#i did go to the health and wellness center and am now back in therapy which is why my day was so fucking wild. like im too tired so im not

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[twoturtlesinabathtub]

so I think you mentioned you were working on a new fic in your series. what all has been happening with that? any new details? I’m eagerly awaiting the next chapter :)

Yes! Fic 4 of 5 is coming along nicely—it's just been going a bit slowly, since I'm dealing with some health issues and have been prioritizing those. I'm glad you're excited haha, so here's a sneak peak at the beginning of the fic.

"You crazy bastard, you did it. You actually did it," said Chris, clapping Leon on the back so hard that he stumbled forward a step. "Welcome to S.T.A.R.S., man."

Leon chuckled, clutching tightly the new uniform that had been pressed into his arms about ten minutes before. It wasn't his favorite color—the olive drab of the pants and vest could only do so much for one's complexion—but he could do worse. He fleetingly wondered why the hell the shirt was so white. That didn't seem very practical.

"Thanks," he replied. "Hopefully it won't take long to adjust."

"Nah. You'll crush it, trust me."

Captain Marini seemed to have sensed Leon hadn't wanted to be the center of attention that day, and kept introductions brief—an unnecessary effort, really, since almost every S.T.A.R.S. member on both teams had seen Leon around the office several times over the past year or so.

The worst part had been what Enrico had said to Wesker a few minutes ago.

"I'm surprised you didn't try to snatch him up, first," Marini had remarked. Leon had been by Chris as his friend explained they'd be sharing a desk for the time being, and Leon had been able to overhear the two captains conversing, Wesker leaning against the doorframe of his office with arms casually folded. "Pretty sure we can whip him into shape fast," Enrico had continued. "I almost feel bad for yanking him out from under you." Miraculously, Leon had managed not to choke.

"A missed opportunity on my part, perhaps," Wesker had mused, and Leon had practically been able to hear the suppressed smirk in those nasal tones.

"Who knows? Maybe I can lend him to you, sometime. You know I don't mind sharing."

Chris had squinted at Leon. "That was one weird noise you just made. You had the chicken salad for lunch, didn't you? I told you it looked off," he tutted, shaking his head.

"I appreciate the offer, Enrico," Wesker had said, somehow sounding completely unaffected. "I'm sure Leon could prove flexible enough to perform well in a number of positions. You have good taste."

Leon's attention returned to the present, and he caught the tail-end of Chris saying Leon could look through any of the desk drawers he wanted, but the point man wouldn't be liable for any therapy bills that might ensue.

"What the hell, I'll even let you put up a poster," said Chris, slapping the wall next to his desk. "Except for Mötley Crüe. No goddamn Mötley Crüe. Got it?"

Leon snorted. "Got it."

"Good. And you'll want to talk to Richard soon—he loves to help the new ones out. Right, Rebecca?" Leon and Chris glanced over at the medic, who was seated near the switchboards at the end of the room; she glanced over her shoulder, gave the men a quick thumbs-up and a bright grin, then went back to studying the consoles like she could make them catch fire with her mind.

Leon couldn't help quirking a brow at his friend, even as a fought back a smile. "You're pretty excited—maybe just as excited as I am. Are you assuming me being around the office more means I can pick up even more of your slack?"

"You said it, not me," Chris replied, holding up his hands. "Besides, odds are we won't even be working the same hours very often. Bravo members usually take nights, so you're probably gonna mostly be working the graves shift—which brings me to my next point."

"Your what now?"

Chris's smile was wide and warm. "We should do something fun before your schedule's completely fucked. Jill," he said, turning to catch his fellow teammate's attention.

Valentine was cleaning her gun nonchalantly, boots up on her desk as she leaned back in her swivel chair. "Yeah?"

"You catch all that?"

"Obviously—you're four feet away from me." Jill smiled at Leon. "Good job, Kennedy." Leon returned the expression, albeit a bit self-consciously; he had to actively remind himself not to act like an imbecile in front of one of the people he practically hero-worshipped. "Knew you had it in you."

"Oh, uh, thanks. Yeah." Idiot.

"When does your new schedule start?" Chris asked, craning his neck to look back at Leon.

"Friday night."

"Perfect—plenty of time for you to sleep off a potential hangover." Chris turned towards Jill once more. "So, Harry's? Thursday? We can roll out the welcome wagon."

Jill smirked, slotting the magazine back into her gun without looking. "Like we need an excuse to get drunk. I'll ask around."

[sunken-standard]

So I've been having a Very Bad Week

(as have many of you, I'm sure). Bad enough that I've been considering going to the 24hr mental health crisis center a few towns over (I won't, because I don't want the paper trail; once you sign the intake form it's an automatic 24hr psych hold and I don't want that on any kind of record because Nazis).

So Weds. I decided to switch therapists. I'd only talked to A. like three times I think, and I just wasn't feeling it. My last therapist, J., left the practice in August. Anyway, I called and they were able to get me an appointment with someone new Thursday morning, easy peasy, no grief at all for wanting to switch again so soon.

So I start my intake session with L., everything is normal (giving a very brief synopsis of my history and brain cooties and why I've had 5 therapists in 5 years [3 of them left! I'd still be talking to the very first one if he was still there!], blah blah). Then I say I'm really in crisis, thinking about going to the ER, whatever, and I mention it's because of the election.

I'm not going to lie or bullshit or whatever; my feelings and thoughts are why I'm in therapy in the first place and I shouldn't have to self-censor for anything (except admitting to crimes, but w/e). Anyway, this woman was like "I'm going to assume you voted for Harris?" (uh oh)

"I did."

"Well, mumble mumble, in the spirit of full discolsure, mumble mumble bullshit bullshit--"

"Did you vote for Trump?"

"Mumble mumble blah blah reluctance, yes I did."

"Oh that's all I need to know. Sorry, that's a dealbreaker for me." (I might have been a little clipped or curt, but I'm a blunt person and I don't waste time. I wasn't nasty or demeaning or anything, just completely honest.

"Oh, okay, I'll let the front office know and they'll call you back with a new appointment for someone else."

"Cool, thanks, Take care." All said politely, if a little coolly (compared to my normal customer service warmth; I would call it a baseline for most non-customer service people).

This was at 9:30 am. By 3:30 no one had called, so I figured I would (maybe they got swamped and then forgot, benefit of the doubt, whatever)

So I call. And I find out they decided to have the office manager call me on Monday because of how rude and abusive I was (????!!!!!) and they'd already come out to the reception area to warn all the other therapists of what kind of person I am.

What

The

Fuck

So this woman had lied and twisted everything around, said I told her to shut up, I insisted on knowing who she voted for, I was rude, all this kind of shit. And I can't prove a thing because nothing is recorded or whatever. So it's the professional's word against mine, known crazy person. I was so upset, I was crying on the phone and everything (and even worse, my voice got stupid so it sounded like fake crying, but I couldn't stop it or reign it in).

I made sure to give my side of things. I was very very clear that I never said "shut up" because I just don't talk like that in a professional relationship. I was also clear that she made it political by saying she assumed I voted Harris (which, let's be real, is the same as asking), and that I don't think it's unfair for me to ask the same and make a decision about my treatment based on that answer. Sorry if I don't want to be vulnerable in front of a person who actively voted against my rights as a human being ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

So now I have to wait all weekend to see if I'm going to be dismissed from their care, meaning cut off from all my drugs (really don't give a shit about therapy, it doesn't work anyway).

I've mostly calmed down, but I took a lot more drugs than I'm supposed to in combinations I'm really not supposed to just to calm me down enough that I don't think I'm going to have a heart attack, throw up, or violently shit myself from my fight or flight response. (and it only took 27 hours of gross overmedicating to do so!)

Anyway, buckle up kids, this is the future now and this sure as shit ain't going to be an isolated incident.

[nancypullen]

Fitness or Fatness

Ugh. I'm healthy, at least on paper. I'm in my 60's and don't require any meds to stay alive. I am a shining example of good luck and good genetics. It's certainly not because I am dedicated to fitness or diet. I mean, I try. I just don't try very hard. I eat healthy, but i am also a fan of tasty snacks. I walk for exercise, but not like I should.

Unfortunately, I am at an age where I really need to make some choices that will keep me healthy and mobile for a long time. Odds are that I'll get quite old (the women in my family live forever) and I want to be able to do the things I like. That's pretty much just gardening and shopping, I'm not trying to run marathons or anything, but still. Having said all of that, the mister and I drove over to Centreville today to check out the new YMCA. It's a big, beautiful facility that offers everything from water aerobics to kickboxing. There are plans in place for an outdoor pool as well. We toured the various sections, talked to the sweetest young woman about membership, and I think we're going to give it a whirl. After my ankle surgery a few years ago I used to water jog in the pool of our nearest rec center. It was such great exercise and so easy on my joints, a doctor recommended therapy. At the Y I'd be able to participate in water aerobics or just take an open lane and water jog. Not gonna' lie, the water aerobics appeal to me because the women in those classes are usually such fun. Potential friends? Back in Tennessee it was sure a fun group. now all I have to do is blow the dust off my swimsuits and see if I can still shove everything into place. I may need counseling afterward. The YMCA in Centerville is about 17 miles from our house - mostly through cornfields. This was a nice surprise during the drive. Sunflowers!

Aren't they beautiful? So cheerful. I hesitate to say that my gardens are trying to rally. I still have the world's healthiest tomato plant that has never produced fruit, but everything else is blooming and looking pretty (finally!). My pumpkin plants are thriving and I'm cautiously optimistic. I've just cursed myself, haven't I? At this point I'd sell my soul for one pretty pumpkin for the grandgirl to pick. Crossing my fingers. That's all my news for this Tuesday evening. Not much happens around here. We're on our sofas, watching the U.S. women's gymnastics team dominate at the Olympics. They're flying through the air and flipping and twisting, powered by sculpted muscle. I'm in my stretchy pants saying, "I think she stepped out on that landing..." Yep, might be time for me to get to the Y and build a little muscle myself. But first, a cookie... I hope you're doing something good for yourself. You deserve it, and you'll be glad you did. No one ever said they regretted making healthy choices. Taking care of your body doesn't mean worrying about pant size or numbers on a scale - it's about feeling good, moving well, and being strong. That's priceless. I don't need to have a snatched waist, I need to be able to hike to the Sacre Coeur in Paris. I don't need to be a size 2, I need to be able to run for a train with my bag. Living the life I want has nothing to do with my figure and everything to do with my health. Take this advice from an old crone, younger ladies - focus on what you want to do and not how you want to look. We live in a society determined to convince us that no matter how we look it is never quite good enough, so just ignore that. Sure, slap on your lipstick and a cute outfit, but anchor all of that with how you feel. All the makeup in the world can't compete with the glow of good health. I'll be honest, I haven't felt great since we moved here. Two years of feeling unwell, or just...not like myself. I blamed covid, I blamed menopause, I researched all sorts of supplements, I did everything except take care of myself. It shows. The good news is that it's not too late. I got sweaty on the treadmill this morning and felt better all day long. It truly is that simple, all we have to do is start. Sending out so much love tonight, I hope you feel it. Take care of yourself. Stay safe, stay well. XOXO, Nancy

[luciusspriggss]

i am going to acknowledge to everyone witnessing my livebogging my decent into madness right now (sorry if you thought it was going to be over when i woke up)

i relate heavily to ted lasso (scroll down until ted lasso meta begins if you don't want to read my background and perspective)

i was in a relationship with someone who was unhappy with me and didnt like how supportive and optimistic i was (or the fact that i wanted some courtesy of respect instead of being dismissed whenever i try to talk about my feelings)

i thought i was quitting. i thought i had given up. that i had failed so spectacularly at this relationship. and then i watched michelle tell ted that he wasn't quitting, he was letting her go and i believed her

and tried focusing my attention on being a better version of myself that i liked, while also helping those around me to the best of my ability

yeah i went through a fuck ton of therapy (note the breakup was 2 months ago), and i feel i am a better person overall and i actually like myself for the first time EVER in my life

i have lead crews the same exact way ted does richmond. i never read any leadership books, i didnt take my fellow leader's out-dated toxic advice, i just did what i thought was right

which was helping everyone to be the best versions of themselves, as well as lead themselves without me so they don't need me to do anything for them, i just exist and make sure everyone is okay in life and is happy with the crew's dynamic and take suggestions on how to make things better

(dont even get me started on the fact that i BUILT a confession box for EVERYONE, not just my crew, to make suggestions they would like to see happen at the work center and on their own crews)

and everyone did get better. everyone was happier and the work was done better than before, without ever focusing on trying to get "results"

i was lucky to do this because my supervisor actually listened to me, and let me experiment with leading my way instead of the way everyone else was

but me? i was miserable. i was with another person who didnt like my optimism and thought i was naive for thinking my way would work. i had no support network. and i eventually attempted suicide and left that job.

and did everything magically work after i left?

no

the systems and belief i brought to the center died. new leaders were appointed who went back to the standard old ways of leading and everyone followed

MULTIPLE people i was working with individually outside of work, who were having really hard times and i tried to help them with their feelings and appropriate outlets, and were really improving while i was there, were ALL fired. and to note, i convinced multiple supervisors to let me try and help people out instead of punishing them for their circumstances, and it worked!

until i was gone, and they lost the only leader that was in their corner and believed in them

i created an entire new system for the center council. my technical position was "secretary", but i did EVERY job on that council because nobody else would. sure the president would lead the meetings and read my notes and plans aloud to everyone, but that was all he did. i did the actual work

i created such a loving supportive network at the expense of my mental health

and it did not get better when i left, for anyone. it got worse, for everyone

META BEGINS HERE

so yeah, i see myself as ted. i was so hopeful i was going to see something actually succeed where ted got to stay and work on finding his own happiness, that i am utterly unimpressed with the ending.

ted goes back to his kid and (maybe) ex-wife? hollow? alone? trying to think everything will work out magically without him and nobody needs him except his son? maybe he and his wife will try again? with him masked?

ted wore a mask in the beginning, everyone did, but it came off for a little bit and it was nice to see. i don't like this new mask.

and i know from experience. because i did the same thing. i left people because i didnt think they needed me anymore. i stayed in relationships with people who wanted to fit me in a box and i let them.

i lived a honky dory life. leaving destruction in my wake and regressed to someone that was almost impossible for me to escape.

i just don't like seeing that ending for ted and only HIS hopes and dreams about everyone else. i genuinely believe people will succeed without him, i just dont think it will be the same. and that's cool, but wouldnt it also be cool for ted to let loose, reap the rewards, figure out his own happiness? all the while being part of an amazing family?

this show is either brilliant, and making a statement about how this show ISNT a good light-hearted comedy, it is actually a TRAGEDY, and we are supposed to see that ted chose to regress and accept a miserable life

OR

there is something that i am missing :/

[god-sent-gender-bent]

I don't discuss this a lot online because of the (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ stigma, but I am a diagnosed DID system. I'm 30. I discovered my system when I was about 24/25, and have been in therapy ever since. My therapist was a WONDERFUL woman who was trauma informed, ISSTD trained, and actually did her PhD thesis on dissociative disorders. (I'm am VERY privileged to have had access through her, she worked for our community health center which is a RARE find.)

My treatment goal was not "final fusion." It was *Functional Multiplicity.* (Keeping my alters instead of forcing us to be "one person") My brain adapted to some horrific shit. That's how it's going to cope the rest of my life.

Throughout the 5+ years I've gotten to work with and know my system, I've been able to accomplish more than I had in the 10+ years of my adult life. I lived my life thinking I was broken, crazy, forgetful, messy, and unlovable. When I started accommodating my brain and how it developed to work, *I got better.* And not "better" by neurotypical standards, but better by mine.

I made it through college with my associates. And am now working on an accelerated bachelor's/master's. I have a stable relationship and housing for the first time. I'm engaged. I own my car. I have friends that love me and a well-paying job. NONE of that would have been possible if it wasn't for the accomodations I made for myself and my system.

We work together as a TEAM. And the closer we get, the less amnesia we have. I can access memories that used to be locked away. I can share information freely. We can rotate out if things are overwhelming. Our existence isn't wrong. We aren't hurting ANYONE. We're adapting. That's all this disorder is. It's adaptation.

On September 24, my dad wrecked his motorcycle and ended up in Neuro ICU. For two weeks I had to be in that room, making sure his wife was okay and being the responsible party for everything. One of my biggest traumas is watching my mom suddenly code and pass in front of me after a two week hospital stay twelve years ago. I split an alter because of that and still have flashbacks to this day from it.

This was an EXTREMELY traumatic situation that I was put into once more. But you know what? Because I worked with my system, we were able to take turns, rotating out when things got too overwhelming. Each of us would "tag in" if we got too many symptoms of an episode coming on.

Our emotional caretaker/organizer would take over when things got to be too much emotionally or we needed to organize work things online. Our protector would take over when we needed to be assertive with pushy family members. Our medical alter (from mom passing) would speak with the doctors, gaining valuable information to pass on to the family and made sure we took our meds and handled the pharmacies when we ran out. I would comfort his wife and tell her stories. Our other, home-oriented caretaker would make sure his wife and I ate food and drank water by getting meals at the hospital cafeteria.

When we made the difficult decision to remove him from life support, my system was there. We all knew and loved my dad, even if he didn't know us. We all got to say goodbye because we increased communication and worked *with* our system instead of against it. That means no one has regrets and everyone has closure. Because of my system, what could have been a huge traumatic event, causing amnesia, splits, and mayhem in my life, became a tragic event that I was able to accept and start healing from.

I found out this week that we did split off an alter. But it wasn't from the actual trauma of losing my dad. It was to help with school stress. I don't fully know her yet, but she seems like a wonderful addition to the team. And that's why I love Functional Multiplicity. If my goal was fusion, and I was "one person" again, this would have caused another split. My brain copes with trauma by splitting. If I fuse and then split, I'm back at square one. More amnesia, more fear, more problems. But if I have a system that works together, is functional, and can welcome a new part openly, why wouldn't I keep that system? I'd rather have a trained team on deck to help through anything that comes my way, ready to help a new part, than to go back to how I was before.

Don't ever let people tell you your accomodations are wrong. Don't ever let anyone tell you that how your brain adapted to trauma is wrong. That being said, if you're a system, and your goal is final fusion, that's fine. You know yourself and your system. FM is right for us. FF may be right for you. The key is learning yourself, accepting that, and figuring out what's best for YOU. I love my system. They were created to help me survive. They're tough, resilient, strong, loving, protective, and, ultimately, my family. People don't have to understand it. But I'm happy, safe, and healing for the first time in my life, and if people think that's wrong, they can fuck off.

I love seeing those posts where people are like “if you have headmates or whatever you should be on meds because that’s not okay” posts. Like neurotypicals just think that there’s some magical pill out there that will ‘cure’ anything they don’t consider ‘normal.’ Meanwhile, in the land of reality, my shrink thinks it’s pretty healthy that I’m finally getting to know my headmates, and has no intention of putting me on magic pills, because as long as I’m not hurting myself or anyone else, who cares what neurotypicals think is ‘normal?’ Actually, let’s be real: who cares what neurotypicals think at all?

[shadowtherapist]

Its been a few months now. My fears actuallized. I was in treatment for nearly 3 months in which I was told to STOP IT. My thoughts, my feeling, my experience had no place in this setting. What made it worst was thst my self advocacy fell into deaf ears. I was told I was being resistant. So I let go and did as they told me but then it felt performative. I did as they asked and while they were great at addressing behaviors the underlying issues, where my struggles intensified as there was no room to engage with my thoughts and my feels. Repression at its finest in order to just get me to function and get me "back on track and back to work faster." During this time what I learned is that I need to stand up for myself more and fight as hard as I do for others for myself. So when does a therapist know when they are ready to return? For me it is when I am able to pick up on counter transference and focus on the client. When I am able to be present and should my mind slightly wonder be able to bring myself back to who I am with and later explor that wondering thought. Or perhaps if relevant to a client be able to in that moment make the connection and share it with them. And if I am unable to this to wait. We cannot be blank slates as therapist. However, lack of self awareness and being able to provide humanistic person centered approach services can lead to creating graver barriers for clients. And not just clients loved ones and those we connect with as well. There's much that transpired in this process which I may one day share. Another thing that sucks and is painful which I continue to come across so many psychotherapist and mental health providers including psychiatrist who reinforce and normalize mental health professionals continuing to provide treatment when they aren't well because "that is how things work and everyone does it." No! We choose to reinforce this, and I for one do not believe it should be this way. I know both as a psychotherapist and as a client that there are too many risks to providing therapy when the therapist is unwell. Albeit some may not be aware of it. However, our fragility as humanity heavily rests on our perception and interpretation of what happens. When we do not have guides (i.e. psychotherapist or elders) to support us in navigating this based on where we are at and focusing on what comes up for us and where and how we want to be, in such a way that the person holding space is not providing treatment based solely on what they know but in collaboration with the client attuning to them, both the client and the guides loose their center of gravity. Thus reinforcing systems of oppression which deepen the barriers to self actualization, self love and acceptance, and in people overall living healthier versions of themselves. Everything is normal, yet if we want to see more of something that is healthier then we too need to invest time, energy and work on ourselves. When we don't, what message are we sending not just to others but also to ourselves.

So what happened after being in a program which made me feel as though they were attempting to burry my struggles?...

[capricornwriter5]

Always on time - Chapter 11

Pairing: Jooheon x female OC

Genre: childhood friends to enemies, enemies to friends, friends to lovers, smut (later chapters), fluff, angst, slow burn, idol AU!

Warning: mentions of mental health issues, mentions of workaholic disorder, curse words

Words: 7k

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Chapter 11

Jooheon was back in Dr. Choi’s office. This was the session number... 8? 10? The rapper had already lost track of the weeks. He didn’t even know why he kept going. Well, that wasn’t entirely true: he kept going because his company forced him to go to therapy as part of a rehabilitation process they thought he needed. The problem was that Jooheon did nothing in those sessions; that is, he no longer remained completely silent as at the beginning. Since he sat with the psychologist in the garden of the Center, Jooheon made an effort to make a small conversation at the beginning, but that was it.

The rapper didn’t know what to expect from those sessions or what he was supposed to do. Actually, he was hoping Dr. Choi would be a little more direct or insistent, never expected the lady to play the silent game for so long. Jooheon assumed the doctor would have changed her strategy by then, but she hadn’t.

Besides not knowing what he was supposed to do for an hour a week, he was curious to know what Dr. Choi was telling his company. Jooheon was not an idiot and knew that she had probably been asked for some kind of progress log and, well, the doctor probably had nothing to report, since their conversations were limited to ten minutes or less.

Those ideas were spinning in his head for a few minutes, but curiosity won over him.

"Doctor Choi?" Jooheon called her.

"Yes, Jooheon-ssi?"

"What have you told my company about what we do in these sessions?" he said.

"What do you mean? Have they told you anything?" she asked back.

"No, it’s not that," Jooheon corrected. "But I guess they have asked you something and I was curious about what you told them. Especially since all I do is sit and sleep".

"Well, Jooheon-ssi, the first thing you should know is that I don’t discuss sessions with my patients with anyone, and that includes entertainment companies," she explained. "It’s not ethical. And secondly, you do more than just sit and sleep. In fact, I’ve seen progress in these eight weeks".

So, I’ve been here two months, he thought.

"Progress? What do you mean?" Jooheon asked.

"The simple fact that you keep coming and always arrive on time is a big step, Jooheon-ssi. In addition, you talk more and more in each session, and I can see that you feel more comfortable in my office: you no longer sit on the other side of the sofa, from time to time you ask me questions about what I am reading, and a couple of sessions ago you ate all the cupcakes that were on the table. For you, they may be meaningless details, and I hope that the fact that I point them out to you does not make you feel hyper-conscious of your actions, but for me it is progress," she replied.

"Why?" Jooheon asked.

Mrs. Choi put what she was reading on the desk and laid back in her chair before answering.

"Jooheon-ssi, why do you keep coming to these sessions with me?" Dr. Choi asked. "Wait, let me rephrase the question: why did you agree to come here?"

"Because my company told me I should. You were there," he replied.

"Well, why did your company tell you to come for a consultation? Does a proposal like this make any sense to you?"

"I suppose they think I need it..." he replied.

"And what about you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you told me why your company told you to come, but now I want to know why you’re coming. And I’m gonna ask you to tell me the first thing that comes to mind."

"Because my company asks me to," Jooheon replied without thinking much.

"All right. Now, try to think a little bit more about why you come here every Wednesday at one o'clock in the afternoon. What makes you not miss a single session, even though you think you’re doing nothing here? Of course, the answer may be the same: your company, but this time I want you to take a few minutes to think if it is the answer that you like or that convinces you the most".

Jooheon did what the doctor asked and thought a little about his answer. He thought about where that sense of responsibility that took him every Wednesday at an hour of silence came from... But the more he thought about it, the farther he felt from the answer. Dr. Choi, for her part, waited patiently for Jooheon to reach a conclusion.

"I don’t know," he finally replied with a sigh. 

"So that’s our starting point, Jooheon-ssi," Dr. Choi told him. "And that’s progress, too. Progress is not always measured in reasons, in numbers, or in a specific plan... sometimes it is measured in not knowing. That is a starting point as good as any other. But have in mind that the one who has to decide to take the first step is you, Jooheon-ssi".

Jooheon just sighed and rubbed his face. His head was starting to hurt, and he was frustrated. He felt as if his head was splitting in two and the anxiety was beginning to grow. He felt stressed and tense, and he had no way to release those emotions. The music had always been an escape, but now he felt as if it had been taken away by force and without justification.

"Doctor Choi, do you have those cupcakes from last time today too?" Jooheon smiled.

"They were good, right?" said the psychologist. "Lina brought some yesterday, I’ll see if they’re still there, I’ll be right back".

Jooheon needed a few minutes alone and Dr. Choi knew it.

Admitting to being a little lost is never easy, but it is necessary.

It had been three weeks since the opening of Minhyuk’s exhibition and Julie was still busy. She didn’t have any new projects, but she was extremely busy with the daily visits to the gallery. More and more people came to see the exhibition, both eager Monbebes and people who had never heard of the group, but to whom they had spoken very well of the exhibition. Julie and her team would not stop all day and Director Kim was receiving proposals for varied projects for the gallery, which made him very happy.

Jooheon, on the other hand, continued to work in the gallery, although not receiving visitors, as that could be complicated. The rapper no longer went to the gallery in the mornings but came after closing time to help with anything that needed attention for the next day. Minhyuk accompanied him when he could and every time he went he thanked them all a thousand times more for their work.

There were days when Jooheon only came to bring food or coffee to the team or to get Julie out of her office, as the curator was the last one to go home, and on several occasions, she was forced out by Jooheon. Today was going to be one of those days.

It was Friday night and Julie wanted to finish reviewing the printable designs for the auction that would take place in a couple of weeks. She also wanted to answer some emails from artists who wanted to know the availability of the gallery to organize their personal exhibitions and there were problems with the tickets of the first group in the morning and...

"Knock, knock, knock"

Julie lifted her head from her desk and saw Jooheon at the door of her office.

"I still don’t understand how you get in... the door has a digital lock and I’m sure I never gave you the combination," Julie said.

"Give me some credit, Jules. I know you very well, guessing the combination is not a problem," Jooheon replied. "Anyway, it’s Friday night, you’ve been working all week and I can see your black circles and the bags under your eyes are bigger than yesterday... have you had dinner at least?"

"My black circles are not bigger, I just ran out of foundation and concealer, and I could not put on makeup properly today, but my face is the same as always," replied Julianne returning to her work.

"Whatever you say, Jules," Jooheon said laughing. "But you didn’t answer me, did you eat already?"

"Not yet," Julianne said. "And before you get into Marry Poppins mode, I’m just waiting for a call to close and someone will come for me. So, you can rest assured that it’ll probably be out in about... 15 minutes".

"A date?" Jooheon asked.

"Yes" Julie said clearing her throat. "Kang-Dae said he was leaving early today, so I’m just waiting for him to call me".

"I see..."

Neither of them had spoken directly about it, but Jooheon knew that Julie and Kang-Dae had been dating since their senior college year. The three had met twice since the inauguration and Jooheon had tried to be polite and friendly, but Julianne knew that he didn’t like Kang-Dae, so she tried to talk as little as possible about her boyfriend with Jooheon. Until recently Julie had decided to try to put her resentment aside and the friendship between the two had blossomed as if they had never stopped seeing each other. It felt good to have her best friend back, at least for the moment, and Julie didn’t want to make things awkward.

"And you?" Julie asked.

"What about me?"

"It’s Friday night, don’t you have plans?"

"Mmmm, well, my plan was to come here and make sure you weren’t buried under tons of paper: you’re not, that’s good," Jooheon replied. "Then, make sure you had dinner, but that’s covered, apparently. And I was finally thinking about going to I.M. ’s apartment to see if I could get him to let me use his studio... if not, I will simply drink all the orange juice on his fridge so that tomorrow morning he’ll get all crazy about it. Revenge is sweet".

"Why would he go crazy if he doesn’t have orange juice?" Julianne asked without understanding.

"It’s a long story. I’ll just tell you what it has to do with Liv and that, well, the child is in love," Jooheon replied with a laugh.

At that moment, Julie’s cellphone screen lit up. She had a message from Kang-Dae saying that the meeting would be delayed and that he would not be able to arrive in time for dinner.

Jooheon saw Julie’s face when she read the message and didn’t have to ask to know what it said. It wasn’t the first time he saw that guy cancel a date, and every time, Jooheon got more upset. It’s understandable to cancel once in a while, but always? No.

Jules, really? Jooheon thought.

Julie, on the other hand, just sighed and blocked her phone. She started picking up the papers and turning off the computer to leave.

"Well, I think I changed my plans," Jooheon said.

"You’re not gonna leave I.M. without orange juice anymore?"

"Oh, no, that’s still standing... come on, we have to get the groceries first".

"We have?" jumped Julie.

"Yes, we have. I told you I was gonna make sure you had dinner and before you start denying anything, I’m gonna cook your mother’s carbonara recipe, can you say no to that?"

****

Two hours later, Julie was sitting on the couch in I.M. and Liv’s apartment and she was trying to find something to watch on the TV while the boys cooked dinner.

Julie and Jooheon had left the gallery and gone directly to the supermarket to buy the ingredients needed for the pasta. Jooheon had the idea to make pasta himself from scratch, the same as the sauce, so, an hour and a half after arriving at the apartment, dinner was not yet ready.

"I don’t know about you, but I’ll give them ten more minutes," Liv said in whispers. "If in ten minutes the pasta is not ready, we go to the store downstairs to eat, what do you think?"

"I’m with you," replied Julie, "but I give them five minutes".

"Hey! None of that!" Jooheon shouted from the kitchen. "I’m listening, you are not going anywhere".

"Then hurry up, Jooheon-ah" Liv shouted back. "You really don’t want to see me hungry".

"Hyung, do what she says," said I.M. behind him. "It’s really scary when she’s hungry, hurry up, will you?"

"Stop complaining so much you both," said Jooheon returning to the kitchen. "Geez, you are made for one and another".

Julie just laughed during the whole exchange. When Jooheon told her he was going to cook carbonara, she didn’t think he was going to cook in I.M. ’s apartment. She had only seen him twice and hadn’t talked much with the other rapper from Monsta X. She remembered his girlfriend, Liv, but she still felt a little out of place, especially since Jooheon arrived unannounced. However, she and Liv clicked from the start and the dancer assured her that they were not interrupting anything, which made Julie more comfortable with the couple.

Fifteen minutes later, the food was ready.

"TA-DAAAAA" Jooheon shouted as he put a pot full of carbonara in the center of the table.

I.M. served Liv and then he served himself and Jooheon did the same with Julie. For several minutes the only sound heard was the one of the silverware against the plats. Everyone was hungry and the pasta was good, so no one had time to talk.

"Yah, hyung" said I.M. at last, "how come you never cooked us like this, huh? It’s delicious".

"You never have patience," Jooheon said. "You’re starving people who don’t appreciate cooking time, so I never made carbonara... that and that I forgot the recipe, but Jules' mom sent it to me recently and I wanted to try it".

"Does your mom cook like this?" Liv asked Julie. "It’s amazing, tell her I loved her recipe".

"I’ll tell her," Julie replied.

"Your mom is amazing," I.M. said, "She went to Minhyuk’s opening, right? She’s very nice. She made Shownu and Wonho blush at her comments, and that makes her one of my favorite people".

"Ahhhh, yes, she can be direct. I’m sorry if she made you uncomfortable," Julie apologized.

"No, no, not at all," assured I.M. "I think she even told Hyungwon to visit with her a herbal medicine pharmacy to treat his allergies... We really had a good time with her, you’re lucky, Julie-ssi."

The conversation continued for several more hours. They talked about everything a bit and that’s when Jules found out that Liv was a dancer and choreographer, that I.M. had a fondness for classical philosophy, and that Jooheon could handle his alcohol.

"Ah, Jules, by the way, I was curious," Jooheon said suddenly. "Are you still training?"

"Training? Do you play sports?" Liv asked.

"I did, and no, I quit a long time ago," Julie replied.

"Really?" Jooheon said a little impressed. "Why? You were very good. I remember you wanted to participate in an amateur circuit and everything".

"What did you train in?" I.M. asked.

"I did kickboxing," replied Julie. "I started at 12 or 13, but I stopped in college. Nothing important happened, I just... I quit. I guess... I got bored".

Yeah, right, like THAT could happen, Jooheon thought.

"Kickboxing!?" jumped Liv. "That’s great! I’ve always wanted to learn. Can you teach me?"

On hearing that I.M. almost choked on his drink. His girlfriend was already quite temperamental and the idea of her learning to kick did not excite him much.

"I don’t think I’m qualified to teach you, Liv," Julie apologized when seeing I.M.’s horror face.

"Nonsense, you trained half your life!" the dancer insisted. "Or maybe you could join me in some classes, what do you think?"

"It could be, maybe," Julie said with laughter.

"Maybe we’ll even get on that amateur circuit together!"

"OK, who wants dessert?" interrupted I.M. before his girlfriend came up with another violent idea.

After they finished eating, it was time to decide who would do the dishes. Jooheon and Jules lost in the stone, paper, and scissors, so they had to wash everything while Liv and I.M. chose a movie for the four of them to watch.

All night long, Julie saw the interaction between Liv and I.M. and couldn’t help but think of her and Kang-Dae. She thought that they were just like that until a few months ago when Kang-Dae got promoted in his family’s company. Upon seeing them, Julie remembered the good times she had with Kang-Dae, the way he had helped her gain self-confidence, how he had supported her to get the job at the gallery, with the death of her father... Kang-Dae had been there for her...

"Did you really get bored?" Jooheon asked suddenly, pulling Julie out of her thoughts.

"Ah?"

"From kickboxing... did you really get bored?"

"Ahhh, yes, a little," Julie replied.

"Enough to quit?" Jooheon insisted.

"Why are you so interested in that?" Julie countered.

"You were good, Jules, and you loved it. You won all the competitions and I never saw a happier person for training at 3:30 am every day," Jooheon explained. "I know you had problems with your parents because of that, but you never let that stop you. I remember how happy you were when you finished training and just... I just find it strange, that’s all".

"It’s been many years, Jooheon-ah," Julie said. "Things change".

"I guess".

"HEY, YOU TWO! ARE COMING OR WHAT?" I.M. shouted from the room.

"BE PATIENT, CHANGKYUNG" Jooheon shouted back. "LIV, I’M SORRY TO TELL YOU THE CHILD HAS NOT MATURED... I THINK HE NEEDS ANOTHER SHOCK THERAPY".

"YAH, HYUNG!"

****

Julie arrived home very late. She took a taxi and all the way she was texting with Liv. The poor girl was left alone with a slightly drunk Jooheon and an I.M. who wanted to go to sleep but could not because Jooheon wanted to play another round of the maknae’s new video game.

Both were supposed to go out for coffee the following week and Julie promised that when she had time, she would talk to her old coaches to see if any of them were still giving lessons.

She was so focused on her cell phone screen that she didn’t realize there were two packages in front of her door, one quite large and one smaller, and she bumped into them. She picked them up from the floor and went into her apartment.

Both boxes were from Kang-Dae and they had a note:

I’m sorry for today. I know this doesn’t make up for it, but I saw it and thought of you.

For you to use next Friday.

I’ll call you in the morning.

Julie opened the large box and found that inside there was a long emerald green evening dress and a matching bag. In the small box was a set of earrings and a necklace that also matched the dress. She had told Kang-Dae that she needed to go shopping because she wanted a new dress for Minhyuk’s auction, and now he gave her this surprise.

While the note said Kang-Dae would call her the next morning, Julie decided to call him at once. She dialed his number and waited for him to answer.

"Oppa? I woke you up?" she said as soon as Kang-Dae answered the call.

"Julie? What is it? Is everything all right?" he asked half asleep.

"Yes, yes, all right, oppa, I was just calling to thank you for the dress and jewelry," she said. "You didn’t have to but thank you".

"Ahhhh, that," Kang-Dae said yawning. "It’s nothing, Julie. You told me you needed a new dress and when I saw it, I knew you’d like it".

"I love it, oppa, thank you" she replied. "You sound tired, I should hang up and let you sleep".

"Don’t worry, Julie, I’m fine" he reassured her. "How was work? I hope you didn’t stay in the office too long, you need to rest too".

"It was nice, and quiet. I had dinner with some friends, so I left the gallery early. What about you? How was the meeting?"

The two spoke for over an hour until neither of them could say more than three words without yawning and decided they would speak the next day. When she hung up, Julie felt back in college when they both talked about everything and nothing without getting bored. All I need to do is give him time, Julie thought. With a little time, things between Kang-Dae and I will go back to the way they were.

It was definitely easier said than done.

It had been a week and a half and Julie had not seen or talked to Kang-Dae for more than fifteen minutes. He’d canceled three dates on different days, and he’d been late twice, which had made Julie doubt again what they were doing... but she always came to the same conclusion: time and patience.

On the other hand, Jooheon’s patience was about to run out. While it was not his intention to be snooping around Julie’s relationship, it was very difficult not to see how she tried to control her facial expressions every time the idiot stood her up. The day Jooheon was the closest to losing it was a few nights ago. He, Minhyuk, and the team of curators had stayed late working on the logistics of the auction. At dinner time, Minhyuk invited them all to a nearby restaurant and Julie told them to go without her because Kang-Dae was ten minutes away and they would go out for dinner. Something told Jooheon that the idiot was not going to arrive, but he could not start complaining since they were in a group.

Two hours later, Jooheon said goodbye to everyone at the restaurant and went home. On his way back, he had to drive past the gallery and when he did he saw the light in Julie’s office was still on. Jooheon was stopping at a red light and was thinking about how to turn around to enter the gallery when he saw a black car enter the parking lot of the building. A man got out of the car and minutes later the office light went out and two figures left the gallery.

Jooheon had to breathe deeply several times and concentrate on driving. His mind split between turning around and putting Kang-Dae in his place or driving until he calmed down. He chose the latter: the last thing he wanted was to embarrass Julie.

The next day, Rei asked Julie how the date had been, and Jooheon heard how she told her that they had a good time and that she was happy to be able to spend time with the idiot-what’s-his-name.

The memory of that day came to Jooheon’s mind when he saw Julie reading a message on her cell phone where the idiot would probably cancel the plans again, judging by Julie’s face. However, he couldn’t do much about it because it was lunch time and Jooheon had to get going if he wanted to make it to his appointment with Doctor Choi on time.

He got up from his desk and told Julie that he was leaving. The initial idea was to leave without saying anything, but once again, the impulse won over his common sense:

"Jules... you deserve more, you know, right?" Jooheon let go as he stood in front of the door.

"Excuse me?" Julie asked surprised by the randomness of the statement.

"You deserve more and I really hope you know," he repeated. "You don’t deserve to sigh of disappointment every time you read his messages".

"What are you talking about?"

"I just... I just don’t understand, Jules," Jooheon continued. "I don’t understand why... why..."

"You have no idea what you’re talking about" Julianne cut him off a little upset. "You don’t understand because you don’t know, that’s all".

"I know you deserve more, I’m sure of it." Jooheon repeated, clutching the doorknob so tightly that his knuckles were white. "I won’t be able to come back in the afternoon and I have commitments for the next two days. I’ll be here on Friday a couple of hours before the auction to help with everything, Minhyuk will be a few minutes early for the photos. See you Friday, Jules".

Jooheon walked out the door without giving Julie time to respond. She sat at her desk not understanding exactly what had happened, but she had no time to think about it because her desk phone rang at the time, and she had to go back to work.

****

Jooheon, for his part, went straight to the Center where he received the sessions with Dr. Choi. He arrived with a gloomy face and greeted the psychologist with a dry tone when entering her office.

"Jooheon-ssi, is everything all right?" the doctor asked.

"All right, Doctor," he said, sitting on the couch and closing his eyes. He needed to calm down.

The doctor let it go. He was clearly angry, very angry, but it was an opportunity to observe how he handled feelings as strong as those he was feeling at the time, so she didn’t push him anymore.

After a few minutes, Jooheon could no longer stand the silence and exploded.

"Doctor, I have a question," Jooheon said. "Why do people keep making the same mistakes when it’s clear what they’re doing is wrong?"

"Ehhhh, okay... I think I need some context, Jooheon-ssi," the doctor said. "Is there anything specific you want to talk about?"

"It’s just... people are frustrating, you know?" said the rapper standing up. "Even when they’re smart people, or they’re supposed to be smart, but there you see them: doing stupid and pointless things that make them feel bad because yes, they feel bad and they know it, but they don’t stop to think 'Oh, maybe this is bad for me', NOOOOOOO, they just keep on doing the same thing. And then there are the idiots who can’t… no, it’s not that they can’t, they DON’T WANT to take responsibility for their words or their actions or anything and they stay there without realizing ANYTHING and without valuing ANYTHING... It’s frustrating, you know?"

"Well... yes, I know," she said. "But, Jooheon-ssi, being wrong is part of life. People learn more from mistakes than from successes".

"I know that, but here I’m not talking about mistakes or successes, I’m talking about stupid and senseless behaviors," Jooheon said. "I mean, if I know I was wrong about the chords of a song, I correct them, simple, but if I know a certain person is bad for me, I correct that too, don’t I?"

"That can be more difficult, Jooheon-ssi," Dr. Choi said in a calm tone. "With interpersonal relationships, there is always more than what meets the eye. Sometimes people maintain a certain attitude or pattern by simple custom, a custom that is acquired at a time when it is needed. The problem is when personal needs or our context change, but we don’t change the attitude or initial pattern. It happens a lot with defense mechanisms that we create to cope with certain situations".

"Are you telling me that people are stubborn and blind because at some point they needed to be like that?" Jooheon asked.

"No. I’m telling you that each person navigates life in different ways and that sometimes we need to ignore certain things to survive a stage of life or a challenge," she said. "That’s not necessarily good or bad, it’s not even a conscious choice, we just choose what makes us feel safe and we hold on to that: it can be a person, a hobby, an idea, a job..."

"Arrghhhh, how frustrating," Jooheon sighed as he sat back on the couch.

"It can be when you see it from the outside, yes," the psychologist conceded. "Well, while we’re on the subject, this is the first time I’ve seen you this upset, Jooheon-ssi. Does it happen often?"

"I don’t have anger management issues, Doc. That’s Kihyun’s problem".

"That wasn’t what I was asking, but thanks for the tip" Choi laughed a little. "I rather wanted to know if you had felt this kind of frustration before".

"Well... yeah, I guess".

"And how do you handle it?"

"Music" Jooheon replied without thinking. "You know, what my company won’t let me do now".

"Did you always write your own songs?"

"At first they were just the lyrics of my rap. Then I became interested in production and the possibility of creating my own sounds," Jooheon replied.

"And now that you say you can’t produce, what are you doing?" the psychologist continued.

"What everyone does, doc: eat sweets," Jooheon said with a sigh. "You don’t have any more cupcakes, do you?"

"Not today, Jooheon-ssi" said Dr. Choi with a smile. "Lina hasn’t brought more, but I can tell her you want some for next week".

"Too bad..."

"Jooheon-ssi, why did you start writing music?" Dr. Choi continued.

"I told you, doc, it was like a normal progression. First lyrics, then melodies... and there it goes," Jooheon replied.

"Sure, but if it were that easy, all idols would be composers like you, wouldn’t they?"

"Well, I guess it depends on what gets everyone’s attention the most," Jooheon conceded. "Minhyuk is more interested in art, for example, and others are more interested in acting or being an MC. But we are all able to produce, it’s just that they don’t take the step".

"And what made you take the plunge, Jooheon-ssi?"

"I don’t know, it just happened".

"And do you remember when it happened?" continued Dr. Choi.

"Not really... it was a long time ago" the rapper replied. "Even when I was a trainee... does this matter?"

"I don’t know, Jooheon-ssi" said Mrs. Choi. "It depends".

"Sure... it depends. The next thing you’ll tell me is that everything is relative".

"Mmmm, more like everything is causal and nothing is a coincidence. What do you think?" the doctor teased him a little.

"I think that if we continue, I will have a migraine for a week," Jooheon surrendered.

"Okay, okay, no more hard questions," said the psychologist. "Well, tell me, anything new you want to tell me?"

Friday came and, miraculously, everything was ready.

The day before, Julie left everything ready for the auction that would take place in a few hours. Her plan was to go through all of the event on Friday morning and take care of any remaining details... But for the first time in her entire career, everything was ready.

Julie knew she should feel relaxed about not having to run with anything at the last minute, but instead she felt more anxious than usual. She had reviewed the lights three times, had asked Rei to count the chairs for the guests for the fifth time and it was the fourth time she had checked the order of the works to be auctioned. Julie was going crazy when she should be enjoying a quiet day... what was wrong with her?

Deep in her mind was the idea that she would see Jooheon today for the first time since the pointless conversation they had on Wednesday. The situation had taken Julie by surprise and the mixture of emotions did not let her think calmly. She felt embarrassed and a little sad that her situation was more obvious than she thought, and she was angry that Jooheon threw it in her face... but at the same time she felt… relief? Because, maybe, Julie did have reason to be frustrated even though she agreed to be patient with Kang Dae.

Today is the auction, Julie thought. Focus on the auction, just the auction.

Two hours before the event, Jooheon arrived at the gallery.

His hands were sweating, and he was a little nervous. After the episode on Wednesday with Jules, he had gotten a little angry and realized that he had probably crossed the line. He was not in a position to judge their relationship. Besides, they were just returning to being friends, he did not want to ruin everything because he could not control his impulses.

He went into the gallery, and it seemed to him that everything was in order. He looked for Jules, but she was not in the main hall. He went to the offices and ran into Rei first, who told him that Jules had left a few minutes ago to change clothes, but that Jooheon could wait in her office if he wanted to… so he did.

Minutes passed and Jooheon was falling asleep, there was too much silence in the gallery. Suddenly, Julie’s desk phone started ringing. Jooheon thought about answering it, but then thought that wouldn’t be the wisest thing to do, so he let it ring.

The answering machine rang and the person on the other side of the line left a message:

Julie, where are you? Are you on your way? Dinner’s a little late, so if you’re late, it’s okay, don’t run. Some people have already asked me about you so I’m sure we’ll have a good time.

Anyway, if you’re still in the office, call me as soon as you hear this so I know where you are. Let me know when you arrive to pick you up at the entrance of the hotel, there are many people and I do not want you to go in alone, it would not look good.

Anyway, give me a call, okay?

The last thing Jooheon wanted was to hear Kang Dae’s voice, but luck was not on his side that night. The rapper did not know what was that about a dinner, but instead of thinking about the matter, he preferred to leave the office and go for a walk in the gallery, Maybe the idiot would call again and he could end up picking up the phone.

Jooheon arrived at the main hall on the first floor and decided to go up to the second. There were still some of Minhyuk’s paintings on display, so the rapper took the time to admire each one. Today, almost half of Minhyuk’s works were going to be sold and these were taken off the walls, but Jooheon’s favorites went nowhere.

The rapper did not know how long he had been staring at one of the pieces when a voice behind him pulled him out of his trance and made him turn around:

"That’s my favorite too," Julie said. "It looks like a prairie full of fireflies from afar... gives you peace, doesn’t it?"

"Jules, you look... you look beautiful," Jooheon stuttered.

And she really did. She was wearing the dress and jewelry that Kang-Dae had given her: an emerald green halter-neck dress and a minimalist set of earrings and a necklace that had little rubies embedded in them. In addition, Areum had helped her with her hair and make-up, so the braid of her hair and shadows were made by a professional.

Honestly, Julie felt pretty good that night, despite the anxiety she had felt all day. When she got to the gallery, she heard footsteps on the second floor and went up to see who was there. She didn’t expect to meet Jooheon, but she decided to go and talk to him; it was better to let herself feel anxious before the auction.

"Thank you, Jooheon-ah. You don’t look bad," Julie replied. "If you want, you can stay here with the paintings. We have everything ready, so just wait for the guests to arrive. I’m going to my office to get the catalogs of the works to be auctioned, so when you’re done here, I need you to help me take them to the main hall, okay?"

"Yeah, sure, Jules. I’ll be right there".

Julianne turned and headed to her office, leaving Jooheon alone again with the paintings. The rapper thought that the first conversation would be more uncomfortable, but seeing that Julie spoke to him as if nothing had happened, he decided to do the same.

Well, at least I didn’t screw up completely this time, Jooheon thought as he walked down the stairs.

****

The auction was a success. All the paintings were going at a much higher price than expected, which had Minhyuk very happy for the help he was going to be able to give to the organizations he had chosen.

Julie, for her part, was enjoying the night, but had not stopped looking for Kang-Dae during the entire evening. Her cell phone died on the way to the gallery, so she left it charging in her office. She wanted to go check if she had calls or messages from her boyfriend, but she had to take care of the guests' questions, so she couldn’t just leave the event.

Well, I guess it was another long meeting, Julie thought. It’s nothing new, so I’ll just enjoy the evening and then we’ll talk... Patience, Julie, patience.

The auction lasted two hours, and after that, there were another two hours of a dinner that had been organized for the guests in the same gallery. Around midnight, the guests began to leave, and Julie was finally able to go to her office for her cell phone.

When she arrived at her desk, he saw that there was a voice message on the phone and decided to listen to it so as not to wait until Monday. Julie heard Kang-Dae’s voice without understanding what he was talking about. A dinner? Which dinner?

At that moment, Julie’s cell phone turned on and she got all the messages and missed calls from her boyfriend.  She read the messages about dinner, about Kang-Dae’s colleagues, about the renewal of a who-knows-what...

Although it was late, Julianne didn’t understand anything, so she called Kang-Dae...

... and Jooheon heard part of the conversation outside Julie’s office. It was not his intention to spy, but he had gone to find Julie to say goodbye and congratulate her, and just before opening the door, he heard her speaking in a tense tone. She sounded angry.

"Oppa, I don’t understand... excuse me?... No... You never said anything to me about a dinner today and anyway you knew I had an event today and... yeah, well, this was important to me... No, Kang-Dae, I can’t delegate anything when I’m the curator in charge, when I organized everything... The dress? Yes, I’m wearing it, but... And how did you want me to know it was for your special dinner if you never told me about it... Oppa, I’m tired, okay? I’m trying, oppa, I’m trying to be patient, I want it to work, but... nothing. I’ll talk to you later".

Julie hung up the call and took a deep breath trying to prevent tears from escaping her eyes. There were still people in the gallery, and she had to...

"Jules?" Jooheon said at the door of the office.

"Ah, Jooheon-ah, I didn’t hear you come in," replied Julie. "Are you leaving?"

"Ehhh, yes... I’m leaving," replied Jooheon approaching Julie, who was leaning on the desk "but I need to ask you something first".

"What is it?" she said without looking into his eyes.

"Jules..., Jules, why are you with him?" Jooheon snapped.

Julie froze instead. She said nothing, so Jooheon continued:

"Jules, look me in the eye," asked Jooheon, who was now standing next to her. "Jules, please" he asked again.

Julie felt Jooheon’s intense look on her face and didn’t know if she would be able to cope. The last thing she needed was for him to think like Areum and her mother. She also didn’t want Jooheon to say out loud the same questions that Julie had wanted to ignore.

"It’s late, Jooheon-ah," she said. "I don’t know what you heard, but it may be out of context and..."

"It’s not just what I heard now, Jules," Jooheon cut it off. "It’s what I’ve seen these past few weeks. He always has some excuse or something more important or a meeting... or he forgets and leaves you waiting. I’m not stupid, Jules, and I know you well enough to know something was wrong even before I knew you had a boyfriend so... so..."

"And have you never had to give an excuse? Have you never canceled anything? Have you never misunderstood a situation or forgotten a detail?" asked Julianne with a little more poison in her voice than she intended. "You think you know more about me than you really do, but it’s your problem..."

"I may not know everything, and yes, I have canceled appointments and dates and given excuses. I know what it is to be busy to a point you can’t handle it, but I have never been irresponsible".

"Ja! Sure? Never? If I were you, I wouldn’t bet on anything important with that argument," Julianne replied.

"I’ve never been irresponsible with relationships I know I can’t keep. I’ve never made promises that I know I can’t keep, especially when there are feelings involved," Jooheon said. They were both face-to-face, neither of them realizing the distance between them was so small, but the two were too caught up in the argument to realize it. "You know why? Because I know my limits and I know when my priorities don’t go hand in hand with the other person’s. Your priorities and Kang-Dae’s are different, Jules".

"You forget something, Jooheon-ah. Relationships are based on agreement, compromise, finding a middle ground and..."

"Relationships are also based on feeling loved, supported, wanted... desired," Jooheon continued. "You can slap me if you want, but I’m sure he hasn’t touched you in a long time, am I right?"

Julianne’s face turned red. She didn’t know where to look and yes, she wanted to hit him, but her night wasn’t going to end with her physically assaulting an idol. That’s why she wanted to turn around to leave, but Jooheon was faster and took her by the arm to prevent her from leaving. The grip wasn’t strong, Julie could have gotten rid of it if she wanted to, but... she didn’t want to.

"It’s nothing for you to be ashamed of" Jooheon told her. "He doesn’t know what he has".

"Jooheon-ah, enough, yes? Kang-Dae is a good person, he has treated me well... This is the kind of relationship we have and that’s okay".

"It’s not the only kind of relationship there is, Jules," Jooheon countered. "Tell me, are you still excited to see him? Do you miss him when his gone? Do you want to tell him about your day whenever you get home? If I remember correctly, that was the kind of relationship you wanted when we were kids".

"I grew up, you know?" Julie said. "I grew up and reality is different".

"According to whom?" Jooheon asked. "Who says reality has to be different?"

In saying this, Jooheon thought about IM and Liv’s relationship. Sure, they’d both had their problems, their ups and downs, but in anyone’s eyes, they were in love, and you could see it in their eyes every time they were around.

"Jooheon-ah..."

"I’ll show you," Jooheon said, looking into Julie’s eyes. "I’ll show you how you should feel every day, Jules".

« Previous Next »

[theramseyloft]

You go on about how intelligent/emotional pigeons are, but you treat them like objects and that bothers me. You separate bonded pairs of these intelligent, loving animals so frequently as if they don't have any feelings. And then you wonder why these birds afterward do not just take a new mate instantly. You are continually traumatizing these animals and causing them to shut down because they probably begin to realize any new bond they make will only be severed.

I do that because they are.

There is a huge difference between treating a living being like an object and acknowledging that the feelings of a non-human will not often perfectly align with those of a human.

Different species are different.

They have different physical, emotional, and social needs, even if there are a lot of close parallels.

And there are certainly a lot of parallels between humans and pigeons;

They are self aware cooperative social learners.

They form societies.

Those societies have a culture that varies regionally and they have a base line of values...

But their society, culture, and values are different from a human’s because pigeons are not human.

Nothing specializes in preying on humans. We generalize in preying on everything, as a species, as a whole.

We change our environment to suit our needs as much as we are able, and we are more able with every generation.

While things, objectively, can happen to any human at any time, out of nowhere..

On the whole, we generally don’t expect them to.

As such, our monogamous relationships are, ideally, “Until death do us part” meaning “Until we both die of old age, preferably around the same time.”

To the extent that closely bonded humans are emotionally devastated by the loss of that life partner.

To many of us, a life partner is also counted as lost if they engage in sexual infidelity, and if this happens, we are just as devastated (if not even more devastated) as we could have been if that partner had died.

Pigeons are a prey species that evolved in a cheetah-and-thompson’s-gazelle-style arms race with the Peregrine Falcon.

Their monogamous relationships version of “Until Death do us part” can be better translated; “Until one or the other of us gets eaten on a foraging trip.”

And sexual fidelity does not enter into the equation for a pigeon unless their partner is treading or being tread by some one else at the exact moment that bird wants to tread or be tread by their partner.

A cock who wants sex will seek out his wife first, but if she is not interested, he will go asking all the hens away from their nest until one agrees and crouches for him.

If his mate changes her mind and wants him to tread her, she will seek him out and crouch to present herself.

He will tread his wife, and after they do the cute little “I just had sex” dance that’s reserved for mated pairs (side flings get neither this nor courtship. Just sex and separate.) she goes off to do what ever she wanted to do.

If the cock is satisfied, he goes with his wife.

If he still needs or wants more sex, he can tread as many hens as he wants. His wife will not care, because she has had her turn.

If a hen wants sex, she will seek out her husband, generally, but if he’s busy or away, she’ll present for who ever she likes.

Her husband does not care who filled the egg. He only cares that she lays it in his nest and he gets to help set and raise it.

Pigeons divorce partners they consider to be inadequate. Cocks who fail to fill eggs, hens who refuse to set eggs, partners of either sex that don’t spend enough time reaffirming their bond with their spouses...

Unrequited relationships and love triangles are also relationships that pigeons find themselves in.

A pair is considered to have divorced if one partner or the other moves in and spends their nights in the nest of another partner, not for mating with some one else.

Some times, divorces are mutual, and both birds move on to other mates.

Some times, they are not. And the partner left will pine and keep making overtures to reconcile with the partner that left them.

But when a mate just disappears and doesn’t come back, they are assumed by the remaining partner to have been eaten.

If they were closely bonded, the remaining partner may wait a week or so at most, in case they were lost, in hopes the missing bird will make their way back and reunite.

If, after a week, the remaining bird is keeping to them self and not socializing, something is physically wrong, and anthropomorphizing it as “depressed” can get the bird killed.

The veterinary term ‘depression’ describes an animal that is physically ill, be that from a pathogen attacking it to ingesting or absorbing a toxin or simple vitamin or mineral deficiency.

For example;

A week after I became aware that breeding pigeons could become salt deficient and gave the flock a salt and trace mineral brick, birds that had shown no interest in bonding or courting for months are suddenly flirting with everything that moves.

They were not too traumatized to before.

They had a mineral deficiency.

They did not court because they did not feel good.

With the addition of their supplement brick, lo and behold, they all feel better and are courting again.

I have an entire flock to take care of, and I am responsible for the wellbeing of every individual I bring into the world.

To avoid overcrowding, I have a cap of 10 breeding pair.

Because that is the number of adults and their offspring under 6 months old that my loft can comfortably house.

When ever a new breeding bird leaves quarantine or a keeper reaches 6 months, a bird of the same sex has to be retired and made available to avoid overcrowding and the stress and disease that come with it.

Who retires when is not arbitrary.

There are very strict criteria.

1. Physical health.

Regardless of whether or not I have a replacement ready, a bird who may be hurt by the physical process of reproduction or the strain of rearing young, or who may pass on genes that may be harmful to potential offspring is retired on the spot and adopted out with a strict nonbreeding agreement.

Gus is a sweet boy,

But this happens to him every molt, and we have since found out that it runs in both sides of his family, proving it to be genetic and cumulative.

As cute as he and Leela were together, I cannot let him breed.

Because I would have to be a monster to be willing to knowingly pass that painful condition on to another generation.

He has a forever family familiar with his condition to whom he is going on Monday.

2. Undesirable structure

I do not mean anything as stupid as “This animal isn’t pretty enough.”

Cody is not only gorgeous, but an excellent father who has served our program very well.

But his muffs are big enough to make walking uncomfortable, so while I like the rest of his traits, that’s one I want to breed away from.

Now that I have a brother and Sister of his with short muffs that do not cause them discomfort, 

Farthing 

and suki

will continue contributions to the project

and Cody is available.

3. Antisocial behavior that disrupts or disturbs their flock mates.

Indica

And Pookie 

Are the poster children for flock disruption.

They are a gay and bi mated pair of cocks, who are literally turned on by prying other treading pairs off of each other.

If they see another pair treading, Indica will grab the hen by the scruff, Pookie will grab the cock by his, and they will pull in opposite directions, prying the treading pair apart, and marching them in opposite directions towards the wall.

Indica and Pookie will then throw the bird they have at the wall and then run back to meet each other in the center of the floor, smooch-feed each other back and forth, and take turns treading each other.

On top of this, they defend 15 of the 36 total nest boxes in my loft, refusing to pick a specific one or let any other pair settle in a box to lay.

You may or may not have noticed that when I advertised the available birds on Thursday, I made a point of saying that I would prefer these two be adopted together because they are bonded and would be happier that way.

A prospective new family is coming to meet them on Monday.

But they are SUCH a violent disruption to their flock mates that if only one had a home lined up, it would be unkind to the rest of the flock to keep them both on the insistence that they go together.

4. Shitty parenting history

Parents who tend to ignore eggs or peeps, leaving all the work of setting or feeding to their partner.

This is a personality trait, and such a parent puts dangerous strain on their partner and stress on their peeps. 

Their partner will usually divorce them for that, so adopting the bad parent out isn’t “Splitting up a bonded pair”.

Their former spouse is usually looking for or has found some one else with out any interference on my part.

5. Too many offspring/grandchildren

This is to avoid any more inbreeding than necessary.

Betty is one of the best studs here.

He is an outstanding father who sits tight on his eggs, pumps his peeps full, and educates them carefully though weaning.

MANY are his children and grand children, and he has a strong preference for birds with faces like his.

He has already bred with his niece to produce Sherry, and I would like to avoid having him breed to any more of his kin.

Once his peep with Liang is weaned, he will be adopted.

Liang is very skittish, and she liked him right off the bat, so I delayed his retirement to give her more time to feel secure with the flock.

But with her egg hatching, she is allowing herself to be casually flirt with more.

Wukong still likes her. So do Cherub and Ginger, so she’ll have her pick when Betty goes to his new home.

6. Temperament

The Therapy Bird Project is working towards developing a performance breed with a temperament conducive to Therapy work.

All else being equal; The birds are all physically sound with no known detrimental genes, no embellishments too exaggerated, not overly aggressive to flock mates, great parents... Then the bird least interested in human company gets retired.

The ground work of physical and mental base soundness has to be laid first and foremost for that excellent temperament I’m aiming for to shine in their handler’s lives for as long as possible.

You probably have not noticed that when bonded pairs retire at the same time, I make a thing of them being bonded in hopes that they will be adopted together.

Dodger and Alex retired close enough to each other that both are still here, and I would prefer they be adopted together.

But if one of them gets a perfect home lined up where I think that individual will be happy, I will not refuse them that good home for the sake of not splitting up a pair.

You care about the idea of that a LOT more than the pigeons themselves do.

[lostcoves]

ft. tendou satori x fem!reader 

genre: angst with a fluffy ending

wc & warnings: 1.3k | mental health crisis, self harm, blood, hospitalization

premise: tendou can’t bear to watch you spiral out of control, he will do anything to keep you safe 

note: my piece for @doinmybesthere​‘s mental health awareness collab! my followers and moots might not know this about me but i am a suicide attempt survivor and someone with borderline personality disorder so writing this piece was really profound for me. this is based on my own experiences and i can only hope that you can get a glimpse into what living with bpd is like. please don’t interact with this if any of my above warnings are a trigger of yours! thank you and enjoy the story :)

tendou could sense you were spiraling.

he watched helpless, as the girl he fell in love with deteriorated before his very eyes. your smile turned from bright and cheerful to hollow and forced. your eyes, once shined like stars, were empty. worst of all was your behavior.

he didn’t understand why you were so angry all the time, accusatory and defensive. one minute you were affectionate, the next you were proclaiming how much you despised him. what was going on inside your mind?

“babe..” tendou croaked from behind the door to the shared bathroom of your small apartment, “please, please talk to me. i’m sorry for not telling you i was going out. i really am. i didn’t mean to scare you.”

“go away,” was your response. tendou sighed and blinked back tears, “do i need to call someone?”

“no!” you exclaimed from behind the door, “just.. just leave me alone. i need to be alone.”

“you know i can’t do that, bunny. you’re scaring me,” tendou was on the verge of sobbing. moments like these always worried him. he wasn’t sure what you were going to do in the moment.

a hiss of pain alerted tendou and something in his gut urged him to get you out of that bathroom. standing up, he used all of his strength for his volleyball days and broke down the door with a swift kick, “(y/n)!”

you sat on the ground, breath ragged and eyes wide. your forearms were covered in open cuts, bleeding profusely. in your bloody hands was a razor blade.

“no..” tendou fell to his knees, horrified by the sight before him, “bunny.. why did you do that? why did you do that to yourself?”

“t- tori, i think i’m sick,” you confessed, tears rolling down your eyes in fat blotches. tendou grabbed the razor blade from you and tossed it in the toilet, flushing the blade away. he embraced you tightly, “i’m gonna fix this, babe. i- i promise!”

picking you up bridal style, tendou carried you out of the apartment complex and to his car. he buckled you up and drove straight to the local hospital’s emergency room. tendou feared that you nicked a vein when you cut up your arms.

“someone! someone, help my girlfriend!” tendou screamed upon arrival to the emergency room. you were unconscious by the time you both reached the hospital, tendou’s clothes soaked in your blood.

doctors and nurses alike swarmed the two of you, a group of them getting you on a stretcher. you were whisked away for treatment, leaving tendou to stand there alone. he collapsed to the ground and sobbed, his body shaking. his angel, his angel was sick.

“tendou-san?” a nurse approached tendou cautiously. through his tears, he looked up at the nurse and asked, “wh- what is it?”

“(l/n)-san is gonna make it,” she reassured him, “but in order to best help her, we need to know what happened that caused this.”

“we got into a fight and- and-” tendou choked back a sob, “she cut her arms up like ribbons. she’s sick, she’s really sick and i don’t know what’s wrong with her.”

“we’ll order a psych evaluation and get to the bottom of this,” the nurse gave tendou a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder, “we will help her. i promise.”

“okay,” was his answer.

hours went by, as tendou sat in the waiting room. his phone was buzzing with missed calls and texts from his friends, concerned about your well-being. finally, after waiting for five hours, a doctor called out to him, “tendou-san?”

“how is she?” tendou asked when the doctor walked up to him. the doctor offered tendou a smile, “(l/n)-san is gonna have a smooth recovery. she was lucky to not have cut through any of the veins in her arm. we managed to stop the bleeding and stitch her up.”

“and the psych evaluation?”

“doctor mochizuki can answer your questions,” the doctor stepped aside and a tall woman in a white coat approached tendou, “tendou-san, i’m doctor mochizuki. i performed a psych evaluation on your girlfriend.”

“good to meet you.. what did you find out?” tendou cut right to the chase.

“just to clarify, you’re (y/n)’s healthcare  surrogate, correct?” asked doctor mochizuki. tendou gave her a nod, “yeah. (y/n) has no family and grew up in foster care so she made me her surrogate in case anything bad happened.”

“alrighty then,” doctor mochizuki seemed pleased, “then i’ll be straightforward with you. your girlfriend has a condition known as borderline personality disorder.”

“borderline what?” he asked.

“borderline personality disorder, it’s a severe psychiatric condition that- if left untreated- can result in great harm to your girlfriend,” the psychologist was brutally honest.

“can you make her feel better?” tendou’s throat began to close up, as tears formed in his eyes.

“with extensive therapy and medication, she can live a long and happy life. the best course of action for now is to admit her into our inpatient psychiatric unit.”

“i’m not putting my girlfriend in a mental hospital! she’s not crazy!” tendou yelled, angry and scared.

doctor mochizuki laid a hand on his shoulder, “she’s not crazy, i agree. but she’s very sick and she is at risk of suicide, especially after an episode of that magnitude,” she then added in a soft voice, “it’s for her own good.”

“can.. can i visit her?” tendou sniffled.

“of course you can,” doctor mochizuki smiled, “and our unit has some of japan’s finest psychiatrists and psychologists, one of which is an expert in personality disorders like what (y/n) has. she will be in good hands.”

tendou took a deep breath, “okay.. as long as (y/n) consents. can i see her now?” he paused, “please?”

“of course,” doctor mochizuki stepped aside and gestured down the hall, “she’s in the room over there, first door on the left.”

“thank you,” and with that, tendou gathered his belongings and made his way to you. he carefully opened the door, not wanting to disturb your peace, and shut it quietly. the sight of you hooked up to machines galore and your bandaged arms made a pit form in the center of tendou’s stomach.

“hey bunny,” he whispered, taking a seat next to you on the bed. he caressed your cheek gently and watched as your eyes fluttered open. a groan escaped your lips and you spoke softly to tendou, “where.. where am i?”

“you’re in the hospital. you had.. they called it an episode,” tendou explained.

“an episode?” you asked, still groggy from the medicine. 

“yes, bunny,” his voice shook a bit, “you have a personality disorder.”

“i do?” you were confused, staring up at tendou with those doe-like eyes of yours, “what’s.. what’s that?”

“it’s called borderline personality disorder and it’s making you very sick,” tendou held back his tears, “but the doctors here are gonna help you get treated, okay? they want to take you to the inpatient psych–” he cleared his throat, “the mental health unit.”

“will they help me feel better?” you reached out for tendou’s hand. he took it and held it close, “yes, yes they will. you will be in great hands. i promise, i promise i’ll visit you as much as i can until you’re released.”

“okay,” you sighed and gave tendou a smile, “i’ll do it.”

tendou nearly cried with joy at your answer, “you’re so brave, baby girl,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

a diagnosis like this changed everything but tendou was ready. 

he would do anything to keep you safe and happy.

[ivanabaqero]

Since I just returned from rehab, here is my.. idk, emotional journey on my chronic illness + mental health or wtf ever u wanna call this. This is the most personal thing I have ever posted but I need to get it out. 

Before you read, I guess I gotta tw this for suicidal thoughts and descriptions of my symptoms.

I don’t even know where to start. It feels like all of this happened in one week and at the same in a span of several years. But no idea, time just kept passing and more shit happened. 

Last summer was pretty cool. I worked hard and made a fuckton of money - not really considering the consequences of the fact that I overstepped the boundaries of my body every single day. Either way, I regret nothing it was pretty cool and another experience I am glad I could make. Well, but when I came back home, I started to notice a few things. Among some weird shit nobody wants to know about, I noticed a change of my eyesight. There was a cloud right on the vision on my left eye and it got blurry. At first, it started with minutes and then it passed. But I knew my body responded to exhaustion in an odd way so I let it slide. As doctors have instructed me, only when it lasts over 24 hours it’s an actual episode/flare and I should go to the ER -- to elaborate this further, I have been diagnosed with multiple sclerosis in 2015 and have not had any bigger flares since, only the regular symptoms like fatigue, etc.

 I got treated with the regular medication; cortisone. This shit gave me some energy boost for a few days and then, things went back to somewhat normal. The blurry thing in my eye has changed into a weird ass thing called nystagmus. Basically, my eyeball was twitching. It was better than the blurry sight and my doctors told me that physical therapy was the only thing to help me with that, and up until some weeks ago this didn’t stop, at the moment it’s gotten way better though - a relief because that caused me mad headache and made reading really difficult.

Anyway, that was the smaller problem. A few months later, in December around Christmas, I have gotten really weak and have been constantly dizzy. As usual, I let it slide for some days. Up until that point when I couldn’t move from the bed or look at anything else but right up at the ceiling or I would get fucking dizzy. Back to the ER again, the same procedure began. Cortisone  resulted in a massive push of energy that lasted for some days, but after that, all the symptoms slowly returned. Not only that, but it started to get worse. I have been dragging and limping with my left foot since months but I still managed somehow to walk and get around. In January I had a major panic attack when I noticed that I couldn’t walk on my own to my doctors, which is merely an 8 minute walk away. I had to call my mom to bring me back home because I couldn’t go any step more. My doctor sent me to the ER but the next day, I decided that I was fine and being over dramatic and everything was perfectly fine. The whole thing kept getting worse, I could not walk anymore, I kept feeling dizzy all the time unless I was staring at only one spot: my laptop or phone. So that was what I did, ignore my symptoms. Adding to my chronic fatigue, dizziness, inability to walk and my eye problem, a sensitivity problem spread all over my body from the chest downwards. My hands hurt and my fingers cramped up and got stiff, I lost all feeling in my feet. I had an appointment at the neurologist thank god, or else, I would have let it gotten worse and kept telling myself that I am being over dramatic and nothing is actually wrong. Delusional? Maybe. I don’t understand myself there either.

The neurologist decided to keep me in hospital for a whole ass week, getting cortisone every day. I got in there with the ambulance in a wheelchair and left out of there walking again. Not perfectly, but I thought things were looking up. Of course, once the high dose of steroids begins to wear off and you slowly come down from it, you first catch sleep. Steroids this time have been given to me five days in high dose instead of three and in addition, I had to take pills that I had to reduce slowly over another two weeks. I did not sleep in those three weeks more than 3-4 hours per night and then I finally could. To make this more understandable; my brain was tired but my body was buzzing. I also had a tremor that has still not entirely left me as a wonderful side effect from the medication. 

That time stationary they finally put me back in a MRT and found 2 bigger new lesions. One of them in my cerebellum and the other in my spinal cord. Each of them causing me all those massive problems. Back at home I had physical therapy every day, but despite all of it, I had to rely on a wheelchair. I got my wheelchair in march and named him Otto because he is the best man ever. Next time in hospital, I was mentally and physically just fucking done and tried to just ignore how much my mental health was going downhill along with my body, the neurologist offered me stationary rehab at a very well known center where they treat several physical as well as mental illnesses. I said yes, and luckily got a place in July.

The initial plan was to stay there for four weeks, but the doctors suggested to extend to six. I did. And good that I did. I made slow progress. Very slow. To imagine, in twenty minutes at the first day I could barely walk 130m with four  breaks in between, with walking aid and what not - and my last day I made 640m in the same time with no breaks. I know this doesn’t sound like a lot but fuck -- I made it out of a fucking wheelchair. I am walking again. Not perfectly or any good, but my legs are used for their purpose again; to get me through this world. For someone who loves hiking and going for little walks alone, this was such a big deal to just not be able to anymore. 

The day I had the panic attack was the day I realized that in 2015 I made a promise to myself that if I ever have to rely on other people, I would end it. But I felt selfish for not wanting to end it. I felt selfish  for wanting to live and being a burden to people. I know, none of this is my fault and I am the first to give good advice, but am I good at handling my own shit? Absolutely not. 

With all the physical therapy I did for six weeks every day, I also had a psychologist that helped me understand myself better and deal with the trauma this experience brought me. I have to find another psychologist at home as well, because I didn’t feel the one I have helped me at all. I had to make a lot of promises to myself, such as accepting and asking for help and that it’s no shame in doing so. I feared losing my independence and I still do. But fuck, this experience was an eye opener in so many ways. I made new friends in rehab as well, which was one of the coolest things. And I got hit on by two attractive men - can you believe? I was in a wheelchair, dressed like absolute shit and not making any kind of deal of how I look! But yeah, my interest wasn’t really there to get involved in anything. I’ve got a lot of love to give but I need to give it to myself rather than pour it out on someone else.

I learned so many lessons, about my body and about my mind. My brain is an idiot and I have so many fears I was never even able to see until now. I thought optimism could beat everything and well... while it helps me a lot to get through every day life, every now and then I just need a slap in the face to look at things in another light. Not everything is fine if you tell yourself it is, no, you are not over reacting and you are allowed to feel sorry for yourself when life is dealing you a bad card. It doesn’t matter that other people have it worse -- it doesn’t mean your own shit is any less valid. And with that, I am going to wash my face and stop crying. I am still in a shock of reality state because I am  back at home now and everything is different. And I got to admit, I feel a little lonely. But I don’t want to reach out to my old friends at the moment with whom I felt like the “sick friend”. I want more friends in similar positions as me so I don’t have to feel bad for... well, feeling bad, and I don’t want to hear any more optimism monologues from healthy people who have absolutely no idea what it is like to have chronic pain, fatigue and overall; an illness. Whether it be mental or physical.

If you really read all of this, thank you. There was no need to, but I appreciate it. I honestly just needed to let it out. Because I haven’t done so properly since all of that started. 

[propshophannah]

Am I the only one who thought the book had a lot of sexist undertones? Like preemptively modifying your body to MAYBE one day give birth to your man's (male's) babies? I feel like the IC never tried to let Nesta heal in her own way, they just forced her to do things they thought would be good for her, while demeaning her along the way. And the shield thing around Feyre is very reminiscent of how Tamlin treated her in ACOTAR... I don't know, a lot of the book just made me uncomfortable :/

Hi Nonnie!

First, I want to say that I’m sorry parts of this book made you uncomfortable. That’s never fun. Second…

I think we can reasonably say that no matter what we’re looking at, we can find sexism if we want to. Now that doesn’t mean that some things are not just blatantly sexist. I think with this book there is a conversation to be had about what some of us read as sexist and what some of us read as not sexist or even pro different-forms-of-feminism.

It’s sort of in the eye of the beholder.

It’s also a fantasy world that has developed under a patriarchy. So some things are just as sexist as they “should be” because that’s the world building, right? 

So, like, territorial Fae males is fully explained in the world building and is therefore fully acceptable for the books, and is also, frankly, a kink. SJM caters to that kink. So we know we’re going to get that in these books. Most if their shit is NOT okay for planet Earth. (That’s why some of us actively seek it and enjoy reading it in books.)

So let’s get in it!

Nesta modifying her body

Now as far as Nesta modifying her own body to have children one day, I don’t see that as sexist at all. Because the alternative to her altering her own anatomy is her pausing for a moment and asking Cassian if she can strip him of his faerie race and make him something else that doesn’t have wings. If that happened, we’d be getting into race and identity and all kinds of other shit that is hella problematic. 

So, no. Nesta wanting to one day birth her own children is not sexist. Nesta deciding to alter her own anatomy so that she can safely birth her own children with Cassian, is not sexist. (Now if Cassian did it without permission, then we’d have a problem!)

The IC making Nesta heal their way

Now THIS is a conversation on choice. Not sexism. Rhys has long touted that his court is a court of choices and all that. So forcing Nesta to either go to the human lands (where she’ll very likely die) or go to the House of Wind (where she can’t readily leave) and train and work everyday, is a problem. If you want to make an argument that this is the equivalent of Tamlin locking Feyre in the house, I won’t stop you. I would only ask that you consider the nuance. 

And the nuance here takes us back to world building. They don’t have psychiatric wards or mental health services or rehab centers like we do on planet Earth. Nesta needed help. AND LET ME BE REAL CLEAR: I’m not here to debate what kind of help she needed. (We could run in circles all day long debating that.) What I am saying is that they recognized that: 

Nesta’s behavior was not good, 

that THEY WERE ENABLING HER, 

that they actually had the power to do something about her situation

They do not live in a democracy. They live in a monarchy. They have and hold absolute power and rule. And while that whole intervention—or whatever the fuck that was—was absolutely TERRRRIBLE, they had every right to do what they did. Why? Because it fit the world building.

They acted like rich parents fed up with a wild teenager so they cut her off and gave her a choice between getting kicked out of the house or going to work on grandpa’s farm in the middle of BFE. Essentially that’s what they did.

Do I agree with it? Eh... they didn’t have a lot of options and SOMETHING needed to happen (I’d have been VERY ANGRY had they left her to die like that). Do I like it? FUCK NO. They went about it all wrong and it was shitty.

Abandoning her in the human lands would have been fucking murder. But do you HONESTLY, HONESTLY think Feyre would have done that??? ALSO, LET’S BE REAL: Nesta would not have stayed there long because EVERY HIGH LORD knows about her power and would want her in their court. That whole shit about the human lands likely was NOT real and was a scare tactic. It was a shitty scare tactic. But again, it fit the world building. AND Nesta’s character (cuz it worked, she didn’t ask to go to the human lands). 🤷🏻‍♀️ 

This isn’t directed at you Nonnie, but what did people think would happen? There would suddenly be psych wards and rehab centers and Feyre and Rhys would start acting with compassion and kindness and like they themselves had gone to therapy for decades and suddenly be able to convince Nesta to sign herself into one of those facilities? 

I get it’s annoying. And it’s infuriating. And some of their bullshit talking out their ass moments made me want to throw the book across the damn room. Because that’s not how you act to people in the middle of a downward spiral/crisis like Nesta was. 

But here’s the thing: they have no basis for knowing better. They don’t have mental health services. Gwyn mentioned a priestess who counsels them, but that’s NOT the same thing as a therapist or psychologist or psychiatric NP or psychiatrist.

So what did people expect?

Also. Do you think for one second, Nesta would have responded well to compassionate attempts to get her help? She hadn’t hit rock bottom yet (where compassion would have worked wonderfully *depending* on the type of rock bottom she hit). She would have seen any attempt like that as pity and she would have rebelled.

Here’s how I get over being annoyed with Feysand and Amren for that dumb af “intervention” moment: I remind myself that

They recognized she couldn’t keep going down the path she was going.

They recognized that they loved her too much to let that happen (Feyre at least). 

They recognized that they held ABSOLUTE POWER over her in their realm

They recognized that they needed to put her in a place where she had a purpose, a routine, where she couldn’t fall back on old habits, and where she had the option to talk to other trauma survivors (if she chose to) 

That’s what they knew. Putting her in the House was their only choice. So they did. And guess what? It worked. 

Now, the forcing her to train thing was BULLSHIT. You can’t force other people to change, they have to want that for themselves. But guess what? Turns out Nesta wanted to change. Because she wasn’t against training. She was only against doing it in a place where she could be judged. 🤷🏻‍♀️ 

Also, exercising is FUCKING FANTASTIC for mental health. (Maas knows that.)

Now did they demean her along the way? Yes. 

Was it shitty? HELL, YES! 

Did Rhys finally learn his lesson that night with the nightmare? He sure af did! 

Did some people in the fandom expect too much from Amren? Yep. Lady was never going to show affection or be nice to Nesta. Amren shows respect. When you respect Amren, she respects you. That’s her ENTIRE character. We’re three books in with Amren. Idk why people are still butthurt about her personality. Like. You can’t get mad at Amren for not being a table when she’s always been a chair. (Doesn’t mean we have to like her behavior or anyone else’s. But it does mean that we only have ourselves to blame when she acts the way she always has.) This same logic applied to Mor and Feyre and Elain etc.

Also. Did them acting like assholes drive the plot forward? IT SURE AF DID! If they had acted differently the book wouldn’t be as good as it is.

The shield around Feyre

If you want to make the argument about how this is a Tamlin thing to do, I won’t stop you. But again, I’ll ask you to consider the nuance and the world building. 

In a world where anyone can scent a pregnancy, would you not try to hide your ruler’s pregnant scent and body from enemies and potential attacks? I would! 

Is it a little territorial? Yes. 

Does that make sense for the world building and what we know about Fae males? Yep! 

Could Feyre have told Rhys to cut the shit? Yes. 

Is it possible Feyre *maybe* use the lie of Rhys and Helion(?) having fun with shield as an excuse to have it around herself? Yeah. I’d probably do it. 

Look, if Feyre hadn’t wanted the shield, it would have been gone. They said it was a compromise, but you can’t tell me Rhys would force a shield around her against her own will (or that she, The Cursebreaker, wouldn’t bust through it in a heartbeat).

Sorry if this comes off as salty, Nonnie! I don’t mean to be. I just don’t really understand why people get mad at stuff in books *that’s perfectly reasonable* for the world building when the alternative that they would prefer would be out of character, out the world building, or create plot holes etc. 

Hope this helps!

[never-not-ever]

More Job Search Shenanigans

So I talked to the recruiter for Hospital B last Thursday. Technically it’s like a recovery center but it’s easier to just refer to to them as Hospital B lol. And she said I’d hear from her either “tomorrow or Monday” and I figured it was the end of the week so probably Monday. BUT I totally missed her email on Friday! I went to check my email this morning cause for the past couple weeks I’m just constantly checking my email on weekdays. Like I searched my inbox for Hospital A’s recruiter and sure enough no new emails just the same sent emails from me… And then I went and searched Hospital B’s just to be safe and I was like what!! How did I miss that on Friday???

Anyways it was to say they wanted to go forward with an interview scheduled for this Thursday and for me to confirm the time and date. I replied back this morning confirming it and now I’ll be interviewing with them for a Mental Health Counselor (entry level, not a therapist!!) position and as excited as I am I’m also a little hesitant about this place…

I looked at more reviews about Hospital B and I’m still going to go forward with the interview but I’m going to ask them a bunch of questions one of which will be “can I get back to you with my decision” that is if they offer me the job.

So Hospital A pays $4 more for the same “entry level” position. Hospital A has more training as well…. Might just type up a pro and con for both of them which is kind of weird considering I don’t actually have an offer from either of them and Hospital A is sort of ghosting me…

I’ll post something later to clarify things and it’ll also help me talk about it in therapy tomorrow lol.

[adventures-in-therapy]

Let’s talk about Treatment Nostalgia!

Treatment is a major step in the recovery of many individuals with mental illnesses. The intensity of these programs ranges from inpatient admissions to outpatient therapy or psychiatry or even case management. There is no single level of care that benefits every single person, even if there was, there are many barriers that prevent people from getting treatment; financial cost, stigma, trauma history, and so on. Unfortunately in our society, mental health treatment is a privilege not a right. Which is absolutely not how it needs to be, but that’s for another post. . . Nostalgia is defined by Webster’s dictionary as: “a wistful or excessively sentimental yearning for return to or of some past period or irrecoverable condition”. Knowing that definition, Treatment Nostalgia may seem pretty self-explanatory. People who haven’t been to treatment, or have had a negative experience in treatment, may not understand. Wanting treatment back seems undesirable. Wanting anything related to the illness back seems opposite to the end goal. And it is. And it’s natural to crave it back. . . Treatment is structured. Treatment is controlled. Two things that many mental illnesses, especially eating disorders and anxiety, crave. I’ve been privileged to go to treatment quite a few times with quite a few different programs. The eating disorder (ED) Partial Hospitalization Program (PHP) that I completed twice was exactly that: structured and controlled. We began program promptly at 11:30 every morning with weights, then lunch, group, snack, group, dinner, and finally were released from programming at 6:30pm. Each patient was on a meal plan that they were allowed to make once they were completing meals and complying with the program for a few days. Structure and Control. . . But beyond the structure and control of treatment, there lie emotional attachments as well. Humans are social creatures. We aren’t made to go through life alone. When you’re in treatment with other humans, it’s natural to form bonds with the other patients. In fact, I think everyone would be surprised if none of the patients bonded. That’s not to say everyone will be best friends, because let’s face it, throwing a bunch of wildly different personalities together is not going to end well every time. And patients are not the only people we bond to. We bond to our treatment therapists, the support staff, the nurses, etc. Leaving treatment and feeling as though we’re losing those connections can be heartbreaking. . . Finally (though I could go on and on), treatment is often a Safe Space. Before anyone comes for me: I do know that not all treatment is a safe space. There are bad treatment centers. There are unethical therapists. There are support workers who have no idea what they’re doing. But (what should be) the goal of a center is to create a space that is safe enough for each individual patient to be vulnerable and honest enough to kick start their healing journey. Healing is not completed in treatment, but that’s (hopefully) where it begins. . . All this to say, Treatment Nostalgia makes sense. We long for the control and structure that the program presented to us. We miss the close connections with those around us. We crave the safety that we felt. Some days, we want to relapse and return to the thing that started us on healing. The truth is that even if we went back to the same treatment center, it wouldn’t be the same. There are new patients, sometimes even new staff, and a different you. . . Some times, we do relapse and return to the same treatment center. I did. I went to an ED PHP in 2014 and again in 2016. While many of the therapists were still there, most of the support staff had left, and all the patients were new to me. Yes, the program still worked (because I worked it). But the nostalgia I had felt for it was not quenched. It wasn’t the same. I wasn’t the same. And that’s okay. We can’t get what we had back, in any aspect of our lives. . . Treatment Nostalgia is not “bad” and I am certainly not judging anyone for experiencing it. I’m feeling it right now, as I sit and type this. We can feel nostalgic for the times and places we knew, AND we can keep moving forward. We can build structure, control, connections, and safety in our own lives with the help of our support system.

[tchallasbabymama]

The Temple- Chapter 1/?

N’Jadaka x OC

A/N: I thought this was going to be a two parter, but now it’s looking like maaaaybe 3? I’m just now getting back into my writing and forgot how longwinded I can be lol. Enjoy! 

CW: short mention of suicidal ideation

Previous chapter: Prologue

3256 Words

N’Jadaka’s eyes blinked open and he was met with yet another day in Wakanda. This one was a little different than all his other mornings there because it was the first time he got to wake up in his own bed in his own quarters (outside of that one day he was king.) N’Jadaka had spent the last three months in a psychiatric treatment facility working on his anger and mental health issues. When he woke up after the civil war he caused he was livid. He had wanted to die on that mountain and unfortunately the feeling didn’t leave him until about a month into his treatment. He felt he had nothing to live for since his entire life’s work had gone up in flames before his eyes. He accomplished his one goal in life only to have it snatched back from him a day later. Everything important to him in his life had been taken from him and he felt he had nothing else to live for, so his cousin, King T’Challa, arranged for N’Jadaka to spend some time at Ithemba Center for Mental Wellness. 

He would never admit it out loud, but N’Jadaka was scared to go to Ithemba. He thought his stint as king would have turned Wakandans against him, but it did the opposite. The royal family had decided that transparency was the best policy and did a press conference explaining the entire situation to the people. T’Challa explained what had happened between his father and uncle, what the prince’s life had been like up to that point, and the fact that while he did usurp the throne he did it the right way according to Wakandan law so he wouldn't be charged with treason. The people of Wakanda were shocked, but welcomed their new prince with open arms. He wasn’t aware of the new developments because he was still resting in a healing pod in Shuri’s lab at the time, but when he went to Ithemba he was surprised to find out that everybody already knew him and was more than willing to help him. N’Jadaka hadn’t received that much care and attention since he was a child and he didn't really know how to handle it. It took him weeks to learn how to open himself to others, and it wasn’t until his last month of treatment that he even began opening himself up to the other patients in group therapy.

N’Jadaka’s main therapist was a woman named Ife. She reminded him so much of his mother that he had almost no choice but to open himself to her, crying in her lap during their first couple sessions. Ife had been incredibly patient with the emotional yet emotionally repressed prince, allowing him to work through his overwhelming feelings of anger, sadness, and hurt. 

His time with Ife and the other patients at the center had been incredibly healing and he felt like a new man. He still felt like he had a ways to go, and he could tell he needed something, but couldn’t figure out what. His healing didn’t feel anywhere close to being done.

A knock at the door interrupted his morning laziness.

“Ngena.”

In walked the king of Wakanda flanked by two of his Dora Milaje, who he politely dismissed to stand outside the door. He walked across the room and sat in the plush velvet wingback chair by the full bookshelves.

“Sup man?” N’Jadaka barely opened his eyes to speak to his cousin. The bed was too comfortable.

“My apologies cousin, did I wake you?”

“Nah I’m up, this bed just won’t let me go.”

T’Challa chuckled at his cousin’s laziness. He completely understood, the beds were the most comfortable beds he’d experienced in all of his travels and time abroad in school. 

“I just wanted to formally invite you to attend breakfast at 9. It’s casual, just family and whatever few friends are staying in the palace with us at the time. M’Baku will be joining us today.”

“The gorilla nigga?”

T’Challa tried and failed to stifle his laughter, which quickly spread to his slightly younger cousin.

“Yes the gorilla nigga.”

“Ooooh I’m telling M’Baku you said that. Better yet, I’m telling Auntie.”

“I’d really rather you not.”

N’Jadaka chuckled and wondered if this is how it always would’ve been if they had grown up together. The thought was more bitter than sweet, so he pushed it aside for the time being. 

“Maybe just this once.”

T’Challa grinned at his cousin and he also wondered how life would’ve been had they known each other their whole lives.

“Thank you. Oh and get up, it’s already 8:30” T’Challa stood and walked towards the door.

“These damn beds…” N’Jadaka shook his head and reluctantly flung the sheet back and swung his legs over the side of his bed, completely forgetting he slept naked. He rushed to cover himself in the king’s presence.

“Shit, my bad, man.” 

“For…?”

“Nigga I got my dick swinging!”

“You’re sorry for being naked? Wh- oh that’s right. We aren’t puritanical like you are used to in America. Nudity isn't scandalous here, it’s just a body. But I will leave and let you get ready. See you, umzala.”

N’Jadaka stood there shocked. He knew of Wakandan culture, but experiencing it was going to be an adjustment. Just how different were they? They were never affected by colonization so the oppressive white supremacist ideology wouldn’t exist there. He had a lot of unlearning to do and a lot of questions to ask his family.

He eventually shook himself out of his thoughts and made his way to the en suite bathroom. He turned on the shower using the touchpad and the water fell from the ceiling like rain. He scrubbed down in the vanilla chai body wash he had requested and afterwards he covered his skin in shea butter. He walked into his enormous closet and stood there overwhelmed at the choices. His inner child wanted to throw a fit for everything he’d missed out on, but N’Jadaka took a deep breath to center himself before walking over to the section of clothes that he recognized. He was so nervous about breakfast he almost dressed to impress, but then he remembered T’Challa’s words and casual outfit. He grabbed his Lost Tribe hoodie and threw on his favorite black jeans and his Timbs. He swooped all his locs to one side of his head and threw on his gold glasses. N’Jadaka took a deep breath and walked towards the door.

“Chill out...it’ll be fine.”

The guards stationed outside his door directed him to the dining room where he was met with the smiling faces of his family members. Ramonda was the first to notice he’d entered the room..

“Mholo, umtshana!”

She met him for a hug and kissed his cheek. He smiled so hard his dimples looked deeper than ever and he hugged her back.

“Mornin, Auntie. T, Lil Bit, Charlie’s Angel, Big Man.” N’Jadaka greeted his cousins, Nakia, and M’Baku.

Yet again, T’Challa failed to stifle a laugh, which he tried to play off with a cough. Nakia lightly backhanded his chest and sucked her teeth at him. 

“Little bit? Don't start with me, bubble wrap!”

“Who is Charlie and why am I their angel?”

“That is not my name.”

Shuri, Nakia, and M’Baku spoke over each other.

Thankfully the queen mother was there to settle the children down right as the food was being brought out. N’Jadaka looked at the table and was surprised to see that Ramonda was seated next to T’Challa and that the only empty seat was at the end of the table. 

The king noticed N’Jadaka’s nervousness as he watched him sit down gingerly and take in his surroundings. 

“So N’Jadaka, how was your first night in the palace? Our beds are the most comfortable in the world.”

“Auntie, I almost didn’t come to breakfast. That bed had a hold on me.”

“You must come visit my people sometimes. If you think you sleep good here, wait until you have the crisp mountain air-”

“Nah lemme stop you right there. Crisp is code for cold, and I don't do that shit. Sorry Auntie.”

“I don't do that shit either. When I was staying there I shivered the whole time, even with the beautiful furs and blankets! I’m just not built for the cold.”

N’Jadaka grimaced at the mention of his time as a burgeoning world dictator. He was thankful nobody noticed.

He was also thankful for the large platters of food the kitchen staff came and sat in front of them. They passed the food around the table and soon enough there was silence as everyone dug into what N’Jadaka would later describe as the best meal he ever had.

After breakfast, the three men retired to T’Challa’s office while the princess hurried off to her lab, Nakia disappeared, and Ramonda tended to her garden. 

“So, N’Jadaka...I wanted to talk to you about a few things-”

“Then why is Mighty Joe Young here?”

M’Baku rolled his eyes.

“Again, that is not my name. Who even is this person?”

“It’s a big ass gorilla.”

“Oh- well in that case…”

T’Challa cleared his throat.

“As I was saying. Before anything, we need to address your crowning ceremony. Obviously you are part of the royal family, but by Wakandan law, all royalty must be officially crowned to be able to hold a title. If you would like to be Prince N’Jadaka son of Prince N’Jobu we must have the ceremony.”

N’Jadaka’s voice caught in his throat and his eyes got misty.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

M’Baku put a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s good to have you, brother.”

“Good to be here.”

T’Challa fought tears of his own.

“Ok so uh, that’s that. We can hash those details out later. Now, the second thing I wanted to bring up with you is this: M’Baku and Nakia have offered to show you around the merchant tribe here in the city, the river tribe, and Jabariland. Shuri will get you acquainted with the mining tribe, and I will take you out to the border tribe on Wednesday.”

“Aight, sounds like a plan, but I don’t want the surface-level touristy shit.”

T’Challa chuckled.

“Noted. Now, lastly,” T’Challa pulled up a projection of a futuristic yet somehow still modern building next to a basketball court. 

N’Jadaka’s stomach dropped.

“What is this?”

“I want to open our borders to the ‘Lost Tribe’ as you call it. Maybe to the rest of the world eventually, but at the time they are less of a concern. In addition to that, I-”

The king was cut off by Nakia entering the room.

“Perfect time, love.”

“Sorry for being late, this baby runs my life now.”

“I’m getting a baby cousin?!”

Nakia looked at him dryly.

“Yes, N’Jadaka, you are getting a baby cousin.”

He peeped her attitude and settled down. If there was one thing he knew in this world, it was never piss of a pregnant woman.

“So the Outreach Centers, yes. I had actually had the idea for a while, but it took the country almost burning down for this idiot to see I was right. T’Challa had the idea to use your old apartment complex as the first Wakandan Outreach Center. Hopefully if it goes well, we could expand to-”

N’Jadaka zoned out staring at the projection. His vision may not have come true in the way he thought it would, but this would certainly be a step towards the betterment of the lives of Black people everywhere. N’Jadaka couldn't help but grin. 

“I think we lost him…”

“Cousin!”

He snapped out of his daze.

“Yeah I-I like it. Thank you, this really means a lot. One thing though?”

“Yes?”

“I want it dedicated to my pops.”

T’Challa smiled and zoomed in on the name above the door. It read “Prince N’Jobu’s Wakandan Outreach Center”. Then he took them on a 3-D tour of the facility, ending with the memorial to N’Jobu in room 1401.

N’Jadaka nearly broke down in tears.

“Cool. Thanks, man. For everything. This is…” N’Jadaka took a deep breath. “Just, thanks…”

The other three Wakandans smiled back at him fondly, an occurrence it seemed he would have to get used to. 

“I’m glad you like it. Now if you three will excuse me, I have work to do.”

Nakia kissed T’Challa’s forehead and left the room.

 “Aight, I need something lighthearted. A nigga is tired of crying. Oh! Actually I got some questions…”

“Ask away.”

“So earlier you mentioned how free and open and shit yall are here...I’m single and haven’t had any in like 6 months so where can I go to find some pussy. Since I’m a prince do I just like, I don't know, have concubines brought to me? I don't know how this works”

M’Baku snorted.

“Clearly.”

N’Jadaka flipped him off while T’Challa answered.

“No, we do not have ‘concubines’ though we do sort of have sex workers, which we can discuss later. You know, it would do you good to read some Wakandan history books...and maybe even some of our sex education material.”

“Ay man, I already know all that.”

“Not the way we teach it. Plus our birth control is better here.”

“More effective?”

“And no side effects. Trust me, you’ll want to visit the library at the end of the hall, cousin.”

N’Jadaka considered his suggestion and made a mental note to check out the library later that day.

“Yes, maybe you’ll learn a thing or two,” M’Baku chimed in.

“My guy, I know how sex works! I’m just curious about the culture surrounding sex. T, you said y'all aren’t puritanical like America...expand on that.”

“Well the list of books I just sent to your beads would be able to cover this in greater detail than I can at the moment, but basically every preconceived notion you have about sex, gender, attraction, etc. has been tainted by colonialism as a means of control over the population.”

“Hanuman…”

“Yeah I know that, I guess I just can’t really conceptualize a world without all that sexism and homophobia and shit.”

“What is homophobia?” M’Baku asked, genuinely confused. The cousins answered at the same time.

“When people hate gay niggas.”

“The hatred of, or at least the disdain for, those who are attracted to their same gender.”

“And we ain't even getting into the people who aren't men or women, that shit blows people's minds.”

“Why?”

The cousins continued to explain the outside world to M’Baku for what felt like hours. T’Challa looked at the clock and stood.

“Well gentlemen, as...depressing as this conversation has been, we must get to the council meeting.”

“I need a drink after that. The strongest Jabari mead!”

“Yeah imagine living with that shit for 30 years then coming here. I’m not gonna know how to act.”

“You’ll learn.”

The three made their way to the council meeting and N’Jadaka had never been so bored in all of his life. He started nodding off at one point and M’Baku elbowed him in his side when he started to snore. When it was finally over they parted ways and N’Jadaka headed to the library. He had plenty of reading to do.

He started with the Wakandan history books reading about the lives of his ancestors. His fathers stories had given him a good foundation to build on, but what he found in the books blew his mind. 

Wakandans can trace their history for thousands of years, all the way back to the time of the great Bashenga, the first Black Panther. Growing up as a Black American, N’Jadaka had no connection to his mother’s family history because there was no record. When the Lost Tribe was enslaved and brought to the west, they were recorded as cargo, not people. The enslavers didn’t care about their names or where they came from, and when they got to shore their families continued to be ripped apart and sold to the highest bidder. They weren’t allowed to play drums and congregate, they weren’t allowed to read, they weren’t allowed to marry. There was no written record of his people, and the most they could go on was family bibles which almost never went back before the mid 1800s. 

N’Jadaka was overwhelmed with the information, so he decided to switch to something else and come back to the history books later. He picked up “Intimacy and Sex” by Ami Nbunda and flipped through the pages. He skimmed the table of contents and was surprised by what he saw.

The first chapter was on anatomy, but it actually included intersex people instead of just focusing on male and female bodies. The next chapter was about loving and respecting yourself and others, but not in the slut-shaming way of the outside world. The next few chapters were on the mental and emotional sides of intimacy, and the last few were on birth control, sexual health, attraction, healthy communication, and more resources. 

The prince couldn’t believe what he was seeing as he flipped through the pages. He stopped on a full-color photo of a vulva with all the parts labeled.

“This is for kids? Damn, we really living in two different worlds. America would never.”

He turned the page and saw a to-scale model of the entire clitoris, and his eyes bugged out of his head. 

“That shit’s a whole wishbone…”

He continued to read through the pages in awe. M’Baku was right, he was learning a thing or two.

N’Jadaka spent the whole day in the library reading book after book on everything he could get his hands on. If it hadn’t been for his guards alerting him to the time, he would’ve missed dinner. He grabbed the last two books and went to drop them in his quarters before heading to dinner.

“Umzala, have you been in the library this whole time?”

“Yeah man, it’s a lot to take in. I might have to take that sex ed book back to the states.”

“We plan on doing just that at the Outreach Centers. Comprehensive sex education is a necessity, and since your government prefers to keep people in the dark about how their own bodies work it will be our job to educate those who come through our doors. All but the last chapter, of course.” 

T’Challa winked and N’Jadaka felt like he had missed something.

“You mean the resources? Makes sense, those books wouldn't be available outs-”

“Not the books, dear, the Temple.” Ramonda chimed in.

“The what? I ain't got that far yet.”

Shuri rounded the corner and N’Jadaka expected the conversation to stop, but no.

“Remember earlier when you asked about concubines and I said we have sex workers?”

Ramonda cut her eyes at N’Jadaka as he nodded.

“Well that term doesn’t quite encompass what they do. They are sexual healers blessed by Bast herself and they reside in the Temple of Healing on the outskirts of the city near the Land of the Dead. They are known as the Daughters of Bast.”

“Now I feel bad for calling them concubines.”

“You should.” Ramonda said as she slapped him upside the head.

“Ow Auntie, damn”

T’Challa was thankful that his mother had someone else to fuss over, and he chuckled.

“I think it would be a good idea for you to pay them a visit. They are healers, after all.”

Next Chapter

[fitgothgirl]

Sorry in advance for a long, depressive, non-fitness post (I hope my “keep reading” works, I always forget how it works on different devices and whatnot).

Well, I tried to call a couple of psychologists I got from my insurance website. One of them said her practice was full (despite being listed as taking new patients), and the other two phone numbers didn't even work... I got frustrated quickly and just called the community non-profit counseling center I've been to before (graduate students doing counseling under a psychologist supervisor). I've been wanting an actual psychologist since my problems are so chronic and tangled, but it's better than nothing and good for some acute care. They have a sliding scale but it's still slightly more expensive than my insurance copay, but it's easy/familiar to me at least. But they called me back and said it's a month-long waitlist right now... I put myself down for that but I'm annoyed at waiting a month to only see a graduate student at a higher cost. So in the meantime, I will try to find more psychologists to call around to. I know everything with healthcare, physical or mental, is super full right now though...

I also wanted to find a new psychiatrist but I got discouraged by my insurance website since it's obviously not a good guide, so I just called my current psychiatrist and made a phone appointment for next week. I know it'll only be like 10 minutes with the nurse practitioner but whatever. I'm guessing they're just going to up my dosage since I'm on the lowest dose, which is kind of what I'm hoping for anyway. It was so helpful at first and then just wore off... So I like the idea of upping the dosage since it will help me right now, but I also worry about getting into a cycle of it wearing off and then upping the dosage more and more. Does that happen? I've read that if you feel better right away from an antidepressant, but it wears off after a couple months, it may be that it was just a side effect from starting the medication and it wasn't the medication itself in the way it's supposed to work. So who knows, Effexor might not even be right for me like I thought. I honestly felt so good that it seemed good to be true anyway... But if the dosage gets raised and I can get some temporary happiness for a month or two in order to help me get through a really bad episode and find a therapist and a new psychiatrist, then that's worth it. I’m at the point again where I’m just grasping for anything.

But yeah, either way I'm stuck for now. Can't get therapy any time soon, can't adjust my meds for another week. I was back at work today after my mental health day yesterday but felt just as shitty as ever and got easily overwhelmed by basically nothing. I wish mental health days actually helped me feel better. I'm glad I did what I needed to do yesterday with pursuing help, but otherwise, calling out of work for depression doesn't really do anything for me except help me avoid life. And then surprise surprise, I have to go back and am in the same position. And my anxiety was so bad today too; that’s not usually as much of a problem for me as depression. At work I felt like I couldn’t get a good breath and I was nauseated and everything was just way too much. For a few minutes I flushed and then suddenly got cold and shaky and dizzy and almost had a panic attack; when I flushed I wanted to go outside for air but it was smoky from wildfires and a lot worse than the indoor air (the state of the world is NOT helping my depression/anxiety...), so I just stayed at my desk. I was trying to figure how to ask to leave work just 45 minutes early which felt ridiculous. But I was able to calm down and wait it out. I’ve been home for a few hours now and have had a couple drinks, which is the norm for me the last two weeks. I just don’t want to be sober lately. (TW, dark stuff ahead) And oh my GOD am I getting bad urges to go back to old self harm habits the last couple weeks. My skin is just screaming for it lately. I’m just getting constant intrusive thoughts of “i wanna die i wanna cut i wanna die i wanna cut” and I can’t turn it off.

Anyway I’m sorry if you’ve made it this far lol. This isn’t supposed to be a depressive blog... I just need to get it out somehow. Especially since I can’t get into therapy!