#i have a referral to a sleep doctor next and really i just want to have a body that works properly

[2amrainbow]

Hi everyone.

As many of you may have noticed, it's been really hard for me to post for the past couple months.

Unfortunately I'm dealing with a bunch of health issues, mainly revolving around me sleeping. I am pursuing a diagnosis for narcolepsy.

I sleep way too much, sometimes up to 15 hours a day. I have trouble focusing, staying awake, or even just standing for long periods of times. It's really frustrating and it honestly makes me so angry at myself. It feels like my body is deteriorating, like I'm on a time limit to get things I want done.

My sleep isn't restful, and then I feel like I have to cram two days worth of productivity in the few hours I'm awake and alert. It's not even part of the "your worth is your productivity" grind of capitalist society; I can't even get done things that I want to do. It's a physical effort to just get out of bed in the morning.

It's not like when I dealt with my depression. With my depression I could think my way out. With my chronic exhaustion, I can't think my way out to a different body.

My dream is to be an artist and to be able to communicate through my art. I want to tell stories and connect with others through my art. But I can't make art right now, and that's the part that makes me frustrated to tears.

[amloveabledeathmo]

Doctors need to actually listen.

I am really fucking sick of dealing with medical professionals around here. At the beginning of the year I was referred to a rheumatologist to try to figure out the cause of the chronic pain, it has taken at least 3 years of telling my primary about the constant pain to even get the damn referral.

The Rheumatologist gave me a huge list of like 14 different blood tests to get done at a lab, my veins are difficult so I like to go to the same lab because they have been far and away the best at causing the least amount of bruising and pain, so I always ask if I can get blood work done at my preferred lab. They said yeah gave me the paper with the lab orders.

I went that week and got it all done. 2 months later they call a few hours before my appointment time to ask if I ever got the blood work done. It's good they called because the appointment was for telehealth which they absolutely did not inform me it was going to be a telehealth and not in person. Anyway they claimed to have not received any results, call the lab, yes the lab sent them to the office months ago when I got the tests done. Turns out, according to the rheumatologist, the codes must have been wrong because they didn't get any results for the tests they needed and that was the whole appointment. They said they'd fix the codes and I could drive over an hour one way to pick them up or they could email them. So I confirmed my email, waited a few days, nothing, texted them since that's what they always want, nothing, called, nothing, retexted, nothing. So I've been ghosted by the dr apparently.

Had a primary dr appointment and got referred to a pain clinic. Got an appointment immediately basically, probably should have made me more suspicious. Had a 30 minute phone call to do all the stupid intake questions and what not before the appt. Get there and what the fuck do I have to try to fill out? The same DAMN questions! They kept asking for my pain on the pain scale, and would not let me say the pain scale is much to arbitrary and impossible to actually answer.

They then asked where the pain was, which I already had said was everywhere. NO they insisted Where's the MOST pain and just so you know we specialize in joints so which joint is the worst. There is not a consistent most pain, it depends on how I've been moving, what's popped painfully the most recent, so I said I guess shoulders, wrists, and ankles. Oh no still wrong, I had to choose ONE, one single joint. So I said the previously broken ankle. They finally moved on from joints just to question if I've had a sleep study and do I stop breathing at night. No I cannot deal with stuff touching my face. So they harped on about sleep studies for a while.

They asked if I had any diagnosis for the pain which I had already told the intake person all about the rheumatologist bullshit and had to retell them who then said oh well let us know when they give you a diagnosis because that will change the way we treat the pain. Then proceeded to tell me that most pain is caused because people need physical therapy, need to exercise, and need to cut out any animal products in their diet.

This was after I said that I have gotten less and less active because of the pain. I am in pain at all times. I can't even sleep through the night because there is not a completely pain free position for me, I have to rotisserie all night. I said I swim some but this year even swimming hurts. THIS MOTHERFUCKER then goes on and on about how swimming CANNOT hurt because there is no pressure on the joints and I need to go to a swim physical therapy because of course I'm in pain since I'm not exercising.

Which I don't do because I can't even go shopping anymore! I told them this. That just going shopping and walking around for like an hour can make me basically unable to move the next day because of so much pain. Well that doesn't matter because if I would just cut out all animal products and exercise I would be better. We also discussed how I am basically resistant to pain meds and just most meds in general too. Oh but don't worry I'll send in a prescription for some inflammation meds at the lowest possible dose and it might help you sleep too!

Oh he also said he saw that I was a patient of the dr who did my hysterectomy and that he had prescribed pain meds to help me. NO YOU GODDAMN MORON! HE PRESCRIBED THE PAIN MEDS BECAUSE I HAD A VERY PAINFUL SURGERY!

THEY JUST DO NOT LISTEN AND I AM SO FUCKING SICK OF IT!

[screechthemighty]

Speaking of mentor figures, how about grieving the loss of one? Bit of a short update, but hey, an update's an update. AO3 link will be in a reblog, but here's the full chapter!

crash and burn (and then return again) | a titanfall 2 fanfic part three

.

The next day brought paperwork.

So, so much paperwork.

His recounting of Typhon could be given entirely in writing since he still struggled with being verbal. Writing it down was hard, but even the thought of giving a verbal interview, of having to actually talk about what he’d gone through, exhausted him. In writing, he could be concise, dispassionate, pretend it happened to some other poor SOB named Jack and he was just recounting it.

It didn’t really work that way, but at least he ended up crying in private and not on camera.

After the paperwork, it was time for another exam. The medic remembered him from last time and kept the AAC tablet out in case he needed it, which he appreciated. Fortunately, he was able to work his way up from one-word answers to short sentences as the exam went on.

Physically, he needed rest and to eat well. Psychologically, there were people he could speak to planet side that would help him out with this “difficult period.” He was given leave papers and a referral to a therapist who had experience working with autistic clients. “I’m not sure how much time you’ll be able to take, but take as much as you can,” the doctor said. “I’ve seen too many pilots burn out from overwork, and you’ve been through something unique.”

Not that unique after Broadsword, Cooper thought, but didn’t say. That was a bit too much for him to get out of his mouth at the moment, and at any rate, it felt a little too dark. You got used to gallows humor when you were in the military, but…

No, it was too soon to comment on either situation.

Cooper was walking from the med bay and debating whether he should risk getting food or just go back to sleep when Sarah Briggs rounded the corner. “Cooper, there you are,” she said. “How are you holding up?”

Bad was the first word that came to mind, but he shoved it back quickly. “Physically fit, ma’am,” he said instead.

“Glad to hear it. Did they get you set up with leave papers?” Cooper showed them to her, but kept the psych referral tucked in the back. “That’s good. Any family on Harmony?”

Cooper shook his head. All his family were still on Persephone, and he wasn’t sure he was ready to face the whole gaggle of his cousins, anyway. “I might.” Cooper paused to fully form the sentence in his head. “Someone I know might be stationed there. She’s with logistics.”

“She’ll probably be there, then. You’re more than welcome to visit. I know the head of R&D wants a word once you’re planet side. And…” Briggs hesitated. “Cassie…Captain Lastimosa’s niece, I don’t know if you knew about her…she may not know yet.”

Cooper’s chest ached. He did know about Cassie. Lastimosa had talked about her more than once. He was a little surprised that she didn’t know by now, but maybe they wanted to tell her in person. “She’ll probably have questions,” Briggs continued. “I don’t know if you’ll be up for it, but…”

“I’ll talk to her,” Cooper said. It would hurt, but… “She should hear it from me.” He’d been there when Lastimosa died. Stepped into his gear, his Titan, his mission. It was only right that she got the whole story from him.

Briggs nodded. “That’s kind of you. I’m sure she’ll appreciate it.”

Appreciate probably wasn’t the right word, but Cooper didn’t want to think about that right now. A new question was gnawing at him, demanding some kind of answer. “What happens to me after, ma’am?”

Briggs didn’t hesitate. “Like I said, you’ve more than earned your pilot’s certification. They’ll probably want to run you through all the entrance tests, just to check where you need additional training, but that’s it. You’re one of us now, Cooper, if you still want to be.”

If all that stuff about parallel timelines was true, there was a Jack Cooper who was overjoyed to be getting that news. A Jack Cooper who had earned his way in under less bloody circumstances and felt he had the right to celebrate. The Cooper he was, though, could only feel a hollow ache.

He would have given up his dream of becoming a pilot in a heartbeat if it meant Lastimosa and BT could live.

But it didn’t work that way, and backing out now felt like spitting on everything Lastimosa had ever done for him. So, Cooper nodded. “I do want that,” he said. “Thank you, ma’am.”

He had to be worthy of Lastimosa’s sacrifice now. Worthy of all the trust and belief the man had put in him.

Worthy of all the trust and belief BT had put in him, too.

No matter what it took.

[pbandjesse]

I am tired. It was a long and rainy day. But not a bad one.

I didn't sleep amazing. I had some very active dreams. It was like being in a video game and a lot of happening. When I woke up I didn't feel great. But we had a lot to do today.

I got dressed. Wore my layers then I had planned. I didn't realize it was going to be so rainy and wet. But I was fine. I couldn't find my boots? So I wore moccasins which I would never normally do in the rain but it was fine. We didn't have far to go.

James made me a half a peanut butter and jelly for breakfast. And I drank as much as I could. Water and milk. But I felt very bad this morning. A mixture of anxiety and nausea and just general upset. It was not an ideal way to start the day.

James drove us to my appointment. This was the Doppler only appointment and I was a little frustrated. I want to see baby. I want to know they are okay!

When we got there the office was dark? I checked and my appointment was at 8:50. And we got there at 8:30. And the office opened at 8. But then a nurse saw us and came and let us in. They just didnt turn the lights on because we were the first appointment.

We wouldn't have to wait long. And I got taken back first.

I did not feel good. Which made it easier to tell them what was wrong. My stomach issues. My nausea. My swollen parts. The pains u see my ribs. It's so hard to know what is normal pregnancy stuff and what is unusual or worrisome.

They brought James back to the room. And soon the doctor was there. And she was super sweet. She made me feel a lot better. She gave me a new prescription for zofran. And some suggestions for over the counter things. And a referral to a GI doctor. And then we got to hear baby.

It took a second to find her heartbeat. But when she found her it sounded strong. And then it went bloop because she was moving around and flipped. The doctor said that she's moving good and she pressed in my belly and said everything feels normal. And it helped make my anxiety feel better. Like it's still there. It seems to just be a condition of being a pregnant person. But still. It made me feel better to hear them. Even if I would have preferred to see them.

The doctor said I should start to feel her in the next month. Which is crazy. I wonder what that's going to be like. I've heard the begining called a flutter. And then it's like being kicked from the inside which sounds unpleasant. But it's still exciting to think about.

I got some blood taken. They gave me a flu shot. I felt pretty sick still but I was trying to remain positive.

We made the next appointment. And James paid our funny $3 balance. And then we were off. Back into the rain.

James would drive us home. And told me that they were hoping it was the last gross biking day for a bit. And when we got home I would lay down for a bit. James gave me a kiss and left.

I had planned on laying there until 1030. But then I decided I really really wanted McDonald's for breakfast. So I got myself together. Still couldn't find my boots. They ended up being in the car. I must have left them when I got back from the beach. I changed into them and headed to McDonald's.

I used the app. First time doing that. Was able to get two sandwiches so I would have one now and one later for lunch. This was a good move.

The drive into camp wasn't amazing because of the rain but it wasn't horrible either. I would stop at the post office to pick up a package I forgot about last week. I was worried they might have sent it back but thankfully it was still there.

I got to camp at 11. And Joe caught me as soon as I got out of my car. And asked me to come to the tool shed to see if I could use this box he found. But then he also showed me the kitten he found!

Slightly spicy and obviously terrified. I saw with them for a minute cooing but soon we would leave him be and went back to the office.

It was nice to see everyone. I got right to work printing some stuff off for my workshop tomorrow evening and started doing a little research and answering some emails. But there wasn't much for me to do until 130.

I asked Joe if the tool shed was unlocked. And if I could go hang out with the kitty. So that is exactly what I did.

Poor kitty was so freaked out. I tried just picking him up. No biting but a lot of scratching and hissing. Didn't hurt me but I put him back and tried a different approach.

I put some more towels in his cage and covered most of the top of the cage with another towel to give him the illusion of safety. And it took about a half hour of slowly moving my hands in and talking to him. And eventually I got him to let me pet him and scratch his ears and he eventually let me hold him for a second. But as soon as he got scared I put him back in and gave him a second. But eventually he let me hold him and clean his dirty eyes and nose. I realized he had a bobbed tail!! Big eyes, little ears, dirty nose, half a tail. He's the whole package. I'm calling him Bobbi. Not sure if he's a boy or girl yet but we need to find this little guy a home.

Me and James have the word out. And Meril may have a place through a friend. But nothing is guaranteed yet. Still working on it.

At 1 me and Sarah would go get ready for programs. I originally was going to help with the horses but instead I helped her with critter talks. They would first send me to go find some toads but I wouldn't have any luck. I didn't want to show up empty handed so I collected some slugs.

I also saw so many good mushrooms. Which was very exciting for me. I didn't even photograph all of them!!

When I got to the nature building I put my slugs in the tank with the newts that Sarah caught. And we brought Rosie the snake, Sampson the box turtle, and Nellie the terrapin over to the lodge.

This group is adults. It's a retreat and they are always really nice. This is their 7th year I think doing this program. We did it a little more freeform. Having the animals on the tables and talking to the adults as they came up. There was lots of questions about the difference between turtles and tortoises and terrapins. Lots of pictures and holding the animals. We couldn't let anyone hold Rosie because she was going to start shedding soon and that can make her to stressed. So she was just climbing all over Sarah. In and out of her sweatshirt pocket. It was very cute.

And the adults were great. We had some lovely conversations and it was cool getting them to pet things they were a little scared of. It was really fun.

I misunderstood the schedule and we ended earlier then we were supposed to but no one seemed upset with us. I didn't realize until the very end of the day when I was talking to Elizabeth. Oops. But me and Sarah were pretty sure the animals were tired and so we got then back to their enclosures. I noticed that Sampson's tank did not have enough substrate and so I would dump a bunch of coconut fiber in and he immediately looked happier. It's not the most ideal substrate but it's fine for now. I would let the office know we needed more.

I would take the long root back. Taking pictures of the huge area of chicken of the woods mushrooms and some of the others along the way. The rain was picking up again when I got back to the office but it wouldn't last to long.

The last hour I was there I was just chilling. Doing a little research on some things. Had the rest of my snack. And then after checking in with Heather and Elizabeth about the plan tomorrow (I'm going to lead a painting project) I went home.

Traffic was pretty bad once I got down to the city. But I would get home around 430. I was starting to not feeling great but I held it together.

I opened the backdoor for Sweetp to run around. Checked on Crabcake. Put some stuff away. Put a frozen pizza in the oven. And the. James was home. I was very happy to see them.

They would jump into a few small things while I worked on collecting the materials for my workshop tomorrow. And ate the entire frozen pizza be ayse James didn't want any and I felt a bit like a black hole. And after that I would come upstairs to work on moving things around in the baby room. Which is coming together really nice. I have some ideas for the walls next. There is still some figuring out to do but it's a start.

James went to record their podcast after bringing me some apple cider and moving a chair to the basement for me. And after I got to the end of my energy I would get some water and lay down to watch TikToks for a bit.

Eventually I took a shower and washed my hair and thought about how we can better utilize storage in the bathroom. I want to do a reset on a lot of our storage stuff because it's all kind of a mess right now. I am hoping that I can do some of that on Thursday when I'm home for the backdoor install but we'll see how that day pans out.

Now I am in bed. Waiting for James to be done with their friends. And then I am hoping for sleep. Tomorrow I have the painting program at camp, followed by my evening workshop which is a sewing program. I am looking forward to it. I already have 8 people coming! I just hope that I feel well.

I hope you all have a great night. Love you all. Until tomorrow!

[crippledasinfuckyou]

Hi Stevie. I hope this is okay to ask as I wasn't sure where else to turn, or if there's other blogs suited to this sort of ask. I saw a post you reblogged about being chronically exhausted and struggling due to being exhausted all the time/with small tasks versus what's a normal amount of tired and realized I may have been living with something for a long time that I didn't know wasn't normal, but I didn't know who to ask for advice since the original poster has left Tumblr and most of the notes were just saying it wasn't normal to have all of them but not how to get help. I was going to seek out a doctor but didn't know what specialists to consult as I've dealt with so many doctors who say my health problems are in my head or "you're too young to have this" only to go through years of testing and FINALLY find the thing that's wrong on some tiny test or other that they didn't think/want to try.

Since this chronic exhaustion crap is ruining my life as it gets worse I don't want to wait years and years to even potentially be heard/get help that isn't being told it's fake or just being told to get even more sleep. I'm losing emotional support of people in my life who think it's laziness or me "not trying" when really it's exhausting and takes a couple hours just to get up and moving at the start of a day much less anything else. Sorry to send such a long ask when I know it's probably a lot and I hope you're having a nice day, thank you for running this blog!

Hi, im sorry this took forever to get to. I know exactly what you're going through and i know how much it sucks.

I dont know if youre looking for advice or just venting, so if you're just venting- I'm here. I know the pain and I will always be willing to listen- If you'd like a quicker response than I give to asks, message me here or on my main @turnaboutstevie, I will always answer DMs asap.

If you're looking for advice, I'll put it below the cut:

One thing I learned, both from my appointments and from my time as a carer is that doctors are more likely to get off their asses and do something useful if you have someone with you when you ask them to. Another person can back you up, can corroborate what was said in the appointment and can help you to complain. Take a friend, family member, someone from a local disability group or even ask the surgery for a chaperone. You are in safer hands if you're not alone.

Secondly, write EVERYTHING down. write what you want to say and what you are experiencing before you go in. Keep a symptoms diary if you can. In the appointment write down what you say, what your doctor says, what treatment course is mentioned etc. Try to get it exact as you can. It is much easier to keep your head if you have what you want to say in front of you, and much easier to push back or lodge a complaint when you have what is said in writing. If they say theyre going to refer you somewhere, ask them to send you a copy of the referral letter. By email or post, it doesnt matter. Just keep it safe. If they refuse, make sure you get in writing why they are refusing to share the details of your care with you. That's information you have a right to. Document EVERYTHING, so that you're never left either not sure you remembered correctly- or in the worst case where you need to complain, without evidence.

Similarly, ask for an explanation for everything. If you're given a reason why you can't be experiencing it, ask for an elaboration. Write it down. If they choose not to test, ask why. Write it down. If they are testing, ask what they think the tests will help detect. Write it down. If they refer you, ask who to and how they might be able to help. And yes, write it down. Understanding exactly what is happening in terms of your care will help you pinpoint things that aren't helping. If they run a blood test and it shows nothing and next time you bring it up they say they'll blood test, its way easier to explain why you don't want another one if you know why you had the first. Many doctors are unfortunately, shit, and will try to do the bare minimum and pull the wool over your eyes to shut you up. Don't let them.

Finally- if they aren't helping, ask for someone else. Most doctors surgeries will have a staff page on their site, listing credentials and specialties. See if there is anyone at your surgery who specialises in what you're going through and ask to see them. Hell, change surgeries if you have to. You can always ask for better care or a better doctor- its YOUR health. Not theirs. You are in charge.

[adamgant]

Spain Summer Packing list

Spain Summer Packing list https://ift.tt/PSo74EU Sharing a Spain packing list and all of the things I packed for our trip! Hi friends! I hope you’re having a wonderful week so far. The kids and I are off to a base event, and I’m looking forward to a hot yoga class later today. I’ll share a full recap of our amazing trip to Spain next week, but in the meantime, I wanted to share a packing list with some of the things I brought! Spain summer packing list Wear on the way there and back: (I did a couple of loads of laundry while we were at the Airbnb) Spanx Air essentials set. I’m always cold on planes and this keeps me warm, and is comfy enough to sleep in Dresses: My goal with travel dresses is to bring short ones I can wear with sneakers during the day, and just swap to dressy sandals for dinner at night. I also brought a couple of dinner-only dresses. I found that the vibe there was pretty casual and anything goes (besides athleisure. Don’t do it lol). Skirts, shorts, dresses, with sandals and sneakers all worked. Daytime dresses: This floral mini dress (so cute with the white Vejas) High-neck traveler mini dress A Maeve short sleeve collared mini shirt dress (OOS right now and I can’t find anything similar) Hutch mini shirt dress (size down) Rails striped dress Ulla Johnson dress Derek Lam flutter sleeve dress An old Madewell short floral dress Dinner dresses: Farm Rio ocean tapestry dress. SO pretty, true to size, and on sale right now. Embroidered Farm Rio dress. The details on this are exquisitive. It was a splurge, but I’ve worn it so many times already. This one is on sale right now, too! Crochet-style maxi dress This red dress from RTR that was perfect for flamenco night 😉 Tops, skirts, and shorts: This skort with this bodysuit I also brought a pair of jean shorts with an embroidered top but didn’t wear it Workout gear: I knew I’d likely not get in official workouts, but I just brought some leggings and sports bras in case I could do Sculpt Society at the Airbnb while we were just hanging out, and also some shorts and a tank top for paddlebaording Vuori tank and shorts (2 sets) 1 pair of lulu leggings and an Align tank Swim: I brought my fave Vuori bikini and wore it with jean shorts, this coverup, and this visor Shoes: Veja low-top sneakers Valentino sandals Vivobarefoots (in case I could sneak in a workout- they actually stayed in my suitcase) Flat brown sandals Extras: Our suitcases are worth a shout out because we love them. They’re not expensive, huge, and excellent quality. We have three of these from Nordstrom Rack. Handbags – I brought my Gucci camera bag, a leather crossbody I got in Italy last summer, and ordered this really inexpensive one from Amazon for nights out. I was super impressed by the quality! This travel pillow! I’m a side sleeper, so this was a literal dream come true for the plane Melatonin. I tested out some melatonin before our trip to see if it would help me sleep on the plane. Usually I’m too anxious and toss and turn. I CRASHED OUT. It was everything! Obviously talk with your doctor before taking new new supplements, but this is the first time I haven’t been jet-lagged; it helped me reset my circadian rhythm. You can use FITNESSISTA10 here. Toiletries, especially my Oliveda face cream, eye care goodies, tinted SPF, and makeup I have another post planned soon with weird things I bring on vacation 😉 Also, it’s worth mentioning that Rent the Runway is SO worth it for trips. I love using it to try new brands – I’ll often end up buying the things I love – and I feel like it’s a sustainable way to rotate through a lot of pieces. You can use my referral link for 30% off your first month. Have a wonderful day and I’ll see ya soon! xoxo Gina The post Spain Summer Packing list appeared first on The Fitnessista. via The Fitnessista https://ift.tt/EbDZhav July 10, 2024 at 06:21AM

[jodilin65]

I message Doc A every three to four months and let her know what’s been going on. I’ll have to ask her how she liked the chicken the next time I talk to her. LOL, yeah, I had a dream she asked me to send 10 pieces of chicken. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to cook it myself, but decided in the end to just send KFC to her. Haha

Spawned by Andy and I debating doctors’ competency, I also had a dream the other night that I was in some waiting room and a male doctor came out and asked how I was feeling after they gave me a medication for who knows what. I said I was feeling okay and he started to say that now that I was no longer taking blood pressure medicine when I cut him off in frustration and reminded him that I never said I stopped taking blood pressure meds.

A female nurse then came to his defense to point out some kind of award he recently won and I told them that when he states incorrect facts after being told twice that I was still taking blood pressure medicine, it doesn’t matter what awards he’s gotten.

Then I was in another area of the office and walked up to the receptionist area where a few women were working. I started to say something when one of them rudely cut me off and snapped, “Did I say you could talk?”

Instead of walking out of there and not returning, I simply rolled my eyes and said no.

In real life, I went to CVS’s site to spend the $25 that I have until the end of March to spend but just didn’t see anything I needed. Also, they were showing that they had some things in stock that weren’t visible. I would see a number of items listed on the sidebar, but no images or prices on the main part of the screen. We’ll just go in person sometime.

I also called my insurance concierge, wondering what kind of foreigner I was gonna have to deal with this time and struggle to understand so I could find out what nutritionists cost. After having to jump through all kinds of unnecessary hoops for info that should have been transparent online, I got a funny-sounding woman who not only had a foreign accent but sounded exactly like one of the munchkins from The Wizard of Oz. The munchkin told me that it would be a $10 copay. Because they’re considered specialists, I have to get a referral from my doctor. So I’ll ask the nurse when I see her next month. I need to address my concerns about possible weight loss affecting my medication anyway.

I still don’t see weight loss happening, but if I’m wrong, I’m not going to act like I’m the biggest know-it-all like Andy did even if he did have a point when he said I was eating the wrong foods. I’ll give him that much. Some of them are acceptable, but I guess all the white stuff is gonna have to go along with the junk. White bread, white pasta, white rice… Plus, I would probably have to give up things like mayonnaise and coffee creamer.

After I see a nutritionist and we devise a plan suitable for me personally, I’m definitely going to give it my all, but it will be my last-ditch effort to lose weight unless I’m ever on a medication that causes me to lose it or I get really ill. I do want to get healthier and lower my chances of becoming diabetic and see if it will help my sleep apnea and increase my mobility, but I don’t want to obsess over it either. As Andy didn’t seem to get and wouldn’t get no matter how many times I pointed it out, I’m not a 10-year-old kid living with a woman who cared more about the outside of me than the inside.

The next time I hear someone say so and so will never change, they’re probably right.

Yesterday we moved my desk and rearranged the bedroom and it looks great! It’s going to look even better once the sticky “brick” tiles are up on the exterior wall. Mass-loaded vinyl is pretty ugly. It doesn’t make the bedroom soundproof, but it muffles outside sounds that aren’t loud.

I like to have a little fun every now and then instead of just saving and saving for the bed that’s going to take forever to get (I’ve got $900 so far, and Tom is now working on the same site) so I got an incense variety pack on Amazon that should be arriving today.

The cross stitch kit came and it seems a bit complicated. I just hope I can see what I’m doing! First, I want to finish latch-hooking. I don’t want to have too many projects going at once.

Because I’m still a little tired today, I’m not going to do any sorting. I figured I’d be back to normal soon enough. Hopefully, my TSH isn’t rising, though. Meanwhile, the next time I have decent energy, I’ll start the sorting of drawers and closets that I’ve been wanting to do.

While I have absolutely no doubt that I would completely ignore Termite Tammy, Andy, and many others if they begged and pleaded for me to take them back into my life with promises of all kinds of changes for the better, I wonder if I would be as smart with a few others I can think of. Sadly, the answer is no, I probably wouldn’t be. I would talk to Maliheh if she wanted to talk until she dumped me again. I would talk to Nane until she drove me crazy with her judgmental ways.

Eh, I guess I’m not perfect either.

[flowergrownbeyondthestone]

It turns out that with enough caffeine in my system I can make it through most of the day without absolutely dying, so that’s something. I’m realizing this blog or whatever it is, is becoming more and more like a diary, but hey, why not I guess! I’ve slept not great once again, including very creepy dreams about chasing huge spiders across the room and a hot actress who turned out to be a serial killer. What the hell is going on with my brain? I really miss being able to sleep normally and even medicine doesn’t fully solve that issue. I also miss being able to fall asleep cuddled up to you (yes, you, reading it, if you still do, hah). It was like the ultimate level of safety and comfort. Meep. Oh well, I have to settle for the plushies, better than nothing. Either way, random stuff aside, yesterday I didn’t even have enough energy to include all the details of my wonderful day, such as trying to call the psychiatrists with a referral for the adhd assessment. Had a lovely experience being told that currently the waiting time is several YEARS. UH. Nevermind then I guess. I’ll have to think about whether I feel like it’s worth it to pay for a private assessment with polish doctors, but due to my current general lack of options I’ve had to consider where to go from here. Now I have a talk with a psychologist scheduled for next week, since their whole clinic focuses on working with neurodivergent people and she’s audhd I’m hoping that it will at least be a better experience than everything I’ve gone through so far. It is just a consultation since I feel like I’ve hit a point where I don’t quite know how to address any of the practical issues in my life and hope that there is something that can be done to contribute to a better standard of living. Of course nobody can just hand me a solution, but again, I don’t exactly feel like I’m ready to make any major life changes in regards to work or other related things, so I need to start somewhere. My wallet will cry but hopefully I won’t. I could have just gone the other route and tried to find someone here with the referral I got, but I genuinely don’t have the courage or trust in just choosing a random person and hoping that somehow they will be the right one, at least not with my already limited trust towards therapists due to my past experiences. There are absolutely good ones out there, but I really want to increase my chances of finding the right one, even if that means becoming a bit more poor. All in all despite still being very tired it’s been a better day, I only need to get through work tomorrow and then I can recharge in any way I need, so that definitely makes me happy. Things might not be perfect, but it’s also a relief to know and see that now even if I have a worse moment it’s very much temporary and in many cases just letting myself cry makes everything feel so much lighter. I don’t get stuck in a slump of depression, I don’t go down a self hate spiral. Of course I’d want many things to be better and easier, I do hope they eventually will, but it’s still a big improvement from… well, majority of my life in past

[remyxavierr]

I'm going through a mixed bipolar episode for the first time since I was diagnosed bipolar in 2016. I have never felt at odds with myself before, I have never felt so uncomfortable in my skin so bad that I want to rip it off. I'm depressed, I have no interest in doing anything yet I can't stop pacing, sitting down, pacing, sitting down, and repeat 1,000 times in a day. I can't sleep because of racing, obsessive thoughts about Gaza and my cat dying and all the bad things that are going to happen to me in my life. Literally can't sleep. I stay up all night, then, if I have the next day off, I put on pink noise, which is essentially just static, and listen to it on blast to try and sleep in the middle of the day. My brain feels like it's on fire and I'm so irritated at myself, I hate myself so much, I want to die. Like what the fuck is this? My brain is betraying me so bad. I don't know how to function or deal with this or handle it in any way. I am just miserable. I'm calling my family doctor tomorrow, but even if I get an appointment soon, he has to send out a referral for a new psychiatrist (because mine doesn't want to be my doctor anymore) which could take WEEKS. I'm going to die in the meantime. I can't take this. It's been like this for four days. I've never admitted myself to a hospital before and I can't really afford it since I already get minimum hours at my minimum wage job. My manager would probably figure out how to cover my shifts because she's understanding and an angel, but still.

[wosofanstuff]

Hey, your probably sleeping right now, or you're awake very early. I just wanted to drop by and ask how your doing and what you're up to 🫶

I'm mostly catching up on sleep, washing clothes, going to the doctor that trip was so useless I swear to god, could have figured all of that out myself, the only thing that I could not have done is writing that referral and preparing for my Denmark trip this weekend, yes im going to a certain game, as well as getting everything for my third semester back to the city shit I’m really 1/3 done🤯

Also have you got any info on when your moving yet?

Hope you’re having an amazing day🫶

🩻

Nah, I’m not up that early (like I would say it’s early enough right now). I’m somewhat tired and definitely hate the fact that that my host family left, so I have to deal with the animals/demons myself

But the new volunteer arrived yesterday, so today will be his first day which is fun

That sounds like a productive day for you, still so jealous that you go to that game. Still need to figure out if and how to watch it

That’s actually crazy only 2/3 to go 🥳

He is still in talks with a family, I think he will go meet them today so that they actually agree to it. But then they would need time to prep everything. But I’m gone next week either way, so I’m hopeful I might be able to move by next weekend 🤞🏼

Thank you and you too 🤍🫶🏼

[the-hard-days]

The next few days

The sonographer (A sonographer performs specialised diagnostic examinations using high frequency ultrasound - https://ahpa.com.au/allied-health-professions/sonography) told me she couldn't see what she would like to see and asked me to empty my bladder so we could do an internal ultrasound instead. At this time I already knew something wasn't right, as I should have been 9, nearly 10 weeks along, and should have been able to see a heartbeat and at least some features of a foetus, and I knew I wasn't looking at my baby. She measured and told us it looked like it was only 5 weeks 5 days. I could start to feel my heartbeat in my head and knew I wasn't going to be hearing any good news from here on out.

We were told we could just be really early, and the pregnancy tests taken were just taken too soon, but I'm sure the sonographer's are told not to panic their patients, but something in me knew.

I called my mum and a couple of my friends, and told them our baby hadn't grown for a month, and we weren't going to parents.

I've never felt heartbreak like that before, and I don't think I ever well again.

We cried together for a long time, and I think there will be days, probably many years in the future when I'll still cry about that day. I don't think it's something you can forget no matter how bad you want to.

The scans were sent to my GP (General Practitioner), and I was to make an appointment to get referrals for blood tests and to the early pregnancy loss clinic at our local hospital. I was able to get an appointment with my doctor the next day (whom I love dearly, even though she doesn't know it) and ordered some blood tests for the next day. We had a conversation on what to expect, which was honestly awful and one of the worst experiences of my life. Basically, the embryo had died more than a month ago, and my body didn't know it, making it a missed miscarriage.

That night was pretty awful. I dosed myself up (with permission from my doctor with prescribed medication) and hoped I could just sleep the night away, I woke up at 4am in bed with Luke, and couldn't help but sob for another hour or so, until I eventually fell asleep again.

We went and got my blood tests done, and I told myself I wasn't going to cry as I knew the nurse would have to ask me some rough questions about why I was getting my bloods done. These tests were put through as urgent, and had our results the next day.

I got a call from the doctor from the early loss clinic, and was told my pregnancy hormones were still elevated and they weren't willing to get me into surgery as this was a wanted pregnancy. So this meant more waiting. Not waiting for good news, or a miracle, but was sent home to wait for a miscarriage in the meantime, or 10 days for more tests and scans and then surgery if the embryo hadn't grown in 10 days.

My scan was on Wednesday, 12th of April, blood results back on the 14th of April, and would have to wait until at least the 24th for any more news.

[gothhabiba]

Okay. There are accommodations. Let’s say the terms of them are that you must get a letter from a specialist saying that you have a qualifying condition or difficulty. Great. So you go to your GP to get a referral to a specialist. Maybe getting to your GP is physically taxing or expensive. Maybe it’s impossible because you’re immunocompromised and no one even wears masks in doctor’s offices anymore.

Maybe you can get a remote appointment and maybe you can’t. Maybe the appointment takes weeks to get. I hope you’re keeping an eye on that deadline! Maybe the appointment itself costs money you don’t really have. But at least now you have it.

Okay. So now you need to get your GP to agree that you need to see a specialist. Your GP says that actually, first, they’re going to ask you to drink more water every day and come back later and see if that wasn’t the problem.

Okay. Appointment number 2. Drinking more water did not fix the problem (or waiting, or ibuprofen, or physical therapy, or whatever). So now you get the referral?

No. Now you need a blood test, to rule out that it’s caused by a vitamin deficiency. Appointments 3 and 4 are to draw blood and discuss the results. And congratulations! You’re deficient in vitamin B whatever. So now you need a supplement. Obviously you’ll need to be taking that for six months and then come back for another appointment to see if that hasn’t fixed the issue. Oh, the deadline will have passed by then? Idk, I guess apply next year?

Congratulations! It’s been six months and you’re no longer vitamin-deficient or dehydrated and you’re still disabled. NOW you get your referral to a specialist! So you take your referral and you call the specialist they referred you to—

And they refuse to see you. They don’t tell you why, they just don’t think you really need to see a specialist. Idk, maybe figure it out yourself? Okay. So you call a different specialist who was also recommended to you—they’re not accepting new patients. OKAY!

So you call a different specialist—by the way, I hope you have a whole bunch of rheumatologists (or gastroenterologists, or neurologists &c.) in your immediate area, or else moving your search further and further afield could make transport expensive!

This specialist has this thing where they don’t answer the phone—you leave a message and they call back. Okay. But when they call back weeks later, you don’t get to the phone in time. You’re sleeping or in another room (and, remember, disabled). So you have to call and leave another message and just kind of hope that you’re at the phone when they call you back the NEXT time. By this point it’s been about a year.

But you finally get in to see a specialist! They listen to your symptoms and say “yeah, that shouldn’t be happening.” They’re going to try a course of treatment (btw, if it doesn’t work, you’re going to have to go somewhere ELSE, because mostly doctors only want to try one thing). But in the meantime you have your ✨letter from a specialist✨ [sound of choir hitting C major chord].

I hope you had the time, energy, access, and money to do all of that! If you didn’t I guess you’re just not applying for that thing after all.

Okay. You submit your letter from a specialist along with your description of the condition and your notes about how you anticipate it affecting your studies or work and what accommodations you will need and whatever else the form asks for. You get a call from someone who works at the institution in question and they talk over what you need and they say that you can get x, y, and z accommodations.

And now you have a special form with your name on it that will be sent to all relevant parties! And they'll know what you need and they'll have to give it to you! You have 🌟accommodations🌟 [sound of choir hitting a sick F minor 7 add 9 add 13 chord]. So now we’re done! And everything is smooth sailing from here on out!

Oh. Oh you little baby. Oh you sweet summer child.

Actually, the department dealing with accommodations is like four different departments that don’t communicate with each other. So somehow no one got you a badge to be able to access the ground-floor entrance of the building you need to be in (because, yep! It is *locked*!)

So you miss the first class or training or whatever, and you need to send a bunch of emails to do damage control about that AND get your badge. Who knows how long it’ll take someone to get that to you—I hope you don’t miss another day!

Sometime later, you contact your accommodations liaison and say “hey, can I get accommodation y that you said would be a possibility?” And they say. Huh. I don’t know where the budget for that would come from? And you’re thinking... well, isn’t that your job? To help me get the accommodations I need?

Nope! Their job is to help the institution not get sued without shelling out for every accommodation someone asks for by denying you everything they think they can get away with. So to get that aid worker, or ergonomic chair, or extra laptop, or extra computer application, you’re going to need to fight for it. Gee, I sure hope you’re not too exhausted from the last year of running this rat race, + the actual tasks of your job/degree, to do that!

Okay, well, still. You can get along without that thing as long as you're willing to run your health into the ground. Surely everyone has been sent your 🌟accommodation form🌟 and surely everyone has read it, so you should at least get the things specified on that.

Except someone forgot to send those out, so now a room you’re supposed to be in is up stairs / has no accessible bathroom nearby / no interpreter has been hired / whatever it is. You’re asked if you can't try to get by without the accommodation? No alternative is offered. So you have to suck it up and struggle through this thing, or change to something else... if you don’t quit or drop out.

Let's say you pass that hurdle. Now something new has come up—you're cited for not doing [thing you can't do]. Maybe it was something that your 🌟accommodation form🌟 specified that you couldn't do, and maybe it's something that you forgot to mention.

Either way, you contact your liaison at the disability office. But be careful! The more ‘difficult’ you are, the less they’re willing to accommodate you... but the less difficult you are, the less you get accommodated... can you say “catch 22”?

Sometime later you have to do something new, at a different site. You’re told that everyone there knows you’re coming and will have a place for you to sit down. But no one told you that you would have to walk a mile to get there... “can’t walk long distances” was in your form! And when you get there you find that actually no one knew you were coming and no one knows what you need. No sight of the promised chair (bathroom / interpreter / &c.).

I guess you’d better not raise a fuss? But isn’t this getting ridiculous? So you email your liaison... and they are decidedly terse with you. Without them on your side things are only going to get harder now!

Okay. Okay. Your supervisor / professer / whatever sends an email. Everyone is going to get together and do [thing you can’t do]. Well you’ve learned your lesson now so you’re not going to contact your liaison—if they’re not going to share the information they should, maybe you can do it yourself?

So you email your superior and say “I can’t do x, which is outlined in my form!” They email back and maybe they’re apologetic and maybe they’re rude but it’s whatever. You take some measure to circumvent the thing you can’t do.

Now you scope out every single building before events in that building and send emails directly to that department asking about accessibility. But in the course of trying to get accommodations directly instead of relying on your superiors and the disability office to communicate with each other—someone copied in the disability office. Now your liaison hates you!

Have you dropped out yet? No? Okay.

Now you come across another requirement for the degree or the job that is another thing you can’t do or can do only with extreme difficulty and/or pain. And you’re thinking well, here we go again.

You know your options are 1. drop out 2. suck it up or find an alternative on your own 3. bring it up with the organiser of the thing 4. bring it up with your disability liaison (who is only becoming more and more rude to you)—and 2, 3, and 4 require energy that is so hopelessly drained by now.

You’re not able to focus on the thing you’re supposed to be doing because every separate activity has new forms to fill out and get approved, which requires time, energy, the eloquence to make your case, and for other people to afford you grace—by the way I hope you’ve maintained optimism, a sunny disposition, and endless patience and kindness through all of this, especially if, god help you, you’re a woman and/or of colour! Or else they’re not going to do that.

Throughout this time accommodations have been withheld as a cost-saving measure or to try to push the most disabled out of the program or else in order to punish you for being difficult, and you’re never sure which one. Your liaison and supervisors have told people about your disability who had no reason to have to know without your approval, which is illegal, but you can’t raise a fuss without risking more retaliation.

Intermittently the elevator in your building has been going out and you don’t know beforehand why it's out or how long it will be out for. You’re not informed about scheduled maintenance. So over the course of months you’ve been effectively trapped in places for hours. You haven't been able to pursue treatment for your actual health condition (which is a whole different byzantine nightmare) because the process of getting accommodations is so arduous.

You’re exhausted, you’re feeling angry, bitter, hopeless, abandoned, you’re experiencing the worst health of your life, physically and/or mentally. You’re not sure how much longer you can keep doing this.

So you’re struggling to figure out what to do and you try to vent to one of your peers. You’re not going to be able to do x! You’re disabled!

Oh! your peer says, politely surprised. But don’t they have accommodations for that?

Part of the point of institutions having “accommodations” for disabled people is appeasement—in addition to vetting (i.e., setting the requirements to get accommodations lets you decide who is ‘really’ disabled). It takes up disabled people’s time and energy trying to navigate all of these byzantine structures and institutions that don’t seem to communicate with each other—while making ‘abled’ people assume that “disabled ppl get accommodations, so nothing is wrong.”

If someone raises a concern that such and such a policy is ableist or eugenicist in who it (clearly, deliberately) pushes out of a program, the answer is a cavalier or even hostile “well obviously there are accommodations”

[yourmidnightlover]

all my fault

Request: spencer and y/n are married, and they’ve been trying to have kids, and then she finds out she’s pregnant. a few weeks into the pregnancy, she has a miscarriage, and at the hospital the doctor said it’s bc she had an abortion as a teenager, and it fucked up her it yet us. spencer didn’t know she had an abortion, and blames her for the death of the baby, and they end up sleeping separately for a while and they have to grieve by themselves. spencer ends up talking to emily about it bc of her experience and it has a comforting ending!

Summary: when reader has a miscarriage after trying to have a baby with spencer, and things about her past are revealed and leaves things rocky within their relationship.

CW: miscarriage, pregnancy, mention of abortion, spencer’s rly harsh at first, teenage pregnancy, mentions of surgery, a cervix condition that i kinda made up, depressive thoughts, negative self-worth, HAPPY ENDING. *please let me know if i’ve missed anything*

A/N: i’ve been working on coming up with a series, which i posted last thursday! i’m sorry i haven’t been as consistent with my schedule, this summer has really taken a toll on my mental health and school is about to start back up. i promise i’m not quitting writing, but my writing might become a bit more sporadic in terms of my posting schedule. i’m still not sure if i like how i’ve executed this piece, so please let me know what you think!

IMPORTANT A/N: this contains serious topics centered around pregnancy and abortion. reader end up blaming herself and it is a very triggering subject to some. if you aren’t comfortable with those kinds of depressive thoughts PLEASE DONT READ. i don’t want anyone to be triggered by my writing. your mental health matters. you matter. do not read if your sensitive to the subject matter, please!

———————————————————————

when you and spencer checked the third pregnancy test and saw those two, very clear lines on the stick, you felt an unbelievable amount of joy.

“oh my god,” you clamped your hand over your mouth, your eyes welling with tears.

“y/n…” he held his breath, holding your free hand with both of his own.

“you’re gonna be a dad,” you huffed out a laugh as his arms flew around you.

“and you’re gonna be a mom! we’re gonna have our own little family,” he cheered as he breathed in your scent, elated from the news he had hoped for since you said ‘i do.’

spencer had wanted to be a father since he met henry, you remember how attached he was to the child who wasn’t even his own. you hadn’t always wanted children, only when you were absolutely ready for them. now, you were more than ready.

your arms flew around spencer’s neck as his went around your waist. he dropped to his knees and began pressing kisses against a bump that wasn’t even visible yet, praising you and your body for carrying his child.

because it was so hard for you to get pregnant, spencer decided to baby you every chance he got. you didn’t do the dishes or sweep, you weren’t allowed to reach for high shelves or even step on a chair to do so. he was worried about you and the baby, so you let him. you found it endearing.

the perfect man that you married was so worried about the little bean inside of you, worried for your safety, that it drove him a bit mad. who were you to complain? each time he’d do one of the new little quirks like not letting you lift anything above 10 pounds, you just smiled to yourself and brushed it off.

being pregnant was something that you had lost hope for, in all honesty. spencer had been talking to a few friends who had adopted children prior to finding out you were pregnant. if this hadn’t worked out, the two of you were going to look into adoption.

spencer had planned your doctors appointment for 6 weeks after your last period. the appointment was in three days. and then the perfect outline you had for your future went down in crumbles.

you had been having pains in your lower abdomen, and you figured it was just because you were pregnant. you went to the bathroom like you normally would when you felt queasy, kneeling by the toilet in preparation for what was to come. only nothing came.

you decided to just go pee and get back to bed. there was a pain that wasn’t like you’d felt before when you were peeing, like someone had been pulling your intestines out of your body. when you looked down, you felt your stomach drop.

“spencer!” you cried out. “spencer, hurry!” you felt tears well in your eyes until he ran up beside you. his hand was on your thigh as the other one was trying to steady your shaking hand.

“what is… oh,” he looked in the toilet to see blood inside of it.

“spencer… what happened? i don’t know what happened. everything was doing so well and the baby-we just found out and now they’re-wh-what’s gonna happen?” you rambled out, unsure of how something this horrific happened so quickly.

“i-i don’t know, my love,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “i don’t know. but we’ll go to the hospital right now, okay? we’ll get answers.”

you just nodded. you couldn’t speak anymore. you felt your throat closing in on yourself. you cleaned yourself up and got dressed. even looking in the mirror with spencer’s arms around you, you didn’t feel anything but guilt and worry.

spencer’s touch would usually be something to ease your mind and take away the thoughts of everything else around you. only this was something wrong inside of you. you were the problem this time. and you didn’t think anything could fix this feeling.

“let’s get to the hospital, yea?” you nodded as he held onto your hand, trying to ground you to himself as he guided you to the car.

you were silent the entire drive to the doctor. there was nothing to say. there was nothing to do. there was just… nothing. you were numb.

“hey,” he spoke up, “we don’t know what happened yet. there’s a chance it’s just a fluke, right? the baby might be okay.”

“what’re the statistics, spencer? tell them to me,” you ordered as tears flowed from your eyes.

“y/n…”

“tell me! why don’t you want me to know?!” you accused him, looking over at the man driving as he but his lower lip. “1 in 4 women who experience bleeding during a pregnancy are fine. 25 percent. the other 75 percent of people have either a miscarriage or serious complications. those are the statistics.”

“y/n…” he sighed, “it’s not your fault. you didn’t want this to happen. besides, there’s still a 25 percent chance that nothings wrong.”

“whatever,” you rolled your eyes and opted to look out of the window for the remainder of the drive to the hospital.

-

“alright,” the doctor entered the room. “we have the results from the test and we’ve examined the ultrasound pictures. i’m so sorry, but you’ve had a miscarriage.”

what were you supposed to feel? an overwhelming sense of sorrow? like a failure? like the one thing you wanted most in the world fell through?

“how-how did this happen?” you spoke through the tears. “we were so-we were careful. i didn’t lift heavy objects, i didn’t do repetitive motions, i just… we tried so hard to make this work,” you shook your head in disapproval, as if you wouldn’t accept the answer that had already been proven to you.

“there’s proof of an abortion when you were a teenager. there was severe damage done to your cervix that wasn’t assessed pre-pregnancy. now, we can repair the damage within the next two months, but it will still be difficult to become pregnant after the surgery,” the female informed you.

“then what’s the point of getting the surgery?” you scoffed, looking at spencer who was just staring off in space.

“while getting pregnant will still be difficult, maintaining the pregnancy is much more likely. the fetus would be more protected and secure after the surgery,” she explained with a pitiful smile, you couldn’t help but wonder how she could smile after giving you the worst news of your life.

“right,” you nodded curtly, allowing her to sense the mood of the conversation.

“i’ll leave you two be. i’m so sorry for your loss,” she gave the both of you a pitiful smile before exiting the room, the only sound audible being the closing of the door.

it didn’t feel real. it felt as though you were in a nightmare. only this time, you wouldn’t wake in spencer’s comforting arms. you wouldn’t hear the soft soothing voice of the man you love trying to calm you down. you wouldn’t feel the solace he would provide by merely being himself in your proximity.

the drive home was eerily quiet. there was an inkling of animosity between you. looking over at spencer in the driver’s seat, he had a dead look on his face, the only sign of previous emotion being his red-rimmed eyes and tear-stained cheeks. he didn’t even look like your spencer. he looked like a stranger in the drivers seat with a cold expression that you could barely read.

you knew this was something you should talk about. when the nurse came back in the room it was only to offer a few referrals go therapists that specialized in this kind of grief. clearly, any couple should talk about losing an unborn baby. but you knew that’s not what spencer was truly upset about.

you waited until you shut the door to your apartment before saying anything.

“maybe we should talk about it?” you whispered, not knowing how he’d react.

“about what? the fact that you’ve lied to me for our entire relationship?!” he wouldn’t even turn around to face you. “i thought we were in this together, y/n. we aren’t supposed to keep secrets from each other - especially not any that just killed our child!”

“hey…” you winced at his words. “why would you say that?”

“that’s the truth! your choices when you were a teenager just killed our child! my child!” he finally turned to face you, and you wished he hadn’t.

“do you think i knew they would botch my abortion, spencer?! do you think that’s what i wanted?!” you stepped closer to him, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“i don’t know what you want anymore, y/n,” he shook his head, clearly exasperated.

“i want you. i want to get the surgery to fix my cervix. i want to grieve our child. i still want kids… with you, spencer,” you tried to ease the mood, calm him down. you reached your hand out to cup his cheek before he dodged your touch, afraid of touching you. “but you don’t want that?” you whispered so quiet, too afraid of the answer to raise your voice.

“i-“ he sighed and bit his lower lip. “i don’t know.”

“right. of course you don’t,” you shook your head before sitting on the couch, dropping your face in your hands.

“what’s that supposed to mean?” he scoffed as he took off his coat.

“it means that: of course, you’re making this about you! it can’t be about us grieving our loss together like the doctor recommended?!” you peeked between your hands at the man you still didn’t recognize.

“maybe we shouldn’t grieve together since we can’t even have a conversation without getting angry at one another,” he tried to reason.

“the only reason i’m getting mad is because you’re blaming me for my baby’s death,” you spat back at the doctor before you.

“because it’s your fault!” he stood strong in his belief. “when you were a teenager, did you or did you not have an abortion?”

“i did,” you admitted.

“and the nurse said that in said abortion, they screwed your cervix up! if you didn’t have that abortion, our child would still be alive! we would be on our way to become happy parents!” he accused, rubbing salt in the already stinging wound. “it’s your fucking fault!”

“stop saying that,” you shook your head and dropped it back in your hands, trying to hide the tears that began to flow down your face.

“it is, y/n! i can’t believe you’re even trying to say this isn’t!” he chuckled, clearly getting under your skin.

“shut up, spencer!”

“i can’t, y/n!” he sat in the chair across from you before standing back up, too hyper to sit. “no wonder it was so hard for you to get pregnant.”

“spencer,” you begged him to stop, meeting his face with your teary eyes.

“y/n,” he stared you in the eyes, and you saw a glimpse of the man you loved for a second before he retreated to the bedroom.

you sat on the couch in confusion of what had just occurred.

when you were 15, you’re boyfriend was adamant about taking your relationship “to the next step.” you didn’t think you were ready to have sex, but you wanted him to stay with you. so, you gave in. it just so happened to be that you were one of the lucky girls that ends up getting pregnant her first time in spite of birth control and a condom. you couldn’t tell your mom about your pregnancy, she’d have your head on a pole.

so, you earned enough money from your job to get an abortion yourself. you went to a clinic and had your boyfriend’s mom come with you to sign as your guardian. was it smart to get an abortion that cheap? probably not. but you had no other choice. your mom had made it abundantly clear that if she caught you fooling around with him that she’d kick you out.

you were 15. you were young and still had to finish high school. there was no support system for you. you would’ve been on the streets with a little baby - not to mention the amount of debt you’d go into for just giving birth to a child in a hospital. it was the only choice.

and now you were being berated for making the only choice you even had - and by the person you loved most in the world.

you curled into yourself on the couch, laying your head on the arm and crying into the fabric. you released all of the tension and turmoil. you held onto the cushions as if it were the man that you wanted - no, needed to comfort you. because as much as you’d hate to admit it and try to fight those thoughts, part of you thought that spencer was right. it was your fault.

you fell asleep on the couch that night. you didn’t have the strength to get up to grab a blanket so you just sucked it up.

spencer didn’t sleep at all. he was used to having you curled into his chest, or himself on yours. he felt terrible about how he had talked to you, but he was too stubborn to admit anything just yet.

in the middle of the night he went out of the room to grab a glass of water. he saw you curled up in a ball, you head resting on the arm of the couch as you slept. it was the most peaceful you looked in the past 24 hours. but you began shivering as you slept. you were probably too exhausted to get up to do anything.

he went to the hall closet on a detour and grabbed your favorite, soft blanket and laid it on top of your body. after placing a soft kiss on your forehead, he went into the kitchen and made his glass of water before taking one more glance at you. you had snuggled into the blanket, pulling it up to your chin with a gentle smile that always appeared when he kissed your forehead as you slept.

maybe he didn’t screw up too badly, after all.

the next few days were spent avoiding one another. spencer couldn’t face you after knowing you had kept something so dire from him for the entirety of your relationship. you couldn’t face him after he made you feel as though it was your fault you lost your baby.

you would stay on the couch all day, barely eating or drinking anything while spencer would go out - only mentioning the library or the office to do more paperwork. eventually he just started sleeping at morgan’s house - probably because he couldn’t stand being around you.

you didn’t know how to grieve your baby, you were hoping that spencer might help, but that clearly won’t be happening. on top of that, you were worrying about your marriage. he couldn’t even look at you, how was he supposed to talk to you and sleep beside you?

a lot of times, it’s perceived that the only reason women were put on this planet were to have children - of course that’s a false notion, but it didn’t make it sting any less. your body had betrayed you. you had betrayed yourself.

it was only 12 days after spencer left when he came back home, if he could call it that anymore. once he walked into the living room, he saw you curled up in that same position on the couch. you had a blank stare that was directed towards the black tv. the only evidence that you were doing something was the empty water bottles surrounding you - certainly not enough considering he’d been gone for over a week.

when he entered you didn’t even flinch. your gaze stayed on the empty screen and your face remained vacant of any emotion.

in all honesty, morgan was the one to tell spencer he should check on you. spencer hadn’t told him everything about your argument, he knew he was in the wrong. but he was just so angry. regardless, he was here now, and it’s a good thing he was.

you hadn’t been taking care of yourself. spencer had morgan and savannah checking on him, but you had nobody. he only realized this when morgan pointed it out. and as upset as he was, spencer would always love you. your expressionless face only worried him more. your clothes had been changed from when he last saw you, but he doubts you’ve had a shower.

he stayed silent as he began picking up the empty water bottles from around the table and couch. you looked at him quizzically with furrowed brows.

“what’re you doing?” you asked, your chin already quivering as tears threatened to stream down your face.

“i’m trying to help,” he whispered as sensitively as he could, making eye contact with the most pitiful face you’d ever seen.

“i think you’ve helped enough,” you rolled your eyes before resuming your serious stare-down with the television. “you can leave.”

“no, i can’t,” he replied, sitting down on the opposite end of the couch while being sure not to touch you - he didn’t know if you were ready for that.

“you already did,” you brought to his attention, briefly looking at him. “just go.”

“y/n, i-“

“i don’t want to hear it! what’re you gonna say that could make me feel worse, spencer?!” you let the tears fall past your waterline. “i know it’s my fault. i know i screwed up! and i’m sorry! i’m so sorry!” you replied with far too much sincerity, the tears streaming down your face before he scooted closer to you, planning on wrapping his arms around you. “stop! don’t come near me!” you pushed his shoulders away. “it’s my fault,” you lowered your voice significantly before wrapping your arms around yourself.

he had called emily as soon as he got back into the bedroom. he knew she had previously had an abortion when she was a teenager, and he just needed to hear her side of it. part of him didn’t even expect her to pick up the phone.

“reid, what’s wrong?” she immediately answered.

“i-i think i need to talk to you,” he whispered in a hushed tone.

“right now?” she asked in a mildly concerned tone.

“if you can? the sooner the better,” he answered honestly.

“alright. you want to meet somewhere or just come over?”

“can i just come over? it’s really personal and i wasn’t sure who else to go to,” he began tying his shoes and hoping she’d agree.

“of course, come on over,” she replied in a worried voice.

“ok. i’ll be there in twenty.”

he quietly left the apartment, not before sparing you a regretful glance. he lost his child, but you also lost your child as well. he just couldn’t control his anger. and partially, he thought he was right.

how could you not have told him about something so serious? the second you had began having issues getting pregnant, maybe you should’ve been open about previous pregnancies.

“hey,” emily greeted before giving him a hug after seeing his teary eyes. “come inside.”

“thanks,” he sniffled before stepping into her apartment.

she guided him into her living room and sat down on the couch beside him. they sat there for a few silent minutes before he was able to work up enough courage.

“y/n was pregnant,” he whispered, barely audible if she weren’t right beside him.

“was,” she pointed out, already feeling as though she knew the rest of the story.

“she uhm-she miscarried two weeks ago,” he somberly admitted for the first time to someone else. “the doctor said it was because she had an abortion when she was a teenager that somehow ruined her cervix.”

“and that’s why you felt like you needed to talk to me?” she gathered, she was a great profiler for a reason but this was far more obvious.

“i was pretty harsh. i-i told her it was her fault,” he bit his lower lip as he grimaced. “i really rubbed it in, too.”

“spencer… “ she sighed, taking a deep breath before continuing. “you’re mourning a life, right now. obviously, that would raise tensions and emotions would be heightened. but… have you apologized? for telling her it was her fault?”

“no?” he replied after thinking about it. “i was going to do that today but she’s… she’s not in good shape. i’m not saying she needs to be perfect, but while i was at derek’s i can tell she didn’t take care of herself. she barely drank any water.”

“did you ask her why she had an abortion? why she didn’t tell you? did you ask her anything about how she’s feeling?” emily asked once more.

“no,” he cowered down, feeling even worse about the truthful answer. “i was just… selfish. i didn’t think about how she’s feeling. i just-i feel so bad now, seeing what state she’s in.”

“when i got an abortion it was because i wasn’t ready for a child,” she began to inform him. “i was a child, myself. how was a child supposed to take care of another one? my mother would’ve been disgraced. i basically had nobody there for me. i kept it a secret because having an abortion is so controversial. i knew people would look at me differently for making a responsible decision for my future.”

“god, i feel so bad,” he began to tear up himself. “i love her so much and i told her these horrible things.”

“make it right, spencer,” she gave him a supportive smile and pat his thigh before he stood up.

“i-i have to go,” he wiped the tears from his face before giving emily a hug, grateful she would listen to him at such an ungodly hour.

he quickly drove back home, where he decidedly belonged in the first place. he never should’ve left home. he never should’ve left you. you were his home, and he didn’t know how he could possibly lose sight of that.

“y/n,” he cooed as he entered the apartment once more. it was noticeably a bit more clean. the trash was taken out, the dishes were done, and your hair was wet from a shower - he assumed. “hey,” he smiled when he saw you sitting on the bed, cheeks still red and tear-stained with red, puffy eyes.

“hi,” you sighed as you brushed your hair, spencer sat down beside you.

“how’re you feeling?” you shrugged. “i need to apologize to you,” he admitted, placing a hand on your thigh. “i’m so, so sorry for what i said. telling you that it’s your fault that we lost our child… i-there’s no excuse. i was clearly upset, but so were you. what i said was so out of line, and i’ll never be able to express how sorry i am to you.”

“you’re right,” you shrugged. “it was my fault.”

“no,” he rubbed his thumb on your skin. “it was not your fault. i’m so sorry i made you believe that.”

“when i was 15 my boyfriend at the time pressured me to have sex. we used a condom and i was in birth control but i still-i still ended up pregnant,” you began, taking a deep breath before continuing. “i couldn’t tell my mom because she would’ve kicked me out, so i saved up some money and had his mom take me to a cheap clinic. she signed as my mom and i got the procedure done. that was the end of it,” you finished tears streaming down your face. “a few weeks after the procedure i started having pains in like my lower back, but i didn’t think anything of it. so… it is my fault. i shouldn’t have gone to a cheap clinic, but i couldn’t live on the streets with a baby and no way to clothe or feed them.”

“y/n,” he got your attention, wiping the tears from your cheeks. “you were a teenager who had no other choice, love. it’s not your fault, it’s the clinic’s.”

“i just… it hurts so bad, spencer,” you shook your head in defeat before he wrapped his arms around you. “not even just emotionally, my body physically hurts so bad. i don’t know what to do and i thought i lost you and i didn’t know what i would do without you because i didn’t think you loved me anymore because it’s my fault,” you ranted out, sobbing into his shoulder before he moved the two of you around the bed to lay down, you on his chest.

“i’m so sorry you had to go through that, and that you’re still dealing with the repercussions,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “but know that i’m not leaving you. i love you and nothing will ever change that.”

“there’s nothing we can do now,” you whined, clutching to his shirt as if he’d disappear once more.

“we can go to the recommended therapy. we can get that surgery to fix your cervix,” he reminded you, rubbing circles onto your back as you sniffled. “then, if you’d like, we could try again for a baby.”

“so you still want to be with me?” you whispered by his ear, clearly worried of the answer.

“of course i do,” he said as if there were no other option; there wasn’t. “i’m so, so sorry, love.”

“the reason i didn’t tell you is because,” you sighed as you shuffled on top of spencer, now sitting on his lap and facing him. “because there’s this stigma that comes with having an abortion - and i didn’t know how you’d react. i also didn’t know it didn’t go well in the first place, but that’s a different story,” you chuckled. “i’m sorry. i should’ve told you about something so serious.”

“you don’t have to apologize,” he brushed a strand of hair from your face. “that was from your past. this is our future, we shouldn’t get caught up on it and allow it to ruin this.”

you nodded, “you’re right. are-are you staying here, now? or are you going back to derek’s?” there was an obvious look of hope in your eye that spencer never planned on squashing.

“i’m staying here,” he smiled. “home. you’re my home.”

“you’re so cheesy,” you rolled your eyes as a laugh left your lips.

“i’ve missed your smile,” he pressed a kiss to those very lips, your smile not going away but growing even bigger.

“i’ve missed you,” you pointed at his chest. “please don’t leave again.”

“i won’t. ever again,” you held your pinky out, he smiled and wrapped his own around it. “i’m so sorry.”

“we’ll work at it,” you sighed. “we’ll build back the trust and fix my stupid cervix and then maybe try again for a baby.”

over the next few months spencer and you had been going to therapy once a week, mourning the loss of your baby and working through your other issues.

five months after you found out about the miscarriage, you had the surgery to fix your cervix.

one year after you fixed your cervix you and spencer began talking about having a child. you were extremely nervous, rightfully so. you voiced your concerns to spencer about what if the surgery didn’t work? what if your cervix wasn’t the only issue? and he replied by reminding you that you would both take this one step at a time.

seven months after having the conversation with spencer about having children, a miracle had caught up to you.

you were pregnant.

taglist:

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[extasiswings]

“I felt it shelter to speak to you.” for Buddie

This was...not supposed to be this long but all the recent promo content has been...inspiring. Anyway...on ao3 here.

The first attack happens on a Saturday afternoon.

There’s nothing special about the day, nothing strange. Christopher is at a friend’s birthday party, Buck is off somewhere with Taylor, and Eddie is grocery shopping before he’s meant to meet Ana for an early dinner.

His shoulder aches a little—that’s what he notices first—but that’s not too unusual. It happens sometimes. Even as physical therapy has helped him regain strength and mobility in his arm and shoulder, a high caliber sniper round ripping through his upper chest is no minor injury. Plus, while he’s hardly ancient, he’s not even as young as he was when he was shot the first time, and those bullets left behind their own patches of scar tissue and occasional twinges.

So. His shoulder aches. It’s fine. He ignores it and moves on. Goes through the store, checks out, put his bags in the backseat—

There’s a glare off a window in the apartment building across the street.

Eddie reaches for the handle of his door.

Suddenly, his fingers start tingling, uncomfortable pricks of icy numbness traveling up his hands like they’ve fallen asleep, but shaking them out doesn’t help. And then, without warning, pain lances through his chest, sharp and acute, and he can’t breathe properly, as if his torso has been trapped in a vise that’s slowly tightening more and more.

His vision swims. He sways on his feet, grasping at the door handle with clumsy, numb fingers to keep himself upright.

He feels like—he feels—

He feels like he’s dying. It strikes him with sudden clarity. He’s dying. Dying in a random parking lot—he always assumed he was too young to have a heart attack but the symptoms fit and he’s just—

He can’t. He can’t die. Not when he’s survived everything else. This can’t be—

“Sir?” There’s a woman with a station wagon parked in the space next to his truck and she’s looking at him with no small amount of concern. “Are you okay?”

Eddie’s mouth is so dry and his breathing so irregular that it takes him a moment to respond.

“I—I think I need to go to the hospital,” he grits out as another wave of dizziness threatens to send him to his knees.

She calls 911. Eddie spares a moment to be grateful that the paramedics who show up a few minutes later aren’t from the 118.

As it turns out, he’s not dying. And he didn’t have a heart attack.

“A panic attack?” Eddie’s voice is distant to his own ears as he stares at the ER doctor in disbelief, his stomach flipping with a new kind of dread. “Are you sure?”

“Your symptoms resolved on their own and your EKG is normal, Mr. Diaz,” she replies as she flicks through the screens of his chart on her tablet. “And nothing in your prior history or other recent tests indicates that there’s anything physically wrong with you—you were healthy before you were shot and your recovery has progressed smoothly up to this point.”

She pauses and looks back at him. “Have you...spoken to a therapist? I noticed that your treating physician made a referral for counseling when you were originally discharged, but…”

Eddie clears his throat roughly. “Yeah, no, I, uh...with the PT schedule and everything else going on, I never followed up with that. But I’ve been fine. It never seemed necessary.”

“With all due respect, Mr. Diaz,” the doctor says, “you’re in the emergency room because of an acute stress response in which your brain tricked your body into believing you were in danger to such an extent that you thought you were dying. I’m not sure you’re as fine as you think.”

There’s probably some truth to that. Eddie can admit that much. But that doesn’t mean he needs—he’s been shot before. He’s been in a warzone. He didn’t need therapy to move forward from it then and he shouldn’t now. He can—he can handle this. He can make himself get over it.

He’s already spent months leaning heavily on everyone around him. The thought of not being okay, of asking for more help when he’s finally easing back into working, when things are finally getting back to normal, when they all have their own issues to focus on—

God, it makes him want to throw up.

So...no. He’s okay. Because not being okay isn’t an option.

He’s fine. The panic attack was...a fluke.

“I appreciate the advice,” Eddie says finally. “I’ll think about it.”

He can tell the doctor doesn’t believe him when her lips thin.

“You know, more likely than not, the panic attacks will keep happening if you do nothing,” she points out. “Ignoring this won’t make it go away.”

“I understand,” Eddie replies. “If that’s all, does that mean I can get out of here?”

The doctor sighs. “Sure.”

Eddie’s phone rings while he’s in an Uber on the way back to his truck. It’s Ana.

He swears under his breath as he sees the time—he hadn’t called anyone, hadn’t wanted the hospital to call anyone either, but that means he’s now late for a date that he doesn’t really want to keep after everything and further doesn’t leave him with any good excuses for his absence except the truth which...he doesn’t really want to admit.

Before the shooting, Carla told him to make sure he was following his heart. And he’s been too exhausted and focused on his recovery to really think too hard about that. But now—

For a moment, Eddie considers it. Telling Ana the truth. Showing her some of the dark, messy, ugly pieces of himself. Being vulnerable.

The very idea makes him recoil. Not because he thinks she would run away necessarily, but because he just...can’t.

He can’t. Not with her.

And if he’s that uncomfortable with the idea of letting in someone he’s been dating for over half a year, if he can’t imagine himself ever actually being comfortable with that...then what the hell is he doing?

He calls her back when he gets to his truck.

“Hey—I’m so sorry, I had a little emergency—yeah, everything’s fine now, but I’m not sure I’m up for going out. Can I meet you at your place? ...okay, great. See you soon.”

He may know even less about ending a relationship than he does about dating in general, but he figures he at least owes it to her to end things in person.

*

Eddie goes to work on Monday feeling fine. Great, even. He sleeps well the night before, he gets Christopher off to school on time, traffic is light enough that he gets to the station early—

Everything is fine. By all accounts it should be a good day.

At least, that’s what he thinks right up until all of them get different emergency alerts sent to their phones and they find out the city’s systems have been hacked. From that point forward, everything is chaos. Damage control. Twenty-car pile-ups because stoplights are being messed with, an outbreak of animals from the zoo when the electric locks on their enclosures released—

Eddie’s fine though. He’s fine. It’s nothing he can’t handle—in fact, he’s usually great with chaos. He’s focused and sure and capable. Nothing else matters but the work, certainly not himself. When he’s busy, he has no time to think about anything else.

The gradually worsening tension in his shoulders can be ignored. The way he has to clench his hands into fists to keep them from shaking in a way he hasn’t had to do since his earliest days in Afghanistan can be brushed off. He doesn’t have time to think about anything but the jobs in front of him, which means he doesn’t have time to think about his own state.

Brush it off, pick yourself up, keep moving forward. That’s what he knows, that’s what he can do.

Except, then they end up at the hospital and—

A medevac helicopter falls off the roof. Bobby nearly joins it. Buck and Eddie barely manage to get him back.

A cold sweat breaks out on Eddie’s brow as Bobby leans heavily against the wall next to the roof access door to catch his breath. His stomach roils. He doesn’t feel fully connected to his own body, caught somehow between present and past, a rooftop in Los Angeles and a desert in Afghanistan.

He breathes in. He tamps down on the rising panic.

Bobby is fine. The helicopter pilots and their patient are fine.

He’s fine. He’s fine.

“Are you okay?”

Eddie jumps at the question, his head whipping around to find the source. Buck’s brow furrows as he holds up his hands.

“Sorry,” Buck says quietly. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

Eddie swallows hard and shakes his head. “You’re fine, don’t worry about it.”

He glances toward the door. “You know, I think I’m going to head back down,” he says, hoping Buck won’t notice the fact that he hasn’t answered the original question. “I want to make sure the pilots are holding up alright.”

“I can come—” Buck starts to offer, only for Eddie to cut him off.

“Someone should stay with Bobby,” he replies. He forces a smile as Buck’s eyes search his face. “I’ll be fine.”

Buck glances at Bobby, then back to Eddie before he finally nods.

“Okay,” he says. “But here, take the radio. If anything happens—”

“I’ll let you know.”

Eddie makes it down one flight of stairs before he decides to take the elevator the rest of the way down. The numbers on the top of the doors tick down, down, down—

And then, abruptly, the elevator lurches to a halt, throwing Eddie off balance and into the wall as the lights go out, plunging him into total darkness.

His ears ring from the impact.

He’s trapped. Trapped in a metal box in the dark. A box that could easily become a coffin if the emergency stop failed and sent it careening down to crash at the bottom of the elevator shaft.

Eddie’s breathing speeds up against his will. His chest starts to hurt.

Not again, he thinks vaguely. Not here, not now, not again.

But. He can’t move. He can’t breathe. Some distant part of his mind recognizes that what he’s feeling isn’t real, that he just needs to calm down, but he can’t—

He’s going to die. He’s going to—

The radio crackles in his belt.

“Eddie? Eddie! Can you hear me?”

Eddie’s mind latches onto the sound of Buck’s voice like a lifeline in an ocean of distress. It takes him a moment to make his trembling hands work through their numbness, to remind his fingers how to work the buttons, but eventually, he lifts the radio to his mouth.

“I’m here,” he says. His voice shakes. “I’m in the elevator. It’s—I don’t know which floor. Or if I’m between floors. I don’t—”

He shudders. His eyes close, not that it really matters given how dark the space is already.

“It’s okay,” Buck replies. “It’s okay, Eddie, we’ll find you. We’ll get you out, don’t worry.”

“I don’t want to die here.” It slips out of him before he can pull it back. Buck takes a sharp breath on the other end of the line.

“That’s not going to happen,” Buck says firmly, although his own voice seems less steady than usual. “I would never let that happen. I’ve got your back, remember? Always.”

A shudder rips down Eddie’s spine and he slides against the wall to sit on the floor. The walls still feel too restricting, like they’re closing in on him more each moment that he looks away.

The radio crackles again.

“Eddie. What can I do? What do you need?” Buck asks.

I don’t know. I don’t—I can’t—

“Eddie.” The fear and desperation in Buck’s voice cuts through the fog in Eddie’s mind.

He never wants Buck to sound like that.

“Keep talking?” Eddie replies. “I—just keep talking to me. Please?”

Don’t go, is what he really means. Stay with me.

He’s never allowed himself to say those things though. Not during the early days of the pandemic when they were sharing a bed in Buck’s loft. Not after he moved back home with Christopher and the other side of his bed felt too empty for sleep to come easily. And certainly not after he started dating Ana.

During his recovery, he never had to ask Buck for anything really. Buck was always just...there. Even though he was with Taylor, he was still there with Eddie and with Christopher whenever Eddie needed him. Like he knew somehow. Or maybe as if he needed to be there as much as Eddie needed him there.

Eddie hasn’t looked too closely at any of that. He’s not ready to. It’s too much, too complicated, too—too—

Dangerous.

“What do you want to talk about?”

Eddie swallows hard as his head rests against the wall. As he allows the sound of Buck’s voice to wrap around him like armor. Like home. Insulating him against the panic and isolation.

“Anything,” he says quietly. “Just keep talking.”

And Buck does. He talks about everything and nothing, random facts and stories from his past that Eddie hasn’t heard before, he talks and talks and talks until his voice grows hoarse in Eddie’s ear and the pressure on Eddie’s lungs eases.

Eddie exhales shakily and takes a few deep breaths as he continues to listen, as his body shifts from hyper-awareness and panic to wrung out exhaustion. When Buck finally cuts off, it’s because there’s an ugly screech of metal as the elevator doors are pried open, as light filters back in.

Eddie’s legs are unsteady as he gets to his feet. He trips on the edge of the elevator door when he exits—

Buck catches him before he can fall. Because of course he does.

“Thank you,” Eddie breathes into Buck’s shoulder as he finds his balance.

Buck shakes his head. “I promised we’d get you out, didn’t I? Besides, I—I shouldn’t have let you go alone.”

“I decided—”

“I shouldn’t have let you,” Buck repeats, low but insistent. His eyes meet Eddie’s and Eddie swallows hard.

“You weren’t okay. Were you?” Buck asks. And Eddie—

He wants to lie. Part of him does at least.

But he can’t lie to Buck.

Not to Buck.

“No,” he confesses. It’s half a whisper. “No, I wasn’t.”

Buck bites his lip and nods once.

“Okay,” he says. “We’ll figure it out.”

And somehow, Eddie believes him.

[tea-and-spoons]

All About Occupational Therapy (OT)

Fun fact about the bloggy author- I’m an occupational therapy student!  I find that so many people could really benefit from OT, but almost none of them know what it is.  So here’s the basics of OT in hopes that it will help more spoonies get the support they need.

In this context, occupation doesn’t mean job specifically, it just means anything you do to occupy your time.  This can mean everything from brushing your teeth to doing homework to walking your dog to playing videos to sleeping, and many more.

The “elevator speech” my professor taught me is that OT helps people to do the things they need to do and want to do in their everyday life.  If you’re thinking “wow, that’s really vague”- you are correct!  To me, OT is more of a way of thinking than a specialty, and it can be applied to just about anyone in any setting, whether they have a disability or not.  This also definitely includes people with a mental illness- that’s actually where OT started and they still help there too.

There are lots of ways OTs can help their clients, and I think of them in a few general categories.  The first way is changing something about you.  This could mean helping you learn new skills or techniques, or helping to reduce/manage the symptoms that are interfering with your life.  This method often is Not the bulk of what OT does, but as long as it’s something you also want to change, it’s still helpful.  (Actually, side note, OT should be very very based on what YOU want to work on!  That’s part of what makes it unique from other medical professions.  If you don’t feel like that’s the case with your OT, please let them know!)

Examples:  Sensory regulation strategies, using massage and stretching, teaching self-advocacy skills, making wrist braces, teaching specific skills like how to take the bus or mindfulness, helping you understand how your condition works

The next way is my favorite, and that is changing the environment, instead of changing the you.  This fits nicely with the social model of disability!  The environment and equipment need to be adjusted to work better for you, and that’s exactly what OT specializes in

Examples:  Working out how to modify your bathroom to create space for a wheelchair, adjusting your desk setup to decrease pain, providing adaptive silverware, creating routines to manage your health

Another way is to change how you’re doing your “occupations'', or change the demands.  There are so many little tricks like this that might seem like common sense, but every OT I’ve met has this magical ability to find just the right thing that works for you that you never thought of before.  Or sometimes, I think it just helps to have explicit permission from someone else to do things differently.  OT is also really great for helping you figure out what accommodations you might benefit from at school or work, and then supporting you in advocating for yourself- that’s what I mean for changing the demands of what you’re doing.  You don’t have to do the same things in the same way as everyone else.

Examples:  Doing multiple small loads of laundry instead of one heavy one, gathering everything ahead of time and then sitting down while you’re cooking or working, taking stim breaks, getting accommodations for extensions and alternate assignments at school

So if you’re newly diagnosed, or having a flare, or just having a lot of trouble managing your chronic illness- OT might be really helpful.  I got referred for hand therapy and sensory support when I first got sick, and it was like finally being taught how to live my life with a chronic illness. Many doctors don’t know a ton about OT either, but if you ask for a referral to help you manage your daily life, especially chronic pain, they may say yes.

If you have questions, ask away!  I can’t give you OT advice, but I can tell you about what OT does and help you figure out how to access it.

[you-didnt]

Ok. I've complained a bit here and there about having long covid but I've never really gotten into detail. Since I just reblogged a post about how most of society has decided to ignore covid I'm going to elaborate on why you don't want to catch it (again).

I, personally, struggle most with a very high heart rate, pain in my legs and cold-like symptoms when I overextert myself (which is called PEM, post extertional malaise, and the symptoms for that can vary too). Most days I just feel "wrong" (I have read people say it feels like being poisoned or microwaved) and fatigued, I have to sleep 10 hours to feel mildly rested. Sometimes there are new things: Last week I had chest pain and a headache that came out of nowhere and left just that suddenly. Due to that, my anxiety and depression have become worse. I'm afraid to move too much because every step could be the one that puts me back in bed again. Right now I've settled between 3k and 5k steps a day, depending on what kind of day it is. I have, comparatively, mild symptoms. I can leave the bed, if it's not a very shit day I can leave the house, my cognitive functions aren't affected, I can go for walks. At my worst I've been moderate. Here's the thing: "Moderate" has been so awful it made me suicidal. And there's hundreds of thousands of people out there who have it worse. It often turns into mecfs, which is a very similar but a lot worse can of worms I'm not going to open right now.

I've read countless stories about long covid. Some people have caught covid at the very beginning of the pandemic and have been struggling with it ever since. Some have healed after a few months, only to relapse after a while (what happened to me last month). That while can be anything between a week and a year. You think you're safe and suddenly it all comes back. It's unpredictable. It's scary. It also changes. Some symptoms leave, some new ones appear. It can affect literally any part of the body, you name it and there's at least one person out there who has developed issues with it after having covid. I'm in the longhaulers subreddit that is slowly approaching 40k members and while discussing symptoms and remedies, a big part of that subreddit is people talking each other out of suicide.

Doctors! Do! Not! Help! (Most of them at least) I know from the disabled community that this, sadly, has always been a thing, but it hurts a different kind of way to experience it yourself. I have a very nice GP who's written me referrals to specialists (who can offer me an appointment sometime in March next year but that's a different story) and who generally believes me, but unfortunately I know more than her about long covid and she can't help me. I begged a different doctor to prescribe me meds that have helped others and she refused and said she could get me a bed in a in-patient clinic for 3 weeks. That clinic (like the doctor in association) believes it's psychosomatic and it should be treated that way, like countless other doctors in every country around the globe. There are several indicators that prove long covid is not psychosomatic. I, just like everyone else struggling with this, know that doing yoga and meditating for 3 weeks isn't going to help and could even make it worse in some cases (remember PEM? That can lead to your baseline becoming permanently worse), that there's something wrong with the body, not just with the mind. But there isn't enough scientific evidence because studies on it (and with it I mean both long covid and mecfs) are criminally underfunded. There are some that look promising, but the scientists working on it say they can't do shit if they don't have the resources.

There is hope. With more and more people being affected (10%-30% of everyone who catches covid) it shifts more into the public eye. The first trial of a very promising looking medication just started in Germany and it might be available by the end of 2023/beginning of 2024. There's some existing meds and dietary supplements that seem to help some. But it's all just trial and error and since doctors don't know anything, all we can rely on is anecdotal evidence. I'm extremely scientific when it comes to these things so I had to... adjust to relying on some peoples experience instead of studies, but just to give you a picture of my desparation: I'm currently taking about 10+ different supplements a day, started doing breathwork exercises (which genuinely seems to help), completely changed up my diet and have gotten a hold of those meds my doctor didn't want to prescribe me another way (still legal, don't worry). I've tried.... fucking Reiki even though I have very strong feelings towards anything anthroposophic. Very few of them are positive. I am feeling a lot better than I did after my relapse a month ago, I have no idea what exactly helped or if it was just resting, but something helped.

Also I'm adding this because I feel like I can't talk about covid without talking about the vaccine: I've been vaccinated. Twice plus the booster. I've always been 100% pro vaxx. But now I have to question getting vaccined for the first time in my life, because there's a considerable amount of longhaulers who got worse after the vaccine. I know we don't like to talk about this because it invites anti-vaxxers to the conversation, but I think this is a conversation we need to have at some point.

So. Yeah. The next time you think "I don't need a mask" think of me and all the others who had a mild infection and didn't get better afterwards. There is a pretty high chance this could be you if you get covid.