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philsdrill · 7 years ago

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Chapter 29: Passion

Fic Summary: “Everyone had a link with their soulmates, some could hear some of their partners thoughts, some had a tattoo that would appear with their partners name; for me, I knew when they got sick.” For a while Phil has thought that his soulmate might have an eating disorder and doesn’t expect to meet him in the restaurant where he works.

Genre: a lot of fluff, recovery, really fucking domestic, waiter!Phil

Warnings: eating disorders, anorexia, bulimia, hospitals, panic attacks, references to past abuse, mentions of suicide, mentions of self-harm, a lot of awkwardness, small amounts of smut. This is potentially triggering so for your own sake, please think twice about reading if anything this might affect you.

Disclaimer: I don’t have personal experience with eating disorders, but have done some research. If I have anything about them wrong, feel free to send me an ask and I’ll sort it out.

Word Count (for this part): 8.1k

[Uploads will be hopefully every couple of weeks! (follow @philsdrill-updates to hear when I post)]

A/N: I’ve been struggling a bit with finding the time to write with uni work lately, and I may have proofread this chapter after midnight, so feel free to tell me if I’ve missed any typos. Just a sidenote, I understand that Adam and Ethan aren’t quite the right ages for their school years, and they should probably both be a year behind. I don’t quite understand the English school system so just worked off how I was 16/17 for my last year at school. I think in England my birthday would’ve put me down a year - it’s quite confusing. Anyway, it doesn't matter much for the story, just sorry for the inaccuracy and don't take anything I’m saying about the school system as accurate, as I don’t really know it. I left school with 8 AS Level equivalents I think?

MASTERPOST

<= Previous Chapter

Dan’s POV:

Ethan had been back on his medication for around ten days now and he was doing pretty good. After the first couple of days when he’d been plagued by the negative side effects, things had been steadily going uphill. He was starting to smile more, and although it would be a long time before the depression left him completely, I think we could all see a lot of improvement.

We were now working on getting him to be able to go home with Adam, back to my parents house. There were things to be done, people to tell. My mum had been up a couple of times to help sort things out, as she knew how to talk to schools and banks better than Phil and I did. There was the odd issue as she wasn’t related to Ethan, but with him being seventeen, he was old enough to be allowed to make these changes himself.

Today, all of us were heading into Ethan’s school to talk to his guidance teacher about what had happened, collect any of his work he might need and have him officially leave the school. Ethan had texted his mum beforehand to get some kind of idea of what they knew already:

Just to let you know to let you know that I’ll be moving down south to live with my soulmate and his family. I’m not going to sit my exams and I’ll take this year again next year. What have you told the school?

His mum’s reply confirmed what we all expected… that his school knew hardly anything.

You’re off ill for mental health reasons until further notice. That’s what we said at the start of the year and we haven’t said anything since then.

Having spoken with Ethan and Adam, I knew that my Mum, Phil and I would be doing the talking. We would probably go into a lot of detail to make sure everything was cleared up, and we didn’t want Ethan getting triggered by the memories.

My mum had phoned up in advance to let them know that we were coming. It probably took a bit of explaining, but they knew that a group of us would be along with Ethan to talk about the situation. My mum and Ethan did the talking at reception and soon enough we were being guided along the corridor to where we were having a meeting with Mrs Andrews, the teacher who was in charge of dealing with Ethan’s subject choices, discipline and any problems he might have with bullying, classmates, course content or mental health. She was the one who Ethan could’ve gone to about how he was feeling, if only he’d been able to put trust in her at the time.

We all joined her a small meeting room initially, until Mrs Andrews asked about what had been happening. My mum was beginning to explain, when I stopped her, not wanting Ethan to have to hear all of this.

“Mum, hold on,” I said, cutting her off, “I think Ethan should go outside while we do this. Adam, maybe go with him.”

Ethan looked over at me thankfully and the two of them got up, linked hands effortlessly and left the room.

“So, Dan, why is it better for Ethan not to be here?” Mrs Andrews asked, sounding a bit puzzled.

“Okay, you were told in January that he was off for mental health reasons, right?” I asked, wanting to confirm this before we started off.

“Yes,” she nodded.

“Okay,” I said, deciding that I should just get straight to what had happened and then backtrack to why, “He attempted suicide a few hours into the new year. He was and still is suffering from severe depression. I feel like having him hear this could trigger dark thoughts and make him want to harm himself.”

“Right,” the teacher nodded, suddenly looking a lot more serious, grabbing her notepad and scribbling something down.

“Shall we go from the beginning?” I asked rhetorically, knowing she should hear the entire story.

Between, Phil, my Mum and I, we explained things from the beginning, how Ethan knew even before he met his soulmate that his parents would disown him, for his soulmate was male too. Quite how long he’d been suffering from symptoms of depression, we didn’t know, but it was steadily getting worse towards the end of the year. My mum and I explained how we had heard about all of this through Adam and seen his reaction to Ethan trying to take his life.

It was another month before they met, in which Ethan had spent some time in hospital, then returned home where he ended up partaking in a lot of self harm. They got to spend a few days together which was good for them, but Ethan had to go home and keep it all a secret, which was hard for him. Two weeks later he accidentally let it slip to his dad; he got badly beaten up and kicked out and has been staying with me and Phil for two weeks now. He’s now taking antidepressants which I think are helping, but he’s still not stable.

“What’s your plan with him?” Mrs Andrews asked, after making some more notes, “He’s too old to go into a children’s home but it sounds like he needs looking after… a mental ward?”

“No, no, he’s spent his time there,” I said, “He’s going to move down south to live with Adam and our parents. He’s not being away from Adam now. We think that’s what’s best for him. It gives him a fairly stable family environment and his soulmate, which is two things he’s been lacking recently.”

“Yes, I can see that being good for him, but it could also have been good for him to continue living in an area he knows well,” she commented.

“We’ve thought about this. Phil and I are the only people he knows around here and we can’t support him permanently. Also Adam will be sitting his AS Level exams in June and he can’t be changing schools at this stage in the year,” I explained.

“And Ethan can?” she asked, sounding mildly horrified, “He’s had enough disruption as it is.”

“He’ll be going back to school in September and doing his A-Levels next year instead,” I explained, “He’s missed too much this year, would you not agree?”

“He’s always been a clever boy, I think he could catch up and still do well,” she said, “But if you think that’s what’s best for him, then that’s fine.”

“If he was suddenly cured of his depression right now then maybe he could, but it doesn’t work like that. I have no doubt he’s still going to be struggling with his mental health for a while,” I explained, “I think a few months with no stress and just getting used to his new surroundings will be good for him.”

“Okay,” Mrs Andrews said almost cheerily, that tone of voice teachers use to change the subject, “Are we taking him off the system today then, have him officially leave?”

“Yes, that’s the plan,” I nodded, “Is that possible?”

“It should be. I’ll need to go and talk with his year head, but she’s free this afternoon so that should be possible,” she nodded, “Would you like some tea or coffee while I go and see if she’s available?”

“Can Ethan go around his teachers and collect his work, as it might be useful for him next year?” I asked, knowing that was something he wanted to do.

“Yes, that’ll be fine. Will one of you go with him, just so he’s not alone?” she asked.

“Adam probably will,” Phil said, “Or do you want one of us to go too?”

“Could you? I’m just concerned in case he bumps into anyone in his year who might ask too many questions,” she explained, “You know what teenagers can be like.”

“I’ll go?” Phil volunteered, “This used to be my school, so I’m interested to see if it's changed much in six or seven years.”

Phil left the room at the same time as Mrs Andrews, off to join Adam and Ethan and head around the school to collect Ethan’s work. Mrs Andrews returned with the stuff to make coffee for both me and my mum, apologising that she couldn’t find any teabags.

My mum took her up on the offer, but I politely declined, “Sorry, but I can’t drink coffee.”

Mrs Andrews made the coffee for my mum, gave me a cup of water, then left to go and find Ethan’s year head.

“Why is it you don’t take coffee again? It makes you shaky or something?” My mum asked, clearly trying to recall whatever excuse I’d given when I was down to see her at new year.

“Umm kind of,” I said, now willing to tell her a bit more about my anxiety, “You know I’m taking medication for anxiety… it’s connected to that. Like the caffeine can raise my anxiety levels, which sometimes I can deal with, but I’ve had panic attacks because of it before.”

“Ahh,” my mum mumbled, nodding as she tried to understand, “How much does this affect you? You didn’t seem very willing to talk about it at new year.”

“I’ve had my medication dose upped since then, so I’m doing better. I was having like one or two panic attacks a week before that, which wasn’t great, but I haven’t had many in the last couple of weeks,” I explained.

“You said you do breathing exercises to help an attack, right?” she asked, again wanting to confirm what I’d previously told her.

“Yup,” I nodded, “But I have a second medication that I take that helps me calm down a lot quicker. As well as the breathing, I shake and sometimes sweat and my heart beats really fast. Beta-blockers, they’re technically a heart medicine but the doctor prescribed me them for my anxiety attacks and they help so much.”

At this, I brought the tub out of my coat pocket to show her, “I carry them everywhere with me. I’ve had anxiety attacks twice where I’ve left them at home, and neither of those were pretty.”

“I’m so proud of you,” my mum said suddenly, nodding, “This can’t be easy, but you’ve done the right thing going to the doctor and getting the help you can.”

“Thanks,” I mumbled, not quite sure how to react to that, “I see a therapist too, just so you know. That helps, because although I can talk to Phil about things, he’s not a professional. I usually go alone, although Phil does always offer to come with me if I need the support. I’ve only taken him up on that once, but that was two days after an appointment where I had a really big panic attack in her office and Phil had to bring my medication and take me home.”

“How does Ethan’s medication work then? Is that something he always needs to carry with him?” my mum asked.

“No, he just needs to take it every morning and that’s him for the day. If he was going away for the night, then yes, he’d need to take it with him, but not other than that,” I explained, “It’s the same medication that I take every day for my anxiety; there’s connections between anxiety and depression so antidepressants can treat both.”

“Ethan doesn’t have the beta blockers too, then?” she asked, wanting to confirm.

“No, he doesn’t have panic attacks, well not generally,” I confirmed, “He may have had one or two things that could probably be classified as one, so I would keep an eye on him and talk to me if you’re worried about anything.”

Mrs Andrews eventually returned and put an abrupt end to our conversation. She had been to speak to Ethan’s year head and returned with a few bits of paperwork.

“We’ll just this form filled out for the admin, but that’s all that really needs to be done,” she explained, handing over the form to me and my mum, “You can maybe make a start on it, fill in the details of the school he’s transferring to.”

My mum took the form and pulled a pen out of her handbag to start filling it in. She knew the school’s details off the top of her head, with both me and Adam having gone there. I took out my phone and texted Phil to see how the work collecting was going.

Phil’s POV:

I knew my way around the school reasonably well, as this had been my school as a teenager. It had changed a little in the six or seven years since I left, but I’m sure some of the work pinned to the walls had been there when I left.

Ethan was going to see his English, Maths, Psychology and Art teachers. The first three of these, he just popped into a classroom and was back out in under two minutes, getting the job done quickly and efficiently. He just explained to them that he was moving and would like his work as he would be sitting his A-Levels next year instead.

His art teacher was a bit of a different story. He’d made the comment as we approached the classroom that this might be a bit of a longer discussion as he was on quite good terms with him. Adam and I waited outside again, but this time we could hear all of what he said as the door was wedged open.

“Ethan! I haven’t seen you in a while,” the teacher explained, his voice full of excitement, “Are you coming back?”

“No, I’m moving. I’m just here to sort things out with the school and get my work,” Ethan explained.

“Where are you moving to?” he asked.

“Near Reading, to be with my soulmate,” Ethan explained, “I met him about a month ago.”

“Your soulmate! Nice; I don’t think there’s many people in your year who have met theirs yet,” the teacher commented.

“Yeah, I’m a telepathic bond type, which generally means meeting younger,” Ethan explained, probably unsure if this was common knowledge.

“Nice, I have a skin connection with mine; we’re both artists and draw on ourselves a lot so that gave it away eventually,” Ethan’s teacher told him, “I’ve always wondered what having a telepathic bond would be like?”

“It can be challenging, Adam would say that anyway,” Ethan commented, then realised he hadn’t introduced Adam, “Adam’s my soulmate.”

“What’s he like? Is he what you were expecting or did you just kind of know what he was like already?” the teacher asked.

“Kind of, I knew he was a boy, and I had a strong sense of brown hair and eyes,” Ethan explained, “He’s just outside actually. Want to meet him?”

A couple of moments later, Ethan appeared at the door, “Want to meet Mr Davidson?”

He initially pointed this question at Adam, but then nodded at me, “You too, Phil.”

“Mr Davidson,” I mumbled, now realising why his voice had sounded strangely familiar; he was same teacher I’d had for my A-Level art.

“Phil?” Ethan said, Adam having followed him in the door, but me still hanging around in the hallway.

“He’s my old teacher,” I said, hoping that my realisation explained my delay.

“Nice,” Ethan said, the three of us now heading properly into the room.

“This is Adam,” Ethan said, putting his arm around Adam’s waist for a moment.

“And this is Phil, Adam’s brother’s soulmate,” he explained, “I’ve been living with him for the last two weeks.”

“Phil…” My Davidson mused, “...Lester. I remember you.”

I nodded, smiling, but not saying much as this was really about Ethan. He exchanged a few words with both me and Adam, before getting back to Ethan.

“So Ethan, any idea what you’re doing next year yet? What you want to do with your life? Have you applied for uni?” Mr Davidson asked.

“No, I’m going to redo this school year next year,” Ethan explained, “As for my life, I’m not really sure. I wasn’t planning to be around…”

Ethan trailed off, thinking for a moment, “I’ll be honest with you about where I’ve been for the last two months… I attempted suicide at the start of the year.”

Mr Davidson’s expression slowly changed to one of shock and Adam looked rather surprised that he was actually talking about this. I could see that Adam was now on red alert for Ethan breaking down, because it didn’t usually end too well when he chose to bring this up. He reached out for Ethan’s hands, which were anxiously balled together in front of him, encouraged them apart, then held one of them in his own.

“I still don’t really have my life planned out other than being with Adam,” Ethan explained, a little shakily, “I like art; I think out of all my subjects it was what I was most passionate about, but I’ve pretty much lost interest in everything.”

I watched Adam squeeze Ethan’s hand and shuffle a little closer to him. He was handling this well, but it still wasn’t easy for him to talk about it

“Awwhh Ethan, were you feeling like this long?” Mr Davidson asked, “You should’ve spoken to someone.”

“I know, but it wasn’t that easy. My dad’s really homophobic and I knew I’d be out on the streets the moment he found out my soulmate was a guy,” Ethan explained, “He knows now… which is why I’m moving to live with Adam. I’ve been staying with Adam’s brother and Phil for two weeks as they live nearby.”

“Are things a bit better now then?” Mr Davidson, asked, his voice still full of concern.

“I guess so,” Ethan said, sounding unsure, “Like I’ve gained Adam, but I’ve lost my family and although they maybe weren’t the best with all of their views, they were all I’ve known.”

Ethan was sounding rather choked up as he said this. Adam seemed to know exactly when he was about to start crying and pulled Ethan into a hug the moment he finished the sentence.

Mr Davidson and I looked at each other, both knowing we should give them a moment of peace. I moved around them to speak to him; I could get Ethan’s work from him and that would let us leave sooner.

I asked Mr Davidson for Ethan’s work. He got up, walked across the classroom to some large drawers and pulled two folders out of one.

“Here you go,” he said passing them to me, “He’s very talented; I have no doubt he’ll do well in art. Hopefully these’ll give him a head start and he’ll just be able to pick up where he left off, next year.”

“Yes,” I nodded, studying the artwork in the top of the folder. I couldn’t see much of the work, but there were a couple of very striking portraits on top, in a dark color scheme.

I carefully held onto the two folders of work, making sure that they were up the right way so that the contents didn’t spill out onto the floor. Once Ethan had collected himself a little bit, we got going, him saying a slightly tearful goodbye to his art teacher as we headed out the door. Adam held his hand as we walked through the corridors and headed back downstairs; it had only been a little breakdown, but Ethan was clearly shaken up by what he had told his art teacher and there could potentially be more tears to come.

Adam looked deep in thought and I was going to bet he was half in Ethan’s head, trying to calm his mind a little bit. We arrived back at the room where Dan and his mum were talking to Ethan’s guidance teacher. I knocked and the three of us walked in, each taking a seat.

“Ethan, can I ask you a couple of questions?” Mrs Andrews asked, not really giving him long enough to get settled.

Ethan didn’t react immediately, then after a couple of seconds looked up, looking rather dazed, then panickedly at Adam.

“Maybe not right now,” Adam said putting an arm around Ethan and mumbling something into his ear, “We’re going back out into the corridor for two minutes, but we’ll be back.”

With there being a slot window in the door, I was able to see what was going on. Adam guided Ethan across the corridor and they sat down on the blue comfy seats that were right opposite the door. Adam wrapped his arms around Ethan’s waist and lightly rested his head on his shoulder, mumbling things to him. I didn’t know what Adam was saying, but I hoped it was helping.

I learnt that Dan and his mum had been busy filling in some forms for Ethan while we’d been gone. It turned out that all Mrs Andrews really needed from him was to know if there was anything in his locker, and have him sign the forms.

I looked through the door again and saw Ethan turning into Adam for a hug, visibly inhaling deeply and relaxing a bit.

“Dan, I think if one of us goes out there and lets him know that’s all, he’ll probably be okay with it,” I said, realising that Ethan probably assumed the worst when she said she had a couple of questions.

“I’ll do it,” Dan volunteered, getting up and opening the door.

“You guys doing okay?” Dan asked softly, “All she wants to ask is if you have anything in your locker and if you can sign a couple of forms?”

“Okay,” Ethan nodded a little timidly, “I can do that.”

The pair of them got up, Adam instinctively resting his hand on the small of Ethan’s back as they walked the few steps into the room. They joined us at the table and Dan slid the forms towards Ethan, Mrs Andrews pointing out where he needed to sign.

Ethan pushed up his sleeve, picked up the pen and signed his name. His emotional state had made it a little shaky, but I’m sure it would suffice. He plopped the pen back down on the table and relaxed his arm in front of him. They didn’t really catch my eye anymore, but I noticed Mrs Andrews staring at his scars. Ethan must’ve noticed this too, as a few seconds later, he tugged his sleeve back down and put both of his arms under the table.

There was a moment or two of silence as Mrs Andrews realised she’d maybe crossed a line, then she changed the subject and acted as if nothing had happened, “So, do you have anything in your locker? We can give you the spare key to empty it, but don’t worry about returning your copy of the key; we’ll get a new one made.”

Ethan let her know that he probably did have things in his locker, so Mrs Andrews went to get the spare key. We all accompanied him to empty it, as we would be passing on the way out anyway. The contents of his locker were a smelly PE kit, a maths textbook and a notebook which he told us was a journal type thing he kept for a while.

The locker now empty, he handed the key and the maths textbook over to Mrs Andrews, who assured him she would return it to his maths teacher. We exchanged a few goodbyes and Mrs Andrews wished Ethan good luck with his future, and with that, we left. Ethan had a note of her email address in case his new school needed any more information and he had said he would try and email her next year with his results.

We headed to the cars, Dan’s mum to her own and the rest of us to mine. We loaded Ethan’s work into the boot, then got into the car ourselves. Ethan kept ahold of the journal from his locker, and it was as he drove back that he explained what it was about.

“This journal was one of the last things I gave up on. Writing my thoughts down actually kept me sane for a while. I can’t really remember why it was in my locker, but I think I forgot to take it home when I left for the Christmas holidays,” Ethan explained, “There’s a lot in here and I don’t really want to reread it myself yet, but Adam, it might join up some of the dots for you.”

Adam took the book from Ethan and held onto it, quietly thinking, “I think we should go through this together when you’re ready.”

“Okay,” Ethan nodded, “It might be a while before I’m ready, but if that’s what you want to do.”

Halfway home, Adam asked if it would be okay for him to move into the middle seat. I pulled over and stopped the car to let him move safely and without the seatbelt sounder going off. Nothing was really wrong, just Ethan was feeling a little emotional about putting his old school behind him, and wanted a hug.

The rest of the journey home, they were cuddled up together and Ethan looked a lot more comfortable. Adam had put his old journal out of the way on the far seat. It was there, it’s presence was felt, but they didn’t need to do anything about it just yet.

That afternoon, Dan’s mum headed home. As far as we knew, everything was sorted for Ethan to move, which would be happening in just over a week. Ethan had been in contact with his mum a little, and would maybe be able to get into his house to get some of his stuff. It wasn’t organised yet, as his Dad not wanting to see him complicated matters, but his mum wanted him to have his things and get the chance to say goodbye properly.

Dan and Adam went down to the car park to see their mum off; meanwhile Ethan and I stayed in the warmth of the flat and watched from the living room window. Adam and Dan both hugged her goodbye. It would be just over a week before they saw her again, which for Dan would be no problem, but Adam wasn’t really used to being away from her for long.

“I kinda miss my mum,” Ethan admitted, bringing my attention back to him and the few tears that were starting to spill.

“Let’s go sit down,” I said softly, putting a hand on his back and guiding him over to the sofas.

I passed him a few tissues and sat next to him, facing into him a little as he wiped his eyes and blew his nose.

“Are you okay? D’you want to talk about her at all?” I asked, wondering if it would help for him to talk or if he really just needed some alone time.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, “It’s just been getting to me a bit with their mum here, that I don’t have that in my life anymore… and there’s little things, like she baked bread a lot and I’m so used to the smell of bread everywhere and the little homemade rolls and things…”

Ethan trailed off, rubbing his hands over his eyes to push a few more tears away.

“I don’t know if it would help, but I could make bread if you want,” I offered, not knowing whether that would make him happy or just make him miss his mum more.

“I’m sure you make great bread and all, but it probably won’t be be same,” Ethan said, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. “It might make me more sad than happy.”

“I get that,” I said, passing him a couple more tissues.

I got up to look out the window and see whether Dan’s mum had left yet. It turned out she was just leaving, her pulling out of the car park and Dan and Adam waving from the side.

“That’s her driving away now,” I told Ethan, “Adam’ll be back up soon.”

“I don’t really want him to see this,” Ethan said, blowing his nose determinedly and dabbing a bit at his eyes, “I’ve cried in front of him enough today.”

“Ethan, you should be able to cry in front of him as much as you need,” I said, realising he was trying to bottle it up, “He’s your soulmate, he’s always gonna be here for you.”

“Mmm,” Ethan mumbled, glancing at a mirror he could probably just catch his reflection in.

“And he’ll have felt it anyway,” I reminded him, “I think you should at least acknowledge how you’re feeling in front of him.”

“I guess. I just don’t want him to make a fuss,” Ethan explained, ”It’s nothing; I just maybe need a hug, that’s all.”

“Just let him know why you were sad but all you want is a hug and no fuss,” I suggested, “He’ll respect that.”

When Adam came in, he immediately gravitated towards Ethan because he knew something was up.

“Ethan,” he said, speaking really softly, “What’s up?”

“Please don't make a fuss, but I just miss my mum a bit,” Ethan admitted, turning a little bit pink.

“That’s okay…” Ada, nodded, “D’you want to talk about it?”

“I already did to Phil but there’s not much to say,” Ethan explained, “Can I just get a hug?”

“Of course,” Adam said, settling onto the sofa next to Ethan and putting his arms around him, pulling him into his lap to hold him close.

I moved to the kitchen to start getting some things out for dinner, but half listened in, hearing as Adam gradually picked up a conversation, then slowly made it funny to make Ethan feel better. They were doing well, getting to know each other really well now and starting to grow together too.

Dan’s POV:

Dinner had been eaten, it was now getting towards nine o’clock and the four of us were watching a film in the living room. Phil and I were quite content, cuddled up together on one sofa. Ethan and Adam had been doing similar on the other one, with Ethan pretty much sat in Adam’s lap, but I was starting to sense that there was something more going on.

They were whispering things to each other, so quiet that neither Phil nor I would be able to hear what they were saying, and Adam seemed to be moving his hands around under the blanket that was spread across Ethan’s lap. Ethan was reacting to some of these movements, in a way which told me that Adam’s hands were somewhere very private. They were trying to be subtle about what they were doing, but they were both a little red in the face and I could tell.

“Guys,” I spoke up, moving from a sidelong glance to looking at them properly, “D’you maybe want to go to your room for a bit of privacy?”

Adam immediately turned bright red, “Yeah, was just thinking about doing that.”

The pair of them got up to go, Ethan taking the blanket with him, trying to retain some of his modesty by shielding his crotch from view. Adam, however, was visibly hard, the tent in his jeans very obvious now that he no longer had Ethan sitting in front of him.

Once they were in their room with the door shut behind them, Phil turned to me, “D’you think they’re going to…”

“...do something?” I finished the question Phil had left hanging, “Probably. Can’t say what as I don’t know how comfortable they are with each other yet, but we’ll just leave them be until the morning to give them the privacy they need.”

Phil and I continued to watch the TV for a bit, which just about drowned out any noises they were making. There might have been the odd sound, but they were keeping quiet enough that it equally could’ve been the neighbours.

“You wanting to do anything particularly later?” Phil asked, nuzzling his face into my neck and leaving a couple of kisses there.

“I don’t mind,” I said, warmly, “I’m quite happy just cuddling and stuff; this is nice and cosy, but equally I’m down for doing something in the bedroom if you want.”

“Hmm, I could go some nice relaxed love making,” Phil mused, “But let’s see how we feel later.”

“Yeah, good plan,” I agreed, leaning in to kiss Phil.

Our cosy cuddling session came to an abrupt end just after ten o’clock. It took a few seconds for us to register the wailing noise that ripped through the otherwise fairly quiet flat. It was the fire alarm. Phil seemed reasonably calm and collected, getting up and telling me to go and put my shoes on, grab a coat and start heading down the stairs when I was ready.

Phil knocked on Adam and Ethan’s door, “Guys, that’s the fire alarm, I hope you’re not in the middle anything, but you need to make sure you’ve got some clothes on and get out here asap.”

“Yeah, we’re on it,” Adam replied, “We’ll be out in like thirty seconds.”

I put my shoes on, grabbed a coat and as a last minute thought, grabbed my anxiety medicine. The alarm had sparked panic in me, but I was just doing my best to focus on getting myself outside… well and make sure Phil was coming too.

“You take this,” Phil said, handing me the blanket we had been cuddling with on the sofa, “Get yourself outside and I’ll be right down, okay.”

“Okay,” I said, taking the blanket from Phil and making my way to our front door.

As I opened the door to leave the flat, Adam and Ethan burst out of their room in an assortment of mismatched clothes. Adam had on the t-shirt Ethan was wearing earlier, but backwards and Ethan was wearing his pyjama top.

“Right, c’mon everyone,” I said, deciding they were close enough behind me to warrant me waiting and holding the door open.

I knew it could be nothing, like someone had burnt some toast or there was a fault in one of the detectors, but I couldn’t get past the idea that it could be a big building fire, that we could die if we didn’t get out of the place quickly. With that in mind, I didn’t want to leave Phil, even if he was just right behind me.

With everyone together, we let the door swing shut behind us and hurried down the stairs, seeing a few other people from our building further down the stair ahead of us. We all grouped together in the car park, where everyone was trying to figure out what was going on. No one seemed to have any idea what was happening, but a number of the longer standing residents assured us that the fire brigade would be on their way.

Phil and I stood together with our blanket around us and fairly quickly Ethan and Adam started hugging to preserve body heat. I was still feeling a little panicky, but so far I was managing to keep the feeling at bay and not let if affect me.

When the fire brigade arrived, my panic dissipated a little, knowing the situation was now in safe hands. Everyone I loved was safe and the fire brigade were going to stop my home burning down. I felt safe with Phil’s arm around me and the knowledge that everything would be okay.

With things starting to calm down inside my head, I was able to take in more of what was going on around me. Some people were outside in their pyjamas, in their slippers and flip-flops and other clothing you might not normally wear outside. Some people looked like they’d just been woken up by the alarm, but everyone looked tired of being out here in the cold.

My gaze returned to Adam, Ethan and Phil, in particular Ethan. He looked wrecked and his legs were shaking slightly, even though he was tightly latched onto Adam. It seemed that Adam was pretty much holding him up, despite looking tired himself.

A few moments later, Ethan admitted that there was something wrong, “Adam, I feel a bit faint.”

At this, Adam adjusted his grip on Ethan so both of his arms were around his torso, probably so he could catch him if he passed out.

“Right, let’s sit down,” Adam said, giving Ethan the encouragement he needed to sit down on the ground.

Adam sat down with Ethan, letting himself be used as a headrest whilst he enveloped Ethan in a hug, “Sit still and maybe bring your head down onto your lap if everything is spinning?”

Ethan remained still, but didn’t move his head, “I’m just gonna stay here for a bit - don’t want to move yet.”

“Okay,” Adam nodded, “I’ll give you some peace, but speak up if you feel any worse.”

“Ethan are you cold?” I said, crouching down a little to get more on his level.

“A bit, yeah,” he nodded into Adam’s shoulder.

“Okay,” I said, glancing at Phil for approval, then taking the blanket off our shoulders and draping it around Ethan’s, “I think you need this the most at the moment. You’re only gonna get colder now you’re sat on the ground.”

I stood up straight again and leaned into Phil to keep warm. I hoped that Ethan would be okay now; he still looked pale and shaky, but Adam was certainly doing his best to keep him cosy, hugging him tightly and rubbing his back. Phil and I weren’t really hugging, but we had made the mutual decision to press up together to preserve body heat. It was amazing, as Phil probably wasn’t much warmer than me, but he just felt so warm and cosy that I didn’t feel like I would ever want to split apart from him.

One fireman came out of the building to let us know what had happened. It turned out there had been a fire in a kitchen on the fourth floor due to an electrical fault in a kitchen appliance, but it had been caught quickly enough that they were able to to put it out and there was nothing to worry about. It would still be a bit longer before we were allowed back inside, however, as they needed to remove the faulty electrical appliance that caused the fire, some damaged appliances from that kitchen and check the smoke levels in other parts of the building. An emergency electrician was on his way to check that the wiring hadn’t been damaged and was still safe to use throughout the building.

The next half hour consisted of the firemen bringing some rather burnt things out of the building, the emergency electrician arriving and heading inside to do his tests and everyone getting even colder than they already were. Ethan had started to shiver quite violently, so Adam had pulled him into his lap, unzipped his own jacket so he could pull the sides of it around Ethan, bringing him closer into his chest.

Once all the burnt appliances were removed and the safety tests carried out, we were called up by flat and allowed back into the building. Ethan and Adam got to their feet as the second flat was called, knowing that we would be soon.

Ethan got up slightly ahead of Adam and as soon as he was on his feet, he looked like he was having a dizzy spell. I knew all about getting up too fast, so I held onto him while he got his bearings and while Adam finished standing up. After a brief few words with one of the firemen, we all made our way inside and up the stairs, everyone looking out for Ethan and making sure he got back to the flat safely.

The stairwell had smelt a bit smoky, but thankfully the smell didn’t reach inside our flat. Once inside, I headed with Ethan and Adam along to their room and I sent Phil to get an extra blanket or two. Ethan removed the pair of jeans he had rather hastily thrown on, with no reservations about me being there, despite the fact he was butt-naked underneath them. Adam laughed and pulled the blanket down a bit to save the rest of his dignity, before encouraging him into bed.

Phil arrived with a couple of extra blankets, then suggested that Ethan might like a hot drink. Ethan rejected the offer, yawning sleepily and saying that he was alright, he’d just like to sleep. He was still shivering a bit, but the warmth of being inside, along with the duvet and three blankets, was gradually warming him up.

Adam left the room with me and Phil, as we headed to the living room, probably to talk about what had happened. The air in the living room was a lot clearer; Adam and Ethan’s room was a bit muggy and smelt like sex, but I wasn’t going to bring that up.

“I think I tired him out a bit and he just needed to sleep,” Adam said, referring to how Ethan had been feeling a bit faint.

“I get that,” I nodded, thinking about how I would’ve felt if it had happened just after I’d been doing something with Phil.

“We… uhh… we tried out fingering and I think it was a lot for him,” Adam explained, turning a bit red, “He hadn’t really had time to recover.”

“Yeah, it can be really intense, and especially being his first time too,” I nodded, fully understanding why Ethan was tired.

“You should get to bed early too,” Phil said to Adam, “I don’t need to know what all you did, but you’re probably more tired than you think… and you want to be there for him in the morning.”

“Mmm, I guess,” Adam nodded, “Well there’s not much else for me to do, so I might as well. That’ll let you guys have some time to yourselves too.”

While it could’ve been taken in the wrong way, I sensed there was nothing behind Adam’s last statement other than some underlying feeling that he was third-wheeling. He didn’t need to know that we might actually get up to something later; I didn’t feel comfortable about him knowing that, at least before it happened. Phil and I wished Adam a goodnight, then he disappeared off along the corridor to get himself ready for bed.

Phil and I got ready for bed, and we were both cuddled up under the duvet before we even discussed doing anything more intimate. I think it was still on both of our minds, we were just making sure everything else was dealt with first.

It was Phil who brought it up eventually, “How're you feeling about doing something?”

“Yeah, I get what you meant earlier. I'm up for it,” I told him, “But like slow and kinda relaxed, yeah?”

“Yup, sounds perfect,” Phil nodded, snuggling a bit closer and slipping his fingers under my pyjama top, “Let's get the these off.”

I let Phil undress me, making sure that his clothing came off at a similar place. Soon enough, we were both naked together, and I could feel every inch of Phil pressed up against me.

Phil took the lead, as usual, getting things as heated as he could, while still keeping it relaxed. It was less making out and hard fast movements, and more slow passionate kisses with gentle grinding.

I didn't notice Phil getting the lube until I heard the sound of the bottle opening. It was very dark in our room as we didn't even have the lamps on, but we knew each other well enough now that doing it in the dark was just a nice sensory experience rather than a challenge.

“You ready?” Phil asked, nudging my legs apart and bringing a lube-coated finger up to my hole.

“Yup,” I nodded, preparing myself for Phil’s finger; we hadn’t exactly done this much recently so I was quite tight.

Phil stretched me slowly and carefully, but still made it feel good by brushing against my prostate every so often. He was careful not to get me too far gone though, we both wanted to save ourselves for when Phil was inside me.

When I was ready, and boy was I ready, Phil squeezed some more lube onto his hand, used it to coat his dick and lined himself up, using his hand to guide his penis through the darkness to my entrance.

As Phil pushed himself in, the sensations were so intense, it was like our first time all over again. As we couldn’t see from the darkness, it seemed all of our other senses were amplified. It took me a little time to get used to the stretch of Phil filling me up, but I let him know when I was ready for him to move. As we’d agreed, Phil moved slowly, but it wasn’t long before we found a good rhythm and the extra time we had allowed us to things to make it that little bit better. Phil’s mouth found mine and we kissed as he slid in and out of me, the passion making it more about love than lust. Okay, it was nice to have a quick fuck with him now and then, but slow loving sex with my soulmate meant so much more.

When I came, with Phil meeting his own release inside of me, it was good, so good. I unleashed a moan without a care in the world and let it tear through me, my body trembling as my dick spilt its load into Phil’s hand and across my stomach. My orgasm lasted longer than Phil’s, the prostate stimulation always making it more intense. He helped me through it though, giving me the friction I needed and continuing to move against my prostate whilst I needed it.

Phil pulled out and I sank back into the bed, exhausted, physically spent. Phil cuddled with me for a couple of minutes while we both caught our breath, then he excused himself to go and get something to clean up. He returned with some wipes, using them to collect up the white stickiness from my stomach.

“There,” Phil said, gently wiping the last few drops that had slittered down my dick, “You’re less sticky now.”

Phil binned the wipes and climbed back into bed, cuddling up next to me and filling me with warmth. Despite Phil’s cleaning efforts, we might still need to wash the sheets in the morning, but we’d assess that situation in daylight. It was worth it anyway. I felt amazing and I knew Phil did too; I could almost feel the smile radiating off of him.

In the morning, we caught Adam and Ethan stuffing their sheets into the washing machine, so Phil and I thought we’d contribute ours to the load. With the washing machine whirring away in the background, all four of us sat down for a good breakfast. I was hungry after the events of last night and knew I needed to eat well to give myself energy for the day ahead.

Ethan seemed to be feeling fine this morning, but I kept an eye on what he was eating, knowing that he too could be at risk at not ingesting enough energy to get him through the morning. Although we suffered from different mental health problems, we both had issues with eating sometimes and on a morning such as this, we all had more energy to replace than usual.

With our new found energy, we were ready to tackle the day ahead. There were things to do, preparations for the two of them heading home in just over a week and preparations for Adam’s birthday in a few days time. Everyone was feeling good today, so that made things easier. Last night’s passionate activities had led to everyone being productive and things were starting to look brighter for the weeks ahead.

Next Chapter =>

#phanfic #phanfiction #phan #phanfluff #phan fluff #tw #tw; ed #soulmates #soulmate au #soulmateau #fanfic #waiter!phil #ed #someday

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witchmums · 7 years ago

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Hi mummas! I've had an issue gnawing at me, impeding my practice (I'm a very baby witch). I want to believe in magic so much, and crystals, and tarot, and I have seen it work sometimes, but I get dragged down with all the pseudoscience and everything, I just am a rational and scientific person and I'm struggling to allow myself to let go of that enough to appreciate, accept, and believe in magic. Do you have any advice on how to overcome this?

Hello hello! What a wonderful question, and I (EstFortis) am going to answer it because it is very much something I have struggled with as well. I am a scientist, myself, and suspended my practice for a long time because I was wrestling with the cognitive dissonance of believing in magic and trusting science. I don’t know if I can completely fix the issue for you, but perhaps I can alleviate a bit of distress.

I approach my craft as a way of focusing my intent. You will see a lot of that here on the blog, if you take a moment to review our answers to previous asks. I use visualization to create a picture of what I want, and I focus my energy and intent on manifesting that vision. As you may notice, we also place a lot of emphasis on the mundane on this blog - magic as a supplement, not a substitute. I see magic as focused energy, so when I want to manifest something in my life, it is a way for me to keep that goal in the forefront of my consciousness in order to better work towards that outcome.

Let me give you an example. I have been struggling for the past two years to work through a graduate program with a computer that simply doesn’t work well. It takes minutes - multiple minutes - simply to open Word. It struggles with loading webpages regardless of the quality of my internet connection. It is a very stressful piece of equipment and has caused me considerable distress. I spent a good amount of time just complaining about it and cursing at it and sometimes even crying over it (usually during finals week when I’m trying to write several 10+ page papers), and then I realized that I needed to do something a bit more proactive. I focused my intent on manifesting a solution to my computer problem. I had already lined up some contract work for the summer, revising a course in collaboration with my advisor, but it was going to be for a small amount of pay and would be more for professional development than for a paycheck (I think it was going to be about 1 month of my regular pay for the whole summer’s worth of work). Then, I found out my advisor was teaching a summer session course, and I offered to TA for it. Then, I found out that I was going to get paid for a training I was taking. Then I found out that my pay could be taken out as a regular paycheck or as professional development funds which are tax free and can be used to buy - you guessed it - a computer. So you see, these things can be chalked up to coincidences, or even simply my own hard work. It’s easy to write off any kind of magical component. But I honestly believe that if I had not focused my intent in the same way, by doing a spell to manifest the object of my need and desire, I would not have spent the time and effort doing the things to make it happen.

Now, again, that’s a fairly mundane example, but an example of wonderful efficacy. There are other examples that are a bit more vague in terms of their efficacy but that I still consider successes. A dear friend of mine had recently left an abusive relationship, taking her young child with her. She was terrified that the ex was going to find her and hurt her and her little one. I did a protection spell, the strongest I’ve ever done. I sent a bubble of light to protect the both of them, and put all my energy and intent into it. Within a year the ex disappeared from town, only occasionally popping back up. Within a few more years, my friend was able to sever all legal ties the ex had to the child, changing names and even social security numbers.They are now living normal lives, in their own home and their own town and without the constant specter of fear hanging over them. Do I take all the credit for that? Of course not. But I can’t help feeling like maybe that spell I did so long ago played a role.

My approach to divination is equally mundane, I have to admit. I read tarot not to tell my future, but as a tool for introspection and self examination. I read the cards not as a way to know what is going to happen, but as a way to gain insight into my current situation (I rarely read for others, but approach it in a similar way on the occasions that I do so). This summer I was “stalked” by the Tower, which, let me tell you, did not feel good. The Tower signifies huge change, not always welcome; it is often interpreted as straight-up DISASTER. It was not a good feeling to have this card following me around, and I struggled with the interpretation for a good long time. I never quite came to a conclusion until I started taking an antidepressant. I know, what? What does that have to do with anything? In retrospect, though, I realized that my anxiety had come to such a peak that *that was my disaster.* It was awful. I was miserable. My family was miserable. I considered dropping out of school, thinking that was the upheaval the cards were warning me of. But no-- it was simply my own anxiety. And interestingly, I haven’t seen the Tower since starting on the medication, and all the aspects of my life that I had been doing tarot spreads to gain clarity on - they have all resolved, either directly or indirectly as a result of my moods stabilizing.

I guess my point is this. I think it comes down to how you define magic. If magic is energy, then we all have magic in us. Perhaps it’s how we decide to use it that determines whether it is magic or not. And me, I don’t see that clashing with science at all, for two reasons. One is that science, in a way, IS magic to me. Gravity? What is that but a magic force that keeps us grounded? Birth? The ability to create a WHOLE NEW PERSON INSIDE YOURSELF? Magic. Computers are definitely magic. I really don’t know any other way that they could do the things they do.

Ok yes I’m being a little facetious, but I’m also trying to say that there is so much we don’t know and understand about how the world works, and I see no reason to think that magic isn’t a part of that.

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twilight-alchemist · 7 years ago

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Shelter chapter 7

http://archiveofourown.org/works/10885116/chapters/25980762

It’s early morning in the apartment, the world still soft and fuzzy at the edges. The city hasn’t quite woken up yet. Theo moves into her personal space easily, and she watches as a thought that’s glinting in his eyes pulls his mouth into a crooked grin. “You’re very pretty in the morning” he hums.

Sai looks down at her baggy shirt and raises an eyebrow at him. “Are you still high? I told you to only have a half a brownie instead of a whole one dude.”

“I’m sober.” Theo hums, taking a sip from her mug. She doesn’t even swat him away anymore, just lets him poach her drinks. “And you really are pretty, especially right now. I wish you’d believe me.” Theo had always been honest, sometimes in a way that made Saitama feel like he saw through her. She supposes that he often did.

“Thanks Theo” she relents after a moment, and he hums, pleased.

“Genos thinks you’re pretty too you know.” Sai looks up from her tea to see Genos sleeping besides Ace on the pull out couch, glinting in the dim morning light. She has a hard time believing someone as pretty and amazing as Genos would think of someone as plain and unimpressive as herself as pretty.

“She wouldn’t if she knew.” Saitama sighs.

“I know and I still think so.” Theo says softly. “Give her a chance. Ace and I both know and we still love you.”

“But you’re dead.” Saitama states, and she blinks awake. It’s still dark, the sun not up yet. She counts the beats of her own heart and the dream falls away, only half-remembered. She feels heavy. Like gravity is stronger, pushing her into the bed, pushing her down towards the earth. Quietly, so as not to wake Genos, she talks to Theo and Ace, wishing for the millionth time that they could respond.

Genos wakes with the sun. She wakes up quickly, her body booting up and making her feel warm and tingly. She sits up and blinks at Saitama. She’s always thought Saitama looks very pretty in the mornings, her face warm and her hair soft. The suffuse light almost makes her glow against the sheets. She goes to wake her and stops with her hand just an inch from her shoulder. She was so tired yesterday. Maybe she still needs more sleep. She’s noticed that humans seems to need a lot more sleep that a Solarian would. Genos often sleeps four or five hours a night at the most, but Saitama regularly sleeps upwards of ten hours and still takes naps.

Genos slips out of the room with Rover and washes up quickly, pulling her hair into a high bun to keep it out of the way. She has a quick breakfast of fried eggs with cheese and gives Rover his bowl of kibble. There is no sun in the sky today outside the kitchen window. It’s grey, and the wind is cold when she steps outside. She quickly ducks back in, surprised to see there are still people milling around the tracks. Begrudgingly she gets dressed and watches the humans from afar. It seems they’ve moved most of the train cars, but are having problems moving the engine. She’d fused it to the tracks after all when she’d interfaced with it. She’s quickly bored of their antics and heads to the barn. It’s warmer inside and the sheep call loudly for their breakfast. It’s easy to dole out the hay, but feeding the grain requires getting into the pen while holding the grain bucket. The sheep immediately swarm her, pushing and shoving. She carefully walk-stumbles over to the trough and pours the grain in, jumping out of the way as the sheep plow forward to get their muzzles in. The sheep sure do love grain. Marzipan is in a separate pen with Oreo, who just had twins recently. Sai calls that pen the ‘mom box’. She’d named the new ewe lamb Coffee, but hadn’t named the ram lamb. Saitama says she doesn’t name the boys so she doesn’t get attached to them. She hadn’t answered why exactly, and Genos hadn’t asked yet. She has a bad feeling it has something to do with the dead deer.

She gives the new moms their food and Genos watches the lambs taste the hay curiously but with no real interest. Guess Sai wasn’t pulling her leg about the milk thing. Cream and Sugar duck under Marzipan to nurse while she’s eating and Genos watches them. The lambs are growing fast and are full of bouncy energy, hopping around in little games that she doesn’t understand. She wants to stay and watch them more but Pudding is mooing. Genos hauls herself up to feed Pudding and Moon and the hens, and last Lady Boros. The finicky cat lets her pet her while she eats, calmed by the presence of food. This takes a lot longer without Saitama helping. Hard part over, she tidies up and fills water buckets until the barn is at equilibrium again. The animals are quiet now, sated by their meals. ‘Resting and ruminating’ as Sai would say. Saitama has explained ruminating to her, about how the sheep and Pudding eat their food without chewing and then spit it up to rechew later. It was gross, but the sheep made it look sort of cute.

Genos shoos Rover out of the barn and heads back to the house with him. There’s no coffee smell, so Saitama must still be asleep. A glance at her HUD tells her that it’s still early. Genos watches Mr. Rodger’s Neighborhood and then The Golden Girls while she cleans. She reads a new part of the big cookbook on the kitchen counter and finishes a comic she’d put down yesterday. She’s juts reaching into the fridge for the pickle jar when she hears a noise. At first she thinks its Rover making one of his many odd sounds, but he’s dozing by the TV. She hears the small sound again and realizes it’s coming from above her. Saitama. She’s opening the bedroom door quick as breathing. Saitama’s still in bed, but she’s hiding under the covers. The high pitched soft sound has stopped, but she can hear her sniffling.

“Sai?” she asks. She gets no response and creeps forward until she’s sitting at the edge of the bed. “Saitama what’s wrong?” The body next to hers shakes, but her human does not poke her head out from under the covers.

"Go away." Sai says halfheartedly. Genos isn't sure why she’s hiding. Is that something humans do when they are hurting? She runs a full body scan, anxious as it loads. There’s so many things that can go wrong with organic beings. Her HUD chirps happily, body scan complete. There’s nothing amiss. She frowns and runs a more complete scan and waits for it to load. Very slowly, Saitama peeks out from under the covers. They stare at each other. Genos reaches out to rub the tears off Saitama’s cheeks. It’s saline instead of oil, which is kind of odd. “Why are you crying?” Genos asks. She wants to make it better. She wants to fix whatever is hurting.

“I can’t get out of bed.” Saitama huffs.

Genos blinks at her, not really understanding. “Are you sick?”

“Something like that.” Saitama mumbles. “I don’t feel good today.” Genos nods, thinking she understands a bit now. It’s like a system bug. She moves into the bathroom and runs water for a bath before heading right back into the bedroom. Very carefully, she gets her arms under Sai and lifts her in a bridal carry. Saitama clings stubbornly to the comforter and it drapes over her like a gown. “I already took care of the animals, so just rest.” Genos says. “I read that baths are good for human health-”

“You don’t have to do this Genos.” Saitama gets out, hiding her face against the cyborgs neck. Her silicone skin is incredibly soft against her cheek. “You can just leave me in bed. I’ll be fine.”

“I want you to feel better.” Genos hums. “You took care of me, and I’m going to take care of you. That’s just the logical thing to do.” She sets Sai down in the bathroom and watches her peel out of her nightclothes and get into the tub. She knows she saw the scan, but she’s reassured that she doesn’t see any obvious injuries. “Do you need anything?”

Saitama shakes her head. “No.” The water is still roaring loudly out of the faucet and she lets the sound fill her mind and drown out everything else. She’s not sure why today is so bad. She hadn’t wanted Genos to see her like this. She’s caught between putting her useless pride aside or nursing the bruises. Genos reaches to turn off the tap before the tub overfills, and Sai blinks open her eyes to glare at her. She knows she shouldn’t be irritated at Genos. She’s just helping. But all the anger at herself is seeping into other places, looking for a way to lash out. She crushes the urge violently. She’s not letting her misery spread, she’d rather it strangle her alone than that.

“You’re in pain.” Genos states simply. Saitama nods. She can tell Genos is looking at something in her ‘HUD’, because her eyes glint and shift in a weird way. Genos frowns. “You’re neurotransmitter levels are significantly less than ideal.”

“I know, Genos. It’s been like that for years.” Saitama snaps, waving her hands through the water and watching the ripples. She wonders if she should try an antidepressant again. She always think she’s doing okay until on of these days comes along. But the last time she took a medication the results had been so awful that Mumen had been threatening to take her to the hospital. Now she's scared to try again. She still feels that a few shitty days are worth not repeating that catastrophe.

Genos fidgets. Years? This would be a serious medical emergency for a Solarian. They’d have been integrated with by a medical specialist at the nearest opportunity. Genos feels her stomach sink when she realizes there is no such specialist here for Saitama- just her. A combat specialist. “I don’t know how to fix this.” Genos says. She hadn’t meant for the words to be spoken aloud. Saitama looks over at her, and she manages a little smile.

“I don’t expect you to Gen. You being here with me is enough.” She says. Genos is still frowning, but she lets out a little sigh of acceptance. Sai dips her head back into the water and let’s herself float. She wants Genos to leave, but she also wants her to stay. She wants to be alone and suffer by herself so she doesn’t hurt anyone, but she wants Genos to stay and help her fight off the demons. ‘I’m selfish’ she thinks to herself. 'I just hurt everyone who tries to help me.' Her thoughts shift 'It's not selfish to ask for help. Everyone needs help.’ Genos is poking her, and she rises above the water.

“I’ll wash your hair.” Genos offers. She reaches for the bottle and pours too much shampoo into her palms. It pools in her closed blasters and between her finger joints. It takes her a while to rub it into a foam, her blasters clinking together and soap slipping out of her hands. She reaches to massage it into Saitama's dark hair. It feels heavenly and Saitama melts into the tub, leaning her head into the touch. Genos is just getting to a great spot at the nape of her neck when she hears the clicking of Rover's claws on the bathroom tile. There’s a weird slurping noise and they both look up to see Rover drinking out of the tub. “Is he supposed to do that?” Genos asks.

“Not really.” Saitama states. She pokes Rover with her wet foot and he moves to curl up on the bath mat, watching both girls intently. It's quiet for a while and Saitama drifts as Genos scrubs.

"Want to hear a story about my people?" Genos asks.

"Not really." Saitama mutters.

"I'm going to tell you anyways. This is the story of our creator. It is said that millennia ago, the stars were alive. There was a star who was small and vibrant, one of many in a cluster of young stars. But unlike her siblings she longed to explore more than her set place in the universe. One day a comet streaked past only to stop and open before her. It was a ship, and a man in a spacesuit appeared before her. He told her stories about the parts of the universe that he'd seen, about the treasures he had found, about the adventures he'd had. He liked her laugh, and she liked the way he lit up as he told a story. He visited her often, bringing new stories and souvenirs for her to see. Time passed, and they fell in love. She longed to go with him, and he longed to stay with her. But he was organic, and even with his healing abilities she would certainly kill him with her touch. At some point she decided that she must do everything in her power to go with him. The universe called her, as did her love for him. The next time he returned he found the sun so small that he could have held her in his hands. She'd surrounded herself in a vessel of cold metal so that she would not burn him. She told him to trust her and place her inside his chest, and he did. They became one being, both sun and animal, both organic and inorganic. They were the first Solarian, and it is believed that they still explore the cosmos together to this day." Genos finally pauses for a breath. "Where do humans come from?"

"Uh, we evolved from apes." Saitama says. Genos is unimpressed.

"What kind of mythos is that? What is an ape?" she asks. Saitama does not respond and Genos deflates a little. Genos loved hearing that story as a kid, so she hoped it would cheer Saitama up too. Maybe the story isn't special to humans. She knows Saitama is only acting like this because she is hurting. Creator knows she did it enough to Dr. Kuseno to recognize the signs. Saitama stays in the tub until the water starts getting cool and Genos convinces her to come out. She dries off and crawls back into bed, wondering if the first Solarian is really still out there, exploring the universe. She wonders if they're happy.

It’s noon when Saitama migrates down from the bed to the couch. She dozes on the couch, tired as though she hadn’t slept in days. Genos is always close by. She can hear her core humming. She wakes up when Genos sits next to her and jostles the couch. The hand in her hair feels nice, and she tries to focus on that instead of the misery thick in her throat. If Genos notices that she’s crying again she doesn’t say anything. Genos gets up for a while and Saitama watches the TV with no real interest. She wants to be up and doing something, but her limbs are heavy and her mind is fuzzy and listless. The sheep need her and she’s just sitting here like a lump on a log. She startles a bit when Genos comes back and presses a cup of soup into her hands. Genos presses her forehead to hers. A Solarian would know it as a show of support, and she can only hope it’s similar for humans. “You should eat something. Your blood sugar is low.”

Sai puts it down on the table without touching it. “I’m not hungry.” She leans into Genos shoulder and sighs heavily. It’s not very comfortable but she honestly doesn’t care. She’s just glad she isn’t alone right now. It’s always the worst when she has to go through this alone.

Genos quietly despairs. She not sure if she’s doing the right thing. What if she’s making it worse? She’s not a human. She doesn’t know. When Saitama falls asleep again she darts into the kitchen and dials Mumen’s work phone, having memorized it the first time she dialed it. It rings a few moments, and then Mumen is on the line.

“Good afternoon! This is Officer Rider.”

“Hello Mumen, it’s Genos.” She still not used to this whole talking to people without seeing them thing. How long is it going to be until they invent video chat?

“Genos? Is something wrong with Saitama?” Mumen asks, immediately concerned by the cyborg’s sullen tone.

“I can’t get her to eat.” Genos blurts. Mumen is quiet on the other end for a moment.

“Is she having a depressive episode?” Mumen asks.

“A what?”

“Saitama didn’t tell you did she?”

“Tell me what?”

Mumen makes a disappointed noise. “She’s so dense sometimes. I can’t leave work until later but I’ll send you some reinforcements. Just hold tight okay? It’ll be fine.”

“Okay!” Genos chirps. Mumen hangs up, and Genos paces the kitchen. The house is spotless at this point, but she tidies more just to feel like she’s doing something. She watches out of the corner of her eye as Saitama wiggles out of her blanket nest on the couch and pulls on her coat. She moves slow, like she’s got a system error that she can’t shake off. She sticks her feet into Genos’ boots and shuffles to the door. Her hand is nearly on the door before she slides down the wall, burying her face in her hands. God, it’s so hard to imagine going outside right now. She shouldn’t be dead exhausted after just putting on her coat and boots. Genos rubs her back and slowly Saitama pulls herself together, and they quietly go out to the barn. Saitama checks over the sheep and rubs their faces. It makes her feel just the smallest bit better. She doesn’t talk to them today. She can’t think of anything to say. Genos gives the hens some leftover rice balls and watches them eat the treats excitedly. Saitama pets each of them and scoops up Panko, one of her favorites. Panko’s a frizzle with curly feathers that feel nice between her fingers. She moves quietly among the hen’s boxes and returns with her coat pockets full of eggs.

“I’ll need to get more hens just to feed you.” She murmurs, and there’s a ghost of a smile. Genos smiles back and tugs her over to where the lambs are sleeping under the heat lamps. They’re a picture of serenity, curled up together under the spot of light and warmth. The barn is quiet this time of day and Saitama can feel that quietness echoing around inside herself. Boros creeps by, eyes dilated and focused. She pounces behind a box and comes up with a mouse squeaking in her jaws. She lets it go just to catch it again, tormenting the creature and batting it between her paws. It eventually collapses and she collects her prize, crunching loudly through small bones.

“I’m glad cats are tiny.” Genos says.

“Me too.” Saitama says. She leans her head back and stares up at the dusty rafters, letting her drowned mind float for a while. She know she should explain what’s happening to Genos. She can tell the cyborg is worried. It’s always just so hard to get this part out.

“This happens sometimes.” She says. “I have bad days. Episodes. Usually a few days in a row, and then I’m okay for a while.”

Genos turns that over in her head. “What is this illness called?”

“When I used to see a shrink he called it Major Depressive Disorder. Most of the time it just means I’m kind of tired or numb and it’s not so bad. Some days like today I feel like I’m just too exhausted and sad to be alive. I tried medication, but it made it worse. So for now I live with it.” Saitama sighs. She’s tense, waiting for some response from Genos. The cyborg is frowning as she often does.

“You’re very strong Saitama, but I wish you didn’t have to be.” She says, eyes glowing like molten gold. Sai makes a sound that is almost a laugh.

“I don’t feel strong. Especially not today.” She sighs. “Lets go back inside, I’m cold.”

They’re just stepping back inside when there’s a knock on the door. Genos already knows who it is since her proximity alert recognized the signatures. She opens the door and sees Garou, Bad, and Zenko on the porch. “Hello!” Bad smiles. “Mumen called Jiji and she sent us over with food. Ya know Sai one of these days Mumen’s going to kill you for keeping her out of the loop.” The newcomers pile into the kitchen and shed their winter clothes and shoes. Zenko latches around Rover’s neck like a barnacle and Bad hands Genos several containers of hot food.

“I’m starving so we should eat now.” Garou says, pulling plates down from the cabinets. Saitama watches all this unfold and feels overwhelmed. A small hand tugs on hers.

“Onesan come sit on the couch with me! We brought a movie.” Zenko says, lifting the VCR box up for Saitama to inspect.

“Grease? Really?” She asks Bad.

“What? It’s a good bad movie.” Bad laughs. “Go sit with Zenko and get the movie started, we’ll bring you some food.” Genos gets shooed out of the kitchen too and sits on the couch with Sai and Zenko beside her. He’s staring at her hard. Probably because when he met her last she was in clothes and different colors.

“So you really are an alien.” He says.

“That’s kinda rude kid.” Saitama hums. Zenko pays her no mind.

“That’s neat.” He hums. “Are you from Mars?”

“I’m from the Andromeda galaxy. It’s very far from here.” Genos says. She’s still not sure what to think of this human child. She was the baby in the family, and she can’t for the life of her remember interacting much with adolescents. She’s seen Bad has a habit of being overprotective of him, and wonders if all humans are like that.

“Otouto don’t be so nosy.” Bad says, giving her little brother a plate of food. “Eat at the table so you don’t spill anything.”

Garou hands Genos a big plate full of food but she doesn’t touch it. She wants to make sure Saitama eats first. Bad brings over two more plates, a small one for Saitama and a big one for herself, and they all squish in around the coffee table to eat. Genos is pleased to see that Saitama starts eating once everyone else does, so she digs into her own meal. Bang is really good at cooking. Genos wonders if the old woman has a cookbook she could borrow.

The movie starts and Bad and Garou start bickering about the lead actor. “He’s kinda hot.” Garou says.

“No he’s not! His mouth is too damn big.” Bad retorts.

“He has nice eyes though.”

“I tell ya what he looks real nice compared to the other ugly guys in this movie.”

The girls laugh at that as the beach scene fades away. Bad makes a disgusted noise in the back of her throat. “Sandy deserves better.”

“She’s pretty.” Genos remarks.

“She’s Olivia Newton John of course she’s pretty” Garou says.

“You know who the real babe in this move is?” Bad asks.

“Who?” says Genos.

“Rizo. She’s hot and she knows what she wants.” Bad says. Garoru hums in agreement.

The movies plays on, Genos getting progressively more confused. “How is this a school if no one is learning anything?”

“What?” Saitama says. “Oh this is not accurate at all Genos. Take the whole movie with about a tablespoon of salt.”

“Why would I take a tablespoon of salt? That would be very dehydrating.”

“It means it’s not very honest.” Zenko supplies.

“Oh.”

“Everyone shut up I love this scene!” Bad says. The pink ladies are in a bedroom in their pajamas, just talking. “All these girls are so pretty and all the guys look like toes.” Bad grumbles. Garou snorts.

“I agree” Saitama says.

“Yeah because you’re gay.” Garou laughs. Bad and Garou sing along in the collective roast of Sandra Dee, laughing like hyenas the entire time. Garou even squishes next to Genos so she can put the cyborg's blond curls over her head like a wig, pretending to be Rizo pretending to be Sandy.

“That’s the peak of the movie, its only downhill from here.” Bad laughs. Genos is enraptured.

“Could I pierce my ears?” she asks.

“I mean yeah as long as we can get a needle through them.” Garou says.

Saitama knows she should keep an eye on the kids, especially where this conversation is going, but she’s so tired. She lets herself doze. It’s hard to feel as empty with everyone here around her. She’s quietly grateful. She stirs awake at the end when the stupid car goes floating off into the sky. Something’s happening, because Bad and Garou are absolutely howling with laughter. She sits up and blinks at them.

“Whats so funny? Where’s Genos?” she asks. Bad looks like she’s trying to answer, but she can only look at the couch and wheeze.

“She’s hiding right there” Zenko points, and Sai does a double take. Genos is sitting right below her, but it’s almost impossible to see her. She’s camouflaged herself to the same colors as the couch and the floor. Only her golden eyes and glowing core give her away. Saitama is viscerally reminded of that time she ate too many edibles and hallucinated for an entire night. Genos smiles up at her.

“Zenko was bored and I remembered this game my brother used to play with me.”

“Oh! Do the blanket!” Zenko says. Genos pulls part of Sia’s blanket over herself and turns white with red hearts spotted over her like a strange dalmatian. Saitama can’t help but put her hands on her hair, which really is white and red all the way through. Zenko is delighted. He looks all around the room, trying to find something else.

“The dog!” Zenko demands. Genos moves over to Rover and turns inky black.

“You would scare the shit out of people if you did that at night, so you should totally do it.” Garou says. Bad hauls herself up off the floor and goes up the stairs. She comes back down with an armful of Saitama’s clothes.

“Here Zenko pick something.” She says, dumping the armful onto her little brother.

“Hey!” he shouts, pulling a fuzzy leg warmer off his head. Zenko digs through the pile, turning over each piece of fabric with careful consideration. He picks a holographic silver hoodie. Genos thinks it’s ugly, but this is for Zenko. She changes colors and grimaces at the way the reflection warps her shape. Saitama smiles and leans forward, running her hands over Genos’ arms. Zenko gently lifts up some of Genos’ hair, watching it sparkle prisms of color as it moves.

“It’s a good look on you Genos.” Sai says.

“I doubt that.” Genos huffs. It’s way too tacky, like she’s from the colony on Zimyr. They have absolutely no taste in that part of the galaxy. She changes back to normal colors, feeling a bit itchy from so many changes. “Sorry Zenko, I’m done for now.”

Zenko nods and flops back on the floor. “Is there dessert?”

“Sorry kiddo, we didn’t bring any.” Garou says. Zenko pouts.

“We could stop by the diner on the way home for milkshakes.” Bad adds. Zenko immediately perks up and Sai smiles.

“You both spoil him.” She says.

“Look how cute he is, we can’t help it.” Bad says. “Genos, you should come over tomorrow, we’re going to spend a while in the workshop.”

“Yeah and we need you to keep us warm.” Garou jokes, getting a glare from Bad. Garou only seems egged on by the look, but a glance at the clock and she frowns. “B, we’ve gotta go we both still have homework to do.”

“Fuck homework.” Bad huffs.

“I know, but I don’t want detention again, shit is boring as hell because I always forget to bring a book.” Garou grumbles.

“Then remember to bring a book stupid.” Bad says. “You should just nap in detention like I do.”

“Not everyone can just fall asleep anywhere like you do, miss fall-asleep-in-class-and-pretend-its-narcolepsy. You're lucky Bang plays along or the teaches would have found out you're faking by now. Are we going to go?”

“Yeah yeah alright c’mon Zenko.” She nudges her little brother until he moves and gets up. “I hope you feel less shitty tomorrow Sai. I’m sure Jiji will call at some point so try to answer or she’ll worry. Bye Genos, see you tomorrow.”

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The next day is better. Still exhausted and numb but at least not achingly sad. She gets up late and delivers three sets of lambs, two singles and a set of twins. They’re healthy and bright eyed and wobbly on their too-long legs. She plans to start milking the ewes the day after tomorrow so she spends the rest of the day getting the little milk parlor clean. Genos returns home from visiting with even more food from Bang and a steel chair she made. She puts it at the kitchen table and sits on it, very pleased with herself. It takes until dinner for Saitama to get out her fog enough to notice the gold studs glinting in the cyborg's ears.

"Who did that?" She asks.

"I did, otherwise battle mode might have engaged." Genos says. "Garou told me what to do though."

"Well she's given herself about a dozen piercings at the this point so I'm glad to hear she knows what she's doing." Saitama hums. "They look good."

"Thank you. I really like them" Genos smiles. "I don't think the doctor will be happy though."

"What's the point of piercings if they don't upset your guardians." Saitama laughs. Genos talks about her day to fill the silence, Saitama doing her best to listen and not space out. Sai falls asleep right after dinner and Genos stays up late reading a book Garou lent her.

-------------------------------

“Ok Genos so I’m only going explain this once. Tomorrow I’m going to start milking the ewes, so starting tonight we separate the older lambs from the ewes. The lambs go in the fourth pen and their moms stay in the mom box. The lambs have a formula feeder and some creep feed so they’ll be just fine. In the morning after I milk the ewes, and the lambs go back in with their moms. They’re not going to like it at first but they’ll get used to it.”

Genos frowns. “Won’t they be upset? They hate being separated.”

“Yeah, they do. The other option is to separate them completely and milk the ewes twice a day and bottle feed all the lambs, but I like this method better. Less work for me, and happier sheep. Once I start milking a company’s going to come by and empty the milk tank with a truck, so don’t freak out at them. They’re the ones that pay me.”

“What do they do with it?” Genos asks.

“They make fancy cheese. They buy from me because I'm the only dairy sheep farm in the area besides them and apparently it's easier to just buy more milk from me rather than expand their own production. I see their brand in the grocery store sometimes, it's got a green wrapper with a sheep on it. I tried making some of my own cheese last year but I still have a lot to learn.” Saitama pulls out a weird looking tool and a tag. “It’s time to give Cream and Sugar their earrings.” She writes “8401” on the first tag and “8402” on the second and hooks it onto the tool. “The first part of the number is the year and the second is what number lamb. I mark the lambs with paint when they came out of the lambing jugs but this is more permanent.” She gets hold of Cream and holds her still. “The right ear is for girls and the left is for boys.” She grabs hold of the lamb's right ear and crunches the tool together. Cream and Genos both jump. The lamb flaps it’s ear, confused by the new feeling. Saitama does Sugar next. “All set. They’re very stylish now.” The tags are bright yellow and do sort of resemble earrings, Genos figures. The lambs see unbothered and go back to annoying their mom for milk.

“Are we done?” Genos asks.

“Yep! Now we can finally go to the store. We should have done that days ago but I felt like death warmed over.”

“You need new boots.” Genos says in the car. She’s made a thorough list that displays on her HUD and she doesn’t want to forget anything.

“Yes, and you need more clothes. We’ll go to the thrift shop before the market.”

Genos adds that to the list. “We also need paper towels, cat food, and shampoo.” She hums.

“Yep. Oh, and coffee.”

“Evil smelly beverage” she says and Saitama laughs.

Genos has to duck into the thrift shop, the low ceiling just a half inch above her head. She nearly walks right into an exit sign and sets her HUD to alert her if she’s about to hit her face on something. Saitama is already digging through the racks and tossing things into the small cart. “Pick out whatever you like Genos, unless it has a red tag. We can’t afford the fancy stuff.” Genos pokes through the racks, a little overwhelmed by all the options. She doesn’t know her sizes. Everything she holds up seems too small.

“I’m confused.” She admits after a while, and Saitama returns to her side.

“You’re probably an extra-large in a shirt” She hums. “It might be hard to find pants, you’re so tall. I’ll go look and then you can try stuff on.” Sai returns with an armful of pants and drops them in the cart. Genos holds up a dark gray longsleeve that she likes, and a black hoodie with a university logo.

“You don’t want anything brighter?” Saitama asks. Genos shakes her head.

“I like these colors.”

“Okay.”

Saitama grabs a pair of worn looking red boots in her size and figures they’ll do for now. They make their way to the dressing rooms in the back and squish into one together. Genos rips a pair of pants up both thighs and Saitama can barely contain her laughter. “This is why clothes are idiotic.” Genos sighs. “None of this fits. It’s restrictive and itchy and makes me look ugly.” She huffs.

“Genos you could be wearing a trash bag and still be hot.” Saitama responds. “It’s just that you’re hips are too wide for a lot of the guys jeans, and your legs are too long for most of the girls jeans.” Saitama explains. “You’re just not really human sized. Try on this last pair.” It’s the last pair, that by some magic, fits. Genos is happy; she’d really wanted a pair of jeans, because that’s what Bad and Garou wear all the time. She runs her hands over the black denim, pleased that these already feel worn in. She’ll have to be careful not to tear them.

Saitama bundles what they are getting in her arms and they go together to pay at the front. They didn’t get much but it still takes a sizable bite out of the food money, and Saitama finds herself running her fingers repetitively over the coupons in her pocket.

The market is not what Genos expected. There’s food just everywhere, and it’s not at all like the daily deliveries of food parcels to the front door that she remembers. Saitama is very focused on her coupons, but she still notices the cyborg gawking out of the corner of her eye. “This food looks weird.” She says, inspecting an apple. The old lady next to her is giving her an odd look, but she doesn’t notice. She follows after Saitama, trying to understand how the ‘coupons’ coordinate with the food items that Saitama selects. Genos keeps putting things in the basket that Saitama keeps putting back. Saitama relents when Genos puts a bunch of fruits in the basket, one of several different kinds. She wants to let Genos try new things she’s curious about, even if she’s not sure she has enough money for this. Genos avoids the meat section and spends a while reading the labels on everything she picks up and asking Saitama questions. Saitama lets her get marshmallows when Genos breaks out the puppy eyes but tells her that’s it. She gets popcorn and jello packets and pudding mixes, trying to find cheaper ways to feed this damn kid. She gets some tofu for her even though it’s not on sale. She’s worried about Genos not getting enough protein now that she’s not eating meat. She’ll have to start cooking with beans more.

The guy at the register is staring at Genos like he’s never seen a pretty girl before. ‘He should at least scrape his jaw up off the floor’ Saitama thinks. She glares at him and he seems to get the message, scanning the items through faster. Saitama hands over her bundle of coupons and watches with relief as the total drops down to something she can afford. Saitama leaves the store with only change left in her wallet. She tries not to think about it. She feels a bit better when she gets to watch Genos try her first marshmallow and treat it like a miracle of science and innovation. The cyborg has eaten half the bag before they even get home.

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When the milk tank is finally full and the milk truck comes to empty it Sai feels a visceral sense of relief. She’ll get money now, and she can make sure everyone gets to eat. When the driver stomps up the porch steps to give her a small handful of cash for the milk she almost cries. It’s the first day of April, and it’s snowing. It hasn’t stopped them from doing their workout routine though.

Big fat flakes drift through the sky and Genos walks among them like a curious fae that had emerged from the woods. Sai follows after her, panting from their run. Her hair is spiky with sweat and her legs burn. “Okay, let’s do push up first, my legs already feel like mush.” She says, flapping her shirt to get freezing air up on her sweaty chest. She shivers violently and Genos raises her eyebrows at her. Humans are so affected by the elements, yet usually pay it no mind. She imagines it must be uncomfortable. The sweating thing also seems unpleasant. She shudders at the thought of her skin leaking saline fluids. Saitama brushes by her towards the house, and Genos notes all the half-melted snowflakes trapped in her hair.

The cyborg lets snowflakes fall on her outstretched hands, looking in wonder at the intricate patterns. She takes photos to look at and analyze later. She has taken one hundred and fifty two photos of snowflakes today. They step together onto the porch and shake the snow off before stepping inside. Saitama drops to the living room floor after shucking her coat and sneakers and starts counting out pushups. Genos does them one handed next to her, just to be a pain. Saitama glares at her and Genos pretends to be focusing. Sit-ups are next, and this is where Saitama gets revenge. Genos’ body wasn’t made with sit-ups in mind, and she struggles. Genos knows if she hadn’t done the one armed thing Sai would have held her feet down and helped, but no, she just had to be a cheeky shit today. Next to her Saitama breezes through 100 hundred sit ups and moves on the squats, cursing as her thighs burn. Squats are easy for Genos and she makes up for lost ground. They end up finishing around the same time and Saitama trudges upstairs for a shower. Once the sweat is off she feels better even though her muscles are still screaming. She’s just pulling on her hoodie when Genos comes into the room.

“You did good Gen.” Sai smiles, and Genos beams at her.

“Thank you Saitama. You also performed quite impressively for a human.” She says. Sai scowls and throws a pillow at her, which Genos easily ducks and catches. “What should we do today?” she asks. Saitama shrugs.

“I don’t know, I’m happy just hanging out. I like to stay close to the sheep as much as I can this time of year.”

Genos nods and pulls some comics off the shelves, intent to do some reading. They lay in the bed for a while, Genos reading and Saitama napping. When Saitama stirs awake at dusk they go out the barn together. Saitama immediately can tell something is wrong. She jumps into the mom box and sees one of the ewes is laying down straining. She is labor, but there's no lamb on the ground, or any sign of progress. She should be delivering standing, not down. Saitama coaxes her up and shouts at Genos to grab her lambing kit. Genos gets it to her quickly and hovers. "Go get some of the corn syrup to give to her, I think she's running on empty. Probably has triplets in there." Saitama says. Genos disappears again and Saitama gets her hand in a glove and lubed up. She feels for the problem, and lets out a sigh of relief when it's a relatively simple one. Normal presentation is two feet with the head over top. She only feels one foot. "The lambs's got a leg stuck, I've just gotta move it. You'll be fine" she says, patting Potato on the rump with her free hand. It's not easy to push the lamb back while Potato is trying to push the lamb out, but she manages. She finds the second foot and holds the front hooves together in her hand, gently pulling with the ewe's contractions until the lamb is properly lined up head over feet. While she was working Genos gave Potato some syrup and she seems more alert as her blood sugar goes back up. Saitama continues the tugging as Potato pushes, and the lamb finally comes free in a rush of blood and fluids. She grabs a towel and gets the membrane out of the lambs face, checking to make sure the mouth is clear. The lamb jerks and starts breathing, already trying to lift his head. Saitama drys him a bit more and puts him in front of his mom so they can bond. Potato licks her baby clean and Genos praises her in her chirpy-humming language. There's a lull before the contractions start up again, and Saitama helps pull the second lamb as well to make it easier on the tired ewe.

"Is that all of them?" Genos asks, toweling off the new baby with gentle hands.

"I think there's three." Saitama hums. Sure enough the contractions start up again. After a while with no progress, Saitama feels around again. There's a third lamb who's breach, and she swears. "This is going to take a while" she huffs, moving the lamb best she can. She shifts and pushes and nudges until her arm is going numb and she finally gets a hold of a hoof. A few tugs and the lamb is in alignment, but backward. She'll just have to get her out fast. She gets hold of both hind feet and pulls hard with a contraction. The lamb comes free. The first thing Saitama notices is that she's smaller than she should be. She's also not moving. Saitama grabs a towel and wraps it around her, clearing her mouth quickly and listening for a heartbeat. It's there, just weak. She feels some relief at that.

“C’mon, c’mon.” Saitama hums, rubbing fiercely at the lamb wrapped in the towel. She’s still limp. Every few minutes Sai lifts the lamb to her ear like a seashell, listening for that faint heartbeat. She rubs and rubs and Genos holds her breath, watching the wavering life signs on her HUD. She moves closer to help keep the lamb warm. After what seems like an age the lamb opens her eyes, her heart rate and breathing finally picking up.

“You’re alive!” Saitama says. “Scared me for a minute there.” She smiles fondly at the little lamb. She keeps up with the rubbing and holds the lamb close to Genos. “She’s weak so she's getting cold. Of course Potato had to give birth to triplets on the coldest day for the past month. We might have to take her inside of the house.”

“Will she be okay?” Genos asks.

“I don’t know yet.” Saitama says. She looks over at the other two lambs, who are already on their legs and nursing. At least two of the three were healthy. Sai tries to coax the lamb into standing. She lays in the straw, without even enough energy to lift her head. Saitama moves her in front of Potato but the ewe ignores her, instead continuing to lick the two lambs she already has. It's a rejection.

“She won’t be able to nurse like this.” Saitama sighs. "And with two big brothers to compete with for milk she won't stand a chance. She’ll have to come inside and be a bottle baby. She’s not the first, Pumpkin was a bottle baby, and so was Cake. There were other bottle babies, but I lost those ones.” Saitama is quiet for a moment. “It’s usually the first or second night. If she gets through that, she’ll be okay.” Saitama bundles up the lamb in a fresh towel and turns to Genos. “Lets go.”

Genos holds her breath as she offers the lamb a bottle. She doesn’t seem interested, her fleecy face resting on Saitama’s chest. Saitama lifts her head and gently opens her mouth. “Put the nipple in, once she tastes it she might realizes she’s hungry.” Genos sticks the bottle in and Saitama rubs her forehead, trying to convince her to suckle. It takes a few moments, but the lamb starts to nurse from the bottle. “That’s a good sign.” Saitama smiles. “She’s a lot more likely to survive with colostrum in her system.”

“Colostrum?” Genos asks.

“It’s like, milk that starts the immune system. It’s really important. I’ve lost lambs because they didn’t get colostrum in them.”

“It’s seems like a serious flaw to have essential immune system components in milk instead of already in the body.” Genos frowns. Saitama shrugs. They set up a playpen in the living room for the lamb, lined with newspaper and towels. Saitama manages to get the space heater going and sets it up next to the pen. Genos scowls at the noisy thing and interfaces with it, pleased by the much better soft hum the machine makes when she’s done.

The little lamb bleats and pees on Saitama, and Genos doesn’t think she’s ever seen someone so happy to be peed on. “Yelling and peeing! That’s good. Genos take her for a minute and wrap her in a new towel, I have to change shirts.”

Genos holds the lamb very carefully, barely moving. She’s so tiny and weak. She increase her heat output and waits. Sai comes back down quickly but doesn’t take the lamb back, instead fussing with the towels in the pen. Genos watches the lamb breathe and rubs her thumb gently over her small head. “Will her eyes stay this blue?” she asks.

“No, they’ll probably fade to brown or grey.” Saitama says. “She sure is cute isn’t she? With those black and white patches. Like a little cow.”

Genos nods and hands the lamb over when Saitama makes grabby hands. “Can we watch a movie?” she asks, already getting up to pick though the VHS tapes.

“Sure Genos, pick whatever you want.” Saitama says, slowly rocking the lamb in her arms like a baby. Go figure all her maternal instincts went to animals instead of actual human babies. They marathon movies and the night slips by. The lamb has fits several times, and each time Saitama thinks they're going to loose her. Miraculously the fits pass and the lamb seems no worse for wear. Sai has to feed the lamb every two hours, and preparing the frozen colostrum would be a lot of work but Genos makes a great bottle-warmer. At midnight she places the lamb in the pen and watches her. She still can’t lift her head, and she’s worried. Genos sits next to her, and they talk into the early morning.

When Genos jerks awake from a nightmare at sunrise, the lamb is still breathing. Her startle woke the lamb, and she blinks at her. The lamb lifts her head. “Saitama! Wake up!” Genos shouts, and Saitama jumps awake so fast that she bangs her head on Genos’ shoulder.

“Oww” she hisses, rubbing the red spot on her forehead.

“Look.” Genos says, pointing to the lamb. Saitama gasps.

“You did it!” she says to the lamb, who baa’s at her. “She’s hungry, I’ll fill a bottle. Ugh, I forgot how much all-nighters suck, I’m tired.” Genos watches Saitama stumble into the kitchen. Rover comes over to the pen and stares at the lamb. Genos isn’t sure whats wrong but the dog is definitely moping.

“Sai, Rover seems sad.” Genos says.

“Oh, he’s just jealous.” Saitama laughs, coming back with a bottle that she gives Genos to warm. Genos rolls the glass between her palms and hands it back to Saitama so she can test it on her wrist. A bundle of spindly legs is pushed into her arms and the lamb bleats loudly in her ear. Saitama sticks the bottle in her mouth and the lamb eats eagerly. Saitama laughs. “She’s getting noisy, that means she’s got more energy.”

“Yes! Her scans have improved” Genos says happily. “I’ll can watch her while you go feed the others.” Genos adds.

“Thanks Gen, I’ll be back in soon. Unless an ewe is in labor, in which case I might be a while.” Saitama says, ducking out of the house with Rover on her heels. Sai returns hours later looking morose.

“Whats wrong?” Genos asks.

“There was a still born.” Saitama says. “I had to pull it out and bury it in the back. It just... wasn't put together right.” She looks at the lamb in Genos’ arms and motions for her. Genos hands her over and Saitama holds the lamb close to her chest and sighs.

“Can we name her now?” Genos asks.

“Yeah.” Saitama says.

“How about Whipped Cream?”

“Genos you already named one Whipped Cream they can’t have the same name.”

“But it’s a good name!” Genos insists.

“What about CC?” Saitama asks. “For Cookies and Cream, like the ice cream.”

“CC!” Genos says happily, lifting up the little lamb. “She is the cutest thing on all of Earth.”

“What not me?” Saitama asks with mock hurt, getting herself a flash of a smile from the cyborg.

“You are the second.” Genos decides.

“I’ll take it.” Saitama says. She watches Genos leans in close to the lambs ears and whispers to her.

(You need to start walking soon so Saitama stops worrying about you so much. You’ve got to get on your legs like the other lambs do.) CC blinks at her, but Genos thinks she understands.

--------------------------------

CC chases Genos around the house, bouncing and sliding across the wood floors on little cloven hooves. Genos turns quick on her heel and CC bolts around the living room, jumping up onto the couch and jumping off onto the coffee table. Genos laughs as the lamb jumps to her and trots around her legs. “CC!” Saitama calls from the kitchen. The lamb runs to her voice and stands between her legs, looking up at her. “Hey baby” Saitama says. “Where’s your other mom?”

“Right here.” Genos says as she steps into the kitchen.

“Can you warm this bottle?” Sai asks.

Genos warms it between her hands as CC stares up at the bottle, baaing and wagging her tail. “Cee-cee~” Genos sings. “Cee-cee, cee-cee is hun-gree.” Saitama huffs out a laugh at the cyborg's song.

“Now that she's stronger it’s almost time to bring her out with the other ewes and lambs for a few hours a day. She's five days old and she needs to learn to be a sheep.�� She says. “And soon, if we’re lucky, we’ll be able to feed her every three hours instead of two, and I can sleep more.” Genos lowers the bottle to CC and they watch her nurse and wag her short tail. The lamb has on a pink baby onesie with a diaper underneath to keep her from making a mess all over the house while she's out of the pen. It's both silly looking and cute. They sleep down in the living room so it's easy to feed CC when they wake up, or she wakes them up with her baaing for milk. It's four in the morning when CC's cries wake Genos, and she pulls the lamb into her arms. She quiets immediately as Genos holds her and it makes the cyborg feel a warm mix of emotions. She gets up to prepare a bottle, CC standing just next to her legs. The house is pitch black but Genos can see just fine, and she has the bottle ready quickly. CC slurps it down and looks for more.

(Getting greedy huh?") Genos asks. (Tomorrow I'll ask Saitama if you can have more.) CC wags her little tail. Genos places her back in the pen but the lamb is restless. Saitama stirs when Genos gets back into the blanket pile.

"Did you feed her already? I keep telling you to wake me up."

"You need the sleep more than I do." Genos hums. "I don't mind."

CC baas and Saitama baas back. Genos has already noticed Saitama's weird ability to mimic animal noises, mostly from her meowing mockingly at the cat. CC finally curls up to sleep. Genos watches the rise and fall of her chest for a while, long enough that Saitama falls asleep behind her. A single thought loops through her mind over and over; she doesn't want to leave this place. For the firs time in years, she wants to stay.

#shelter #opm #genosai #saigenos #rule 63 #f/f #one punch man

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mydrinkproblem · 6 years ago

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Better

It’s been almost 2 months since I last made a blog post. Which is far too long considering that I wanted to try and update the site every month. I’ve been writing but have procrastinated for far too long.

After speaking to my doctor about feeling depressed and having suicidal thoughts and then being assessed - I felt good. Good that I was finally actually doing something about it. What I didn’t know is that almost five months later I’d still be waiting for my therapy sessions and not have any idea as to when they’d start. As the wait got longer I started taking the antidepressants, I didn’t want to but thought that they’d be the next best thing. Then I kinda gave up in December, being off work and having alot of time to myself really messed things up. I reverted back to doing coke and have found it pretty hard to stop since. I’ve probably spent somewhere in the region of £700 on coke since mid December. Recognising the problem I said to myself, ‘next month (February) I will stay clean,’ thinking that it’s a short month so that was a realistic goal. Wrong. I’ve just carried on, infact I’ll probably only stay clean next week because I don’t have a day off.

My annual tradition seems to be to start off the year with an STI. I thought that this year was the same as I could feel what I thought were warts and so I booked a test. That feeling of dread, knowing that I should have used protection the last time that I had sex and not knowing what you may have caught is awful. I now know that I was one of several partners the girl that I slept with last had the night that I was with her. So much so that her flat mate was shocked at her behavior. I had a runny nose when I was with her, which really was down it being so cold outside but she didn’t believe me and kept asking me for coke. She did other drugs and when I was leaving I saw her going into her room with some tin foil which filled me with dread. All of my tests came back negative - which is great. Having to go to the clinic was good though, they asked me whether I take any drugs during sex and I explained which ones. They asked me whether I have any problems with drugs at the moment, I said, “yes - coke,” they said that they’d get in touch with me regarding the support that they can offer me. I’d spoken to someone before but they just told me that I didn’t have a problem so hopefully it goes better this time.

A friend of mine was congratulating me for staying sober for so long. I sheepishly took his compliment but he seemed bemused that I didn’t seem to acknowledge the significance of what I’d achieved. My other friends that were there stayed silent, they knew that I’d swapped booze for other drugs. I didn’t tell him but he repeated it later on in the night. I look forward to the day when I can accept such compliments guilt free. Furthermore, there have been times in recent weeks when I’ve considered swapping the coke for alcohol. ‘At least that way it’d be cheaper,’ I thought. The embarrassment of going back into the off licence that I used to visit every evening after work, buying the cans that I used to drink every evening and having to explain where I’d been the last two and something years to the shopkeeper put me off it though. So did the fact that I’d have to write about it and tell you. Those are things that I don’t want to do.

Another friend of mine has been supporting me, encouraging me to go out even when I’ve been set on spending the whole day indoors. Bless her but she doesn’t also know that I’ve been battling to stay clean, I dare not tell her because she can’t keep things to herself and the last thing that I want is the rest of my friends knowing. Even so, whenever I do meet friends with aim of talking to them about stuff, our conversation is dominated by them talking about their problems and it doesn’t seem that they have even noticed that I may have things that I want to talk about too.

I recently went on a date and it was quite the experience. She was an hour late, she didn’t give me any updates and she turned up just when I was about to leave. Luckily my booking was for an hour after I had told her otherwise things would have been even worse. We played mini golf and had drinks after but I couldn’t hear here because the bar was too loud so we went to look for somewhere quieter. People stared at her because she was trans and I thought that was so rude, you could see that it made her feel uncomfortable and she lacked a bit of confidence because of it. As we wandered around I suggested, “a pub or bar,” to which she sarcastically replied, “another loud place?.” In the end we ended up at Nando’s, I paid again. She claimed to have been Nando’s before but she didn’t have a clue what to order, in the end I had to help her decide. She didn’t want to leave after we’d finished our meals and she didn’t want the night to end but I knew that she had work in the morning so I walked her to the tube station. She kissed me before she left and we stayed in contact after that but it was always due to me starting the conversation. Things have since fizzled out because I made a mess of Valentine’s Day. To the point where I can no longer see her Whatsapp profile picture because she has probably deleted me from her saved contacts. But as a testament to the kind of hot mess that she is, I can still see her Whatsapp story - stupid right? I spent £100 on that date and can’t really say that it was worth it. I was open with her far more than I have been with other girls and after this experience it will be hard for me to do it again. Perhaps my next first date can be in a coffee shop, that way it’ll be cheap if I’m paying for everything. It’s 2019, should guys still be paying for everything on the first date?

youtube

#addiction #coke #alcohol #drug problem #drink problem #date #trans #mh

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lilyscotttt-blog · 8 years ago

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Person Three

Third typed up conversation.

For me it’s like I don’t feel fully functional, like when I’m in a good patch it’s fine but when I’m in a bad dip I find it really hard to just do stuff that everybody seems to just be able to do just absolutely fine. So like getting out of the house can be hard, and like physically it’s my heart that is the thing that like really goes off when I’m in a bad place like I have really bad palpatations like I start blacking out and I can’t breathe, so I’ve got quite a physical I think form of anxiety and then I’ll start getting dizzy and feeling sick and then I’ll feel like I’m drowning. I have actually almost drowned before and it’s like the closest thing that I can think of that’s close to it like you just you can’t breathe it feels almost like all of my airways are full of cloth, and my whole body goes like really rigid and then I can’t move so I feel really like trapped in what ever situation it is that is causing me to become more anxious. It’s like being underwater as well sometimes like I can’t hear things properly like I can’t really like visually engage with anything and I feel like I’m sort of floating but I’m not. It feels like I’m buried but I can still move but I can’t really.

I’ve had quite a few people say to me like it’s all in your head, it’s not a real thing, you can just talk yourself out of it. Especially when I went on medication actually that’s when people finally start to see it as being a real thing because like if you’ve got a virus or you’ve got like an infection and you say to somebody oh I think I’ve got a chest infection, they’ll be like oh ok well go to the doctors and get some antibiotics. But if you say to somebody I think I’m depressed they won’t be like oh go and see a mental health care professional, they’ll be like get over it you’re not depressed you’re just sad. You know it’s not real it’s not the same as having a disease or like a terminal condition. But like I think I always compare it to people who like when people don’t understand it, I try and it explain it in terms of chronic pain. Like I’ve had syatica for years and when people are like oh it’s not a real condition I’ll be like just because you can’t like you know it’s not like I’m missing a leg, because you can’t see it directly it doesn’t mean it’s not real. And I’m like well think about people that have a chronic pain disorder, you can’t see that they’re in pain but they are and as soon as you put it in an actual like medical, physical medical term for people it’s like they’re suddenly like oh maybe it is real then. But they can’t just accept it like I’ve had really negative responses from people like recently it’s happened where they’ve just been like you know it’s just like a label that you’ve given yourself, you’re choosing to be like this, you’re not being proactive about it. But actually you know I’ve been to like therapy, I was almost hospitalised at one point, I’m on antidepressants, I’m on antianxiety medication like and because it’s not like they’re seeing me physically getting better, they can’t accept that I am actually doing something about it. When I talk to other people who’ve got mental illnesses as well because we’re not taught properly especially when we’re younger like that everybody’s way of dealing with it is different. I’ve spoken to some people who’ve been like you’re on antidepressants like I just go to councilling and it’s because like everybody is so misinformed and I think people see it as being a weakness as well. Like I understand that everybody has a different experience of it but people who have it and have processed it in a very different way because they’ve been made to feel like they’ve just got to man up and suck it up, I think it can be quite hard to see eye to eye with them even though you’re in exactly the same position almost. Which I think is really weird because if you had two people with the flu, they’d both be like oh I’m gunna buy some lemsip I feel like shit what about you and they’ll be like yeah I’m gunna buy some lemsip I feel like shit like I think because it’s so wildly complex I think that people can’t appreciate different people’s experiences of it fully because we’re never taught just how different it can be for other people.

I think for me it was control, cos my anxiety makes me feel really out of control of my life, I will be having an alright day and just suddenly I’d be like I’ve got no money, this is happening, this is happening, I’ve got deadlines, I’ve got all of these things and I feel like I’m spiralling like when I’m getting better it’s like when straws are falling through your hands and you start catching them again. The way that I would say is the closest to how it feels is if I was hanging off the edge of a building at my lowest point and getting better is like getting my grip back on the railings. I suddenly feel like, it will happen quite quickly actually like I will suddenly feel like really good in myself and strong and I will get this euphoric period for a couple of days maybe a week where I will be like I’m unstoppable, everything is great, my life is amazing, I can’t believe I ever felt that bad like what’s going on. Cos I have a very like peak and troth sort of experience, so when I’m on the way up again, I feel I can run a marathon it just suddenly, like I will get all of this energy coming back into me, I’ll start seeing things in such a positive light again and I’ll start getting excited about the future. It’s like all of a sudden a vacuum has been opened up and all of this goodness comes back into me and I feel like I’ve got a grip like I’ve really got my shit together and I’ll be like yes, right, it’s happening, I’m coming back up, everything’s fine, I’ve beaten the bad bit maybe this will be the end, maybe this time it will be better. The more I’ve dealt with it, I now have this little thing in the back of mind that’s like just be ready because it’s probably going to happen again , you will probably go back down, so it sort of grounds me almost. I used to, I had it really badly when I first went on my medication, I was like cracked out for like a month cos I was so hyperactive, I couldn’t concentrate because I felt so good because my serotonin levels were going like up and up and up and my body couldn’t keep track of it. Now I’ve learnt to sort of reign that in a bit so that I don’t burn myself out when I’m in a good patch, cos I used to do that really badly, like really go ham for when I had two weeks of feeling great then the crash would be so much worse because I’d been like so high and so like yes everything’s fine, my life is amazing and then suddenly be on this cliff edge and just drop. So I think it’s like being on the upwards bit of a rollercoaster so I can feel it cranking me up and I’d be like yes omg I’m getting to the top it’s going to be amazing but in the back of my mind I know there’s going to be that vertical drop waiting for me almost so I’ve sort of trained myself to not be too excited when I stop feeling like shit. I’ll be like oh cool I’m gunna have a good couple of weeks I should probably try and get as much done as I can and then I’ll be like just remember it’s coming you’re not there yet. I think I’m sort of weary now when I am feeling good, like I still enjoy it and make the most of it but there is a bit in the back of my mind that’s like it’s coming this isn’t gunna last.

I think it’s made me a lot more resilient to generally everything in even though I get really like bogged down because I’ve been through so much with it and it’s been so up and down, it’s made me quite hard. Not in a sort of mean way but it’s made me a lot more sort of tough and I’ll handle things a lot better than I did before. Even before I was diagnosed and before I was symptomatic I used to sort of be pathetic about things and used to let people push me around and stuff but because I’ve given myself such a hard time like it’s made me quite like resilient about other hard times that I’ve experienced since being diagnosed and getting on top of it. So if I’ve got a deadline, instead of being like omg like I can’t do this, I’ll be like you have to do it you’ve come all the way from the very edge, this is nothing. It’s made me, like in a weird way even though I can feel really not strong sometimes on a whole I think it has me me like a much stronger person and that is something that has sort of enabled me to like be there for people who are going through the same things but like at different stages of it. Recently somebody who I’m really close to was like you know I think I might be depressed, it’s gone past like I’m just sad what do I do and I was like this is your action plan, this is what I did, so it may not be what you need but I find that it makes me quite efficient at helping people who are in a similar situation cos I just floated around for so long and like I wish that there had been somebody there that I could have been like help me what do I do?

So now if somebody mentions that they’ve felt really bad for two weeks I’ll be like has it just been two weeks or have you felt like this for longer talk to me about it and I can try and help. You know my friend who came and spoke to me about it, I was like are you going to go to the doctors if you’ve felt like this for a month, from what I’ve experienced it sounds like you are, just go, just be honest, you’ll get it sorted out, you’ll work out what’s best for you. This is what worked for me, this has worked for some other people I know like you’ve got this you will be fine and I think that’s one of the biggest things that its done for me as well is just knowing that if I see somebody who’s like as bad as I was, I know that I have, I’m in a position where I feel capable of not interviening but stepping up and being like you know I can see that somethings not right, you’re not on your own let me be here for you and I think because I had so much going on in my head it’s also helped me mentally organise things. Like strategic in the way I think now because I got so used to putting things in little boxes and being like you can stay over there for today, it’s made me stress manage so much better as well, like if there’s external things because I’ve dealt with myself for so long now if there’s something like externally stressful, I can just be like right well that goes here and that goes over there for today and I’ll bring this one out and sort this one out for today and like in two weeks I can sort that one out because that’s not important right now. It’s made me quite good at juggling I think.

#viscomaub

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lycanda-arts · 8 years ago

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A slightly older ACEO of mine done with Uni pin fine line 0.05, as they are water proof, watercolour pencils & coloured pencils from WHS and a bit of opaque white for the highlights. It was inspired by a song by Subway to Sally: Schneekoenigin (Snow queen), in which the protagonist explains that his beautiful snow queen has come to get him. And although he fears the land of ice and quiet, he is looking forward to resting in her presence, forgetting everything but her, as the snow falls in the village. Her ship is already at the port and will depart tonight, with the compass pointing north. On another note, I was revisiting my art journey of 2016, thinking of what I achieved and what I could have done better and why. Let me get the could have done better out of the way first (As I prefer to end things on a high note, especially at the beginning of a new year):

1) I didn’t draw as much as I wanted to.

2) I didn’t make as much progress as I would have liked. Instead I actually feel, I might have regressed some, because of a longer break in between :/

3) There is no nice way of saying this, but the one and only reason for 1 and 2 was PROCRASTINATION. It was however interesting, when I was lying in bed this morning trying to think of why I would procrastinate: a) Laziness: It’s not. Of that I can be pretty sure. Knowing myself pretty well, I don’t beat myself up this much over things I didn’t do, because I was lazy. Plus, if I can be lazy about something, then it doesn’t mean a lot to me and I wouldn’t be thinking about it 24/7. b) Lack of Creativity: That’s not it either, not this year at least. The last couple of years is a different story. I remember most of my dreams, even now that I am on Antidepressants, and even if I don’t there is tons of songs or pictures out there that could inspire and if every thing else fails, try an idea generator like this one from Sockenzombie (English version hot-linked within her post on that page). There is always possibilities. c) Lack of Motivation: I am thinking about art in various forms almost 24/7. When I’m stressed, when I’m sad, even when I’m playing games I think I can create something for that some time and at work, all I can think about is when I will finish so I can have time for myself to express my creativity. It’s definitely not Motivation that is lacking. d) Not wanting things to end: I realised this with a couple of works recently and even more so with with the inktober and huevember challenges. I have a few pieces (only 3 or 4), which just need finishing touches and yet I have not done so for the last couple of months, although I know exactly what that will be. Inktober was not quite as bad, but huevember was SO DIFFICULT for me to finish. Why? Because it was a nice Challenge. Sure, I could have kept it going, but I probably would not have lasted very long. As much as I love it, it is also quite draining, when you are not used to drawing this much and believe me, there is a lot of thought that goes into the challenge, even though I often decide to use early ideas for them and it looks like not a lot of effort went in. For me it is. At least it is, considering I only gave myself a day. If I have more time, of course I can produce better quality. e) BEING AFRAID: Now why would I think such a thing? Or write it down here for everyone to see? Because it’s true! Every artist is afraid at one stage or another. I AM AFRAID! Afraid I miss my own expectations (which I do often enough). The point here is, I am afraid that one day I miss them so hard, that I get so frustrated with my own lack of skill that I just don’t want to create anymore. And more often than not, I’ve been sitting there, all fired up, pencil (or any other material at the ready) and then my own self doubt started creeping in. What if it doesn’t turn out the way you want to? What if you like the sketch, but your skill is not enough to actually make it work as a proper piece? Do you really want to risk getting so frustrated, that you stop altogether? And that is, when procrastination started setting in. Staring out the window, searching for music, looking for reference (which btw at that stage I didn’t even need) and so on. All the little time wasters, that at the end of the evening make you beat yourself up, because yet again you have accomplished nothing in particular although the motivation and creativity has been gnawing at you the whole time. But tomorrow... Tomorrow will be better... Or will it? Fact is, that this year has been better than many others. Although I focused more on small things, challenges and sketches (and had a wee break in between), than actual finished pieces, I produced more art in various forms then any year before (excluding the school time where I did not really take it that serious).

1) I produced generally more art (drawn and written)

2) I did reignite my creativity, with which I had a little bit of issues with the last couple of years.

3) Focusing on my Art has helped me learn more about myself (finding more flaws, but also finding ways to tackle them)

4) I have become much more honest with myself, which has helped me become a bit more stable and more willing to seek help for the things I can’t change myself

What I want to achieve in 2017?

Well, that is pretty easy. Keep creating and this time around, try not to be afraid. It’s ok to be scared, but I should not let it stop me from creating. Even if my skill right now is not befitting, at least I’d be putting down the idea. That is already a form of practising my skill and this way I will be able to revisit the idea at a later time and work on it. It is better then not doing anything and then beating myself up over it. Also, I do want to shift the focus a little bit on finishing a couple of proper pieces this year, even if I have to do them on the side.

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ildivine · 3 years ago

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between watching a lot of youtubers, losing a lot of sleep, and playing a lot of the off-peak games, i feel my creativity blossoming in the abstract way that i strive for.

i at least have come to understand how my creativity is dulled, and what i need to get it going again. its difficult, getting older, and becoming more jaded, and depression in the back of my mind is a noisy buzzing that can only be quelled with alcohol or weed. ive been learning how to deal without the prior, but, mm.

i dreamt about gavin and i think about a lot of people in ways that i don’t get to often talk about. its not like i talk to my therapist about this kind of thing. i havent mentioned the system to any since the last one i trusted treated it like DID, and thats fine for systems that need it, but we don’t work that way, and we never have.

alternatively i do think about myself ... and my past lives, often. i feel my limbs more often and it blends with the dysphoria; its strange to think i get so envious of just being spiritually Aware. ingesting mushrooms is the most helpful thing to me, and i know i mute my own sixth sense with doubt.

ive isolated myself from others quite a bit, as ive been mean again. im learning to appreciate the time i spend with dean and connor, even if it is every day. i miss connor every time i wake up without zem next to me, especially after weekends when i really get used to it.

our one year is coming up in july and ze thought aloud to me about marriage and we gently brushed over it. ze said something along the lines of “well, i wanted to wait for a better opportunity...” which, understandable.

one day ill be able to afford nice things like real rings and wedding ceremonies, but the last week of cleaning up my room, and throwing a lot of things out, made me realize what focusing on survival really means. i told myself that in 2021 i would focus on letting go, and its still hard. letting go of friends, and loved ones, and things, old stuff, its all the same, i have such an emotional attachment that it gets tangled in my head and my emotions. connors told me constantly to buy necessities and i brushed em off ... so im glad a friend helped us make up for it.

its embarrassing and its frustrating to rely on my money for things that others dont see as necessary. alcohol quells my twitching but i do have an addiction to it cuz i simply like to drink til i cant anymore, n im still learning that boundary. weed, i cant really explain what it does for me, cuz it is unusual. simple things like helping my appetite and sleep, two major things i struggle with a lot, as well as giving me inspiration to get up in the mornings, or do anything at all. right now it is medical in new mexico and i have a PTSD diagnosis, and when i smoke, it quiets the voices in my head screaming at me about wanting to die. i dont know how common this is, but its one of the things i struggle with financially. to survive. even with all of my antidepressants and anxiety medications, mental illness still lingers, and i think the more i delve into new media as well as reflect on past lives and old memories, my brain is in a very strange place. but ive come to appreciate that it is strange, i am strange, and i have mental illness, and i probably wont ever be able to silence it. i can take out my desire to cut my own skin open by watching dissection videos, and then im also learning and absorbing new information along the way.

when im not absolutely drunk on a tank of heavy alcohol, i can focus. i appreciate that i lost the years of 2018-2020 mostly due to how much i was drinking, on top of a medication that was already terrible for my memory. but the other day i went through my mood charts over those years, where i wrote down how i was, and although i drank daily and felt guilty about it, my mood was generally stable.

unfortunately its very expensive and unhealthy, and the inevitable withdrawals make me worse off than i started with. my therapist considers me drinking as playing with fire, but ive learned how to consume responsibly; dean and i can stop after a six pack and itll put us to sleep, but ill always want another beer, even in the back of my mind. That slight buzz from the mimosa that Connor drank and melted into was likely most of the reason ze could actually start dozing off, and we were half craving another for fun and relaxation, but i thought “i probably wont be able to sleep tonight without another drink”.

and i was right, and i acknowledge that its a problem. so ive tried to find that sensation from other things like hops tea and carbonated water (ew, its still not good, honestly dsjfsdj) or kombuchas, because it triggers the same response in my brain without.. melting my organs. did u kno ur liver is FUCKING HUGE n its also the only organ that can heal itself?? the cells reconstruct differently than scar tissue usually binds together n i just think thats Neat.meme

jokes aside, i think its also why my liver is Fine despite the fact ive drank since i was 13 years old, minus the year of rehab sobriety. That was also my Only year of sobriety. Digging into my alcoholism ive done a lot of questioning as to why i rely on it, and i think it is a lot to do with being addicted to being drunk, and i think its also a lot to do with ‘wow, i can finally turn my brain off! the thing thats yelling at me all the time, feeling scared and sad,” but drinking is also essentially a boost of stress hormones, so when the endorphins wear off, u get sad or anxious all over again. ive come to learn that i only withdrawal or get hangovers if i drink more than, i guess the recommended amount by doctors. 3 glasses of wine will now do me in, dean can power thru anything regardless of what hes drinking, but it does affect the health in ways i cant ignore.

i enjoy drugs, i think is the bottom line. i look up how to get a hold of psychedelic mushrooms cuz u can just get em in the mail if ur in a country where its decriminalized (hint: we’re not) n immediately the results are between getting help for addiction or how magic mushrooms help depression in low doses.

i really have a theme here. im still mad that my parents induced my reliance on all these substances and i know i would be a lot better off if i didnt drink til i was 21 or never smoked cigarettes, and i accept im always gonna crave these things regardless, but i only feel creative when i drink or smoke, and thats another problem with addicts because u fry ur neurons hard enough it all dies down. ive appreciated watching videos and playing games when i am in the comatose, apathetic stage of depression like i have been in recently, where i cant force myself to do anything and even fronting someone else to do it takes energy that quickly dies down.

my energy has died quickly since i went vegan, as my nails have chipped since, so im experimenting with my diet. my taste pallet cant handle dairy anymore, and connor was only here to try it, and i think we all discovered we just... dont wanna do that. but eating fish again helped my energy and brought a glow back to my skin. too much, however, still gives me the greasy meat sweats, so... a lil bit of everything seems to be whats right.

i still crash a lot, but i think thats just a side effect of being 28 in this generation and feeling 68 instead.

anyway, now that my room is FINALLY clean and looking nice, i want to try to do art again. i miss art. i miss thinking in images, i miss my imagination, i miss roleplaying and writing and drawing and arting. conny wanted to paint too but was absolutely too tired on sunday lol n i respect that so maybe tonight we can get something together.

but its been nice to feel something in my brain stirring again that isnt just the gross black buzz of mental illness constantly telling me to die. i get used to it, i guess. i forget its not supposed to happen because i have survived it for so long. im on the max dose of antidepressants and medicine i can take and i still feel really bad sometimes, but i didnt realize it until other people brought it up. stress definitely kicks me into my big bipolar mood swings, but i havent shaken off the depression in months. im not sure what to do so im trying to expand my horizons.

#>>.txt #drugs text #i GUESS #i dont rly consider them drugs but i understand they can b used recreationally...#and often are #but i think of it like taking advantage of benzos #theres no real need for neurotypicals i guess

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delsonbundrick97 · 4 years ago

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How Can I Solve My Premature Ejaculation Prodigious Diy Ideas

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gingerreckoning · 6 years ago

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We Need to Talk More

Originally written in September of 2015

September is National Suicide Prevention Month, and it really comes at an important time for me this year. Over the past few months I have really taken control of my mental health, and I am in a really great place. Probably in a better place than I have been in years, if ever. While it feels amazing, it is also a little bit scary, because the happiness I feel right now, the solidity, purpose, and hope I'm currently experiencing, is so deeply contrasted against the dismay I was feeling only a few months ago. It's like when your eyes adjust to the darkness... You think you are seeing okay until someone flips on the light and you realize how wrong everything was. This isn't a recent struggle for me. I started exhibiting symptoms of my depression around 15 years old. My parents chalked a lot of it up to my being moody, mostly writing it off as typical teenage antics. I'm not exactly sure when it became something more than that, but my mom whisked me off to the psychiatrist, who put me on a low dose antidepressant. That worked for several years. I certainly still had bad days, but all in all things were well managed with 10mg of prozac every day. A small price to pay for sanity during my teenage years, when I look back on it. But I certainly felt embarrassed by it. There were definitely people making me feel that way. Suggestions swirled around me, making me feel incompetent. Why couldn't I just suck it up? Everyone has bad days. Why was I being so dramatic? Didn't I feel like I was getting enough attention? All of those things ate at me slowly, like an acid, burning me layer by layer. I recall very clearly the first time I thought about committing suicide. It was New Year's Eve. 2005. I was 17 and we were in Orlando, Florida. We had taken a family trip to Disney World. Maybe that's why I remember it so clearly, the stark contrast between the most magical place on earth and my feelings of unending hopelessness. I was in a hotel room with my brothers, my parents were in a room next door with my sisters. I was feeling incredibly low. I had no energy and the stress of pretending I did was beginning to crush me. My dad had just finished scolding me. In his mind the reason I was so mopey was because I was missing my boyfriend. Again, it was being chalked up to teenage angst. In his defense, I'm not sure I could have identified it as anything else on my own either. I was taking my medication as prescribed, so surely that was enough to render me "un-depressed." But I didn't feel that way. I felt alone. I felt hopeless and hated and angry. I kept looking around the room, trying to determine exactly what I could do about it. I remember unpacking bottles of tylenol and benedryl and wondering just how many I would have to take to fix this problem. I'm not sure why I didn't. I don't really remember that part of it clearly. A few days later we went back home and everything went back to normal. During my senior year of high school I opted to increase my medication to 20mg. Stress seemed to be hitting me harder, and I felt like I needed more help. A simple increase was enough to fend off the anxiety and sadness and I was glad for the little bit of help. I was headed off to college, I had broken up with my boyfriend, and I was feeling like a new woman. I think the end of my senior year and the summer after were really happy times for me. I moved away to college, and I think that's when my mental health started its down hill trajectory. I didn't take care of myself. I was inconsistent at best with my medication. I was stressed out and chose to fix that by burying myself in my studies. I began to self-harm again when I became particularly stressed out. I would have complete breakdowns at least every two months, where I would sob for hours, sleep for about 13 hours, drag myself to class looking like a mess, then begin the process over again. But I convinced myself that I had it under control. I knew myself and I knew my limits, so clearly I was managing. Upon my graduation, I visited my doctor and proudly declared that I did not need my medication because I had it handled. About a month later I was pregnant with Nathan. Halfway through my pregnancy I realized that I was not fine and I needed help. I was angry all of the time, I was having complete meltdowns about simple things, far past normal pregnant mood swings. I remember one night, laying curled up in a ball in the middle of the living room, completely unable to move or speak, just sobbing. During one of my routine appointments I brought it up with my doctor and she put me back on my 20mg of Prozac. There was some risk to the child, she explained, but certainly in my case it was less than the risk I was posing to myself. She also explained that my history of depression put me at increased risk of postpartum depression. You see your doctor once after you have a baby, 6 weeks after you are released from the hospital. That is the extent of the the care that is required. During that appointment, you are screened for postpartum depression using what is called the Edinbugh Post Natal Depression Scale. It includes statements like "I have blamed myself unnecessarily when things went wrong" and "I have been anxious or worried for no good reason," which then are rated and scored to test for depression. I'm sure that the screening means well. But I find it sort of silly. When I am deep in the throes of depression, I don't feel like I'm blaming myself unnecessarily. It seems completely reasonable. In addition, six weeks postpartum is incredibly early to diagnose depression. I know very few people who felt it set in that quickly. Mine hit at about 4 months postpartum. I don't fully even remember how I knew, but I remember talking to Dan and saying "I need to do something." I had been dealing with it long enough to know the signs, and I was headed down the wrong path. A visit with my doctor, and another increase in meds. 40mg of Prozac daily, and I was doing fine. I continued that way through my next pregnancy. Again, I passed my postnatal exam with flying colors. This baby was much easier. She slept better, she was an expert at breastfeeding, she was growing and happy and perfect. I was nailing the mom thing. I had two kids, but my house was clean, I was working, and my marriage was great. And just then just like that it wasn't. I started feeling agitated. I wasn't sleeping. Then I was sleeping all the time. I stopped showering. I got up, nursed the baby, then went back to bed. I didn't feel like doing anything. Another trip to the doctor. She explained that pregnancy had changed my body, and perhaps I was no longer responding to the medication as I had in the past. She switched me to a low dose of Zoloft, and asked to see me in a month. Over the course of the next two years, I was in to see my doctor almost every month. I was having panic attacks. I had migraines. I was crying. I was angry. I was falling apart. I don't think I can count how many times I contemplated suicide. I was losing myself slowly to this dark monster, and despite my best efforts, I saw no end to it. I was doing everything I was supposed to, but I couldn't gain control. And that was the scariest part. I was taking my medication. I was talking to my doctor about my concerns. But I wasn't getting better. We kept increasing my medication, trying to find the right balance to treat both my ongoing depression and my newly realized anxiety. I was fighting tooth and nail to keep my head above water, but lying to everyone around me about just how bad it was. I was self medicating when I could. I had been given hydrocodone to treat my migraines since I was still nursing and nothing else was really safe. I began making up excuses to take it, suggesting that my back was really bothering me, or my sciatica was particularly bad. I just wanted to be numb for a little bit. I couldn't find a way to be happy, but at least I could stop hurting. Certainly I knew it wasn't right. But I wasn't getting relief any other way. I was doing the things my doctor told me to do, but I wasn't getting better. I was looking for anything to make it okay. My thoughts were constantly turning to ways to fix this deep, dark smoke that was billowing up around me. I contemplated suicide over and over again. The one thread that was holding me to reality was my baby. I kept telling myself that if I died, if I took my own life, she wouldn't be able to eat. Simply put, I couldn't kill myself because I didn't have enough breast milk stored up in the freezer. I continued not to sleep for ages. I would get a few hours, then wake up in cold sweat with my mind racing. I couldn't fall back to sleep. I was constantly on edge. I was having panic attacks nearly daily. A year into my official treatment for this problem and I still wasn't getting better. Eventually Eleanor stopped nursing. She was about a year and a half at that point. I was able to start taking something to combat the anxiety, an immediate release medication to calm me during panic attacks. I was given 0.5mg of Ativan, along with my Zoloft, which was up to 75mg at that point. Since I was no longer nursing, I could start drinking again. Not heavily, but certainly more frequently. I would have a drink every night after the kids went to bed. Anything to calm my nerves and slow things down. During this time everything came crashing down. My job situation fell apart due to company wide changes. I had to reapply and re-interview for a position that I had held for 9 years. They were insisting that everyone start working full time. I knew that we couldn't afford the daycare for that, and quite frankly, I knew that I couldn't handle that. I spiraled even deeper. At one point I met with my doctor and tried to explain things as best I could. One of the standard questions they ask about depression is "Do you think things will get better?" I was adamant that they wouldn't. Sure, we might find a treatment that keeps this black monster at bay. But for how long? This wasn't a rain cloud, some external force ruining my day. This thing was inside of me. It had always been there. It would always be there. Certainly I could fight it down, lock it in a cave for some unknown period of time. But it would always be there. Finally, we tried a new medication, immediately titrating up to a higher dose. If you are keeping track, this would mark the sixth medication change since Eleanor's birth, just under two years of fighting. And that was what it was-fighting. Every step of the way. Fighting to get myself out of bed. Fighting to get dressed. Fighting to take care of my family. Fighting to get to work. Fighting to keep my job. Fighting for my life. It was exhausting. And that is really the thing about mental health- it takes everything to function an even a basic level, much less advocating for yourself, which is what is really needed for quality treatment in most cases. If I hadn't been aware of myself and how I behave when my depression worsens, what symptoms really manifest, it could have been much worse. I was doing everything I was supposed to, following up with my doctor, taking my prescribed medication, all of it. And I was still struggling. How can we expect people around us who are suffering to just be okay? We eventually found the right dose and medication. I take 20mg of Lexapro daily. It keeps me sane. When I'm off of medication I'm very insistant that I don't need it, that I shouldn't have to take a pill every day to feel normal, that maybe-just maybe- unmedicated me is the real version of me. But when I'm back on the medication I realize that one pill a day is a small price to pay to feel like a whole person. I'm doing much better now. In November of last year I began the process of getting an ADHD diagnosis. This involved more fighting for myself- weeks of phone calls to different offices, being told they weren't taking new patients, being told that I had been added to a wait list only to find out that I hadn't, requesting to get medication in the mean time until a diagnosis could be provided. In all it took about two months of phone calls to get an appointment scheduled, then another four months of waiting to get in, and a full month of appointments (one appointment per week for four weeks) to get a diagnosis. I got my official diagnosis in June. I am still working with a psychiatrist to adjust my medication to adequate levels, but I'm doing much better. I always thought I would turn down medication even if I did get a diagnosis, but I'm glad that I decided to accept the help being offered. This process alone has been life changing. I've learned that a lot of the behaviors that I've really been hard on myself about are part of my disease. I'm learning to deal with that. Moreover, I'm just learning to be gentle with myself. I know that sometimes I just need to take care of me. But there are certainly some sad realizations to come out of this. First, the realization that I will probably never be rid of this creeping black smoke. It will always reside somewhere inside of me. It is still deeply upsetting to me to think about that part of it. The thought that this will be a constant, lifelong struggle for me is very disheartening. In truth, it is the nexus of everything I feel when I am in that deep dark place. When the voice inside of my head is telling me that things will never get better, I know there is some small kernel of truth to it. I'm certainly not saying it won't get better at all. I can control my symptoms. I can live a fairly healthy, happy life. But I will never be cured. The second realization is that my family has likely grown as far as it ever will. I grew up in a big family. While there were many things I didn't like about being the oldest of five kids, I certainly could understand why someone would want a big family. When Dan and I discussed how many children we wanted I always envisioned two as my very lowest limit. Life is a funny thing that way. The universe cares very little for our grand plans. I love being a mom. It makes me insanely happy. It feels right. I love watching my children grow, I love helping to shape them. I love watching them become loving, empathetic beings who will do great things. It makes me sad to think that I won't feel a baby move inside me again, or feel a tiny being snuggled up to me in the middle of the night while I nurse. It's a very difficult thing to say that I, at only 26 years old, will not have any more children. In the end, however, I have a difficult choice to make. I have two beautiful, healthy, happy children who deserve everything I can give them. They deserve me at my best. I could have another baby. My body is capable. In doing that, though, I risk that baby, and my children now, not having a mother. I have spoken to my doctor about this. Research shows that if you have postpartum depression after your first child you are even more likely to have it after a second child. It does not seem that there is a lot of research on what happens beyond that. Would it necessarily be worse with a subsequent pregnancy? No one can really answer that for me. Only I can answer for what I am willing to risk. I don't think I could repeat the events of the previous two years. I certainly couldn't handle anything more than that. In addition, the medications that I am taking now to manage my symptoms are not safe for pregnancy, meaning I would have to forgo them completely or turn to an alternative, which is a very risky process. Being on the wrong medication or even the wrong dose can be worse than being on nothing at all. In the past few months, mostly since I have begun to really take hold of my life and feel like myself again, I have started to be more and more open with people about my struggle. As a woman, I am frequently asked about my plans for future children. I am very open with people. I think that often it makes them slightly uncomfortable. We live in a world where talking about mental health is taboo. But it shouldn't be. More importantly, it can't be. People are struggling. Life seems overwhelming and hopeless because of this disease. When we refuse to speak about it we are only furthering the loneliness and helplessness that people are already feeling. We are telling them that we don't care or that they need to deal with it on their own. It isn't right. We are losing people we care about because we are uncomfortable. This starts with our doctors. Medical professionals need to talk openly and honestly with people about mental health. I remember taking Nathan to one of his well child appointments. The doctor looked him over, measured and listened. Then, he turned to me and asked very clearly and openly if I was doing alright. I was surprised. Nathan sees a family practice physician, so he is able to treat adults and children, but he isn't my primary care doctor. He must have sensed my confusion because he went on to explain that his job was to take care of my child. Part of taking care of Nathan meant making sure that I was doing okay too, because if I wasn't taking care of myself, if I wasn't thriving, there was no way Nate would thrive. It really struck me, and continues to stick with me. Like I said before, the only visit I was really required to go to was my six week postpartum visit and my depression hadn't set in yet at that point; but I was taking my baby to the doctor every few months for check ups. It made perfect sense that the doctor would make sure I was doing okay then too. I honestly wish that more doctors would do this. I know many people take their children to see pediatricians, so perhaps treating mothers isn't in their wheelhouse, but a few simple questions could really save a life. It would be so simple for a doctor to suggest that the mother get herself checked out too. In those early days of caring for a child the doctor's word is so important. We also need to be talking to each other. In coming clean about my struggle I have gotten so many responses of "I had not idea you were going through all of that!" and "I knew something was up but I didn't want to say anything." Please say something! I wish more people had. I probably would have broken down, sobbed uncontrollably, making you terribly uncomfortable. But I needed people to acknowledge that I wasn't going crazy. During that time I felt like I was slowly losing my mind and I was trying desperately to hold on. I felt like I was the only one who had ever felt that way. I wanted just one person to say "I know how you feel." It would have meant the world. No, it would not have taken the place of quality medical care, of medication, of exercise, of therapy. But it would have helped. Certainly some people did say something, but for everyone that did, there were others that visibly cringed when I tried to bring up my anxiety or depression. I'm moving forward in my journey. I hope that things never feel that dark again. I'm taking steps to make sure that they don't. Part of that involves talking openly and honestly about the realities of my own mental health. It means discussing and realizing my own limitations. It means having a plan. I currently see a psychiatrist every few months to manage my medication. I will continue seeing her until I am on a steady, therapeutic dose of my ADHD medication. I also see my primary care doctor every three months for medication checks. I exercise at least a few times a week (I would like it to be more but the reality of life with two children and a job that requires an hour of driving each way gets in the way). I keep open lines of communication with my family about where I am at with my mental health. I am also looking into establishing a Power of Attorney for mental health. Much like any other POA document, it would grant someone guardianship in the event that I would be rendered unable to care for myself. I hope that it wouldn't be something I need, but it might. When I look back on the past two years I realize that there are plenty of red flags, many times that I probably should have been put in a hospital but I was stubborn and refused help that was offered to me, or lied to make my problems seem less severe because I knew that being inpatient probably was the best thing but I was scared. For someone like me it is very important to make preparations while I am healthy because when I am in that deep dark place I know that I cannot think clearly. There is hope for the future, but the reality is that it is a long and arduous journey. I'm just glad to have made it this far.

#adhd mentalhealth postpartum

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mikeyd1986 · 7 years ago

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MIKEY’S PERSONAL BLOG 96, March 2018

On Monday morning, I went to see Dr. Mah Mah at Narre Gate Medical Center in Narre Warren. I was running late as usual having slept in this morning, that classic Beatles song “A Day In The Life” could be a running monologue to describe most Mondays for me (Woke up, fell out of bed. Dragged a comb across my head. Found my way downstairs and drank a cup. And looking up, I noticed I was late...).

The issues with my ears from the infection to blockage and soreness through the glands and sides of my face was becoming like an episode of Days Of Our Lives (Previously on Michael’s auditory health issues). I was doing everything possible to treat myself, even spending my actual birthday resting up in bed and giving myself regular doses of pain killers and antibiotics. And yet it still hadn’t cleared up or stop hurting.

Being a Monday morning, the waiting room was packed with mum, dads, tradies and annoying screeching children running around (luckily I could only partially hear them). I wished that my doctor could simply prescribe me with a new set of ears (maybe an ear transplant?) but alas that’s not realistic. She advised me to stop taking the Ciproxin ear drops and instead put 10 drops of Waxsol in each ear for the next two nights and came back to see her on Wednesday. I’ll seriously do anything at this point just to get rid of the pain and discomfort. https://1800bulkbill.com.au/medical-centre/narregate-medical-dental-centre

After my appointment, I had birthday shopping to do as it’s my Mum’s birthday tomorrow. Truthfully, I wasn’t in the best state health wise nor in the mood to be shopping but I didn’t really have a choice. Plus it’s my Mum and she’s important to me and I’ll happily put up with an ear infection for her. My first stop was JB HI-FI Narre Warren where I bumped into my friend Tom Armstrong who happens to work at the store. I briefly caught up with him and he helped me out with getting a powerbank. Tom is an absolute sweetheart, no joke!

Next stop was Chemist Warehouse to stock up on my drugs (of the prescription variety of course). I’ve made a couple of trips here recently and now it’s not as daunting and overwhelming as it usually is. I guess you slowly get used to where all the products are located plus it wasn’t that busy. I managed to be in and out within 10 minutes or so. I needed more waxsol drops, cotton balls, a liquid inhalant for my Euky Bear vapouriser and panadeine forte. https://www.chemistwarehouse.com.au/

Lastly I dropped into a lovely little shop called the Berwick Curtain Nook located inside the Village Arcade and off High Street, Berwick. Whilst I was feeling a little awkward coming here by myself, I pretty much knew what I wanted to buy Mum. I got her a paperback notebook with an elephant on the front, a ceramic ornament with a beautiful inspirational quote and a grey Scottish Terrier ornament.

The lady went to the trouble of wrapping the ornaments in tissue paper and placing them in a bright red gift bag as I mentioned that it was my Mum’s birthday tomorrow. Thankfully it didn’t quite turn into the scene from Love Actually with Rowan Atkinson going overboard with the gift wrapping (Any ribbon? Cellophane? Rose petals? A box? NO THANK YOU!) but my pain threshold wasn’t letting up. However, I was very grateful for her service considering how last minute this was. http://www.berwickcurtainnook.com.au/

On Tuesday morning, we celebrated Mum’s birthday by each having a much deserved massage at Body & Balance in Cranbourne Park Shopping Centre. We decided on getting the oil neck and shoulder massage plus reflexology foot massage and hot stone therapy. The lady did a really thorough job without going too intense in the pressure department. I could actually relax into it even with the noise of the broken air conditioner above me.

I did get myself a little confused though as the lady said something quickly and left the room. I was left there wondering if she was coming back or if I was supposed to go outside the room. I was still feeling half deaf and she was also softly spoken so it was difficult to hear her. Looking at the digital clock on the table, it read 10:30am meaning that I still had another 20 minutes and my massage wasn’t over. So therefore I trusted my instincts, got dressed and met her outside.

Mum and I both reclined back on these circular rotating arm chairs whilst our female massage therapists went to work on our feet. It’s been months since I’ve had a proper foot massage done so I could feel how tense and sensitive they were in places but it was still a lovely experience all the same. The only thing that bothered me was that the massage staff were all having a conversation in Chinese the entire time which I thought was kinda rude. But I decided to let it go and tried to focus on enjoying the massage. https://www.cranbournepark.com.au/stores/body-balance/

On Wednesday afternoon, Mum and I saw Dr. Mah Mah at Narre Gate Medical Center in Narre Warren. I think I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve been to the doctors in the past fortnight but now I’m getting over it. Thankfully the pain in my ears has eased up quite a bit and the waxsol drops have helped to soften up the ear wax blocking up the ear canals. So it was a huge relief when Mah Mah could syringe my ears so that I could hear clearly again.

I also decided to get a blood test ordered as it’s been over a year since my last one. She added a FBE (Full Blood Count), Urea/Electrolyte/Creatine, Cholesterol/Triglycerides/HDL/LDL, Glucose, TSH (Thyroid Stimulating Hormone) and TES (Testosterone) levels. Over the past couple of months, I’ve noticed that I’ve been having periods of low energy and chronic fatigue so I think a blood test would be really helpful in figuring out what I’m deficient in.

In addition (I literally had a list of things to see her about today, no joke!), I wanted to get the dosage of my antidepressants increased. I’ve been taking Zoloft (Sertraline) tablets at 150mg for about 5 months now and my psychologist recommended that I increase it up to 200mg due to scoring a severe level of anxiety on a recent assessment I did. Plus I have noticed that there are times where the antidepressants seem ineffective when it comes to my mood so it couldn’t hurt to try increasing it.

On Thursday morning, I had my first Employ Your Mind session with my support worker Ally Lamb at Wise Employment Narre Warren. Basically, EYM is “a program that helps build the thinking and social skills that are important for work and other areas of life”. Ally recommended it to be as she knows how much I struggle with communication in social situations and dealing with my mental health issues. http://www.fifeemploymentaccesstrust.com/employ-your-mind.html

The first session was pretty straight forward and more of an introduction to the program. There are four phases in total which each run for 6 weeks with a short break in between. Phase 1 is done individually with the learning coach (Ally Lamb) whilst Phases 2,3 and 4 are run in small groups. We went through what her role as a learning coach is and I also filled in a questionnaire called the General Self Efficacy Scale.

The second part of the session involved the concept of cognitive remediation and going through parts of the human brain (frontal lobe, parietal lobe, occipital lobe, cerebellum, temporal lobe, brain stem). Basically it’s about being able to improve cognitive or thinking skills. Lastly we discussed how mental health issues can affect or impact upon cognitive skills and make it even more difficult to learn, concentrate and retain information. http://www.wiseemployment.com.au/en/community/ndis-supports-and-services/

Unfortunately my ears were still not 100% clear even after I got them syringed/irrigated at the doctors yesterday. It’s hard to explain but they still “feel” blocked even though my hearing is a lot better than it was earlier this week. I could be experiencing tinnitus or that my ear canals are too dry and not lubricated enough. Hopefully it clears up and heals naturally over the next few days.

On Friday morning, Mum and I went to the Morning Melodies social function at the Waltzing Matilda Hotel in Springvale. We were running late (no surprises there!) so we didn’t end up getting to the function room until around 10.45am or so. Thankfully we caught most of the performance though. Today we had Brian Muldoon doing the ��Johnny O’Keefe tribute” show. It was partly a history lesson as Brian talked about Johnny’s life back in the early 60’s and 70’s, the television shows we became known for and the downward spiral that followed due to his mental illness.

Brian performed many of his classic hits including Shout!, Sing Sing Sing, She Wears My Ring, So Tough, The Sun’s Gonna Shine Tomorrow, It’s too late she’s gone, The Wild One and She’s My Baby. Most of Johnny O’Keefe’s songs carried a positive, uplifting message to them in order to help people’s moods up and push through the tough times in life. I feel like this is very relevant to the challenges we face in life today. https://www.entertainoz.com.au/listings/brian-muldoon/artist_profile_details

On Friday night, I went to a Vinyasa flow yoga class with Jade Hunter at YMCA Casey ARC, Narre Warren. I haven’t been to a fitness class in nearly two weeks now due to my health problems and being busy with other commitments like my birthday, appointments and my VCAT hearing. However, considering my ears were feeling a lot better, I decided to go back tonight. It’s funny how quickly you miss the gym when you haven’t been for a while.

I also read that certain yoga poses can help to unblock and relieve the pressure built up inside the ear canals so there’s another good reason to do. Tonight was a little more challenging than usual with lots of balancing, twists and binds thrown into the mix. I wasn’t really prepared for all of that nor did I have the flexibility to do everything Jade was demonstrating (Putting my legs behind my head? Yeah right!).

We did our usual Vinyasa flow sequence (Downward Facing Dog, Plank, Chaturanga, Cobra/Updog) plus Standing Poses (Warrior 2, Standing Forward Bend, Half Lift, Chair pose, Reverse Triangle pose), Seated Poses (Boat pose, Staff pose, Wide Legged Forward Bend, Happy Baby) and Inversions (Shoulder Stand, Plow pose). I could hear my ears popping which was a good sign plus my body heated up quite quickly during the class.

Jade does go the extra mile though considering we are doing yoga inside a creche. She added candles, burning incense, beautiful yoga music and some brass Tibetan bowls and chimes to the space which gave it the appropriate atmosphere for a yoga class. https://www.doyouyoga.com/the-perfect-vinyasa-flow-routine-for-beginners-30159/

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