to worry Yoongi who had his work to worry about. “I was just trying to make sure I didn’t fail my class…”

He pulled up a chair to the side of the hospital and sat down with a relieved look. He took her hand and held on to it tightly. Amanda could feel how shaky his hand was. “I know you always worry about me when I overwork and I never took it seriously. However, when I got the call you fainted because of exhaustion. My heart stopped. We need to take better care of ourselves, okay Jagiya?” She nodded and he leaned forward to kiss her forehead. He wasn’t going to let her go through exam seasons alone ever again. He made a promise to himself that he’d make time to stop by her place to pull her from her studies.

Hoseok

Hoseok was at the practice room with his best friend and crush, Mariah, who agreed to help with with his new choreography. She was a dancer just as he was which was how they met. He went to her dance studio and took some classes and the next thing he knew, they were always together.

Mariah was dressed in a turtleneck shirt and jeans as the winter weather was insane. She regretted not bringing a change of clothes that she would be comfortable to dance in. The heat of their bodies was suffocating. She grabbed the top of her turtleneck and fanned her face with it. She sucked down her water and jumped up, “Alright” she clapped, “Break over.”

Hoseok groaned as he stood, “How many more times until we call it a break?”

Mariah placed her fingers under her chin, “Let’s stop once we can get to the first chorus perfectly. Remember, even if we mess up, we will go through the whole song before we redo it.” Mariah looked in the mirror to catch Hoseok’s nod. She hit the play button and got into position before they started dancing.

After the third time, Mariah felt dizzy. She crouched for a bit to try to refocus. She felt like she was on fire. She took a deep breath, “Alright, one more time.”

Hoseok noticed her ill expression, “Are you sure? You don’t look good.”

Mariah waved it off, “I’m just sore.” She played the song once more and got prepared to dance.

“Mariah, hey! Mariah!” She woke to the feeling of a cold water bottle pressed to her face. She slowly opened her eyes and noticed her upper body was supported by Hoseok’s body. “Can you stand?” She nodded and he helped her on her feet only for her knees to buck. He caught her before she fell and he picked her up, “I called a taxi, I’ll take you to the hospital.

Once at the hospital it was determined due to the excess heat and the tight turtleneck shirt, Mariah had overheated and fainted. When the doctor left, Hoseok broke down.

He held her hand as guilt overtook him, “I should have paid more attention you how you were feeling. I’m sorry.” He wouldn’t listen to anything Mariah had to say about the blame. He would accept it was his fault.

Namjoon

He thought he knew his best friend, Jessica, like the back of his hand. However, there was one thing she never told a soul. She had a panic disorder. She didn’t find the need to tell anyone about it as she was on medicine that kept her calm.

Though the meds helped most of the time, they didn’t help one day after she got into a heated phone argument with her parents. She was tired of being disrespected and treated like a child by her verbally abusive parents. She was tired of being pushed around by them. She did everything for them, sent them money though she was struggling with her own bills of tuition, took care of her siblings even though her mother was a stay at home, and ran their errands. However, Jessica reached her boiling point and she snapped.

Namjoon had entered her apartment without announcing himself when he heard her screaming. He ran into the apartment to see her phone shattered on the other side of the living room and Jessica hyperventilating. Namjoon rushed to her side to calm her, but she sobbed harder and gasped for air as she choked on her sobs. Her hand flew to her chest as her legs became jelly. Her attack lasted long enough that Namjoon called her doctor to rush over. However, as she stopped crying, she still gasped for air before she ultimately fainted which only made Namjoon panic.

Jessica’s doctor rushed to her apartment when Namjoon called her. She explained her fainting was caused by the lack of oxygen to her brain due to her hyperventilation. She wrote out a prescription for Namjoon to pick up for Jessica and after he went to get the medicine he went to her bathroom to get her small glass. As he was in her bathroom, he noticed a prescription pill bottle with Jessica’s name etched on it. As Jessica slept, he looked up the medicine only to discover it was an antidepressant and was used for panic disorders.

He was upset that she never told him she was suffering. He reached for her hand and stared at her unconscious figure. He wouldn’t confront her about it and wait for her to open up about the series of events, but he would look into how to prevent and stop a panic attack. He refused to let his best friend suffer alone.

Part II

Credit to gif owners

Written & revamped by Squirrelly831

♕ REQUEST

☮ BTS MASTERLIST

∞ ULTIMATE MASTERLIST

[aconstantstateofbladerunner]

I am a different anon but uhhh,, more headcanons about Izuku being failed by authorities/adults? Or maybe how those failures have affected him when he is later in life an adult/authority being called on in a similar situation?

I think that would be the origin of him hiding his illnesses/injuries.  Whoever he was hurt or sick at school and went to a teacher, they either told him that he was faking it for attention or that if he wanted to be strong like the other kids with quirks, he needed to suck it up.  This led to things getting worse left untreated, or at least one embarrassing moment where he threw up in class, and everyone made fun of him for it for years.

Fast forward to UA.  Izuku refuses to be weak, not after he’s worked so hard.  So when he starts getting a sore throat the first day of an overnight field trip, he keeps quiet.  But of course, it gets worse.  It hurts to eat, then drink, then breathe.  He grits his teeth to the point of getting headaches to stop from coughing.  He can barely focus on whatever activities theyre doing.  Maybe it gets so bad he can’t breathe at all and needs to be rushed to the hospital after passing out.

If he’d spoken up when it first started, he might have been able to get treatment/medicine to prevent it from getting as bad as it does.  Same thing if it was an injury he was irritating; quick touch up from Recovery Girl and he’d be golden.  But he didn’t do any of that, and suffers in silence.  

[fit-as-fxck]

hi. I have a lengthy update and a story.

Good Evening, Friends. Here’s an update that no one asked for. I continue to feel much, much better. I can credit that to a constant, normalized sleep schedule, a reduction of the constant stress of the last three months and making sure I eat. As far as movement goes that’s exactly what I've been focusing on. m o v e m e n t. This doesn't mean always going to the gym and slamming weights around, this means moving more intuitively and listening to what I want to do and what I need (without putting too much pressure on myself to be rigid with set demands). Some days I take my dog with me to the park while I do outdoor yoga (in preparation for my outdoor classes I always do in the summer). Sometimes I meet up with a friend and hit the trails for an easy run. Sometimes, doing “nothing” is more important and takes precedence. (If you don't want to read this all skip down to the bottom for a lil story I guarantee you’ll want to read.)

Habits/personal: Every morning make it a point to tell myself I'm going to stay present today. That’s my goal. To stay present and take advantage of every moment, and yes, it comes down to actively monitoring my habits. Even things like social media and electronic use impacts us and none of us were given a manual on how to navigate this shifting terrain. So yeah, reading an actual book before bed and shutting down devices actually does make a difference on our mind and body. Sometimes, we have to set rules for ourselves depending on our lives and how we know we respond to things like this. I’m starting a gratitude journal too so that’ll be new journey for me (it’s scientifically proven to lower inflammation in the body). My life is starting to go back to “normal”, finally. I was under intense life stressors for a few months. 

Training: 

I’ve done some easy trail runs with my friend (the one who was my old gym partner). His training is ramping up significantly and mine is just now recovering so I've only been joining him on his easy recovery runs. The first one I did, my legs felt like two ton bricks. It felt like I was running through jello. I’m not embarrassed to say it was just awful. Consider that I spent since October not putting an emphasis on cardio (only some conditioning), so yeah not surprising. The good news is, it only sucks for a little bit and then it gets better. I mean, each run I do I'll never have to redo again lmao. I hate treadmill running unless I'm doing sprints. I always choose outdoor if I can. I haven't done any major strength training and I’ve probably lost a lot of strength but I'm not worried about it. Muscle has a memory. I’m ready to pick up some strength training again but my goals right now are more geared towards movement and cardio (so the strength training will be to support that). And of course, yoga. I love doing more and more of it. It just makes you feel so damn good. Plan: adding cardio in 4 times weekly. Alternating between cycling, running, trail running, moderate intensity and intervals. Finishing with a handful of lifting exercises a couple times a week to stay strong. 

Nutrition:

Like I mentioned, I am making sure to eat. And haven't been too strict about it, like, at all. I’ve been fueling on pb&j’s. (Side note: I am always making sure I keep my caffeine intake low, I feel better without it. I do half-caff coffee mostly.) I’m increasing my workouts since I'm feeling good so my nutrition is going to be shifted to support those goals. I don't want be too extreme so I'll be following an 80/20 diet. 80% clean Whole Foods and 20% Oreos and Snickers (jk). A major pitfall of mine is failing to prepare to have food when I need it. This week, and for the following weeks, I'm meal prepping everything (which I should be doing anyways *glares* @ me). I’m sticking to whole, “clean” foods and following basic nutrition principles. I’m 100% sure you can make progress on nearly any “diet” as long as you follow nutritional fundamentals. I feel better when I eat better anyways. Sometimes we have to go back to basics. Foundations are what we build everything on and any tweaks we do to that foundation are just the “fluff” on top. Don’t want that foundation to have cracks in it, do we? (SO this week I made a homemade Mac and cheese. Most times I burn everything but sometimes my attempts are a slam dunk. I made my own cheese sauce and used half noodles and half shredded cauliflower to increase the volume and MAN IT WAS BOMB. YOU GOTTA TRY IT. YOU COULDNT EVEN TELL THERE WAS CAULIFLOWER IN IT. Sneaky vegetables.) Unfortunately, I'll have to cut out the Mac & cheese and pb&j’s BUT if it’s the weekend and I want a bagel, I'm gonna have a bagel (80/20 ok). I’m prepping things like grass fed beef, vegetables and sweet potates or rice etc (yes, its potates). 

Other (friends/lifestyle/inspo):

So I got a call from my gym buddy this week which I did not expect. When he started working out with me in January(?) he was what you would call “skinny-fat”, which is defined as not looking overweight but also not having any distinguishable muscle tone. Since then he’s put some serious size and strength and totally upped his cardio game. I started him out on some basic training and knowledge and then he continued on his own. When he called me he told me a man approached him in the gym and asked what he was training for. He told him he was training for an iron man (his overall bucket list goal). This is a hefty goal considering he started at ground zero. BUT everyone starts at zero and he is young and you won’t see me telling him he can’t do it. You can do anything you put your mind to. My friend told the guy about how he went down to 135 pounds at his thinnest (dude is like over 6 feet tall) and then went up 65 pounds at his heaviest. Well, they got to talking and this man started telling him about his friends going through BUDS training (SEAL training). And, my friend spilled the beans. He told him that he hadn't told anyone yet but his overall goal was to go out for the Seals. Yeah, aggressive goal. Thats when the guy told him he was special forces (ranger). He told him David Goggins was headed through town and they were all going to dinner with him. Yeah, I know, sounds odd. Anyways, this guy told him that the only difference between him and the ones that made it, was that now it was his turn to do it. That’s it. (Pretty crazy considering like 6% of people that go out for this pass). So my friend told him he “didn’t know anyone”. The guy told him that there were a ton of special forces in this area but they don’t tell you they are unless they want you to know. But, my dude meant he quite literally didn’t. know. anyone. He had lost all his friends when he found out they had different priorities and pretty much has no one around him supporting him on this, which is why he called me when he was astounded this happened. Serendipity, I guess. Put your goals out there into the world with iron conviction and the universe will find a way to meet you halfway. So this guy was 38 I think and didn’t look his age (not that 38 is old..) and told dude that he could probably smoke everyone in this gym and well, he could, based on the workouts he was doing. My friend’s jaw was on the floor with this whole interaction. He told me he was nervous and stumbling over his words and felt like he probably made an ass of himself. He apologized for it, saying he barely got any sleep and was super stressed and the guy said “Who gets sleep? And we’re all stressed.” The guy offered his advice and networking anytime dude sees him in the gym etc. 

We all come from somewhere, we all have dark, broken histories, large goals, even larger struggles etc and feel like our lives consist of constantly trying to pull it together until the day we die but, I swear, you gotta find a way to believe in yourself and even accept your failures. Whats the worst that could happen? You die trying? At least you followed your heart. Just like this dude, out of shape, stumbling, mad at himself because of slow progress but just look back three or four months... He’s strong now and the progress happened because he was patient with himself and didn’t give up even when he felt like it and he’s still not done. More power to him and anyone willing to try. Perhaps the overall goal doesn't matter as much as who we become in the act of trying (thank you Kaylo Littlejohn for that quote). Most times, people just need a positive push in the right direction. Maybe we can focus a little bit more on uplifting and being positive because that shit is contagious. 

[thegrandtortoise]

October 10, 2018

Hey y’all. I’m still on hiatus, but I wanted to post this to talk about something serious today.

Today is World Mental Health Day. This is the first year that I am acknowledging it, but it is still so incredibly important to me.

I don’t talk about this much, but I have mild anxiety. This is something that affects me every single day, and though I know it is barely there compared to many of who who are suffering with severe depression, anxiety, and other disorders, it does have an impact on my life. 

For the past year or so, I also have been going through an extremely tough depressive episode, and no matter how much I hid it on here, I was irresponsible, anti-social, and stagnant in real life. My grades dropped badly, I wasn’t doing my work, I never talked to any of my friends, I gained a lot of weight and was generally in a bad mood most of the time, and tried to erase my pain by wasting the time away on Tumblr, tv, books, and Youtube. This, of course, is why I decided to go on hiatus.

And it was the best decision I’ve ever made.

After going on hiatus, my life was still spiraling downwards, but now I was face to face with it, unable to escape and not knowing what to do about it. I just felt more angry and sad, mostly due to my failing grades, and my outlook on life just became more and more negative until I felt as though I was a complete failure, that everyone hated me and there was no point in existing anymore.

It was so bad that I reached a point where I was feeling suicidal. I had never felt this bad before, partly in thanks to your guys’ support, but now I didn’t even have that, and I didn’t want to break my promise to myself and return to Tumblr. 

Thankfully, I didn’t do anything to harm myself, but those thoughts were still there. I needed serious help, real life help from my friends and family.

Then, about a week ago, my parents found out about my condition. My dad demanded to know why I was failing half my classes, why I wasn’t working as I should have been, why I had such an ‘attitude’. (They haven’t found out about Tumblr and Discord, though. Thank god.) My parents were angry and disappointed in me, and I cried several times, but I explained everything to them. They didn’t accept my answer as a valid response (I didn’t expect them to), but after a few hours, after they calmed down, they convinced me that they didn’t hate me (though they still don’t trust me fully), and that they were going to help me get back on my feet.

I could go on about how they helped me, but I doubt it’ll help many of you. The point is, I am...well, not happy. Content. I am content. I still have failing grades, but I’m back on track to having straight As. My teachers are all being very supportive. I’m talking to my friends a lot more, even if it is just about school. I’m being a lot more productive.

Today, I felt the best that I’ve felt in a very long time.

So I want you to know that it can and will get better. I just know it. But it’s up to you to take the initiative, to say “I don’t want to feel like this anymore,” and do something about it. I know if there’s someone who you know is willing to help you, it’s a lot easier and you should feel blessed.

I hate to say it, but people aren’t just going to swoop in and be there for you without you reaching out. I know we all like to think that it’ll happen, that others are really that perceptive and helpful, but it’s really up to you to make a decision about whether you are okay with living with your illness, or you’re going to do something about it, and take control of your life.

Moaning about how much you hate your life and that you constantly feel tired or sad or anxious on Tumblr feels nice and seems like a good outlet, but wallowing in your emotions only make them worse. The more time you spend thinking about how much your life sucks, the more of your potential to have a good life you’re wasting.

So please, I urge you. Are you slacking off on your work and spending most of your time either trying to erase your responsibilities and pain by being on the Internet? Get off immediately, and go try to be productive. Just do one assignment. If you can’t do that, at least write down what you have to do, and put it somewhere that you’ll see it. Think about how good you’ll feel if you do it and turn it in on time.

Are you in a fight with someone you love? Reach out to them, and attempt a compromise. Explain how you’re feeling. It doesn’t matter if you do it face to face or in a text, but do it.

Are you just depressed or anxious all the time, and don’t really know why? Go talk to someone you trust. A friend, a parent, a counselor, a teacher, someone. If you’re on your own, try to find a therapist that’s willing to help. It’s not supposed to feel comfortable. Recovery is hard. But you have to realize that at the end of that dark tunnel, there is a light.

At the very least, write out a list of things that you want to accomplish in your life. Going to college. Finding a good career. Visiting a foreign country. Learning a new language, instrument, or subject. Hanging out more with that one person you like. Going to a certain event. Whatever it may be, strive to achieve that goal. Know that when you accomplish it, you’ll feel incredible and successful, and focus on that. Try your very very best to focus on the positive.

Just try to do one thing, and the others will follow. Soon you’ll forget about your depression or anxiety or whatever it may be you’re suffering through, because as long as you feel confident doing something, there’s nothing that can stop you.

So this World Mental Health Day, I want you to take initiative. I want you to take control of your life, instead of your illness taking control of you. If you just try, even for a moment, and let someone know what you’re going through, then you can let them help you. Do not assume that recovery will be easy or that someone will reach out to you. Don’t risk your life on the off chance that someone will take their focus off of themselves and notice that’s something’s not right with you. Just recognizing that you have a mental illness is not enough. You have to actually do something about it.

I really hope this helps all of you. I wish you all the best, and I hope you begin to work to improve your lives. You all know what you need to fix yourselves, so it’s up to you to do it.

Happy World Mental Health Day 2018, everyone. I hope to see you all in better shape in 2019, 2020, and beyond. I believe in all of you.

Tortoise out.

[black-hole-of-hysteria]

reasons why im a disgusting and gross person

number one the stupid stupid things i did with older men at the fucking ages of 9 10 and 11 and maybe even 12

number two i forgot REDACTEDs birthday

number three im being so difficult and im being a burden by stressing them out about the beach trip because of my job and credit recovery because im a fucking idiot and i failed my classes because i suck i suck

number three im fucking fat im disgusting to look at my side profile is ugly my back profile is ugly my thighs are huge my chest is huge my stomach is huge im short and im fat im a walking fucking potato i hate myaelf i want to die i cant go on this beach trip i cant swim i cant wear a bathing suit in front of them please

number four how jealous i get over the stupidest fucking things im sorry REDACTED im the worst friend i dont know why i got so angry over her being friends with REDACTED im a horrible human being who gets mad at their friends happiness i suck i just suck i suck i suck i suck

number five REDACTED was right i have a victim complex i suck i suck i just suck im sorry i shouldnt even be ranting im probably annoying people i dont want to do that im sorry i’ll try to hurry up

number six im so fucking unhealthily obsessed with REDACTED still my friend told me that two days ago i keep denying it but i am and im so fucking stupid i dont deserve him he probably stopped talking to me for a reason he hates me theres something wrong with me i hate myself i hate myself i hate myself im a bad person no wonder he left me kjdshfewakjfheskjfhewqkjfhdsaf

number seven i use my friends for therapy i need a better therapist i dont want to burden my friends they probably dont care and are annoyed they hate me and i need to stop talking about myself i just need to stop

number eight im just annoying. i can tell from my friends messages. im too extra and loud and i say all the wrong things and im just disgusting i never say anything right im weird im fucking weird and i keep being weird because thats the only thing i know how to do in front of these people i guess why am i so fucking weird why do i say almost every single thought inside my head to people i think are my friends no wonder so many people have cut me off in the past no wonder they keep leaving me no wonder my servers keep failing im a failure im a fucking failure and i hate myself i hate this i just want to stop being weird please

[raintekla]

Rain Tekla: Zeyo Atoel Part II

  It was a sleepless night, the first of many she would come to have throughout her life. Young Zeyo’s home was small, like most, herself sleeping in what might be considered a closet in Eorzea. There was no room for pacing here. Instead she just lay on a small flat mattress, holding a pillow against her chest. She had so many thoughts, so many concerns and emotions.

  Hormones. That’s what she had heard someone call it. She wasn’t a kid any more. Well, she was and she wasn’t. She was getting taller, stronger and just growing out of her adolescence. A kid, in her mind, was an androgynistic short little person. She was, as her mother had put it, ‘developing’. Blagh. And she wasn’t alone in that regard either. So, too, had Rhom grown. When they had first met, she hadn’t even noticed him. He had just been another face in the crowd, really, but that was easy enough a perspective for someone who was only six years old. To be fair, he hadn’t quite been a ‘he’ back then either. In her village, at least, children were just that, children. They all kind of looked the same, lanky tanned bodies still growing into their ears. It was common courtesy to use the singular ‘they, them, their’ to speak to kids. Zeyo, at the time, had thought herself fully capable of picking out any boys from girls, and so she had copied something an older woman had taught her to call her elder kin. ‘Sister’.

She had been proven wrong.

  To think, back then they had been so alike. They were still best friends, no doubt, but they had grown so differently. They could have been mistaken for siblings, maybe even twins at one point. Now they were just, well, different. His arms had grown, his chest had widened, his ‘baby face’ had become more angular. He was beginning to resemble more and more the pictures she had seen of the Wardens. Is that why she had kissed him? Or had it been fear of losing him? Maybe that had just been her instinctual attempt at calming him down.

Feeling down? How bout a big wet one? Panic attack? Pucker up, Buttercup!

  Two dozen times she had gone through it in her head. What had happened, why it had happened, and of course, what she was going to do about it. She had promised him that they wouldn’t take him from her, but when she had made that promise, she had no plan whatsoever. The best idea may have been to just sleep on it, get some rest and brainstorm in the morning over breakfast. Instead, she elected to just overthink things and punch her wall in frustration. 

  As morning sunlight crept through her little window, Zeyo had her plan ready. It may not have been perfect, but it certainly sounded better than exiling herself from the village. She could never leave this place, it was her home. Her friends were here, her family, her entire life. For breakfast she helped herself to a large strip of dried seasoned meat, then ran outside. Up above, a familiar hawk cried out before descending towards her, landing on a little stone perch. At that moment her mind went back to an old teacher, Vjnne. She couldn’t recall if, historically, hawks were part of the natural ecosystem, or something that had been brought to her people hundreds, maybe thousands of years ago. Rhom could have told her. He had always been the better listener.

  The hawks made for great scouting companions and messengers. This one, named Hawkje, belonged to Rhom’s family, and held a little rolled up note in it’s claws. Zeyo took the letter with one hand and stroked the feathered friend with another, her heart sinking.

[ Dear Zeyo,

     I wanted to say goodbye. You’re the best friend that anyone could ever ask for, and I love you. A Warden came to see me last night. Not just any man from the jungle either. He says he’s my sire. My father. I don’t know how to feel about that, but he tells me that he can teach me to be strong. He says we have a long way to travel, so we’re leaving at daylight. I don’t want to, but I don’t have a choice. I’m really scared, but know that I’ll always be thinking of you. It might be a very long time before we see each other again. I have too much to say, and he keeps looking at me like he’s ready to walk out in the middle of the night. I don’t want him to see me cry, so I’m trying to suck it up, but you know me. I can’t help it. Sorry.

     I wish I could have said goodbye in person, but for men, companionship and dependability is a crutch. Apparently. Love, Rhom ]

  Zeyo read the letter twice, still stroking Hawkje. Her heart began to beat faster, her respiration began to stagger and the inside of her throat felt very cold and tingly all at the same time. Before her panic could get the better of her, she steadied her breathing, swallowing her emotions and physically calming, as she had been taught to do. She had come up with a solid plan through the night, and while it was still solid, it had now changed.

--

  Sister Crjn, or as some of the li’l brats called her ‘Old Lady Crjn’, had been preparing for another sparring day for the children. Truth be told, sparring day was usually a cover. It was her ‘take it easy’ day, her recovery day. Any time she had spent the night drinking too heavily, and some mornings even, she would just tell the kids it was sparring day. In that way, she could just sit down on her ass and watch the younglings beat the hells out of one another with wooden training swords, staves, or whatever else she had decided to ‘teach them’ that day. She wasn’t particularly hung over today, at least not like she had been the day before. She was just having a ‘twofer’. Sun in and sun out she was trying to beat her head against those of the kids’, hoping to impart at least a fraction of her knowledge unto them. The stress of administering such higher learning meant that she was entitled to a few sparring days every now and then, right?

  And that had been the idea when she had rolled out of bed that morning. Get up, grab a bite to eat, get ready to call another ‘sparring day’ and then pull some kind of lesson out of her ass before class time was over. That had been the plan until she saw what was waiting for her within the training grounds. Her kids, most of them anyroad, had already beat her there, and were standing around in a circle. In the middle was a single child, hands on their hips, waiting for her. Had she slept in? She had to take another glance up at the sun. Nope, same time as usual. Everyone else had just arrived early. Trying to mask the surprise on her face, she took a breath and resumed her cool flat expression.

“Sister Crjn, I’m callin’ you out.”

  Immediately Crjn’s eyes squinted and her fists balled up. This was not a case of eager students ready to learn. This was one idiot kid looking to get their jaw broken. This was a trial. She never broke stride, pacing her way to the interior of the ring. The little brat calling her out wasn’t even of age. Zeyo was, twelve, thirteen summers old? Most of the ones who challenged her for the first time were nearer twenty. A moment of weakness caught the old veteran in her soft spot as she dug her right pinky nail into a long floppy ear. Not once had she ever allowed someone to take back their challenge, but seeing as this was her favorite student of the semester, mayhap even, well, ever.. “I must have misheard you, runt.”

  Zeyo stood her ground, tall and proud, the expression on her face quite serious. This was usually the girl who was always smiling, always playing, teasing, making jokes. This was a complete change in attitude, and Crjn knew exactly why. The little pacifist had been taken away, likely. That burned her up a little, knowing that she was responsible for preparing them. If her children failed, so too did their teacher, in Crjn’s mind anyroad. And now here Zeyo would present her with a second failure. It was disheartening, but Crjn would see the job done.

“You’re too early, summers too early. Let all of your peers gathered before you make judgement of your actions here today. You are a fool to take the trial now, but words will no longer alleviate you of your predicament. If you want to bow out, kneel now and say nothing, save yourself a few broken limbs.”

“My name is Zeyo of Atoel, I am thirteen summers old and today I challenge you for the right to become a proper woman in the eyes and respect of the village.”

  Crjn stepped outside of the ring, students with expressions a mixture of both fascination and horror parting out of her way, as if any one of them could somehow be roped into what would surely be the beating of the century. She made her way to a small wooden table, pulling back a weighted cloth to reveal a variety of weaponry.

“Choose any one single weapon to defend yourself.”

  Crjn didn’t need to reach for anything on the table as she made her way back to the inside of the ring, the kids closing in behind her to fill the gap. From her back she unsheathed a well worn albeit sturdy wooden staff. She pointed the tip forward towards Zeyo, then spit a bit of morning gravy into the dirt between them.

  Zeyo, too, reached behind her back, only with both hands. After a few seconds, she nodded to her teacher, then brought both palms forward. One remained empty, the other wore a hardened leather glove that extended and tied to the forearm. “I have selected my weapon.”

  Crjn gritted her teeth as she stared at the little shit. She was racking her brain, trying to remember Zeyo’s family history, what grades she held with each weapons category, and her survival and tactics scores. This didn’t add up. Regardless, Crjn would approach this challenge as she had each one before. She would treat her opponent as her enemy, straying only from fatal blows. There would be no held punches here, and for the audacity of challenging her at such a young age, there would most certainly be broken bones. Nodding her head in return to Zeyo, Crjn spun her staff once, it’s weight balanced and familiar in her hand. “Begin!”

--

  This was it, this was for Rhom. Zeyo exhaled, concentrating on her breathing as the much larger weapon spun her staff on the opposite end of the fighting ring. Her teacher had at least a hundred ponze on her. She was taller, stronger, had better reach, and a hundred and fifty years more experience. Still, none of that mattered at this moment. This was the only way to be with Rhom, and so she would not fail. As soon as Crjn roared out to ‘begin’, Zeyo cried out as loud as she could, “Hawkje, to me!”

  She held her arm out to the side, stiff as she could make it, knowing that should the hawk not heed her call, it was over. Crjn, for her part, took a cautious step forward, gauging Zeyo as a serious opponent. Zeyo’s nerves rattled for a moment, imagining her own brains being splattered against the dirt, her friends and family shaking their heads. Poor Zeyo, she had such potential, but she was such a dumb girl in the end.

  Weight landed on her outstretched arm in the form of the morning messenger. Zeyo had no training with animals, and had never once tried to command her friend’s bird. Perhaps it was destiny, kindred spirits, empathy or something magical. Whatever it was, the beast had come to support her.

“Hawkje, kill.”

  Purple eyes locked onto her target as she threw her arm forward while giving the command. This wasn’t Crjn any more. This was an obstacle to overcome, and something she would not survive if she didn’t give it every onze of her being. And as if the pair had been training together all their lives, the hawk flew from Zeyo’s leather gauntlet, launching like a bullet straight forward.

  Crjn’s reflexes were too slow, her staff narrowly missing the bird of prey as its talons ripped into the viera’s cheeks, tearing flesh with ease. Blood sprayed both Viera and hawk as they battled one another, the blunt end of Crjn’s staff coming back up to defend herself, knocking into Hawkje and batting him to the ground with a heartbreaking screech. Her brown skin now painted crimson, peeled like curled pencil shavings in strips on either side of her face. She swung her staff around, hoping to catch the little shit, but her target was already gone.

  As quiet as she was swift, Zeyo had made her way around to Crjn’s blindspot. As soon as the staff swung, perhaps expecting an attack from the side, Zeyo dove forward. From behind her teacher, she wrapped her arms around Crjn’s waist, kicked at the back of her leg, then pulled back using her own force in conjunction with the momentum of the staff swing. As the larger woman fell back, Zeyo spun, allowing her teacher to bite into the dirt as she pinned her to the ground.

 If the two had been the same size, Zeyo would have had her right where she wanted. Unfortunately, even on her belly, her face torn to shreds and bleeding, Crjn was far from down and out. She spun around, and using her longer arms, elbowed Zeyo in the nose. Zeyo’s grip loosened as the gang of school kids heard the morbidly satisfying crunch of broken cartilage. For Zeyo, the world went red for a few seconds, pain erupting in her face. That was nothing, however, compared to the blunt of the staff crashing against her head.

  As soon as the staff made contact, Zeyo’s vision went black, her head cracked on one side, the ground rising up to meet her other. There she laid, bleeding, her head pulsing, blood matting her hair from the point of impact. It might have been over there and then, had she not heard the sound of the hawk’s cry. Willing herself to keep going, Zeyo’s eyes opened and she stood back up, breathing through her mouth.

  In front of her, Crjn battled Hawkje once again, this time the hawk’s right talon getting stuck in the corner of the teacher’s eyelid. In a sickening display, the eyeball popped right out of its socket in a splatter of blood and tears, still hanging on and dangling, fastened to nerve endings. Whatever empathetic chord the gore struck amongst the other students, Zeyo was immune. In a ferocious scream, Crjne swung her staff down diagonally against the bird, snapping its neck in one swift vengeful maneuver. Again, Zeyo took her opportunity. As soon as the staff was used, Zeyo dipped back into close quarters, palming Crjn’s chin up with one hand, then punched her in the throat with the other.

  The muffled coughing noise the older lady made had the circle of students close in. She was gurgling, choking, yet still Zeyo didn’t stop. As Crjn went to reach for her own throat, her grip on her weapon loosened just enough to allow Zeyo, both hands now wrapped around the midsection of the staff, to pry the thing loose. Backing away from Crjn’s blindly clawing free hand, Zeyo stepped to the side, then swung the end of the staff against the back of her teacher’s head with enough force to lay her into the dirt.

  Not taking any chances, Zeyo raised the weapon above her head, something primal within her rising and manifesting as a scream. That’s when a hand stopped her staff from caving Crjn’s head in. Snarling, Zeyo’s upper lip trembled in rage, the blood pouring out of her nose now covering her teeth and filling her mouth with the taste of copper. Meeting her gaze was her own mother, holding back the attack with a single hand.

“This is over.”

  Like a rabid dog, Zeyo didn’t want to unclench from her weapon. Sound returned, something she hadn’t noticed had somehow faded away. There was a boom of cries, some astonished, some joyous. The world was dizzying to look at, the edges of her vision now black, the pain in her head now sharpened, akin to a knife wound. As her fingers let go of the staff, she reached to the wound under her hair, wincing as it burned at the touch. As she took a step, it felt as if the earth beneath her feet was moving away from her. She stumbled forward, kneeling and catching herself with a single hand reaching out to touch the ground. As she tilted her head up, black sticky bangs obscured much of her vision, but she could make out two women addressing Crjn.

“Yeah. It’s over. I win.”

  No one rejected her claim. These trials usually ended in a bloodbath one way or another. Ferocity was not just encouraged, it was necessary. While her ‘weapon’ had been unorthodox, it had not been against the rules. No one had ever challenged Crjn with a hawk, but they had been used in combat before by other villagers. In fact, Zeyo had originally planned on just using one of the wooden practice swords until Hawkje’s arrival that morning. She knew now that had she tried with any other weapon, she would have failed.

  Thinking of the bird, her eyes turned towards it’s feathered corpse, only a few short fulm away. What had she expected to happen, that it would get in a few licks then fly away home intact? She certainly didn’t know she was sentencing it to death, or she never would have used him. How would Rhom take that news? Rhom! Hawkje deserved a decent burial for its service to her, but right now Zeyo had more pressing matters.

As the crowd of children, now dotted with curious adults, circled Crjn even closer, no one seemed to notice the victor of the trial slip away. No longer a child, Zeyo was now independent and free to do as she pleased with the respect of her people. She was a woman, as much an adult as even the eldest of the villagers. And with that newly gained freedom and reverence, she fled to the jungle.

--

[catsuitmonarchy]

Cooch Girl Goes Circus Week 2.5

Today was weird. I’ve been dealing with anxiety attacks since last night. They’ve been less frequent so I’m no longer like ‘this is fine’ about them. My therapist told me at our last session when I was really up that abuse recovery is cyclical and that I’ll hit a point where I feel sad and fragile again and then gave me a pre-emptive pep talk which I have been repeating to myself.  Anyway it effected my skills today. Warm ups were fine and then we went to aerial silks and rope. I have done everything we were told we were gonna do. Remember how the first time I got on aerial silks I climbed up a few times? And how I’ve NEVER had an issue before? Today I couldn’t climb the silks. The coach coached me but the most I managed was two very short climbs. We tried a different climb and I failed on both the rope and the silks. Basically just kept having my feet slide out from under me. I barely got off the ground. Then we did ball...somethings and I had to have it explained to me three times and then step by stepped. For this and the second climb the other three students all rotated through on the other apparatus before I managed. Two of the students also whispered to me so I felt kind of pitied but also helped. And in his defense, the sole male student today waited until I asked him for help before ever giving it to me. Like he would go to say something and then stop and I was like ‘no please tell me what to do!’ and he did it in a non patronizing way. No mansplaining. The last thing we did was hip keys and I needed help but I did do it and once I did it right and was upside down, I was like ‘yay I did something right today’. I did three and was mostly stable. Slid a little on one of them. Also I like being upside down. It’s calming. Next we were told we would do unicycle and I had feelings because unicycle is the devil. I know I keep saying circus class is to help me be better with failing but today is not a day for that lesson and I failed enough at aerial. Luckily the kids were in the station next to unicycle and there was no room so the coach asked if we wanted to tightwire and I shouted ‘YES’ before anyone could chime in. I was not doing well on tight wire and checked in with myself. I am good at tight wire for someone with my experience but I could only balance for seven seconds and only take one or two steps. My body is fit. I am not tired.  So I admitted that my anxiety attack was worse than I thought. It was effecting my performance and making me question my skills. I gave myself permission to have an anxiety attack, to let it run its course, and to not count the day as a failure. It’s just a new lesson in my limits and abilities. Namely, doing things off the ground is difficult when your body is in panic mode.  After that I did better and soon after the coach did spotted walks. I barely held his hand and just made it to the other end. And then I made it halfway a few times. He asked us to balance on two feet and I did well. Then we did sits and I did well on both sides. One student commented ‘You found your apparatus!’ so I appreciated that dose of positivity. We also tried crouching, which I did well on one side and could balance for a bit but the other side I could barely get my foot off the ground. Weird. We were also challenged to lie back from a sit and then try to sit back up. I did best of all by laying back with the rope up to the top of my tail bone. And I only fell off without catching myself twice!  It was nice to work on something I have some aptitude for. Then juggling. We did clubs for my first time ever. I chose them even though balls would have been easier and I could have done something familiar. I decided the novelty of the clubs beat out that need. I was kind of afraid of the because I hit myself a lot but they are shiny and look cool and are definitely more clowny so I had fun. And I didn’t suck. I moved through about six exercises and while my left arm always manages to throw the clubs towards my face, I mostly caught the one from that side. My flourishes need work but I think that was going along with the pattern from aerial where anything with more than two steps was too much for my brain to process. Still. I ended the juggling section feeling like I had earned my high five and in better spirits. Then I got to have dinner with @bendymish and we discussed art but mostly life because she is off class for the week! I do love hanging with the circus people. My anxiety attack is still lingering but at the very least it’s much smaller than it was earlier today and as you all saw earlier I used that energy to style some wigs! Not pictured was my new shell bra I made.  Anyway I am gonna drink some chamomile tea and try to go to bed. 

[strawberriemars]

huge. HUGE vent under the cut --- i’m really, really sorry if mobile doesn’t hide it.

i just. have a lot on my mind and i needed to pour it out

God i hate this

I have a music theory project that should’ve been turned in hours ago

Nothing in this textbook makes sense because i’ve been so busy with work that every time i DONT work the last thing i want to do is fill my head with information

Information that likely won’t stick because any interactivity we once had to help us is now gone

I also have a final in this same class due on wednesday

And when i thought i had a whole day to prepare for it i remembered i volunteered to work

On my day off

Becuase i need money and this is my only opportunity to get it

By working behind a plexiglass shield that doesn’t even cover the whole counter

By working with a public that refuses to wear masks and insults me for having to wear one myself

By working on my feet for so long my knee’s started acting up again and my shoulder sounds like a pepper grinder from how often i have to reach up high for the selfish fuck buying $150 worth of scratch offs

By working shifts until fucking midnight where people come in during the last 10 minutes because everywhere else is closes at 10

(gee. I fucking wonder why.)

I can’t focus on my assignment at all because i have to re-learn old shit and then absorb new shit and god i’m such a fucking failure i don’t want my teacher to feel bad about failing me  god that hurts more than anything

It’s gonna hurt if i fail, but i can get past that because of everything going on.

What’s gonna hurt more is failing my instructor because i don’t want him to feel like he did anything wrong

He was given the shittiest tools and no other option but to press forward with them

Meanwhile i’m listening to john oliver talk about how alex jones is willing to eat his neighbors

And low-key fretting about how on the 15th i’m going back to a house with someone who finds something wrong with everything i do, and someone who won’t wear a mask in public

I can’t stay any longer with my boyfriend because i sort of thrust my stay upon him without warning or even asking and that was really selfish of me to do

Plus in spite of my dad’s ignorance i miss seeing him. I miss being able to hug him.

Everyone keeps saying it’s okay it’s okay it’s okay to feel upset and scared and distressed by this

But that’s only on the internet

Everyone i interact with in person expects me to suck it up and smile until my cheeks peek up and my eyes squeeze shut so people know that i’m smiling behind my mask

I had someone today say that they miss being able to see people smile... while not wearing a mask themselves...

I just said i miss seeing my friends and playing my bunny paladin

I do miss my friends. I miss seeing them and their dog and 2 cats even though one is shy and the other hates everyone

I miss seeing my other friends who have like 8 cats who are all big softies except for like 1 who’s kind of a crumudgeon

I miss seeing the cat i hope to adopt someday with his big eeyore eyes

I honestly miss going to the theater late at night because there’s less kids around who can’t sit still and loudly ask questions (i like the immersion, sometimes kids can disrupt that, but they can’t help it, that’s why i go so late because i know how to not be a dick to children)

Holy shit I miss SEEING kids at the gas station — i used to work mornings and now my schedule is completely jacked up and i so rarely see kids anymore

I miss interacting with them and jokingly saying to stay out of trouble, or giving them some of the candies i have stowed for myself behind the register when they’re upset

I miss going to the library to shut everyone out and do my homework or write or read or even just fucking daydream

I miss being able to drive out to ann arbor to see the twins and just be in one another’s company

...

I should write an email to my professor telling him i’m sorry for failing him. That i wanted to keep up and to try but i just couldn’t because with everything weighing down on me and the sudden influx of work, i couldn’t do it. I can barely even convince myself to get up and get ready for voice lessons. I barely made it through grief recovery method, which i took because i wanted to re-connect with my birth mom by the end of the year, only to have a new grief suddenly slammed down upon all of us

I’m still going to attempt the final. Fuck me it’s going to be hard.

I don’t know if i can finish the project. I can try. But  i don’t know what i’m doing.

I’m just so tired. So lost. So scared and so sad and so crushed.

And then i wonder — am i just making excuses

Would things have turned out differently if the virus had never happened

I tend to push things off to the last minute all the time — why is this so different

Is it because i couldn’t keep up as well

I don’t know that i kept up in the first place

...

I don’t want things to go back to the way they were

I just want to stop feeling so crushed and lost and afraid

[calorieworkouts]

CrossFit Ruined My Confidence and Sent Me to the Hospital. Here’s Why I Still Do It

Over the previous One Decade, the fitness market has actually played out a whole lot like a zombie flick. Somewhere in a remote edge of California, a health and fitness craze breaks out, contaminating exercise enthusiasts in a viral spread that starts with an unpleasant impulse but quickly comes to be an indivisible part of the host's life. It's been a years into the epidemic recognized as "CrossFit," and the daring holdouts face loss as the sector breaks down around them in a mess of kettlebells, calf-length socks, as well as bloody pull-up bars.

Of program, CrossFitters might see it differently.

CrossFit is a health and fitness method that methods useful activities-- every little thing from running to gymnastics and also Olympic-style weight-lifting-- carried out at high intensity (frequently indicating "as quickly as possible"). Over the previous years, it's grown from a handful of affiliated gyms in the UNITED STATE to nearly 8,000 throughout the globe.

I've been CrossFitting given that late 2011, and because time, it's constructed me up, busted me down, triggered me to vomit, started much more bodily treatment consultations than I could count on fingers as well as toes, and sent me to the cosmetic surgeon's table for wrist reconstruction. I've seen others tear muscular tissues, knock themselves out on pull-up bars, and also, yes, establish the feared condition rhabdomyolysis (" rhabdo" for brief, a problem in which the body encounters fast muscular tissue malfunction in reaction to anxiety). Despite all that, I still hit the fitness center four or 5 times a week for stomach-wrenching exercises. Here's why.

The Community

When I found CrossFit in late 2011, I was frantically browsing for social electrical outlets. I 'd recently graduated from college and transferred to New York. The city verified both a dream and a headache for a country kid from Kentucky. Though I rejected to confess, I was still reeling from the fatality of my mother's grandpa. In spite of some superb good friends and also coworkers bordering me, I felt lonelier compared to ever before before.

What very first convinced me to join a local "box" (vernacular in the neighborhood for a CrossFit affiliate, or health club) wasn't the guarantee of intense workouts and a fitter body, it was the feeling of area. At an introduction class at a neighboring CrossFit gym, I was a lot more captivated by the sociability, support, as well as kindness than any of the grueling exercises. Members were pushing themselves and also each various other to the verge, then switching contact number as well as making plans to head out on the town after they would certainly recuperated from the day's punishment.

Shared suffering, mutual suck, call it what you will certainly: Pressing yourself to the physical limitation with complete strangers could breed friendships quicker compared to almost anything else I have actually witnessed. CrossFitters get a bum rap for being a zealous, overly affordable team, but that's just partly real. For several in the community, competition starts and finishes with on your own, and every exercise is an opportunity to prove you can press on your own additionally and also much faster than the day previously. (An excellent example imagined above: Me after my very first 500 extra pound deadlift, finished with a lot of good friends viewing.) In CrossFit competitions, it's a typical website to see people finish their workouts and instantly shift from athletes to supporters, yelling support at those they're seemingly contending against-- also when's there's cash on the line.

Joining a CrossFit associate led to several of my toughest connections and also provided me access to good friends with various jobs, interests, and backgrounds. It's been a very useful way to locate common ground with all type of individuals, both inside as well as outside the box.

The Knowledge

I've experienced hurt in CrossFit workouts, including (at the very least) 2 sprained ankles, a drawn back, small hamstring splits, and joint impingements. In late April 2013, the day after a particularly hard and also arm-intensive collection of exercises, I woke up to an inflamed right wrist. When four months of bodily treatment as well as remainder showed futile, I undertook a wrist reconstruction in mid-August. (The picture to the right is of me in the healing space.) I'm only currently obtaining back right into my old workout program, relearning motions that used to appear like second nature.

But to condemn CrossFit for this or other injuries would be a mistake. As with all health and fitness endeavors, it depends on the specific professional athlete as well as his or her instructors to produce a safe setting that minimizes the threat of injury. My fellow CrossFitters had nudged me over and over again to take far better treatment of my joints by using wrist wraps, icing, and also taking more remainder days, guidance I routinely disregarded. I disregarded my body's indicators and also wound up experiencing hurt, something the CrossFit area warns against.

While CrossFitters love pushing the body to its limitations, the area is likewise obsessed with raising knowledge concerning our fantastic human machines. CrossFit's emphasis on flexibility and also recovery strategies has actually brought considerable focus to just what we do around workout, assisting to popularize every little thing from weightlifting shoes to self-myofascial release (aka foam rolling). CrossFit numbers like physiotherapist Kelly Starrett and also activity expert Carl Paoli have functioned to get people across the world more in song with their bodies. CrossFit's methodology highlights a recognition of just how the body functions, as well as the neighborhood has welcomed that pursuit of understanding as an integral component of their experience.

Of training course, CrossFit's emphasis on expanding our understanding of the body has also backfired. By taking wonderful pains to enlighten its coaches as well as athletes on problems like "rhabdo" (it's an essential component of the fundamental CrossFit qualification training course), CrossFit has swiftly as well as wrongly end up being marked as the primary reason for severe overtraining. Yes, I've observed a buddy create rhabdomyolysis while CrossFitting. I additionally understand people who have created it throughout football practices, "regular" strength training in an university health club, and even physical treatment sessions.

CrossFit is still a reasonably brand-new and creating health and fitness methodology, and it will certainly take time before instructors and professional athletes figure out the most safe means to train. Different CrossFit affiliates will certainly likewise vary in the encounter and also skill of their trains, making it a lot more important for individuals to be conscious of how their body replies to training. With their emphasis on expertise and also education and learning, the community is definitely off to a strong start.

The Fitness

I am not, neither will I ever before be, an elite CrossFit professional athlete. In the past, I hit the gym on a daily basis aiming to stay on par with a few of New york city City's elite professional athletes, my failing was a serious experience. I have actually been lucky enough to educate alongside several of CrossFit's leading professional athletes, from sharing reminders with numerous Gamings champions to adding a hill in Iceland with 10 of Europe's fittest males and women (it goes without saying, they beat me to the top). Practically every one of my normal training companions can smoke me on any type of offered WOD, as well as their performances as soon as irritated me when I contrasted it to my own, less-than-impressive results.

These days, however, I'm even more concerned with boosting my very own performance than contrasting it to somebody else's, as well as I'm fortunate to educate along with people who value that objective. CrossFit has actually certainly made me fitter and more powerful than I've ever been, and also the awareness that I'm improving each day is sufficient to solidify the sting of understanding I'll never win the CrossFit Games.

The human body has constraints, organic brakes that differ from someone to the next. Regardless of the intensity of competition, as well as a couple vocal, over-zealous individuals who show up every now and then, I have yet to see a solitary CrossFitter judge or be judged due to their health and fitness level. In my humble point of view, that's the solitary most effective consider getting rid of the stigmas still bordering the fitness industry.

The Takeaway

No two individuals's overviews on fitness are rather the very same, and also the CrossFit neighborhood is no exception. CrossFit damaged me down in means nothing else venture ever before has, yet to me its values has always been among self-discovery as well as enhancement, not failure as well as envy. And that's why I continuously do it.