#i can't clean an entire house of four people all by myself every week!!

[supercantaloupe]

there is no possible way to communicate to my fucking roommates that they're not doing their share of the chores in this house without them ignoring or hating me and i feel like i'm going Insane

[bakafox]

The thing is, there are probably 'decent' arguments to be made about how I do not *need* an in-home caregiver.

Which has been preying on my mind, because I have recently been warned that if somehow the caregiver who is here today doesn't work out, the insurance company will take all my hours, as they are starting to wonder if I need a caregiver.

There have been very few people looking for a caregiver job since COVID started. So for the last couple of years, the agency has had almost no one to try placing.

One or two they tried placing vanished or quit.

One didn't speak enough English, and I didn't speak enough Spanish, and it was so hard to try and communicate with her using Google Translate that I was in tears by the time the day was at an end, so I asked if they could please find me someone who speaks more English.

One didn't like that I was having a hard time figuring out what days/hours to have her here, working around her hours with her other client, and quit after just two days because I asked if she could come on different days.

One turned out to be a Republican and I nearly had a nervous breakdown and did have minor panic attacks once I realized a motherfucker who voted to basically seriously harm me, and almost everyone I care about, was IN MY HOUSE for four hours 3 times a week and I had to be polite to him and count on him- and asked for a different caregiver please.

...I need caregivers who only work 3 or so days a week, because my disabilities are mental illnesses, and having someone I do not personally know very well and such here multiple days in a row, I will actively hit a point where I will spiral into serious anxiety and depression.

These people are supposed to help me, but making me go into downward spirals or anxiety and panic attacks are the opposite of helping me!

BUT... because in the last 2 years only about a half dozen possible caregivers have been found, and none of them worked out, and more than half the time it was a problem on THEIR end... well:

As far as the medicaid provider thinks of things, if I have 'been fine' without the help, if I have been willing to refuse to retain a caregiver rather than put up with whoever is on hand no matter how unsuitable, then that proves I do not need a caregiver.

And without caregivers helping me, it's true, I have not died.

My house has been messier and messier and messier over time, because I can't keep up and there are specific tasks I usually cannot force myself to do around executive dysfunction and exhaustion, but I haven't died or been hospitalized for it.

My diet increasingly became fast food burgers, toaster waffles, and microwave taquitos because trying to cook for myself all alone is exhausting, but I didn't die or get hospitalized for it.

I had entire days of being almost in tears because I knew I needed to go grocery shopping, but the idea of being in the store alone, or dealing with putting groceries away alone, was incredibly daunting and depressing.

But it's not like I died.

I am almost in tears today, because there is a new possible caregiver here, and she has taken out recycling I've been too tired to take out this week, has cleaned the kitchen sink that squicks me out to go near or clean so hadn't been for weeks, helped put dishes away so they didn't just sit on a counter or in the washer and reload the washer.

...She is cutting up the chicken I bought, which is something I actually have anxiety about doing, because chicken is so SLIPPERY and I'm always terrified of cutting myself, and putting the cut chicken into the freezer so that all I have to do to make taco meat or soup is pull it out and cook it.

But, yeah, it's not like I'd die if she wasn't here. The chicken would just wind up in the freezer as whole breasts, and every time I wanted to cook any, I'd stare at the frozen chunks of chicken and have to decide if I felt up to defrosting/cutting it. And sometimes I'd have to say 'no', and just eat more toaster waffles.

But that wouldn't kill me.

And I guess in the US with the current system of healthcare and feelings about who is worthy or whatever. I guess.. that means there's no need. Because quality of life has been declared to be not a fucking need.

[khashanakalashtar]

A few months ago I would've reblogged this with no addition, maybe left a #felt or #mood in the tags, but in the meantime I've had my meds switched out.

The thing I was on before was great at making me not suicidal, I was on it for like seven years, I would have told you I loved it. The first sign that it had stopped working?

Was not being slightly dissociated literally all the time. Which was leaps and bounds a better place to be than miserable, but I had straight up believed real wonder and awe were something I had simply grown out of. I did not think I was capable of those emotions anymore, the kind that lets you stare at a grasshopper and go, "fuck, this EXISTS, look at it!" The mindful kind. If anything, I thought those were emotions reserved for people not living in a world falling to pieces around them, people who had real-life friends and partners and job satisfaction, people who made it to the gym and took walks and ate well-rounded meals.

My meds stopped working and I got back highs and lows, both, I got back wonder and awe and feeling alive and I got back lying in bed using all of my strength not to hurt myself. A whole range of emotions I thought I didn't have anymore.

The first thing they tried me on muted the highs and lows again, but it did nothing for my executive function, and I straight up told my psychiatrist, the amount of sugar I'm having to eat to get myself to do anything is not sustainable. Honestly I could probably handle the bad days if I could function on the in-between days, but I can't make dinner or take a shower or get through a workday without eating handfuls of chocolate, even if my mood feels fine. And I pointed out to my psych: My old medication was a dopamine/norepinephrine reuptake inhibitor. So she switched me to something with epinephrine in it.

Y'all, someday is now.

Someday I'll read this book, someday I'll paint that picture, someday I'll start job hunting, someday I'll schedule an eye doctor appointment--it's now. I'm doing it. I can do it.

I read a YA novel in one sitting. I haven't pulled that shit since high school. I can do more than one thing in a day now. I've scheduled like four things, done the household chores before they started gaining sentience, tried to visit the cobbler and an art exhibit, gotten my mother's Christmas gift, refilled my meds, made serious progress on three pieces of art, applied for several jobs, read that book, planned my Halloween costume, and voted within, like, the last week.

Because, now? I can decide to do a thing and just do it. There's minimal arguing with myself. It doesn't take effort to move from the "fine I'll do it" stage to actually doing it.

I keep cycling through a couple repeating thoughts. "Is this what it's like to be neurotypical?" "It was never supposed to be this hard?" "I've actually been disabled for my entire adult life, in the legal sense of significantly impairing my ability to do things in several areas of my life and not just the 'mental illness counts' sense?"

And also, "Every time I thought, 'Is this really all there is?' the answer was no?"

It's not perfect. Brain still requires more rest than I want it to. Couldn't leave the house today, or spend the daytime working on art or applications, but I took a shower and did the laundry, including the ironing, and that's more than I usually get out of days like this.

(And you know what, it's a lot easier to get exercise or eat balanced meals or clean your shower before it molds or do activism if you don't have to fight yourself about it for hours. It's like the opposite of a negative spiral. It's easier to maintain friendships and develop new ones and consider career paths and find things that give you joy and purpose.)

You know how we're always telling suicidal teens that they don't know what their life is going to be like yet, that they can't begin to imagine how different adulthood is going to be and the person they're going to become? I think we need to stop forgetting that this applies to every stage of life to some degree. Teenage Kieran had no idea what life was like, because they had only experienced a piece of it, but early 20s Kieran and late 20s Kieran also had no idea what life was like, and they would never have believed Kieran today existed. I can only assume that I still have no idea what life is like in my 30s and 40s and after. The idea that "you never know what the future might hold" has actual meaning to me now.

I don't want to imply that all of you just need to get on better meds, I know that's not the answer or even feasible for everyone. I just want people to know that it isn't a platitude when I say you never know what the future might hold. You might get to practically-30 and have the hopeless grind of a life that you can't look too far in the future of without depressing yourself suddenly look like an opportunity.

Also that "not actively suicidal" is a fine first goal for an antidepressant, but maybe don't stay on it for seven years without at least considering raising your standards.

Someday might come.

i thought my suicidal late teens were the hardest years of my life but nothing could’ve prepared me for my 20s waking up everyday with no purpose, feeling so lost, unable to keep up with friendships, watching everyone move on with relationships and careers and being unable to catch up. and I’m such a “life is not a race” type of person but damn I’m losing so hard rn

[ancient-reverie]

people don't seem to grasp how much stress I'm under so here's a list so I can show it to them:

Cat that has asthma needs a pill every other day. occasionally needs an inhaler at night.

Cat that has kidney disease and had a seizure Friday night.

rabbit with permanent head tilt and balance issues with an eye issue prone to uti's that takes daily medication

rabbit that suddenly started having stomach problems tonight out of the blue. rare but happens and then i have to syringe feed her every four hours until she's eating on her own again

I'm the only one on top of flea meds and vet check ups for the entire house ( 6 cats, 2 dogs, 2 rabbits)

I need to double check my dentist appointment is on the 10th and if not schedule one (I am bad at this, talking to people is hard and I have anxiety attacks on the phone. the only way to really know is via phone call)

made an appointment for an hrt related checkup which is easy but I now have to decide if I want to tell them if I wanna continue hrt or go off it (the reasons are unrelated to my gender identity)

waiting for said Dr from said gender clinic to approve refill on said hrt because I'm out. because they charged me full price but only gave me half of my refill last time.

need to move furniture in my room and clean before it makes me and the kids sick. there's rabbit pee soaked into the floor under a cat tree and under a cabinet and I just haven't been able to clean it.

also need to rearrange to give my rabbits areas more conducive to their and my existence

and to make space so my cats feel more included

feeling guilt that my oldest cat with kidney disease is dying and I haven't spent time with her like I want to because of my two other cats and her not getting along. but she's dying so what do I do

she dying what do I do? I don't want her to die in a vet office. I want her to be able to be asleep on a bed in the house and I don't know how to do that vets don't make house calls anymore

nicotine addiction

gotta give all my kids the love and affection they deserve bc any of them could get into something or have a sudden health problem and die at any moment

no one to talk to about it

have to clean my room. have to take dishes down before they grow mold. some of them I'm sure already are. this is a common occurrence.

need to do laundry. have no more clean sheets.

think the cat peed on the foot of the bed. haven't been able to really check. just keep ignoring it. it's not by my face and the cat still lays in that corner. (cat box in room makes me nose blind to cat pee a lot of the time and)

cats pee in random places of room and on their scratchers. regularly smelling cat pee in specific spots around room. sometimes it is just a hallucination.

no one can stand to listen to me list everything I have going on.

closet needs to be cleaned and sorted. things to give away and go into storage need to be hauled downstairs. (i am weak and physically not good but no one is able to help)

fish tank got a water change recently but I fear it won't last longer than a week and I'll need to take everything out and deep clean which takes me 4 ish hours bc I'm slow and it hurts

trying to find meaning and purpose in life. is art the career path I want or just a hobby? should I be writing? should I be making friends?

can't leave the house without having anxiety attacks.

not seen as myself by those around me (family) just as a conglomerate of actions. not seen for my actions and struggles by the people around me (family)

intrusive thoughts intrusive thoughts intrusive thoughts intrusive thoughts intrusive thoughts intrusive thoughts intru-

oh I was loading a bowl- *distracted for 15 mins* oh right I was loading a bowl- *distracted for 15 mins* fuck I'm loading a bowl *loads bowl* *distracted for 15 mins* *takes hit* *distracted for 15* *takes a hit* *distracted for 15* ADHD having ass

dissociation derealization depersonalization dissociate derealize depersonalize dddddddddddddd error

someone inside my head actually screaming and tearing at their skin with their claws

someone inside my head deciding to verbally and emotionally and physically abuse someone else in the system

someone doing drugs in the mindspace and all the issues that come with it

someone having flashbacks after being triggered

friends aren't going to text me. I keep my phone on silent. it's been silent since the beginning of the year. it's currently april. I'm used to it being silent now. it hasn't caused me to miss anything.

I have no one to talk to and therapy isn't what I crave. therapy is a fake version of what I need. I need someone to want to listen to me without being paid to do so

who has time to eat in this action economy

want to finish my games. want to finish bg3 before everyone else. before it gets spoiled. want to finish stray. want to finish doom. want to start doom eternal

want to be into vrchat more and work on my anxiety

want to finish at least the two books on my desk

who has the energy to shower and brush their teeth everyday? not this bag of bastards.

want to trim my hair. want my friends to see my long hair though

need to finish two paintings for two besties. one I don't know if I wanna continue it or start over (again for the fifth time). and one I haven't even decided on the pose for but tried to start.

one of the alters needs glasses but as you can see we are better off being in denial until we really genuinely need glasses because there's more pressing issues

relationships with family members is all we have but it is bad and idk if the family members have any idea. I think they think it's fine and have no idea that I really don't get along with them and living with them is killing me but I can't move out

gotta hide the self harm ! which is second nature to me but still a stressor

I'm not gonna buy cigarettes I have a tank mod and a small vape with replaceable pods. I'm not gonna buy cigarettes I have a tank mod and a small vape with replaceable pods. I'm not gonna buy cigarettes I have a tank mod and a small vape with replaceable pods. I'm not gonna buy cigarettes I have a tank mod and a small vape with replaceable pods.

I need a new ps4 controller so I can use my expensive console taking up room on my desk and all the games I paid for and spent hours downloading

I just wanna buy new sex toys but I don't need them and we just laid off all the credit cards and I don't have money to blow on needed things. I donated to a lot of people this year instead

it's getting hotter and I'm going to have to run my AC constantly soon but it has black mold growing in it. and you don't have to be allergic for that to be an issue but I do happen to be allergic and one of my cats has asthma. and idk how to clean take it apart, let alone do it by myself but it looks like that's gonna be what happens.

trash and recycling needs to be taken out before I go back to throwing everything on the floor like I was doing for a little bit bc it's all too much

need to pick up the mess siruss made from tearing up semi important lists we need in a fit of stress and being overwhelmed

remember to put the night guard in before laying down so you don't crush your teeth in your sleep and have to get a 3rd (4th?) crown where your molars are supposed to be

can't even be addicted to weed in so goddamn stresses but watch out! forgetting to smoke is forgetting meds and the IBS, acid reflux, ADHD, chronic full body pain, chronic specific body pain, depression, anxiety, existentialism and fatigue will getcha!

just picked up meds from vet. god it's expensive. but that's off the list now........ until it's back on the list again.

don't ask for help. they are busy, you're literally watching them be busy or have downtime to relax after being busy. oh you got the courage to ask anyway? ah they're not interested. ah yes it's too dirty/hard/inconvenient/simple and maybe you should just do it.

and now feel the many emotions associated with asking for help and being told no again. become unable to do thing you needed help with at all. or can't do it without help at all to begin with so fuck me I guess.

do whatever it is they ask you to do. even if you just asked for help and they said no, if they need you to do something you go do it and if you don't you are a bad person and will be made out as selfish and lazy and forced to feel guilt.

that dragon adoptable game luckily only needs to be kept up with every three days. unless there's an event and then at least casual grinding and dailies must be kept up with.

pokemon sleep is an addiction and I want to quit it but I'm struggling and don't know what to do bc if I have raikou I want the other two but I could literally quit right now and it wouldn't matter and I'd be a little more free please help

my oldest cat needs to be brushed more bc she can't groom herself as well nowadays and my brother can't stand having hair on him. he'll pet her and wipe is hand off and not really scratch her and I hate it so much. she has small mats here and there and I feel like a shitty parent

my rabbits need to be brushed constantly until all their mats are out from winter coat that just hasn't come out completely yet. the head tilt rabbit can't even reach most of his body to clean it.

I also have to clean their butts for the same reason

one of my cats keeps leaving small poops OUTSIDE of the litter box

my oldest with the kidney issues and my middle child cat both throw up a once or twice a week and I don't know why. the oldest has always been that way. my middle child has nothing else up with him thank fuck but this and eye gunk

I have to remember to drink water or tea or liquids more than just a few sips a day. I HAVE. TO. or I'll get a UTI. and bc I dissociate from my body sensations I won't notice the UTI until it starts hurting my kidneys and then it's crunch time to get antibiotics before I end up in the hospital which is a valid fear bc it has happened before and it almost happened a second time

can't physically do what I need without feeling sick. probably bc I can't take care of myself. which is probably bc I can't do anything without feeling ill. which is probably bc I don't take care of myself. which is probably bc i-

I'm so overwhelmed that I don't do anything I need to and it builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and and it builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and it builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and it builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and it builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and it builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and it builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and it builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and it builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and it builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and it builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and it builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and it builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and it builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and it builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and it builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and it builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and it builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds and builds

and I'm so overwhelmed that I start new projects and come up with new and more things to do and look for the old things I never did and never finished as well

and I'm so overwhelmed that I want to write again because nothing is in my control because there's no such thing as control because nothing matters and it's chaos and that's beautiful and I love life but I don't know what to do when I just want to pause everything but I can't pause everything and taking a break doesn't make me feel better it just lets everything build and makes me feel more on edge

dissociating isn't taking a break

and I wonder if being on Lexapro again would help but I know it wouldnt last

and I wonder if I should trip on shrooms bc it's been nearly an entire year. but I have such a limited amount and I need them for when I need them (I don't know when that is but I'll know when it happens) and the friend I got them from hasn't spoken to me in months

my go-to anxious intrusive thought is that he's dead. unfortunately that thought... well it's not as delusional as I'd like it to be. we dated for a little over a year, and then some more on and off and we even had sex this year. he is the only friend I have that lives close to me. (close is an hour and a half away)

my bestie who lives in the same state is 3 hours away. she's in school. she also has mental health struggles. she's not good at texting and she says this herself often.

I have other friends that live in the state but... I haven't spoken to them in years and I didnt ever let them in fully, and I'm afraid (I don't know what I'm afraid of)

my other besties live out of state. one is in Cali. the other is in North Carolina. I am in Texas.

the one in Cali I met online and have only met in person once. she's engaged. idk when the wedding is but im going, I'm invited of course. she's busy with work and mental health also. she used to have alters that we talked to. Sy was married to one of them

siruss dealing with pain of past relationships and trauma and everything

the NC bestie also used to have alters. siruss used to date bestie though. she's busy with work and mental health. and though we've never talked about it I feel like there's something off between us that neither of us want to touch. or maybe it's just me.

or maybe it's siruss wanting to let go and not being able to

and maybe we need to meet new friends who will see us and give us something new to think about and someone we can share stories with who won't agonize over hearing old names.

idk how to make friends anymore Im so tired and I distrust people

I'm so tired we fall asleep with the vibrator and don't even get to jerk off which trust me is not great. the nighttime endorphins dose is quite necessary to function the next day. TMI we're not a morning masturbator bc the pussy ends up wet all day and it's not sexy when there's no one to appreciate it and you're horrified about getting a UTI

I miss my chickens...

I want new tattoos before I die of stress and my body is thrown in the ground more bare than it should be.

I want to gain weight so I feel and look healthier and maybe it'll help me not feel sick and weak and in as much pain

but the kids are dying as the seconds pass and the dust is building on the shelves and the dishes are piling up and the trash is starting to smell sour and the recycling is overflowing and my desk is too cluttered to set anything down and I need to love them more and be around them more and I need to stop watching YouTube and I need to start drawing and I need to travel and I need to live life but everything costs money and nothing lasts and I'm too much for everyone that I've met but I will still love them with all my heart and I don't think it's their fault they are only humans and I'm an unspeakable amount of divine/demonic/cosmic/paranormal entities with their own traumas and lives and backgrounds and intricate details eating up my insides- do you know how long it takes to get to know one person? the answer is you never know one person- imagine that but for 6 people all vying and deserving of being known and seen

and there's genocides and wars all over the planet. and there's deforestation and poachers. and there's puppy mills and inbreeding. and there's capitalism and heteronormativity. and I can't stop thinking about Nex Benedict and Aaron Bushnell. I can't stop thinking about the BLM protests. and I can't stop thinking about the Hong Kong protests. and I can't stop thinking about China. and human trafficking. and polution. and how the news and media that most people see don't say anything important and fear monger and emotionally manipulate for views and clicks. and nothing is real and no one tells the truth and even if it is the truth no one knows for certain. you never know what really happened unless you see it with your own eyes.

and it's all a stupid game we could all decide to stop playing and simply give people food and shelter and wifi and safety and medical attention. money doesn't have to exist we can just do things for each other but everyone forgot what reality was. which is about being outside and talking with people you love.

and I'm not suicidal anymore, although I do wish to lay at the foot of a tree until it grows around and envelops me. turning my being into immortality itself and sending my consciousness into the fabric of roots pulsing across terra until im one with the gods

[thatonebirdwrites]

Words Written: A discussion about Ableism and Disability

Content Note: Discusses ableism and harassment This year I set out with a goal to write 500,000 words. When I hit that goal in the summer, I joked with my Internet friends that I would reach a million by December. I did in fact do that: Legend of Korra Shared Moments story is 913,285 words. Supergirl: Supercorp Endgame is 105,475. Spirit World Vacation is 20,769 words. Is this a romance story is 14,411 words.

If I only go with what I put on AO3, then my total word count this year (as of 12/4/2023) is 1,053,940 words.

However, I have several chapters planned for Shared Moments and Supercorp Endgame (Unraveling Realities) stories, so this word count will probably have at least a few thousand added to it by years end.

How did I do this?

This is a complicated question to answer, and it involves me being real about my very shitty situation. Considering there's a fifty-fifty chance next year could be even worse, I find myself wondering at times how I can keep going.

Yet I try to choose hope, despite the fact that everything I've tried to do these past few years has burned around me.

Writing plays a huge part in how I choose hope.

So here is the reality:

1. I've been ill all year with no job. I survive because of my temporary Long Term Disability benefit. I lost my job November of last year. My illness progressed where the accommodations the job allowed wasn't enough, and they rejected what my doctor and I offered. I'd worked there for five years, had been instrumental in the success of that department, given an award by the head of that department, but my illness destroyed all of that in a few short months. It's a slow progressive illness with no cure.

2. I'm in pain a lot, sometimes to the point of where I can't move much at all. Or the nerve pain makes it so I can't use my hands or concentrate. The schedule my doctor and I worked out is 30 minutes of writing. I then rest for 45 minutes to an hour. I then do another 30 minutes of writing. I rest for 45 minutes to an hour. If I use this schedule, I can get about four or so hours of writing. But it uses up the ENTIRE day. Meaning I can't do much else. I also cannot do this every day otherwise I will have a massive flare up that requires days of rest.

3. I space out these writing days. Every other day seems to work okay. If I have to go somewhere, such as to an appointment or some other place outside my house, then I need to space it out even further. To leave my home, I must spend an entire day resting to prepare for that outing. Resting means stuck in bed, sleeping, maybe doing some mindless crafts, watching something that doesn't use up energy, or reading a few pages here and there.

So do I recommend this schedule to folks? No, actually. I don't.

So why do I do it then?

I need something to help me choose hope.

Some basic facts I deal with daily:

I'm sick with a debilitating disease that has no cure. I can barely leave my bed. I often have to use a wheelchair or crutches to get around my home, and I can't leave my house without my wheelchair because I can't walk further than 10 to 15 feet without collapsing.

We live in a society that dehumanizes people like me. I get very little visitors. The local so-called disability programs often fails to help and drags their feet for everything. I'm constantly fighting to keep disability benefits (every 5 months I gotta pull out the paperwork to prove my disability still exists, which once done wipes me out for a week).

When I need assistance for energy-intensive tasks like cleaning and cooking larger meals, I often fail to get that help. Every task I do requires me to carefully ration my small amount of energy (for example, most people have ten spoons to work with in a day. I have two or three at most, and sometimes I have to borrow a spoon from a future day, so I end up with less spoons one day to make up for that).

I often rely on my sisters and friends in town, much of whom are busy. Meaning, unless it's an appointment, the task will take months because that is often how long I must wait before someone finds the time to help me.

For example, it's taking me months to fix my desktop. It doesn't matter that I could do more things with it: play video games again, make music again, do more creative things (that maybe might allow for income), etc... -- none of that matters, because in the end, I rely on the schedule of others to find time for me. My dreams, hopes, needs are always secondary.

When I ask for help, I am forced to trust the person will continue to see me as a human being worthy of respect and dignity, worthy of care. I have discovered in the course of this illness, that some people I trusted with my life? Some of them came to resent the fact I am disabled, and I have been told to my face by these former friends about how I am a burden, a drain on society, that it disgusted them I had to ask for help for simple things, and they no longer wanted to be my friend.

Moments like that made me less likely to reach out, so then I try to do it all myself, only to end up collapsing (often leading to a hospital visit). This year I've been trying to not fall into neglecting my health. I didn't want to end up at the hospital every three months (which has been the norm for five years). I'm proud to say I only was in the hospital twice this year. (Hey, let me have my victory, okay? I'm quite proud of this.)

But how do I avoid falling into neglecting my health? I have to stop pushing myself beyond what my health could handle. It meant asking for help knowing it could be the last time this person every spoke to me if they decided I asked for help too many times.

For a disabled person like me, it rarely matters what I offer to others. I have skills that I can leverage for people and for organizing, but I'm often told that because I'm disabled I shouldn't help.

For example, a friend needed assistance with the audio tech at his church. I came in my wheelchair and got it all working just fine. I did this for a few months, until the church council got wind of it, and proceeded to harass me about how I am "too disabled" to do this. That I shouldn't "make a spectacle of myself." How sitting behind a giant wooden desk that hid me from view, while I wore headphones and worked a soundboard is a "spectacle" is beyond me. In the end, I was driven out by those people who "claimed" to be "doing good." This hurt them, since they no longer had an experienced audio tech, but also me because it left me even more isolated. I often offer emotional support to people, and yet I get told that I shouldn't "overexert" myself as if this person knows more about my limits then I do.

No one knows my limits but me and my doctor, and even then, I am the only person who can make that call. If I say I can do the thing? Then I will do the thing within my capabilities. If for any reason I need assistance or must delay the completion of the thing, I will communicate that.

People seem to forget that I have a brain and can communicate effectively without assistance.

In the end? Far too many people want me to be abled-bodied and to show up in-person. Being told that directly far too many times felt like a slap to the face because I desperately wanted to be able to do that but I couldn't due to my illness. If I show up in-person, yes, I will need some accommodations, but that doesn't mean I can't still use my knowledge and skills to assist. The assumption that disabled people have no skills, no knowledge, no capabilities is ableism painted up as "good intentions" to "keep disabled people from hurting themselves." It's eugenics in action, isolating a group of people, dehumanizing them, and stripping them of their autonomy slowly over time. I wish people took my skills and knowledge seriously. That they see ME and not just a sack of breathing meat in a wheelchair. I may not be able to pull off many abled-bodied stunts that involve physical prowess, but I can write, work audio equipment, edit documents, run software programs and do basic de-bugging, organize meetings or marches by doing the behind the scenes paperwork, crafting tech solutions to a problem, and so forth. And yet, if I try to offer these skills, I'm ignored, pushed out, and dehumanized all because some people (often white cisgender people) decided they "knew best" about my own body and mind.

I can give people all that I am, only to be spat upon for being too disabled to fit people's expectations of how a friend should behave.

It leaves me exhausted, scared, and worried that this next time I reach out? It could mean another friend lost.

Who can I rely on then?

Internet friends to some degree, but I worry sometimes due my trauma. About whether they would still be my friend in person. In the end, all I can do is trust and hope that they love me as I am and accept what I can offer, and continue to be there for them when I'm able to do so.

I can rely on my fluffy cat Sgt. Quark Amaya McFluffers, who has saved my life many a time. Literally. He brings me joy and cuddles me when I weep.

I can rely on my writing.

Yes, My writing.

The primary reason I am alive right now, is because I have been writing all year.

To give myself a reason to keep going.

To not lose hope.

Writing keeps me alive literally.

So no, I don't recommend people use the schedule I did above. I don't recommend that because it's not sustainable. It's actually not that healthy.

I recognize it's not healthy, but at this time, when there's little else in my life that gives me strength to keep going?

I cultivate hope through these written words.

Do people read what I write? Do they enjoy it?

Gods, I hope so. But in all reality, longer stories generally don't do well for keeping readers. I also don't write smut (it might appear in a story but it's never a focus).

The stories I want to tell?

They dig into the trauma of the characters, dig into their emotions, dig into the reality of the consequences to actions and situations, and explore how they heal.

Sure I've written silly things here and there to amuse myself, but the vast majority of what I've written is about healing from trauma. It's about survival. It's about choosing hope.

So yes, most people don't want a Lord of the Rings version of Legend of Korra or Supercorp. And that's okay.

But there are people that do. And those people somehow manage to find my niche. I still sometimes get comments or kudos from them.

And to see that?

To see those comments? Those people reaching out to let me know my writing mattered? That it brings them joy? That it got them to cry? To think?

It floods me with the strength to choose hope yet again. Human connection matters.

It's that reminder that I'm not a burden. That I'm not alone. That I'm not forgotten. That maybe, just maybe I can make a difference in people's lives. Even if it is just words on paper or a screen.

I am so grateful for these people. So, so grateful.

Because in a world that is hostile to the existence of disabled people, of people who can't fit the productivity standards of capitalism?

This is literally all I have left.

And so I write.

Thus I leave you with this: May you find the strength to keep choosing hope too.

Thanks for reading.

Now go write stuff.

[stumbleintothesun]

Life Rant

For the few people in here...sorry lmao this is long as hell.

Lately I've been feeling like...garbage. I know there's no one on this place that really follows me, so this is me posting to the void.

I have been dealing with a lot of health issues related to my mental health and weight. I've gained nearly twenty pounds in a year, and no matter what I do my weight doesn't budge. I work out regularly, Ive been trying to eat better but...my only thought is its because I'm working a desk job now - which I fucking hate with a fury. And I know my weight isnt the end of the world - it just really, really fucks with my mental health. I've always felt ugly. The only time I didn't was when I was super thin which I know is problematic - and I know that's part of my mental health...like my aunt died from an ED. And my mom definitely had/has an ED even if she's gotten much better about it in the past few years...

And I'm finally getting my face to clear up after wearing these masks for a year - a year! But I'm still dealing with the healing process and I'm anxious it will scar. I've worked this entire pandemic at a job I *hate* just to you know, finally pay off my student loans just go back to school so maybe I can do something I love. But even at 25 and providing for myself, I hardly got any financial help. The only thing saving me is my grades that got me a decent transfer scholarship.

But the first school I applied to wanted my high school transcript, even though I have an associate's degree, and because I'm, frankly, stupid I somehow missed that they needed it. So they threw out my application that I spent an otherwise four hours writing for.

So I'm going to Eastern, which frankly will be better for my mental health, but they don't have a tuition free program. So I'm going to have to borrow money after just finally paying off my single year at a liberal arts college debt that I took on when I was 17 (it ended up being like 30k to pay off). And it's all because I didn't fucking read right. So much for being a good student, I guess.

But it wouldn't have mattered because they would've hardly taken any of my classes despite most of them being from down the road and for an associate's degree! And even Eastern is giving me a hard time, despite my degree they say I don't have the basic level biology course - my degree is biology focused! I'm going into ecology! I have taken genetics, conservation biology, anatomy and physiology, cellular biology but I don't have intro bio? So now I have to test out, on top of working full time. Which is fine, its a good refresher...I'm just so overwhelmed with life right now. I have a stack of over 100 flash cards and I'm just anxious.

This is a year after my partner went through an ugly break up with their old fiance (we were poly), and their ex was an abusive POS who once told them if they came out as anything other than their assigned gender, he wouldn't date them anymore. He gaslit them constantly, made them feel like hell. So we finally got out, but he wanted the house they got together or 10k. He made over double what they make - and he always forced them to pay half the bills, including half of his fucking protein bullshit because it was "groceries." He knew they didn't have the funds. Because our friends are amazing, we were able to buy him off but he left the house trashed.

It fucking sucked, and they were also responsible for getting his name off the house which meant a refinance that we could hardly afford. We got lucky we were able to do it, but they hardly got anything back for it. And it was a *nightmare*. We finally got it done, after pulling teeth and it took six months. Four months longer than they said. And that entire time they were forced to occasionally reach out to him, their old abuser.

Finally we were free, but then I started having further issues at work. Between the pandemic, and working in a heavily red area during the election, I cried a lot. I work in customer service and while I make okay money for the industry, I'm constantly burned out. My colleagues are okay, but it feels stupid to leave just to find a job for three months to go back to school. Then I started being short in my drawer (I'm a teller at a bank). The final straw was being short $500. Now I'm on a work plan, and if Im short again, I'm out. And it's my fault. I don't know how it has been happening. So now I'm always on edge at work, triple checking everything. And I could leave, I could get another job but there's no promise I'll make what I do now, and in order for me to pay for the chunk of school I need to, I have to put away a certain amount every month.

I do have a grant of sorts for 5k per semester to help with bills, which will alleviate a lot once August arrives. And I know I'm crazy lucky to have that. So sometimes I feel like such an asshole about it. But we have a house to pay for and bills to pay. Just like everyone else. Ugh, I don't know.

I talked to my doctor about my weight, came in with calorie intake numbers and how much I work out with zero change. I cut out pop entirely from drinking it every day. Nothing has helped. So we switched my meds from Lexapro to Wellbutrin to see if I lose weight because of that. Nope, just having more mental break downs, steady weight, and my resting heart rate is abnormally high, stopping me from making a little extra cash donating plasma. So now I'm switching back to Lexapro with nothing gained other than. You know. Feeling like shit. Next up? Birth control coming out of my arm. Don't really need it anyway. And maybe that will help? But I don't think so. I'm not sure what to do.

I am genuinely trying to be healthy, eating more whole foods. More veggies. More home cooked meals. I love to cook, I'm just tired. And sometimes the air fryer and oven baked frozen foods are too easy to pass up. I'm trying to always eat breakfast. I'm working out again, we have a gym membership but there are so many men there and I dont always feel comfortable, because my partner has been anemic and they can't go yet. So I use our bike in the living room and do home workouts.

But when I did this last time there was zero change in weight or anything. Even when I ate really, really clean for three weeks and worked out for most days, tracking calories and everything. Nothing changed. My thyroid is fine, we've already checked it. I'm just tired.

This past year, other than being with my partner has fucking sucked. And this doesn't even cover all the shit they've dealt with with switching to they/them and a name change. I love them so much, and love that they are finally comfy but their parents were assholes about it. And that matters. It does, and I get it. I just wish I could help them more. I wish we had a break, a breather for longer than a day. Even then I can't relax, I'm too on edge. There's too much to be done. I need to earn money, I need to clean, I need to focus. I need to be productive in some way to justify if I'm not working on those things. It's...all dumb.

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Forty-Five

Table of Content or Part Forty-Four

Read HERE on Wattpad

Words: 3.1K

Warning(s): Explicit language, sexual situations, mentions of drug abuse

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Five days detoxing at Doc's house+rehab+therapy=road to recovery=out of the woods. It's the magical equation I swore up and down wouldn't end in "Error."

The few dishes on the counter shatter into the floor once Nikki roughly sits me on it, his fingers digging into my thighs that wrap securely around him, our tongues twisting as we tug and pull at each other's clothes.

I get his pants undone as he pulls the towel from around my body, taking a handful of my soaking wet hair in his hand and tugging my head back to leave bites and bruises up and down my neck, causing me to hum in pleasure while my core pulses with anticipation to be filled by him.

Moving myself to the edge of the counter, spreading my legs as he runs his fist up and down his length a few times, I take heavy breaths, a wash of shame coming over me for a moment because this is the complete opposite of what we were instructed to do. 

But fuck the "no contact" rule. 

I've barely had any contact with him the past few months because he's been stoned or drunk. Telling me to practically ignore and avoid him for 30 days straight is like waving a loaded syringe in an addict's face before sitting it down in front of them and leaving them alone after telling them "okay I know it's right there and it's the one thing you struggle most to control yourself around, but don't even look at it."

Fuck that, and Nikki. And I refuse to walk around my own house anymore and not do the latter of those two.

The indescribable feeling of him pushing into me has my head tipping back , and my eyes closing as the both of us let out content sighs. 

I put my weight on one of my hands that rests on the counter beside me, the other hand wrapped around the back of Nikki's neck, as he moves in and out of me ferociously and I meet him thrust for thrust.

Let's take a step back and catch up on how he and I had gotten to that point.

Eight Days Earlier

"You two can detox at my place, check into rehab, come out when you're better and we'll go from there." Doc explains to Nikki and Tansy as they both sit on our couch.

"W-What about the press? Or my mom?" Tansy asks him nervously, fumbling with the tag on the throw blanket she's enveloped in.

"You let me deal with your mom and the media, alright?" Doc assures her. 

"Surely your mom won't be pissed at you for getting help, Tans." I try to tell her and she rubs her lips together.

"People will know I have a problem if I got to rehab." She points out. "It'll make me look bad."

"Having to cover your entire body with makeup to hide the discoloration of your skin and the track marks, looks bad, Tansy. Screw what people think. At least you're admitting you need help." I say and she doesn't reply, just looking at Nikki to gauge his reaction to all of this.

He looks pissed, but too tired and defeated to give a shit enough to argue with me anymore about it.

"What's the point of rehab if I'm just gonna end up kicking it at Doc's place?" Nikki asks me and I let out a breath.

"Because rehab will teach you coping mechanisms that Doc can't, Nikki. It won't take that long for you to get out if you just try your best at it." I reply and he scoffs. 

"So, what, you're babysitting me at Doc's until I'm done throwing up, shitting myself, and having hot and cold flashes and then shipping me off for a few weeks?" He cuts his dead eyes at me and Doc and I exchange looks.

"Well, it depends on how quickly you adjust to rehab and make a turn around, as to how soon you can get out...so it might be more than a few weeks." Doc informs him. "And Bob has already scheduled you and Viv an appointment with a marriage therapist."

"Well if I'm spending more than three weeks in rehab there's no point in working on our marriage." 

"The program you'll be in includes this particular therapist who's currently working on creating a schedule for Vivian to come visit you often and you two have your sessions bi-weekly." Doc states and Nikki rolls his jaw, looking at me.

"Is this what you really want? Your husband gone for weeks on end until some quack gives me a certificate and a gold star because I went 'X' amount of time without shooting up?" He harshly questions me and I rub my lips together.

I think of the reasons Nikki didn't spend more than three days in rehab the first time he went, was because A.) He refused to believe in a higher power, and B.) He didn't go to rehab because he knew he had a problem and wanted to get better, he went to rehab to appease the people around him because he felt we were twisting his arm until he gave up and cried "mercy" a.k.a "fine I'll go, just as long as you shut the fuck up and get off my back about it."

I look at him for a moment, studying his knotted hair, his yellow skin, his shot eyes, his weak appearance, before saying:

"I'd rather you hate me for a little while for getting you help, instead of waking up and trying to convince myself to continue to live in a world with no Nikki Sixx in it."

"We're not indestructible, Nikki." Tansy adds softly, knowing very well she and he both need help.

He doesn't say anything else.

She had Doc and I convinced she wanted help...but truth be told Nikki actually went to rehab while Tansy had Duff come get her from Doc's house.

She knew she had a severe problem, but the only time Tansy would "clean up" was when she gave her veins a break, out of fear of completely losing them, and was muscling smack. She would fall back on pills and lots of booze, then when some of her veins would start reviving themselves back from their smaller size, she would start up again.

I can't even say how much money she and her mother were paying people to keep quiet to the media. 

Nobody could know perfect Tansy Lyn, Playboy's Barbie Doll, was so broken inside that she repeatedly destroyed her body, let it rebuild, and wrecked it again. 

It must have been a punch in the face to her mom when Tansy came clean in '88 and admitted she had struggled with addiction and was going into rehab...and an even harder punch in the face when she came back in into the spotlight in 1989, dropping her stage name "Tansy Lyn" and dawning "Tansalyn Rose" after marrying Axl, and practically confessed every grimy detail of her obsession with hard drugs and alcohol since 1981, and why she started them to cope with what was happening behind the scenes of the brutal modeling industry. 

In 1990, her vision-come-to-life, "I Won't Just Smile", was born. It started as a campaign to raise awareness against sexual abuse, exploitation, and coercion in all corners of the modelling industry, then stemmed into an organization that offered free services to victims of addiction and abuse, from rehab to post-assault counseling and everything in between.

Years of Diane's hard work to create her daughter's untouchable persona, completely shattered.

I was just thrilled Tansy had turned her struggles around and used them to help others, but first, she would have to face a handful of overdoses, one of which nearly killed her, have a section of her liver cut out, and have a temporary pace-maker.

All of it just made Axl more strict about drugs. Not just for the sake of the band and the fans, but he was afraid some members of Guns in particular would pull Tansy back into the merry-go-round of addiction after she got clean.

"You're telling me I can't stay with him and Tansy?" I ask Doc harshly in a whisper once the four of us get to his house.

"You won't want to stay, Viv. I'm telling you, they're gonna pull out all the stops to get you to cave and get them some smack because they'll be in so much pain. I don't want you to see them like that and I don't want you to compromise their recovery." He explains.

"You think I would do that?!"

"I know you would if it came down to it." He states and I roll my jaw. "This isn't just little flu symptoms and some body aches. They will feel like they are going to die, they will look like they are going to die and I cannot trust you not to give in." His brutal honesty. "You'll be able to see them in about a week, they'll be better by then and then we can look at the next step. Got it?"

I just glare at him.

"Go kiss 'em 'bye' and fuck off." He says next, waving his hand at me dismissively as he goes to my car to grab Nikki's bag and his car to grab Tansy's.

I step back into the living room to tell them 'bye' but stop myself, deciding it's better to let Doc deal with Nikki's pissed off temper when he discovers I won't be staying with them.

Grabbing my car keys from the table by the door, I head the house.

When I get back to our house, I check the machine that's blinking a light to signal a missed call.

I go to the kitchen and get a glass of water as Slash's voice slurs through the speaker.

"H-Hey, Viv, um...uh...we..." I chuckle at his incoherent mumbling and step to the phone to call him back as another message starts playing where his left off.

"Viv," It's Duff. "Call us back as soon as you can."

I furrow my brows a little, about to dial them back until yet another message comes on.

"Viv, we got signed!" Steven's screaming has me dropping my water and the phone, joy coursing through the soles of my feet up to my hair, and I'm running around and screaming along with his recorded message loudly blaring his own excitement.

I run back to the phone and pick it up, dialing their apartment.

"We got signed!" Steven's voice is shouting at me before the phone even rings a single ring.

"When?! How?! By who?!" I say back.

"We'll tell you over dinner because guess who got $7,500 cash advances?! The same mother fuckers who've been stealing from strippers to get by, that's who!" He exclaims.

"Yeah, don't ever tell people you guys did that!" I say in the same tone. "Lemme change and I'll be over there, okay?"

"Okay." He replies, and I can just hear his smile through the phone.

I hang up and give one last scream of happiness before sprinting to get changed and leave.

Tom Zutaut, the same man responsible for giving Mötley Crüe their shot, had given the same shot to Guns N' Roses.

They had signed to Geffen Records, and although that was their second goal--the first was getting a band together--they knew the main goal was to release their first album, and hopefully, have it a success.

Before I can even knock on the door, it's swinging open and Steven's like a puppy, jumping around, waiting on me by the door.

I hug him tightly, trying to keep myself from crying with immense relief that they're one step closer--a giant step closer--to their dream.

When we pull away from each other, Duff holds his hand up for me to give him a high-five and I do, his fingers locking with my hand to pull me into a hug and I'm sandwiched between him and Steven momentarily.

A flash catches my eye and we pull away from each other to see a girl with short, blonde hair, that I've never seen before, holding a camera.

"That's gonna be a good one." She tells us, smiling at Duff as the Polaroid deposits.

Mandy Brixx, member of the punk band, Lotus Lame and The Lame Flames, was a cute girl with bleach blonde hair, beautiful brown eyes and a captivating smile...and was also Duff's first wife.

Mandy wasn't perfect, but she didn't disown Duff after he told her he had gotten me pregnant.

Even though he didn't cheat on her with me, and they had been broken up for about six months when he and I got involved, I know it hurt her knowing he had hooked up with the woman she was sure she didn't have to worry about when they dated. They ended up getting back together in 1988 and got married the same year.

They divorced two years later because something just "changed" and neither of them were happy, but I've always respected her because she was really good to Monroe.

His second wife, however, was crazier than a run over dog because she was always on something.

The last time I saw her in 1993, she had said something crass and rude to Tansy and before Tansy could reply, I was asking Linda, "were you born a cunt or does the crack just bring it out of you?"

She swung on me and I swung back. Except when I throw a punch, I make sure it lands.

Maybe she would've actually hit me if her equilibrium weren't as fried as her brain.

I would've kicked her ass if Duff and Matt Sorum hadn't pulled me off of her.

I hope she got her shit together after they divorced in 1995.

I guess bass players and crack-head models go hand-in-hand...

"Viv, this is my girlfriend, Mandy." Duff introduces me. "Mandy, this is my best friend, Viv."

"Hi, it's good to finally meet you." Mandy tells me with a gentle smile and I extend my hand to her.

"You, too." I reply as she takes my hand in her's, my eyes subtly flickering to Duff now that he's standing beside her, silently asking him when the hell he was going to tell me about his girlfriend.

"I'll tell you later." He mouths to me where she can't see and I just keep smiling as she strikes up conversation with me.

Once we get to the Rainbow, Steven and I are a few steps in front of Duff and Mandy, the blonde drummer letting out a little sigh.

"What is it?" I ask, nudging him.

"Just worried about Tansy." He admits, and I raise my brows. "It's not like that, Viv, I swear." He promises. "She's a cool person, is all. I wish she was here to celebrate this with us."

"I'm sure she'll be thrilled to hear about it when you're allowed to go visit her in rehab." I remind him. "Where's the guys?" I ask next as we step into the Rainbow.

"Slash is hanging out with this chick he met a couple weeks ago, Izzy's with his girl friend and I don't know where Axl is." He tells me and I nod. "So it's just a double date for us tonight." He grins widely, winking at me slickly.

After hours of just goofing off, talking, eating and demonstrating our celebration of Guns' stepping stone, Mandy's calling it a night.

"I'll call you later, Duff." She says to him as she grabs her jacket and he stands up to let her scoot out of the booth.

"Sounds good, babe." He replies, kissing her cheek.

"It was really nice to meet you." She tells me.

"It was nice to meet you, too." I reply.

"Bye." She smiles one last time at Duff, waving to Steven before leaving.

"When did you me--"

"Viv, lemme out." Steven interrupts me and I furrow my brows.

"What?"

"Lemme out, there's a hot girl at the bar and she just waved me over. I wanna get laid. Lemme out." He pleads and I roll my eyes and scoot out so he can stand up.

He does so, heading straight to the bar to try his luck with a beautiful brunette.

And then there were two.

"You were saying?" Duff chuckles out when Steven's gone and I smile a little.

"When did you and Mandy meet?" I ask him and he lets out a breath of cigarette smoke.

"Uh, a month ago, maybe? She gave me her number and I went back and forth with myself until I convinced myself to call her." He explains. "We spent the weekend together so I guess we get along pretty good. She's a great girl."

"She seems nice." I tell him, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear.

"Yeah, she is." He agrees, taking another drag of his cigarette.

I take a sip of my water and sit in the silence that falls over us before noticing he's staring at me.

"What?" I ask him.

"You wanna go somewhere with me?" He offers, putting his cigarette out.

"Where?"

"C'mon." He stands up, nodding to the door.

"But Steven--"

"--Is about to go mess around with that girl in the bathroom. He's not gonna be mad if we leave him." He adds. "C'mon, you'll like where we go."

"If you say so." I shrug.

He pays the bill and the two of us head back to their apartment so he can get his car.

I know I should have been at home by the phone, waiting for a call from Doc or Nikki or Tansy, but it was pointless to sit at home and worry when I couldn't do anything about it anyway.

When we get to where we're going, Duff is parking his car in the lot of an abandoned building, and I glance around to see there's not much traffic around us.

"Is this the part where you murder me?" I ask him and he busts out in laughter, shaking his head.

"This is where Mandy and her band rehearses." He explains.

"Why're we here?"

"I picked her up here the other day and noticed something you might like." He gets out the car and opens his trunk, pulling out a shopping bag.

"Duff..." I say, uneasy as we approach the rusted door.

"Shh, I got it." He digs in his jacket pocket and plucks out a worn key, unlocking the dead bolt and the door knob.

I follow him inside, and he switches on a light switch, only one light beam in the ceiling comes on, and in the large, dim room, I see a large mirrored wall, sleek but worn out wood floors, and I turn to see Duff holding out a brand new pair of pointe shoes to me.

I wasn't going to tell him I'd gone so long without dancing that I'd have to work my way back up to dancing on pointe, because he'd spent money for the shoes and they looked to be around my size and I didn't want to know how observant he had to be to estimate my shoe size in terms of ballet...so I did something I was really good at doing at that time in my life.

I kept myself from crying.

I knew Duff was going to be a constant encourager in my life when he held those shoes out to me and so easily, so confidently, said:

"You've supported and helped me get into my groove of things to start accomplishing my dream. Now, I'm helping you get back into your's."

[trashcat-hiss]

Everything is in flux and I think I may have gone back to some old habits to cope.

My partner was finally able to find work again, but at the end of a 12 week training he/we could be assigned anywhere in the US. It's software dev work, so our assumption has been that we'll end up near a city, but really it could be anywhere.

I'm living in the future--hoping that my mental/emotional symptoms will ease once we're not living with his entire family, hoping that doing house stuff only (and not panicking about using the washing machine, dishwater, oven because I can't know when one of the other people will be using it) can bring me to a place of schedule and regularity, hoping that we'll bring few enough things that I can learn how to keep a place clean, the not so secret hope that we'll move to a cannabis-legal state so I can get relief when flashbacks or physical pain are overwhelming... I'm not really present, or able to take steps toward that close future.

There's also the possibility that we don't change metro areas. In my state the house just passed a bill basically banning CBD flower, which doesn't bring the same relief as full fat cannabis for me, but it can ease things a point or two and that's not nothing. Why is my state going backward? I can't understand why (in our capitalist system) they'd abandon what could be an amazing source of revenue and tax. Hemp and cannabis grow well in this climate. Blerg.

With all that up in the air (uncertainty is triggering enough), I found that I gave in a little to the covid19 scare and bought 20lbs of rice, two bags of dry milk, and cans of tomatoes and beans... "just in case" I told myself. Because I know food scarcity in my core, the fears never really go away. But after the purchase (that we couldn't really afford rn) I realized that buying and living on staple foods is how my mother lives. It's how she coped/s with having been through scarcity. But she doesn't eat fresh food, and the parts of me that are still harboring healthism worry. I also fear flashbacks from tasting rehydrated dry milk. I don't want to think about my mother. I don't want to think how I'm reliving this trauma by choice. I justified the purchases (we rarely get through half gallons of milk and maybe dry milk will mean less waste), but trauma brain can justify anything.

My partner has been taking care of the dishes for the... four? years we've been together because it's a likely place for me to get hit with an ugly flashback, but he's been so busy doing homework for this training that there's not much left for me to use. Every day I wake up and try to convince myself that I can do the thing, but I go to bed not having been able to push myself to risk that kind of flashback in front of his family. I want to be working as hard as he is, he's not pushing me, I'm pushing me... but I can't make it happen. I'm holding out for the future when I'll be the only one home (with my alert dog) and can work through dishes trauma without having anyone to witness a breakdown.

I hate being in this paralyzed limbo. It's natural and maybe healthy to look forward to something new and hopefully better for me, right? I want stability and safety so I can work on things like trauma (and the old executive function tbqh). But how do I get from here to there?

[shawnpetermuffins]

Were you going to tell me?

A/N: this is my first fan fiction on here, so I'd love some feedback if you have any! Also, I'm writing this on my phone, so it probably has a bunch of typos.

Summary: y/n and Shawn have been together for 7 years, but y/n isn't so sure he still wants to be. (This is a really bad summary, wow. Sorry lol)

Warnings: some swearing. Angst and lots of it.

Word count: it's a lot sorry

***

Seven years. Five of which I was in school. (The unfortunate fact of getting into a long distance relationship during my senior year of high school and continuing through college.) Four of which he has been all about touring, and working at the studio, and doing promo. And two of which I have been living with him. Two birthdays and two anniversaries have gone forgotten - by him, I might add. I've never forgotten an anniversary or birthday. I'm good at remembering dates, especially with people that I love. And despite this, I have been completely invested in our relationship.

He's never home anymore. I'm always here cleaning our - his - condo, which used to feel big, but now it feels like I can't take a single step without being in his personal space. That is when he bothers to be home for more than an hour at a time and I'm not at work. He doesn't even notice anymore. It's like he just expects it now. Dinner is always in the fridge for him to heat up because he's never home in time to sit down with each other and eat like a normal couple would. And of course this also means that our sex life is pretty much nonexistent. It's not that I don't want to because that is definitely not the case, but every time I try to get him in bed he always says hes tired or "not now, y/n. I have to get this done." "I'm about to leave." "The boys are on their way."

We've gotten to this point in our relationship that I never thought we'd be at. I never thought he'd become disinterested in me, in us. He really doesn't even pay attention to anything I do or say anymore. So I high key doubted that he was going to notice when I didn't come home for a few days, weeks maybe. It's not like he texts or calls me to see where I am now.

I was throwing in a few more pairs of panties when the front door closed. He was home early. I panicked for a second, debated on whether or not I should I hide the suitcase, but I shook my head and zipped it, set it next to my nightstand. I went to the bathroom to grab my makeup and toothbrush.

“Y/n?” He said from the door to our room. I already wanted to burst into tears, but I couldn't. Not in front of him. He couldn't see how much I was hurting. I walked back into the room, “Hi,” I said softly, but I didn't dare look his way.

“What are you doing? Why is the suitcase out?”

I sighed and didn't answer for a while, trying to find the right words. “I’m going home for a while.”

“Home? You are home. What are you talking about?” He stepped farther into the room.

This was killing me because this was probably the longest conversation we've had in months. “No, Shawn. I'm going home. To y/h/t.” I finally looked up at him. He looked tired, so tired and I just wanted to put him to bed and have him rest for a few days, but I knew better than to say anything to him about how hard he was working himself. We've had that fight before. He thought I was having him choose between me and his work. I would never. (Because I know he'd choose work.)

“What?” He closed the distance between us, grabbing my elbows. This is the closest we've been in a while and it took everything in me not to melt into him. “Were you going to tell me?”

“Shawn,” I pulled away from him and tossed my bathroom bag on the bed.

“What? Is that not a fair question?” He was getting angry, that was obvious. “Why are you leaving?”

“Because I have to.”

“Were you going to tell me?” He asked again.

“Honestly? No. I didn't even think you'd notice.” I crossed my arms over my chest.

“What the fuck are you-?” He threw his hands up. “Of course I would notice!”

“When? Huh? When there wasn't dinner for you in the fridge?”

“Y/N, where is this coming - what did I do?”

“I'm tired, Shawn.” I rubbed my temples.

“Why are you leaving?!” His voice rose, and if I hadn't heard him like this time and time again in the past year and half, I would probably be scared.

“Because I want to go home! Because I can't just sit here anymore!”

He crossed his arms, eyes wide. “This is your home! This is our home!”

“No,” I shook my head, letting out a bitter laugh. “It's not.”

“Yes it is.”

“Shawn, this doesn't feel like home. This condo is not my home! You would understand if you bothered to pay attention to anything I say anymore.”

“I do pay attention!” He said defensively.

“No, you don't! For four years all you've thought about was yourself and your career. You never ask me about me and mine. Which, by the way is pretty much nonexistent since I moved here.”

“So, it's my fault that you don't have a career? Don't you put that on me, y/n! You know I work hard to put this roof over your head and make sure the utilities and anything else you need is paid for.”

“I don't ask you to do that! And I'd pay for it if you would let me! It's not like you're here to use the utilities anyway.”

"What is your fucking problem?! Why are you doing this?!"

"Because I'm tired! I'm tired of being overlooked. I'm tired of everyone asking me how you are and how we are and having to lie to them. I'm tired of going to bed by myself and waking up the same way. I'm tired and I want to go home."

"Why didn't you tell me any of this?"

"I tried! You never listen. It's always 'I have an early day tomorrow, can we talk about this later?' Or 'I can't do this right now.' Or 'the boys are coming over, let's put a pin in it.'"

"You still haven't said why you're really going."

"I miss my family, Shawn! I miss my friends! I haven't seen them in two years and you don't care because it has nothing to do with you or your career!"

"Of course I care! How dare you say I don't?"

"How dare I?! How dare you?! You can't just come in here and act like you suddenly give a shit about what I'm doing! You haven't so much as looked my way in months, but now that I have a suitcase out, now you want to act like you care. That's bullshit and you know it."

"You can't just leave!"

"Yes, actually. I can. Because even though you feel like you do, you don't own me. I can make my own decisions. In fact, I've been doing a lot on my own recently."

"You're being ridiculous," he said with a scoff and an eye roll.

"I don't really think I am," I tugged at the ends of my hair. "I have a right to see my family. Even if I have to fly across the entire fucking continent to do so."

"Y/N-"

"Do you know how much I've given up for you?" I cut him off.

"Excuse me?"

"I moved to Canada for you. I left the only place I've ever known just because you asked me to. I left my friends and family. I left my job. I left my home to be with you in yours. Notice how I say this, Shawn. I'm in your home. Not ours. Yours. It's absolute fucking shit that I have had to give up everything I've ever known just to make you happy and you've never once said thank you. You don't act like you appreciate me. Half the time you act like I'm not fucking here. But I am, Shawn! I'm here and every night I make you dinner and I make sure the place is clean and your laundry is done. I do everything for you and you can't so much as look at me when I try to tell you about my shitty day or to say 'thank you for dinner, pumpkin' when you're coming to bed." I took in a shuddery breath, but didn't take my eyes off him. "I can't even remember the last time you kissed me goodbye when you were leaving in the morning. Or the last time you woke me up in the middle of the night because you thought of a new chord progression that you need a second opinion on. I don't remember the last time we made love to each other. Now, I don't know why you wanted me here, but I'm sick and tired of playing the role of the forgotten housewife. I'm absolutely fucking done!"

"What does that mean? Done. Done with what?"

"Us!" I said without realizing what was coming out of my mouth.

"Baby!" He reached for my hands again, his eyes practically popping out of his head. "I'm sorry! Okay? I know. I know I've been fucking up a lot lately-"

"You forgot our anniversary. And my birthday. Twice!"

"I said I was sorry about that. You know I was-"

"Working on the album. Yes, I know. I forgave you because you were under so much stress. But I'm stressed too, you know?" I pulled my hands away from him, wrapped my arms around my middle. "I'm here in a place that I still don't know that well. I don't have a single friend here that isnt your sister or one of the guys. And no matter what, they would tell you if I was feeling neglected or sad. But they shouldn't have to tell you! You should just know because we've been together for seven goddamn years and you know me better than anyone. You should know I'm not feeling well." I took in a deep breath before continuing. "But you don't. You don't notice that I've lost weight because I've been under so much stress that I can barely keep any food down. You don't notice that I clean this house spotless at least twice a week because I have nothing else to do, or that your laundry is always washed and put up. You don't notice anything I do for you and it hurts! I've given up everything in my life just to be with you and you. Don't. Care. That fucking hurts, Shawn! It hurts that you haven't realized that I'm not happy anymore!"

He flinched like I'd hit him. "You've never said that to me before," his intense gaze dropped to the floor.

I've never said it out loud before either and I felt just how powerful and hurtful those words acfually were. Not only for him, but for me. It hurt me to say that to him. To see his face after I said it. "Look," I said, guard down, defeated. "I'm going back to y/h/t for a little bit. I just - I need to get away from this for a while."

"Do you know when you're coming back?" He reached for my hand again and played with my fingers, swirled the promise ring he gave me six years ago that, even through all this, I've never taken off.

I shook my head. "No."

That's when he started to cry and I knew I had to get going before I changed my mind. "I need to do this, Shawn. I think it'll be best for the both of us. We need to figure out if this relationship is really what we want. If it's still worth the fight."

"I want you, y/n. I've never wanted anyone else the way I want you. Please." He took my right hand and rested it on his cheek, locking it there with his own hand. "Please stay. I'll be better. I'll work less. I'll make you feel as loved as you should be. I'll do anything you want me to. Just please," he begged again, his voice cracking. "I'll be lost without you. I can't- I can't lose you."

I sighed and kissed his temple, retracting my hands from his once again. "I have to go," I grabbed my bags.

He followed me out to the car, tears still streaking his face. I put my bags in the trunk and checked my purse to make sure I had my passport and ticket. Then I closed the trunk and stood face to face with my broken boy.

"Can I kiss you? Is that allowed?"

I nodded. I wanted more than anything for him to kiss me and never stop. I wanted this kiss go be enough to make me forget all that's fallen apart between us. Forget all the pain I've suffered watching him live his dream while I put mine on hold and stay in this house that isn't home, even when he isn't coming home and he can't send me something as miniscule as a text to tell me so.

But this lips still felt so good against mine. Like they were made to connect to my lips. His tongue wrestling with mine was heaven. To taste him again after so long without him felt surreal, and that's when I started crying because how could we be so terribly fucking broken and still be able to share a kiss like this? How could he still make my stomach do backflips when his fingers combed through my hair?

And how could it still not be enough?

"I love you," he pulled back, his forehead creasing as he fought back more tears.

I wanted to say it too. Wanted to put him at ease, but I'd been crumbling in that place for months upon months and some part of me, no matter how small, wanted him go hurt the way I have. Leave him wondering like he's left me. So I got in the car because the kiss, his words, they weren't enough.

***

So that's the end of that. Let me know if you want a part 2 I guess!