#i know some of this feeling is exacerbated my own overthinking

[ohithankyou]

.

[aijee]

Hi, aijee! how are you? It's been so...long since I visited your tumblr account. I've been reading your rants and thoughts about your personal life and mw prompt and I really appreciated it. As someone who also having a hard time in my workplace, I've been feeling so lonely and depressed these days. I'm happy that I finally got a job and will be able to help my family in terms of financial but I'm feeling lonely because of the people I've been working with (1/2)

I feel left out and sometimes, i feel like they don't like me or is it just me, overthinking ㅜ.ㅜ anyway, I miss reading your fics. Hope, you're doing well these days!~

Hi anon, I'm feeling alright these days, thank you for asking. :) Not the best that I can be, to be frank, but I'm trying to remind myself that recovery and healing is a slow process, equally for physical and mental/emotional ailments.

Excuse the long read below (though I feel like you probably anticipated that!) I resonated with your messages.

If you'll let me vent a bit, I don't want to beat myself up for not being as energetic/productive as I used to be. The worst part of my brain keeps thinking, "Yeah, sure, we're in a pandemic, but life has always been hard, and there are so many other people who are doing just fine in this pandemic." In reality, a pandemic is a pandemic. It's unprecedented, a big fucking deal, and vaccines don't solve the wider societal issues connected to it. None of us have ever prepared for this sort of thing. Plus, we will never really know if people are truly okay based on face-value and assumptions; hell, fully vaccinated people are still suffering worldwide—financially, socially, constantly weighed by the pressure of, again, a global pandemic. I don't want to keep reminding people of it, but I guess I'm trying to remind others (and myself, honestly) that this never-ending feeling of burnout isn't out of nowhere and isn't a direct reflection of our capabilities.

To actually address your messages, first of all I want to congratulate you on your job and your newfound opportunity to financially support your family! Your family is lucky to have someone like you financially supporting them in a difficult time. Hopefully that part of your life isn't too big a burden. (I know too many people who work hard for their families, only for families to leech off of them, largely due to this societal expectation in many Asian cultures that earnings and resources are for the betterment of the whole family.)

I'm sorry to hear that your workplace life is on the more sad side of the spectrum, and that you feel lonely and depressed there. If I correctly recall, it's a medical job, right? I imagine The Big Health Problem worldwide isn't helping, if not already exacerbated medical workplace environments since long ago.

If I may offer some perspective, I understand the feelings you're feeling. Starting a new job is really tough! You're the new person so you haven't established relationships with others yet. You don't know everything or where things are located as easily. You need to ask for help. And if the people around you aren't receptive to that "baby worker" stage, then it can be tough to feel like you belong. It'll feel lonely, like you're not doing something right and/or other people don't like you because of inevitable gaps in what you know.

I felt super incompetent through the first few months of full-time work, like my boss only hired me because I worked part-time for them as a student (which is nothing compared to the real job). Everyone around me was always busy, smart, accomplished, etc. But I realized that because everyone is so busy (+ social distancing always in the air), hanging out is rarely on the mind. I had to go the extra mile outside my comfort zone to invite people to eat with me, or talk about non-work things, etc. Most people were pretty receptive to that! Those who weren't might not be in the mood (they have their own complex lives, after all) or preoccupied; maybe a different day/time, or maybe they're just not someone I should engage with. That has nothing to do with me. I know not every workplace is like that, but I like think that normal human beings with some heart would be glad to socialize or eat together if invited.

I don't want to push advice onto you, because that's not what you asked for. But my intention is to hopefully lighten your burden by pointing fingers at uncontrollable circumstances and the personal lives your coworkers live outside your knowledge.

Additionally, I'm a huge introvert with anxiety and depression, and I'm the type of person who would obsess over how I think other people think of me. But through some therapy insight, lots of reflection, and even more time, I've come to the realization that how I think people think of me is not the same as how people actually think of me. It makes sense that we'd have that defense mechanism though, right? To minimize conflict and to protect ourselves from hurt. But then I'd overthink literally every interaction I'd have with people and run my internal self ragged with negative opinions of myself that didn't come from others—they came from myself. I imagine that the "perfection" expected of medical workers could factor into this defense mechanism and cycle. It took me a long time to learn that I can stop bending myself backwards in the desperate hope of preventing negative opinions about me, since those will exist no matter what.

This isn't something that can be fixed, clearly, and might not even be that relevant to you. But I wanted to mention it anyway in the chance it would be.

I obviously don't know you personally, or the nuances of your workplace. There are probably a million and one other pertinent details I can't address. And there's also obviously a balance between not giving a shit about other people's opinions vs. acting in a way to maintain workplace harmony. But hopefully one or two things I've written in this long-ass post will be of some help to you moving forward in your work. There is still a lot of potential for positive change. It'll take time.

[nightingiall]

things i love about you: you’re too good be all mine

a post-little do you know drabble series // story page

anon asked: how are moniall dealing with quarantine?

Being at home all the time wasn’t something Mona really minded.

For one, the world was in a strange place at the moment and she’d very much rather be in her own space than outside. But also, it meant she and Niall got to spend more time with one another, which was not a luxury they were afforded for the past few weeks. They didn’t have to rush out of bed in the mornings and didn’t have to haphazardly slap together breakfast. While they still tried to stick to a schedule, considering they were both working from home, there was a lot more time in the day they could spend taking their time on the important things.

The first week or so was spent trying to get into the swing of things. Working from home wasn’t as easy as she initially thought; the distractions were endless and her self-control was often slim to none. Still, she somehow managed to get her work done and also catch up on some household chores that she hadn’t had time for; although, Niall did laugh at her when he caught her putting together a contraption that would clean that space where the refrigerator met the cupboard.

By week three or four—Mona lost track quickly, the days blurring together like watercolor paint—she thought she was holding up alright. Niall was obviously way better at the whole self-isolation thing than she was though. He was good at creating routines and sticking to them, always the level-headed one in their relationship. He even organized Zoom meetings with their friends so they could catch up or watch a movie or have a few drinks or do all of the above.

Mona was fine too. She missed her walks to work or hanging out with Jingle at Connemara’s, but she also enjoyed being at home, in a space she and Niall had meticulously arranged to suit their personalities and needs. He had his own music corner, the kitchen was stockpiled with everything they would ever need, the options for meals endless, and they had a reading nook that they shared. It was a comfortable bench under a large window, the warmest throw blanket folded neatly on top, where they often spent their free time with their legs tangled together and eyes on a good book.  

She tried to be productive but had her lazy days too, mostly when her job didn’t require much from her and she had the rest of the day to lounge about. But sometimes, Mona faltered. It wasn’t her fault, it was just something wired strangely in her brain that had her slipping into dark places sometimes. A never-ending pit of insecurities and worries. Her thoughts would buzz incessantly, one after the other, drowning all together until they created a din that was like bees buzzing around a beehive.

Depending on the day, she could handle it differently. She’d call her friends to catch up or bake something sweet or watch one of her favorite movies, general things that usually made her happy since going out for a walk—in New York City, nonetheless—was virtually out of the question. Or she’d lounge about with her sunshine boy, making him talk about the things that made him happy, and he would always happily oblige her, readily pulling her into his arms.

Today, though, seemed to be a particularly bad day, exacerbated by the fact that she didn’t have the energy to even get out of bed and also Mimi, her on-and-off therapist over the past three years, was having internet issues and wasn’t available for their bi-weekly appointments. She was curled up into the blankets, pressing her head into her pillow as though that would aid in quieting the commotion in her mind. She often hated how crippling it could be, how she couldn’t seem to find the energy to move much less do anything useful.

“Darlin’.” Niall’s voice seemed muffled and far away, as though she was drowning underwater and he was just above the surface. But when she felt the warmth of his fingers smoothing across her forehead, she realized he was sitting on the bed behind her, not far away at all. “What’s going on in here, my love?” he murmured softly, lips pressing against her hairline and fingers rubbing circles into her temples as he pulled her into his lap.

The cool air of the room hit her face and she whimpered, feeling excruciatingly exposed, and she turned around to press her face into Niall’s tummy to hide again. She didn’t have it in her to form words. She couldn’t even think straight.

Niall wrapped his arms around her, gently bringing her up so her head was resting against his chest, lips finding her forehead again. “Where’s my Mona darlin’?” He held her tight, warmth blooming into her skin from his, and like she always felt in his embrace, she was safe. “I know she’s in here somewhere,” he continued, lips never leaving her skin. “The house is unbearably quiet without you, my love. Come back to me.”

He said that a lot whenever she got lost inside her head, whenever her mind switched into overdrive and she was suddenly in a daze, a hermit crab retreating into a large, spirally shell, unable to find its way out again. Although, none of those instances were ever as intense as this. This was him reaching into the water in which she was drowning, attempting to pull her out. She pressed harder into his chest, hoping he never let go.

“Come back to me, my Mona darlin’.” He pressed feather-light kisses along her forehead and over her eyes and down her nose, body swaying slightly, as though he was rocking a child to sleep. “I love you. Come back to me.”

Mona couldn’t help the way guilt pooled hot and blistering into her stomach, those unsolicited notions of never being able to be good enough for him now slinking around with the already loud thoughts in her head. Here he was, holding her close, immeasurably wonderful, murmuring sweet words into her skin. And there she was, paralyzed in this world of intolerable desolation, unable to do much else besides hold on to him and wish to the highest power in the universe that he didn’t eventually get sick of her.

“No no no,” he whispered quickly at the first telltale sign of her onslaught of tears, wobbling lips and trembling hands, his fingers already swiping at her cheekbones to catch any moisture that had not yet fallen. “Don’t cry. It’s not your fault.” At his words, she clenched her eyes shut, desperate to keep any potential tears at bay. She felt as though she was clawing for the surface, trying to reach his hand through the current of the water and missing each time. “I’m here for you, love.”

And, oh, how she wanted to give him the whole world. She wished she was half as good for him as he was infinitely perfect for her. It was often times like this when she wondered how she even got so lucky as to call him hers. She inhaled a long and shuddery breath, whimpering as she summoned all her willpower to attempt to quell the war raging in her head, because in her heart of hearts, she knew he was right, knew it wasn’t her fault she sometimes tripped into this chasm of overthinking that seemed to be a never-ending black hole. But she still felt hopelessly inadequate at times.

Niall had somehow maneuvered them until they were settled under the blanket, wrapping his arms snug around her as she used his chest as a pillow, one hand finding his as the other curled into his shirt, her anchor in this storm. “You can tell me when you need me to love you a little extra sometimes.” His voice was starting to sound less muffled, syrupy sweet and hushed in their already silent room, as if he didn’t want the walls to hear, as if his words were only meant for her ears. “And when I need it you can love me extra. But I’m always here for you.”

Mona held onto him tightly, letting his words wash over her skin, letting them absorb into her, letting them find the war in her mind and fight through the clutter. “I love you,” she managed to mumble out, voice getting lost in the fibers of his shirt. And then, another thought managed to knock his words in her mind down for a moment, and she ended up whispering out, “I’m sorry.”

“No,” he repeated a bit firmer this time, still mouthing the words into her forehead, as though it will reach her mind faster that way. “Not your fault, my darlin’.” She curled up into him, legs tangling within his, trying to focus on the way his hands were smoothing up and down her spine, body a warm weight next to hers, trying to focus on the way he continued to whisper affirmations into her skin. She focused and focused until the thrumming in her head became nothing but white noise, and then slowly, everything became quiet.

She hadn’t realized she’d fallen asleep until she opened her eyes to find herself in a different position than before, facing the opposite side of the bed, Niall’s chest pressed to her back. His fingers were loose in hers and she gave them the slightest squeeze, turning around to look at him. She was met with the sight of his beautiful sunshine smile, eyes glinting from the sunset light filtering in through their bedroom windows, and there was that thought again, wriggling its way back into her head. He was too good for her.  

“Uh oh,” he got out, smile faltering. “You were back with me for a second there, then you started listening to your head again.” Mona sighed, shifting her way to rest her head under his chin and his arms fell around her easily again. “D’you want me to make you something?” he asked quietly, fingers trailing along her arm. “You haven’t eaten all day.” She shook her head against his chest, unable to think about food at the moment. She didn’t think she had the energy to stomach anything for the time being. Niall only allowed her mope for a few more moments before he started to get out of bed. “Come on, love. Get showered and I’ll make you some food, alright? You’ll feel better.” He smoothed her hair from her forehead, pressing a kiss to the skin there before heading off.

It was only until the other side of the bed started to get unbearably cold that she decided she should probably follow his advice and pull herself together. It wasn’t healthy to carry on like this and she knew it had gone on for long enough already. Still, it took her at least another hour to work up the energy and willpower to slide out of bed and let her legs carry her to the bathroom.

The steam from her shower made her feel more awake than she had in days. It somehow cleared her mind, giving her a boost of energy to wash her hair as well, a task she’d neglected during her visit to that dark chasm in her mind. Once she’d slipped into clean clothes—also something she neglected—and slathered moisturizer onto her body, she felt ready to finally leave the room and wander into the rest of their apartment.

“There she is,” Niall murmured as she walked into the kitchen, smile lighting up the entire room as he held out his arms for her and she stepped right into them. “She’s back.” He pressed a kiss to her temple before steering her towards a seat at the kitchen island. “I made you your favorite.” Sure enough, the plate he slid in front of her had a smile curving along her features, piled with fresh samosas, and not the frozen ones from the Indian grocery store. He’d gotten the recipe from Harlow’s mom way back when the two of them last went to San Francisco to visit everyone and he’d nearly perfected his samosa-making skills in the months he spent experimenting with them.

Mona looked up at him only to find his eyes glimmering with love and adoration down at her, and whatever she was planning to say disappeared from her mind. Instead, she reached out for his hand and brought it to her lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it.

She may sometimes think that she doesn’t deserve him, but at the end of the day, she considers herself the luckiest person in the world. Because after everything, he still chose her every single day. Chose to love her, on her good days and bad days and everything in between.

And that was all she could really ask for.

--

Niall huffed in frustration at his laptop.

He was sitting on the floor, back against the couch because he could no longer sit in the kitchen for lack of focus. He’d been trying to find the correct word for what he was attempting to convey in his article and was failing miserably. Working from home was difficult sometimes because of the lack of communication with his team. When they were all together in the office, if he was stuck on a word, he’d simply ask out loud, guaranteed to receive an answer in moments, and then he could just keep on writing. Sure, there were Zoom meetings and conference calls now, but it wasn’t really the same.

He tried to remain positive though. If anything, he was more grateful that he and Mona were healthy and didn’t have jobs that required them to be out and about, even more so, jobs which afforded them the luxury of working from home. The same couldn’t be said for others, whose services were needed to help care for others, and he sometimes caught himself trying to remember that before complaining about anything.

“Take a break,” came Mona’s voice from behind him. She had crawled on the couch to sit above him, hands on his shoulders as she pressed her lips to his cheek. “You’ve been at this for longer than usual and you keep making angry sounds under your breath.”

He huffed out a laugh, leaning easily into her as she started to rub circles into the back of his neck, trailing down to where his shoulders converged, fingers easily finding the muscles that were taut with tension and massaging them away. “I have a deadline,” he muttered out, but closed his laptop anyway, a satisfied sound bubbling out through his lips when she found a good spot. He didn’t realize how tense his shoulders were, how much he needed this, but as always, Mona noticed for him.

“That doesn’t mean you can’t take a tiny break,” she retorted, but her voice went to that soft and reverent place that he loved, slow and sweet like honey. Her fingers started to press long lines from a spot behind his ears all the way down the curve of his neck and back again, and he sighed contentedly, eyes fluttering shut. He wasn’t sure why, but it was his favorite spot, mostly because Mona’s hands were usually cold and his skin was always warm and it was soothing in a way he couldn’t really find words for. It was usually made even better because she sometimes pressed her lips along that line too, soft and fleeting kisses that usually left him waiting for more.

Her lips found the skin along his hairline instead, mostly because he was now leaning back into her lap, her arms wrapping around him to hold him close. “What are you doing?” he asked, nearly whining because she was kissing everywhere except for his lips.

She smiled against his skin and he felt his heart give a little start in his chest, warmth zipping through him because he never got tired of when she did that. “I’m loving you extra today.”

He couldn’t help the way he grinned at that, fingers tangling into hers to bring both of her hands to his lips and then holding them over his heart. He sometimes felt it was impossible to love her more but was always proven wrong when she did little things like this, repeating his own words back to him.

She was buried so deep into her head the other day that she wasn’t even answering his questions of concern as he tidied the room around her, where she was still curled into herself in their bed. He had begun to wonder if she could even hear him, a thought that nearly scared the life out of him because that had never happened before. He always noticed the way her eyes glazed over sometimes and she dragged her feet around the apartment, usually leaving her to her own devices for a bit because she was good at finding ways to pull herself out of it, learning that two days was a good grace period before he had to interfere with whatever war was going on inside her head.

But, the other day, time had seemed like it was passing by agonizingly slow, mostly because they were stuck in the apartment all the time, and he knew he had to do something quickly to bring her back to him, two day grace period forgotten after two hours. He wished she didn’t hurt so much sometimes, wished he could just reach in and take that part of her out, so she’d be happy and wasn’t plagued by darkness. But he loved her to the ends of the earth regardless.

“I made you your favorite soup,” she said now, cheek pressed to his head as she held him. “Might put you in a better mood?”

He couldn’t help the way he reached for her then, hands gently pulling her face down to his lips as he kissed her as sweetly as the angle allowed. It was awkwardly upside down but the way she smiled against him made it worth it. All these years later and she still didn’t really seem to understand that what made him feel the most gratified was when she was happy, when she smiled and laughed and glowed from it all, not overthinking, not caring about anything else. But he would pour his love into her until she did, until she realized that she really was the love of his life and nothing in the world could ever change that.

“Thank you,” he murmured against her lips, smile growing tenfold as she let out a breathy giggle. “I love you.” His heart still fluttered whenever she said those words back to him, and he knew that he would never get tired of saying it or hearing it back.

As he followed her to the kitchen and let her pour their lunch into bowls, all he could think of was how even if being cooped up inside all the time wasn’t ideal, it was worth it for how much time he got to spend with his Mona.

[aelaer]

☕ WHY DO YOU THINK TONY DOESN'T LIKE BEING HANDED THINGS (OR IF YOU KNOW THE CANON REASON THAT WOULD BE AWESOME) 👀👀👀

From what I could find, there is no canon reason. And I didn’t have any headcanon for this. So I outsourced and went to the internet to see what they thought. They had interesting answers. Here are all of them. I put my favorite answer at the end. (Copy/pasted rather than screenshotted so I don’t have to worry about screen-readers):

Via Rob Taylor on Quora:

Agent Carter fleshed this out in the final episode. Basically both Howard and Tony have OCD tendencies, most geniuses do. But Tony has a LOT of psychological issues at play.In Howard’s case it was displayed with humor, that his gadgets were not stored right. Tony’s is more to do with avoiding any personal involvement where he can. Being handed things is just one part of it, he beds women and has Pepper eject them, he can’t stand the pendulum and is ALWAYS flippant and inappropriate around authority, in particular Fury. Tony always avoided bonding with people, literally has Rhodey as a friend and Stane as his father figure at the start of the film and Pepper and Happy as his staff, albiet close staff. Since Yinsen’s death he tries to avoid drawing others into his world as they get killed, which is exacerbated by the dangers faced by Pepper, Coulson’s death and Hogan’s near killing in IM3. He is even off with kids in IM3 where he isn’t previously, so he is also quite paranoid.

Via Andrew Hart on Quora:

If you think back to (or go back and watch) Iron Man (the first one), you’ll notice Tony is handed things in the movie and it’s implied he’s handed many other things.

There are two situations that are most notable.

At the party when Christine Everhart comes up to Tony after he got back from Afghanistan, she hands him pictures of terrorists using Stark technology to attack Gulmira (however you spell it), which if you recall, is the place Yinsen says he is from. This hits Tony hard, because it’s HIS weapons being used to terrorise the place of origin of the man who died to save him.

In this same conversation, Christine accuses Tony of signing off to allow for Stark weapons to be given to those terrorists, which Tony is immediately upset by. It’s one of the few times when Tony doesn’t have a ‘smart comeback’, but is shown to be upset and disturbed by this information. This makes Tony wonder “What has he been signing? Could he have signed off for these weapons to be used without even knowing it?”

As CEO, he signs a lot of stuff, and he is responsible for everything Stark Industries does. Tony assumes the worst, that he signed off for the weapons to be used and didn’t notice it. He assumes it was just one of the random things people kept handing to him to sign.

So in this one conversation, we have Tony being handed images that deeply trouble him, and then being accused of signing paperwork that was handed to him to allow for these images to exist.

Basically this one conversation leads to Tony having a peeve about being handed things. Understandably.

Via KCreep on Reddit:

It hasn’t been outright explained. However my interpretation is this.

Ultra, rich, weathy, men have a tendency to have weird eccentric quirks. Think of Howard Hughes and him collecting his own urine in jars.  You don’t get super weathly without being a bit gifted and more importantly being right more often than not. So over time, they’d settle into the concept that everything they do is right.

My line of thinking is that Tony Stark is so cocky and sure of himself, that the entire concept of being handed anything means that he’s not in control of the current situation.

As in if someone hands him a file to look at. He might think that he’s the genius in this room, no one needs to tell him when he needs to get to work. And the act of handing a file to him would be offensive.  So while he may be too polite to just call it out for the way he thinks about it. He defaults to not liking being handed things.

Of course it’s just my insight, I could be overthinking it.

**edit then I just ran your question by my girlfriend and her immediate response was… He’s a germaphobe.  She brought up Jarvis handling things in his workshop, how his cars were all kept prestine, and how Pepper would be the one to hand things to him, someone he’d trust to be clean.  So you got two theories there.

Via Sarah Stodola on Quora:

I don’t think we have an official, worded answer from Marvel; they haven’t spelled it out. The following is my own observation and theorizing, after multiple viewings of most of the MCU films.

I think the core reason has to do with trauma and trust.

It’s not something he’s had or done all along. The trait didn’t actually seem to exist at the beginning of IM1 - he interacted with women and a pressing crowd at the casino, without issue. We also got the picture that he was a partier (crowds, booze, noise, sex) on a regular basis. We first see the hints of it later in IM1 (he’s uncomfortable with Obadiah, an old friend but also a very dominating personality, putting an arm around him - well before he knew of the betrayal), and then we have it pointed out very obviously in IM2. What changed?

Tony was held captive and tortured. Both people in his world and a lot of fans seem to forget that. Not just slapped around, but beaten, half-drowned, and electrocuted by people who seemed to take some pleasure in their “art” - all while having just undergone major wounding and open-chest surgery. He’s lucky he’s alive. He’s certainly not unaffected.

It doesn’t just show in not liking to be handed things; the issue is broader than that. That’s the piece he vocalizes, and he seems to play off it purposefully, obnoxiously even, as being difficult or quirky - better to be seen as annoying than vulnerable. But from IM2 on we also see that he doesn’t like crowds anymore - he will push through them if need be, but he goes visibly physically tense and does it quickly. He also startles quite noticeably when touched without warning on several occasions through the subsequent films - he downright jumps and half-turns if it’s from behind. It’s not just that he doesn’t like it. It actually spooks him; his eyes widen. His more dramatic anxiety/PTSD after “Avengers” seems to make most people he interacts with not look any deeper, but the older issues are still there.

He’s continually on some level of physical awareness; he holds himself very precisely. Even when dealing with the other Avengers he tends to circle - subtly - just out of reach, usually chattering steadily or joking to make it less obvious, and making conscious decisions to occasionally move in to do something like give or allow a brief shoulder grip. But it is obvious once you know to look for it. His body language downright shouts. The only times he seems to forget about it are when he’s angry (then he’ll get aggressive and up in people’s faces) or in an emergency (adrenaline, total focus on what needs to be done).

The only times he completely goes loose-muscled and unguarded are when locked in his basement hideaway (safe place), or under Pepper’s touch. The only times he moves comfortably in strangers’ close proximity are in the armor.

I suspect “don’t hand me things” is simply an excuse he can get away with to not to get within arm’s reach of most people - one fewer reason to end up in close quarters with another human being. The only regular exceptions to the rule are also the only people he’s shown to be actually comfortable being in physical contact with - Pepper of course, Rhodey, Happy, and oddly enough, apparently Bruce Banner. (And yes, Peter later on, I was reminded. Tony shows some stiffness for awhile with him too, but seems to relax gradually.)

Really, when you look at all the little things unspoken but added up to a clear picture, it’s hard not to realize just what an amazing actor RDJ really can be. To express so much about a character’s state of mind without using words at all - except the occasional snarky “I don’t like to be handed things.”

**

The above of course is all about Tony Stark in the MCU. I saw from another answer that this trait has also been carried into the comics. I can only surmise that either 1.) it would come from a similar history and mental state in the comic character, or that 2.) the writers carried over the trait from the films without looking into why it existed there, in which case it could end up a lot shallower of a reasoning.

I think Sarah hit the nail on the head and that’s the reason I like the most. Feel free to choose as you like. That’s the beauty of headcanons.

[waftyjourney]

Hej 2021!

I cant describe how 2020 feels in one word. So many things happened, so unpredictable. However, one thing that I really be grateful for: Thanks God, I survived. I able to finish this year with alive, beside every rocks that I’ve got this year.

From the beginning of the year, I was overwhelmed with my future path, either getting into master or having a dream job. Then, it continued by my worries about the future since Covid19 broke all the plans. Until suddenly God led me into a new job. On that day, I was having rustle in my gut, told me that it would be my dream job. After waiting for the long run, I was in. Worked calmly & peacefully in the 1st month. And well, it’d changed, something trigger my mental health and I lost my self. An identity crisis. Until I write this post, I am still having anxiety disorder through the job. Funny isn’t it?

Well, some points that I wanna recap through my journey in 2020, and I hope these will be precious lesson to my life ahead.

Too much worry about the future. Well, that’s no wrong to be prepared about the future. But I admit that I was a fool. I really worry about my future, I felt hopeless & worthless. I am too naive, thinking that our sustenance only could be achieved by working on 9-5 job. And yeah, I was feel sooo miserable as human being. I even compelled to God as if I can’t get 9-5 job, I would be the most pathetic person on the earth. And now, He slammed me over my face. He gave me what I want, but it’s out of my expectation. So yeah, I would never, never again to compel my hope to uncertain things. Only him who knew what the best story that I must walk in.

Discover my self: fear & anxiety. Another thing that I discovered about my inner self: I can’t resist if anyone scolded me. I thought  that I just afraid when my dad mad at me before, but not just my dad. When people around me show theirs madness through me, i will easily triggered. My brain will automatically give an alert & decide to avoid the person. I dunno why my thinking mechanism turn out like this. So, in this year, I met with a boss who crazy about perfectionism. She will mad if something not equal as her standard. And yeah, as a newbie, I made many mistakes. Until one day, she mad at me and scolded me harshly. I dunno why every time she labelled me in a hector way, my life bubble suddenly ‘feel’ as if  her words become true. Then, as you might expect, I enter vicious circle, that I can’t perform well because I am too afraid to her. The peak is around Sept - Oct, when I guessed I will be cut off because I couldn’t perform. At that time I really really afraid to her, can you imagine how big my fear is? The feeling is such fear to be murdered or beaten up by that person. I have had high intensity of anxiety disorder: I can’t take a nap if there is sun light outta there because my brain activated its alert system to stay guard as it’s work hours. If I try to get a nap, close my eyes, my heart will beat rapidly and the scolding scene will play in my brain.  In addition, I  woke up in 3 AM all of sudden, with a fast beating heart, and stay awake.  I also got my first panic attack, where my brain was dysfunction for a moment. All of these become exacerbate as my self which crazy over efficiency. In one time, I had a suicidal though too, I hoped that I get infected by the virus, in order to end this hell. I am tired, I asked internally: why I am very scare to that person? Why I scare to a human as that much? One thing that I learned, I will get triggered when some one scolded me. I am struggle with overthinking, anxiety, and also my own character as eficiency crazy. I know that I must take control of it, but it not an easy process, right? I must learn how to let it go, how to f*uck i off from my mind, in order to unwiring this paralyzed thought.

Go to Psychologist for 1st time, being vulnerable. Meanwhile my anxiety was high, I blamed my self that I can’t good enough. Why I couldn’t perform, why my fear is very irrational, why and why. I called my friends almost every night, I griped so much to release my anxiety. I even tried to open talk to my parents, which I never done before ever in my life. I really need a help from people, I felt that I am disoriented at that time, and at the end, I tried to visit a psychologist. Spilled out of my emotions. One thing that her suggestion that I marked up, P: What the worst possibility if you make mistake again?; M: I will be fired; P: And what you might feeling if it happened?; M: I relief, I will free from all of these; P: See? you will be ok and still breathing Vi ... At this point, I realized that we can’t really stand alone in our life. We need people, we need their perspectives to see logically in our matters. Sometimes we are too focus at our problem, and can’t analyse clearly how to solve it. Moreover, the best healer in our life is only God, and our parents. Parents & home, are the best thing that I ever had in my life. By only feeling their existence, I get less anxious. Sometimes I regret, why I just realize their importance in my mid 20s, and wasting them in my college year. Regardless all these bad things, surprisingly, my communication with my day has became better. Out bonding get thighter, thanks God..

What is the purpose of our life? What so special about our achievements? After become anxious every time - (the demon is still here, now) - I reached in one point: why I am so screw up? Why my job really affected all of my life, besides there are more joyous things that I could find? Why I am always focus in a bad parts? I am really tired with my demon thought. What’s wrong with me?

Well, that’s a lot happened during my 2020. I am not sure what I will face in the next months, but I just hope: I want to be mindful to live my live, be more conscious, and bring back ‘the old me’.

[funkymbtifiction]

I’ve typed myself as a 5w4, though I’m now having confusion as to whether that’s true. Because I’m starting to see what’s said about other types and relate; I relate with the 6’s worry and pessimism, but also the 7’s need to escape pain and have pleasure. Or maybe the 7 what I’m relating to is actually my 5 that has a reluctance to getting involved/preferring to overthink? Can a 5w4 be prone to the anxiety that I’m relating to within the 6? I’m an ENFP. Sorry I know I’m overthinking this!

Being an ENFP and a 5 core, rather than a 5 wing, is unlikely given the Ne-dom’s desire to engage with ideas and be sociable / outgoing / share these ideas and the emotional withdrawal and ideas-stinginess of the 5 core, who is socially awkward / inept and tends to actively avoid the kind of emotional connection a feeler seeks. If you identify heavily with 5 but are sure of being an ENFP, you likely have a 5 wing (4w5 or 6w5).

Most 5-cores are TJ/TP types due to the low anxiety thinkers have about emotional connections; they are more likely, as a child, to chose ‘avoidance of detachment’ as a means of protecting their emotional sensitivity, which they cannot ‘process’ easily or even understand (“I will just not care, so nothing can hurt me”), thus growing into / exacerbating their own outer coldness. A 6 feeler may develop a 5 wing to protect their sensitive feelings -- admiring logical 5ish types and wishing to control how easily hurt they are and deciding to ‘unhook’ to self-protect when / if the 6 part of them feels threatened, abandoned, or as if they will ‘be’ hurt. The 4 may do the same thing, for different reasons (people cause me much pain by rejecting me so I will ‘not care’ and reject them first!).

I wrote about the 5 cores here yesterday, I wrote about the 4 cores earlier, and will be transcribing the 6 core fears / coping mechanisms today, with the 7 coming soon. All three of the head types feel worry and pessimism, the need to escape and ‘hide’ in some way, but they do it in different ways -- the 5 through shutting off their emotions and refusing to have any emotional responses (pathological detachment), the 6 through free-floating ‘waiting for the other shoe to drop’ anxiety, going to war within themselves rather than face the outside world, and warm attachment; the 7 through endless cheerful avoidance, rationalizing of mistakes, and a refusal to slow down and process negativity.

It’s important to focus on the negative aspects of the type, for therein lies the truth of the self-sabotaging behaviors of the core. When you find the right one, you will be able to look back on your life and see where this mechanism has caused you to make deliberate responses / choices that have prevented you from living up to your full potential in some way. (A 5 shutting down / refusing a relationship before it even starts or never being ‘ready’ to start living; a 6 being too apprehensive, suspicious, and self-doubting, causing them to delay their own advancement; a 7′s inability to settle down or commit meaning they create a shallow existence of nothing ‘lasting’ in their life, etc).

Keep digging. You will find out who you are and why you do what you do.

- ENFP Mod

[avengerscompound]

The B-List Avenger - 2

The B-List Avenger: A Hawkeye Fanfic

Series Masterlist // PREVIOUS

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Clint Barton x  F!Reader

Word Count:  2694

Rating:  E

Warnings:  Action, Injuries, Angst, Pregnancy, Smut (vaginal sex)

Synopsis:  After an explosion in your building, it’s up to Hawkeye to get you and your daughter to safety.  There might be worst ways to get to know someone.

Chapter 2: Upstate New York

You were in the hospital for two weeks.  In that time your mother flew in from out of town to take care of Alexis.  You had received significant bruising on your spine that was exacerbated by the amount of time it took you to run to the evac point.  The leg injury had required sixteen stitches.

Most of your friends had been affected by the sudden attack by HYDRA too so apart from when your mother brought Alexis around to see you, you didn’t have any visitors.  That is, except for Clint Barton.

Clint had come in a day after you were admitted looking like he hadn’t been shot at all.  You knew for a fact that he had.  You’d seen wound with your own two eyes.

“Avenger’s get the good insurance.”  He’d said when you’d asked about it.

Every day for two weeks he came in to see how you were doing.  Sometimes he was there when your mother was visiting with Alexis.  When that happened Alexis was just obsessed with him.  He took it with good humor.  Letting her climb in his lap and held conversations with her like she was a full-grown adult and not a one-year-old.

Your mom was developing quite the crush.  If Clint was there when she was, she always spoke animatedly with him and praised him for how good he was with Alexis.  Or for saving your life.  Or for just general Avengers things.  If he wasn’t she took to speaking about him to you.  How cute he was.  How great it was that he kept stopping by.  How he looked like he’d be such a good father.

It would be annoying, and you tried very hard to pretend it was, except that you thought the same thing.  He was cute.  And hilarious.  And he was really amazing with Alexis.  Not to mention his arms were amazing.  You really, really wanted this to not just be him taking pity on you.

Only the signals were as mixed as if they’d been put through a blender.  When it was just the two of you he’d respond to flirting like it was a second language that he spoke fluently.  Always knowing just the thing to say that would make your mouth dry and other parts of you much moister.  If Alexis was around though he flicked between being potential future husband candidate of the year, laughing at your mother’s jokes, being affectionate and caring to your daughter and smiling and joking with you.  Or he was all business-like he’d stopped by out of some moral obligation and had no desire to even make friends with you.

On the day before you were due to be released, he came to see you while you were alone.

“Checking out tomorrow?”  He asks, leaning in the doorway of your room.

“Yeah.  The doctors said I still need to take it easy.  I’m not allowed to pick Lexi up for another month.”  You explain.  “Also, I don’t actually have a home anymore.  Or a job.  So that’s gonna be fun.”

Clint grimaces and walks over, sitting on the end of your bed.  “What are you gonna do?”

“I’m gonna go back home and live with mom until I get back on my feet.  It’s pretty shit.  But there’s not much I can do about it.”  You answer.

Clint looks crestfallen.  His shoulders slump and he looks down at his hands.  “Where does your mom live?”

“Upstate New York.”  You answer, poking him with your foot.

He looks up at you with a smile on his face.  “That’s where I live.”

“I know it is.  It’s a little hard to miss.”  You say.

“How far away?”  He asks.  

You chew your lip and look at him.  “Like two towns over.  Maybe half an hour or so?  Forty-five minutes tops.”

He scoots a little closer to you.  “So you think we could hang out sometime?”

“I’d really like that.”  You agree.

It’s another couple of weeks before you see him again.  You were busy having to talk with insurance people, buying clothes and settle down into a new routine.  Alexis was pretty thrilled to be spending so much time with Grandma.  She’s even more thrilled when Clint shows up to pick you up for your first date.

“Cwint.  Cwint.  Come.”  She squeals as she stands at the end of the hall bouncing up and down on her chubby little legs.

“Hey, kiddo.  Just give me a minute to say hi to your mom.”  He says, kissing your cheek.  “You look beautiful.”

“Looking pretty good yourself, Barton.”  You say.  Which is not a lie.  He’s wearing a suit that’s color isn’t quite gray and it isn’t quite blue.  It doesn’t quite fit him right, but just something about him in it makes you want to get him out of it.

He follows Alexis to her bedroom where she shows him all the new toys that have been bought for her since the move.  He lets her show him everything before ruffling her hair and telling her he is taking you out.  She doesn’t take it well.  Almost immediately breaking down into tears and throwing herself on the ground.

“Aww… kid.  You’re killing me.”  Clint says, crouching down beside her and patting her back.  “Tell you what, next time we can all go out.”

That doesn’t help.  At all.  She just becomes more hysterical.  Thankfully your mom comes and saves the day.  Taking her into the living room to watch TV while you escape with Clint.

“I’m so sorry.  I think after the incident, she’s gotten really attached to you.”  You say as you follow him out to the car.  It’s a lavender Volkswagen Beetle. You try not to look as surprised as you feel about him driving it.

“That’s what we’re calling it?  The incident?” Clint asks as he opens the door for you.

“I don’t really know what else to call it.”  You say when he climbs into the driver’s side.

“The incident is fine,”  Clint says.   “And don’t worry about Lexi.  I always say that I hate kids.  But I think actually …”  He trails off and groans.

You turn to look at him as he drives.  “What’s wrong?”  You ask.

He whines.  “Can’t talk about deep stuff.”

“Does dating someone with a kid scare you?”  You ask.

“Yes.”  He whines.  “But only marginally more than getting serious with anyone.  I’m not good at it.”

You start to nervously strum your fingers on your leg.  “Clint.  I’m not trying to push you into anything that you’re not ready for…”

He grabs your hand and holds it still.  “You don’t have to say it.  I’ve told myself it a million times now.  You can’t lead this chick on.  She has a kid and you and your fuckin’ problems with … whatever … will hurt them both.  I like you though.  A lot.  I get it if I’m too high risk, but if you could give me a chance.”

“Is the ‘whatever’ intimacy issues?”  You ask, linking your fingers with his.

He nods his head.

“If you do this and they get the better of you, you’ll break both our hearts you know?”

He nods again.  “I know.  I can’t promise it won’t.  I can’t even promise we won’t break up for other reasons.  I just feel like maybe I can do it with you.  In a way, I haven’t with anyone else.”  He lets go of your hand and runs it through his hair.  “Normally when I think about someone I … like or whatever…”  He shakes his head.  “Even if it’s just for a one-time thing.  I have an expiry date in my head.  One night.  Two weeks and three days.  Six months and she cuts up most of my clothes.  With you, I don’t see a time.”

You sigh and turn and bite his shoulder.  “How serious are you about trying?”  You ask.

“Pretty serious.”  He says.  “Maybe I should grow up a little.”

“Just a little though.”  You tease.  “Would you consider going to therapy?”

“Aww… therapy?”  He whines.  He pulls the car into the parking lot of a steakhouse and looks at you.  His blue eyes doing that sad puppy thing.  “Yeah.  I guess I could probably use it, given I don’t sleep.”

“Alright.  If you’re willing to do that I’m willing to try.  I do have one more question though.”  You say.

“Yeah?”  He says sounding nervous.

“How do you feel about putting out on the first date?”  You ask.

He smirks and squeezes your leg.  “I am in favor of it.”

“That’s good because I am dying to get laid.”  You joke.

Dinner goes fine.  He really does have a way of putting you at ease even when he’s slightly panicked and overthinking everything.  After dinner, he takes you up to a lookout that looks over the town and takes in some forest and the Avengers compound in the distance.

You sit side by side holding hands, your head resting on his shoulder and his cheek on your head.  “It’s really beautiful up here.”  You sigh.

“Yeah.”  Clint agrees.  “I always see things best from high up.”

“I think they call that being far-sighted.”  You tease.  “You can get glasses to correct it.”

Clint digs his fingers in your sides.  “You think you’re so funny.”  He snarks, as you squirm away from him.  

At some point his hands move from your side to your back, pulling you tightly against him.  You wrap your arms around his neck and you’re kissing before you even know what’s happening.  It’s hungry and desperate.  You claw at each, bite at each other’s lips.  Your tongues swirl together and explore each other’s mouths.

His hands move down to your hips, dragging you closer and then up under your skirt.  You break the kiss panting.  “We should - we should go somewhere - less public.” You pant.

Clint teases along the line of your panties.  “You sure about that?”

You whine a little and nod.  “Pretty sure.”

“Your place or mine.”  He asks, helping you to your feet.

“We gonna have a sleepover?”  You ask as you head to the car.

He falters for a moment and you watch as the gears turn behind his eyes.  “Yeah.  Yep.  Sleepover.  That’s what couples do.”

You pause at the door and look at him.  “Clint?”

“No.  It’s good.  I want this.”  He says with a smile.  

You laugh and shake your head before getting in the car.  “My place then.”

As soon as you’re back at your mom’s house you’re all over each other.  He kisses at your throat and tugs up your skirt.  You somehow manage to get through the door and he pushes you through it and up against the wall.  Your hip bangs the side table by the door and the vase sitting on it tips over with a clatter.

“Shh… Clint.”  You whisper.  “You need to be quiet.”

“That’s going to be a problem for you.  You’re not going to be able to stay quiet.”  He whispers back.

You drag him into your room.  “Because I’ll be laughing so hard?”  You tease.

He pushes the door closed and pulls his shirt off before wrapping you in his arms.  “Such a smart ass.”  He smirks, unzipping your dress.  He pushes it down off your arms and you start to kiss again.  Moving slowly towards the bed, shedding each piece of clothing one by one.  He picks you up just before you reach the bed and tosses you on it.

You move back and he stalks up after you placing slow deep kisses up the insides of your legs.  When he reaches your inner thigh he’s pulling your soft flesh into his mouth and sucking on it hard enough to leave small bruises.  His nuzzles at your pussy and you spread wider for him.  He flattens his tongue and swipes it up your folds before placing a large open mouth kiss over them.  His tongue swirls around, tasting everything it can reach and he pulls back sucking your clit into his mouth.

Your hips buck up.  “Holy shit.”  You hiss.  He smiles up at you and rolls his tongue over your clit.

You arch back tilting your hips up to his face.  His fingers tease at your entrance before he thrusts them into you.  You gasp clenching around his digits.  He finds your g-spot almost instantly like he’s targeted onto it and when his fingers push against it he curls them like he’s beckoning someone to him.

He fucks you with his fingers as his tongue continues to work your clit.  It isn’t long before you’re a whimpering mess under him.  Trying to keep quiet as your legs shake and your core muscles clench.  You pull his hair and clutch at the sheets as you completely come undone.  Your orgasm hits you hard.  You twist under him, trying to escape it as it surges through you and you drag your pillow down to your face crying out into it.  

He strokes you through it and then reaches for his pants, pulling his wallet free.  You take the pillow off your face and watch as he pulls a condom out of it.

“You think you were getting lucky tonight?”  You ask sitting up and taking it from him.

“If the boy scouts taught me anything it was always come prepared.”  He says smirking.

“Nice pun,”  you say, tearing the packet open.  “But it’s ‘be prepared’.”  He starts laughing and you put the condom between your lips and crouch down placing the condom over the head of his cock and using your mouth to roll it in place.  He lets out a strangled moan and his hands bunch in your hair.  You bob your head a few times, loving the sound of his soft moans, but he takes your jaw in his hand and guides you up to him.  Kissing you hard and pushing you back into the mattress.

You feel his cock press on your entrance as he lines himself up with you and with a roll of his hips, he sinks into your cunt.  You both groan as he fills you and you adjust to him.  He starts to thrust.  You wrap your legs around him, linking your ankles at the small of his back.

He kisses down your throat to your breast sucking your nipple into your mouth.  Your hands roam his skin, running your fingertips up his back at a feather touch before digging them into his firm biceps.

Your skin prickles and flushes with heat.  “Oh fuck, Clint.”  You groan as you feel the pressure of your orgasm weighs you down.

“Me too.”  He groans.

His fingers dig into you, he picks up his pace and you come.  You arch up and just as you let out a cry his mouth is on yours smothering it.  You each moan into the kiss as you find your release.

He comes inside of you, you close your eyes and focus on the pulse of his cock as he empties.  For a moment you just stay like that kissing, as the last of your orgasms shudder through you.

“Fuck.”  You sigh as he slips from inside of you and rolls off.  “I needed that so badly.”

Clint salutes you.  “Happy to be of service, ma’am.”

You go clean up together and dress, you in flannel pajamas with dogs on them, him in his boxers, before climbing into bed.  You rest your head on his shoulder and he wraps both arms around you.  “Just a little warning.  I sleep like shit.”  He says, pressing his lips to your forehead.

“That’s okay.  I’ll sleep through the TV if you turn it on.  Just keep it down for my mom.”  You say, closing your eyes.

You fall asleep quickly, cuddled up to him.  In the morning you wake as the sun comes through the curtains.  Clint is deep asleep on his side facing you and sprawled out on her back between you is Alexis.

“I’m doomed.”  You sigh, pressing a kiss to your daughter’s forehead and closing your eyes again.

// NEXT

[doctorcanon]

FE:3H Modern AU: Faults

So I’m biased toward the Blue Lions but it’s not only that. I feel like out of all the characters, the Blue Lions fall prey to one of the most annoying JRPG issues where their Character Development becomes inconvenient to the storytelling. Honesty I feel like Felix is the only one with a decent character arc outside of their supports. My grievances aside, I started watching This Is Us and I have ideas. 

Dimitri: Unbalanced. Dimitri lost his entire family in the bombing and he was raised by someone who was too religious to believe in therapy. It shows. Dimitri cannot handle extremes of emotions and when he does, things go badly. He’s determined to feel normal by any means necessary. Therefore, he developed an addictive personality and is a notorious creature of habit. This results in a series of compulsive rituals and dangerous behavior to maintain the status quo often time dragging Dedue down along with him.

Dedue: Clingy. Dedue has been abandoned by everyone he’s ever known. Taciturn and stoic he may be but Dedue is terrified of being alone. If he doesn’t do things just right, his friends will leave him. He and Dimitri don’t have the healthiest relationship, being practically dependant each other. At his best, Dedue is just a neat-freak with a penchant for making lists. At his worst, he’s an enabler only exacerbating Dimitri and his friend’s dangerous behavior.

Annette: Extreme. Annette has not known a single moment of chill her entire life. Everything is a big deal. All the time. Even the smallest detail can become a huge problem. She’s sweet but she’s a micromanager, over organized and tends to overwork herself to the point of exhaustion. Then once she comes into herself, she’s shocked that nothing went according to plan. She’s locked herself in to a vicious cycle “Overthink, Overwork, Overcompensate, Repeat” 

Sylvain: Fake. Sylvain is a dishonest smooth talker who hides behind his smile. Simply put: he’s a goddamn liar. He lies about everything. He lies to the girls he dates and being attracted to them. He lies to his parents about everything, even how he feels about his brother. His cheerful facade is carefully constructed and it will take nothing short of a molotov cocktail to break it. Be careful though, not even Sylvain knows what’s underneath it.

Ingrid: Judgemental. Ingrid is physically unable to mind her own business. To be fair, it comes from a good place. She knows that her friends are troubled and last time she left someone behind, he died. Sometimes even stooping so low as to eavesdrop or go through someone’s phone, her meddling almost always causes more harm than good. They say that Ingrid is always right, especially when she’s wrong 

Ashe: Conflicted. Ashe is a good and pure young man with no faults. Seriously. Stop asking. He’s so nice and sweet how could he do anything wrong? In the past, Ashe had to do some terrible things in order to survive and you just don’t get out of that mindset once you’re physically  in a better place. The worst part is, Ashe finds himself depending on that perception of him to get away with various minor crimes even getting his friends to take the blame.

Felix: Cruel. Felix has always been a smartass and he lives to get the last word in an argument. For Felix, life is about winning and he’s a pragmatic fighter. He’s not afraid to dig up personal things and events in order to prevail. This can result in fights getting physical, and he’ll win those too. Nothing is off limits. If it hurts, tough shit. You shouldn’t have provoked and now you feel bad. Don’t expect him to feel guilty either. It’s your own fault.  

Mercedes: Lazy. Annette and Mercedes are the best of friends which is confusing because everyone thought she would’ve strangled the latter by now. Mercedes has no sense of urgency and hardly any initiative. Everything will work out. The dishes in the sink? It’ll work out. Dimitri’s relapse? It’ll all work out. Everything will work itself out because if it didn’t, she would have to do something other than pray about it. Time heals all wounds...right?

[ruwithmeguys]

I was asked recently: do you enjoy writing for ll as much as you do for Felicity? You write Felicity like you can hear her thoughts. But then you go and write ll’s character and you manage to keep her IN character without making her bitchy and without pulling her to bits. Do you like writing for her?

Beyond being hugely flattered – SO FLATTERED, MY GOODNESS – and mildly sceptical – I’ve never thought I was anything special in terms of writing ability but I do love keeping characters IN character whilst placing them in new situations – I can answer with complete confidence that, yes. I like writing for LL’s character.

I like knowing just how skewed her perception is. I enjoy writing that perception because in many ways, it’s incredibly indulgent. In reality, no one who wants to be loved and who wants a family should think like LL does. It’s a point of view that’s singular and therefore, interesting. But after writing for her, I truly don’t think the writers knew what to do with their creation, and she was a creation. Just because her name is LL doesn’t make her any less of a creation than Sara. Comic LL? Well, she’s married to a cop; ergo the name Lance. This cop is abusive. Her personality is also very different and she isn’t a lawyer. The writers tried very hard to make LL morally perfect but destroyed it when they realised she’d have to compromise said morals to love Oliver. So they gave her a set of standards that no one could reach and yet had her break them every time Oliver was mentioned. However instead of showing real guilt or shame or SOMETHING that would enable her some character progression, they replaced it wit superiority. It made her a selfish character who were supposed to believe is the opposite.

But you see, well written characters – characters with substance, who aren’t there for a plot purpose but as a defined personality on a show – can be selfless and still do selfish things. They can compromise their integrity and still be morally righteous. They can be good and yet see the virtue in violence.

I give thee Felicity Smoak.

Now KC did her own damage to LL in S1 – she was very determined to make her into something she wasn’t too fast because she clearly believed this show had been created to turn her into a mask wielding superhero who’s better than everyone. But the writers are the main problem – them and the exec’s at CW who threw an actress at the show because she had a contract with them. She was SO not right for the character, but they didn’t care. She’d starred in Supernatural so her name had merit.

(just a hypothetical: if Emily had been cast as LL, would she have possessed the skill to portray the character in a way that could make us like her? I think so, though the writers made this obscenely hard with their contradictory writing. Most would have a lot of difficulty. Still, I’m almost certain that if she HAD been, Oliver would have married the BC: a BC a foot shorter with pretty blue eyes… you know like in the comics *eye roll* Her COMIC BOOK fans ignore even the comic book details.)

ANYWAY!

It’s kind of fascinating really: I made sure to watch the episodes and ingest everything about the characters I write. I don’t always do this and it’s been a while so it’s time for a re-watch (any excuse really) but a few things became incredibly clear once I started. I have a few of Felicity’s habits: I talk to myself in tangents of weirdness and get flustered/blush super easily. I’m not a genius by any definition (mostly I'm a gigantic dumbass) but I wear glasses with my hair in a ponytail and I’m not generally the first person seen in a crowded room so to speak, plus I overthink/second guess everything I say. Like Oliver, I blame myself for everything and worry too much. I’m more solitary than most. I want to save everyone but have no idea how to. I love deeply.

I don’t love easily.

I’m not like Olicity. But when I write, I sort of become them. Or I attempt to. I feel my way through each scene and it becomes quite personal, which would explain the sentence breaks where I intermingle thought and movement with descriptions and speech.

Then I started writing for ll… now, I like to remain unbiased when I analyse a character. I don’t like ll. I don’t appreciate the way she was written in any season – I’m referring to E1 LL, E2 I’ll talk about later – nor did I enjoy KC’s horrific portrayal. It’s no secret, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be fair to her character.

I came up with three literary explanations of her character and this is one of them: the medium between the other two, from ll's point of view (please remember I am at work and therefore cannot write as well as I would like) -

She’s ordinary. Totally ordinary. A normal person who lives, works, eats, sleeps. We can empathise.

She’s part of a nuclear family and she knows her family loves her. She loves them. They’re not a perfect family but they are a good one.

She has an over exaggerated sense of how attractive and intelligent she is, exacerbated by how many people have told her that she’s smart and beautiful. She knows because she’s been told: she’s never questioned her looks or her intelligence and it’s the start of all the bad really. It was reinforced by becoming friends with the two richest kids in the city.

So she’s never had a reason to doubt herself. Not ever. There’s nothing in the world that ever could.

As for how this affects the story:

Through illogical and extremely unlikely circumstances – never explained for two reasons: it wasn’t important enough to the writers and they wrote themselves into many a corner with ll’s character as they tried to fit her into a universe that didn’t want to house their forced creation – she became good friends with Tommy Merlyn and Oliver Queen.

Oliver Queen makes her do the one thing she’s never done: doubt herself.

Surely she’s pretty enough for him to choose her. Smart enough. Good enough. Strong enough. Enough. She’s ENOUGH for him. They fit each other. He’s the Romeo to her Juliette. She’s aiming high and look, he’s right there: her partner along the way to the top. Her partner and her WAY. Her financer. Her ego boost. Her meal ticket. Her proof that she’s ENOUGH. Her proof that she’s relevant. That she’s BETTER-

THAN. HER. SISTER.

Because, gosh: LL’s world is dictated, her entire sense of self validated, by the existence of Sara Lance. I kid you not. I found this in the show… and it should make you feel sympathy for her. Should make you care. But she destroys our ability to give a crap because of how she handles everything with her sister.

Sara, who is daddy’s girl.

Sara who Oliver keeps leering over and not the older, better sister.

Sara who her mother sides with all the time.

Sara with the multitude of friends.

Sara with the better body.

Sara. Sara. Sara.

Why? Laurel does everything right: she follows the rules, does as she’s told, has become the role model. How does Sara keep BEATING her?

Is it… because Sara takes what she wants and gets away with it? She takes other people’s boyfriends - Laurel’s seen her do this (Arrow S1.5 comics) - she swindles her father for more allowance, her mother gives her free reign over the phone line… she’s selfish.

Well then, so shall LL be.

Suddenly Sara’s grounded-

And it WAS the right thing to do, Sara was too young and she didn’t want her heralded as a slut so soon. Ollie wouldn’t want anything to do with her anyway, but the way she throws herself at him is embarrassing, right?

-And the ‘Ollie Express’ is open season. He says yes. They have sex. Now she has him. She’s wanted by Ollie Queen and he’s settling down for HER. No one else and certainly not Sara. She’s beaten Sara and she’s assured a future for herself. His mother adores her. She fits in.

She can breathe freely again.

And Oliver, he’s so much more than people think: he’s sweet and kind- so what if he’s not that smart, she’s smart enough for the both of them. He’s reliable and honest. He makes her feels beautiful and wanted. All is right in the world. No matter what happens, she’ll always be the one who became Oliver’s first real girlfriend, because she’s special to him. She’s SPECIAL. She’s what he-

Except he’s having an affair behind her back.

With Sara.

Sara who she’d beaten.

Sara who isn’t as smart or as pretty or as EVERYTHING as LL.

Sara who’d gotten on a boat with her boyfriend.

She’s humiliated, but more than that… she’s confused. It’s nonsensical.

She’s everything. She’s perfect. She’s the ONE so… Oliver was happy. He was ready to move forwards with her. Why did he do this? Why does Sara keep beating her? She’s BETTER than Sara.

She’s better than all of them.

If they can't see that, see her... then why do they matter?

And then the realisation: she’s hard done to. She’s the scorned woman. She’s the one betrayed. She’s the one who’s grieving. She’s the one who deals with it in the best way. She’s the one who’ll walk out of this on top.

Oliver and Sara lost at sea? That’s nothing. NOTHING. She’s the one who got hurt and she never deserved it. They should have respected her. Should have loved her more. Ollie deserved to die at sea.

And so… an impetus is born: it generates into an unbreakable mind-set, separated from reality, one that we have to put up with until she dies. Literally.

Narcissism. It’s almost a disorder.

And it’s in the most impossible form: she sets a deliberately high standard for the world to attempt to reach and she gets to watch from up high as everyone tries to touch her seat. A standard that everyone must follow EXCEPT her. If anyone fails to meet it for whatever reason (and they always do), then they fail her expectations and therefore they fail her (this was admitted by KC herself, just fyi). They’re no longer good enough.

But she is though. She’s the ONLY one good enough. She loves her family, but she’s better than them. They’re all liars and stealers and selfish – Sara – betrayers – mom – neglecters – dad – cheaters and disappointments – Ollie – and unworthy – Tommy.

She doesn’t need them, not ever. How could she when she’s better? How could they ever meet her wavelength? How could they ever understand her mission, her heart, when they can’t meet her at the top?

But then her father, who can’t appreciate her because he isn’t capable of seeing her the way he should, makes her feel GUILT about her choice to be a DA.

Uh oh. Suddenly; she doesn’t sound righteous. She sounds like she’s becoming a lawyer for money-

NO. no, LL doesn’t do that, right? She’s better, so she can’t. She can’t fall beneath her FATHER’S set of standards because her own are so much better and she doesn’t have to meet her own because they’re for everyone else on the planet who are undeserving and have yet to face her justice. No one can outrun her justice, her standards.

Except herself.

But her father’s seen something in her, something twisted. The call of money and power and status and it’s a filthy thing isn’t it? Greed. Lust. Covetous.

She becomes the expert at coveting what others have, even as she judges them.

But she has to hide the filth: she’s better than her demons because she judges even them. Her father knows nothing. He doesn’t see her, so how could he? She’ll help him see her.

She joins CNRI to prove him wrong. She’s the pure one again whilst her father’s the alcoholic who can’t get over the daughter who left instead of adoring the daughter who stayed. The daughter who fights.

She sleeps with Tommy because she can, because she’s needy, because he’s Ollie’s best friend; the closest thing to the man she loves and hates and no one need ever know the notch she tied that night to her bed post.

Ollie did it with Sara after all. He could have had the bed post instead of just the notch. He died before he could realise that.

But it happens again and again for months and she has to admit, it’s thrilling aiming down. Obeying an urge for once and she needs the release: getting a job with CNRI immediately after law school instead of the requisite two years in a firm is impossible, but not for LL. Still, it’s tiring and it feels unrewarding, which is why she also needs the ego boost. She needs the validation, that it isn't all for nothing.

This way, she’s both fucking her past goodbye and giving it the finger.

She stops once she gets the job. Stepping stones, all of it. She doesn’t need Tommy, doesn’t need her father, doesn’t need law school anymore because she doesn’t obey the rules like everyone else HAS to.

When Oliver returns, she ignores him. He should have died: it was his punishment for forsaking their happiness.

He can’t touch her anymore; he can only watch from afar. She likes him watching. Likes him seeing exactly what he lost and can never have, what he destroyed.

Sara died because of him.

Her father became a drunk because of him.

Her mother left because of him.

She had to sleep with Tommy because of him.

All whilst he sunbathed on some island somewhere. And look, he doesn’t have to work to earn a living: he’s loaded. He doesn’t have to fight for anything, doesn’t have to strive or push like she does-

She’s envious. And she misses him. And if she misses him, he must miss her. They used to be so happy-

Wait… He suffered on the island?

He was punished?

If he suffered… does that mean he learned from his mistakes and that’s why he apologised?

He earned his stay on the island so maybe… he’s earned the right to forgiveness?

Suddenly he’s too tempting. She could have him again: he’s telling her she could. Oliver Queen, playboy billionaire, learned his lesson and wants her.

Of course he does.

She’s the best woman alive.

It’s the biggest ego boost of her life; a wave of chemicals that carries her away, that makes her kiss him. That scares her because she thought she was strong enough to not ant him again. EXCITEDLY because if he’s also the vigilante who went to HER for help-

But then… he reveals that he’s damaged and still a playboy and she has to retract once he fails her standards again.

A damaged man who won’t pursue her? Not her problem. She’s not interested. That man isn’t her Ollie. She'll check in again when he isn't quite so damaged.

Yet, even as Tommy worms into her, she keeps Oliver in mind.

It truly stuns her when he gives them his blessing. He… he was supposed to want her, to show reluctance.

Why does he look happy for them? She’s not.

He’s giving up the chance of them, and he’s SMILING?

How can he be? Doesn’t it torture him? She’s choosing his best friend over him, FEEL SOMETHING. FIGHT.

But he doesn't.

And he is changing, improving. Making waves - she’s taking notice.

So let him date lesser women, they won’t last and they DON’T.

HAH.

In the meantime, she’s fighting crime. The vigilante NEEDS her – he hasn’t asked anyone else for help: there’s only her. Tommy loves HER. Ollie loves her. Her father keeps butting in because he’s afraid for her safety and he’s realised just how prominent a figure she’s becoming, how important she is, but he’s too late to have a say in her life and he must watch her advance.

It all revolves around her now, as it should have before. She's the lead of her own story. They’re all realising how right she was, how they never should have put her second and not first. How they should have never made her feel less, and it’s ridiculous how she ever let them. They were all wrong.

She was made for greatness.

And then Ollie tells her everything she already knew about herself and it’s a king-size aphrodisiac: he thinks the same way she does. He knows she was always the best, always the ONE. He’s reached her level. And together they can soar above all others. They’re in love and will evolve and will lead the city into the future together. It's all slotting into place.

But he’s not her; he’s not righteous so she can ignore him when he gives her solid advice about staying out of the Glades. He’ll learn that she knows better, is better. That the world makes way for her and not the other way around-

Tommy dies.

It’s not because of the way she thinks. It's not because she was wrong. It’s NOT.

It was his choice, not hers. She doesn’t have to listen, but he should have. She never wanted him to come get her, she was waiting for Oliver.

And Oliver does come to her apartment: they reminisce. They’re together and that’s all that matters, so she starts planning. He’ll move in with her, there’ll be a marriage and move into the mansion-

Ollie leaves.

Again.

He left. He LEFT. HE-

No, she IS his ONE and ONLY. SHE IS. But the Hood and Malcolm ruined everything. It’s their fault Tommy died, that Ollie left. It wasn't because she was wrong or that she wasn't/isn't enough.

Their fault, not hers.

So why… does she feel guilty?

She knows really, but she pushes it back, away. Admitting to it would irrevocably damage her belief system.

And… she’s always right. And because she’s right, she leads a righteous charge against the hood, because it’s all his fault. Tommy died, ollie left, she’s feeling guilty and she keeps drinking- it’s all someone else’s fault!

Except it’s not.

It’s hers.

She'd been wrong.

Her world view crashes in on itself.

Nothing happened the way it was supposed to. She has no defence because she should have never needed one. That’s what being superior means.

Drugs and alcohol. How the mighty have fallen. No one can know… but even if they do, it doesn’t matter because she’s allowed to grieve like this. It’s grieving. Not shame. She's allowed to drink and change and be self-destructive. And everyone else doesn’t get it, they aren’t being fair.

Tommy dies.

Ollie left again.

She loses her job.

Her best friend gets a position as DA, well she’s not her best friend anymore: how dare she achieve greater. Johanna was supposed to help her, not step past her. Instead, LL is left behind and if her friend won't help her, then what good is she? She doesn’t need Johanna; she doesn’t need anyone.

She’s stronger. Better.

But then Sara comes back…

Sara died. It was her punishment. She’s not serving her punishment anymore. And she's come back, looking like she'd been on a six year pleasure cruise. That isn't fair at all. She’s unworthy. She ruined LL’s life. Her death was justice. How can the source of all her problems be alive…

And beautiful

Vibrant

Intelligent

Attractive to Oliver

Beloved by her father- her father who turned against her again in favour of Sara

Sara who went through the worst and resurfaced out untouched. Clean. As if SHE IS stronger, better. More.

How can I be like that?

She can’t.

Somewhere, deep down… she knows she can’t.

And she’s humbled by Sara who made her see how much she’d fallen… and for now, Sara can be the better of the two. She can pick up the slack and LL can watch, proud of her baby sister. She can give herself a break and compare others to her sister. Measure them by Sara’s measuring stick.

But it won’t be long at all until she’s BACK. Until she’s just as bright.

Until she’s better than Sara.

Until Sara needs her.

Until her father needs her.

Until Oliver needs her, because he stopped looking at her when she fell from on high.

She wants to return, to be part of that world.

But Sara is killed before she can become as beautiful. And it’s so clear that becoming as beautiful is impossible for LL. It too hard to digest that Sara is gone: Sara, the perfect fruition of a Lance daughter. The perfect her. The version of her that LL wished she'd been. So she’ll take on the mantle to honour Sara…

And in becoming Sara, she’s able to be more again. Be better again. Get back on that high saddle once more and she’s missed it up there. It feels right. It feels REALLY good. She’s been watching and learning… and her covetous nature had never died. She can’t be as bright as Sara.

So she’ll just become darker. A better Canary, never mind that canaries aren't dark.

She’ll wear Sara’s suit but she’ll be more. She’ll own it and make it her own, because this was always meant to be. It was never supposed to be Sara.

SHE is the justice you can’t run from.

This is the world she was made for. Oliver’s world. It was meant to be. So what if he’s angry at her presence: it’s because he cares about her, because he loves her. She'll fight him for a spot. He let Sara fight with him because he didn’t love her as much, but he loves LL too much. That’s why they aren’t together. Sometimes it’s just too painful to risk.

And it’s the best therapy. No more drugs. It’s addictive and it’s painful, but it’s better than anything else- in fact, it’s better than sex. Better than Oliver-

Oliver… Left?

With Felicity?

Because… he just wants her. HER. Out of everyone. He’s casting aside the hood… for another woman.

He and ll: they're supposed to fighting together, THAT’S how this works.

Then it’s just a phase. He’ll return and fight and realise he can’t live without the hood. He can’t without LL.

Except it’s not working, her fighting. She’s not changing the city so much as watching over it. She’s not moving forward. There’s a void.

There’s no more Sara.

She needs Sara. She needs Sara more than Ollie. The world made more sense with Sara. She might be the BC but Sara showed her the way. Her compass is gone. Her light is gone. And now LL is lost. If Sara’s back, she’ll feel better. There’ll no more void. No more emptiness. And maybe her life can WORK again.

And it’s okay, because she needs it. It’s okay to use Thea, because they’re friends and LL is loved by all. It's okay if disturbing the dead because, she wants it badly enough. It’s okay that Sara kills someone because it’s for the greater good: it’s for LL.

And with Sara alive somewhere, Oliver being with someone else doesn’t feel so bad. They’re soul mates after all, maybe one day…

And then he and Felicity break up and it’s PERFECT: no more Felicity in the basement, they don’t need her for him to stare at and Sara is alive. Oliver is TRAINING her. HE needs HER. Trusts her. LOVES her. WANTS HER.

So she suggests sex and-

He… is totally unreceptive. Isn’t… remotely interested… isn’t even remotely forward.

But… he’s in love with her and no longer tied down to Felicity. This should work. It’s been leading to this, right?

She has it all: she’s queen of the basement, Felicity is elsewhere and it doesn’t matter – so what if Thea isn’t talking to her, if Sara is out of the country. She and Oliver will fight crime together and maybe he’ll learn to love her again. Maybe he’ll-

Never. Love. Her. Not the way she loves him.

Because there’s just NOTHING there for him with her. He's alone even when he's with her and she knows what that's like.

Maybe he never could reach high enough to her again.

Maybe he knows he’ll never be good enough…

Or maybe... she’s just that conceited and Felicity… Felicity is just THAT wonderful,  that necessary to him because she is, isn’t she? She was there when LL wasn’t:

Felicity believed when LL didn’t

Felicity cared when LL didn’t

Felicity led him to places LL couldn’t

Felicity is, in many ways, stronger than LL and Sara combined and that truth stings

Felicity changed him without trying to

Felicity made him better… and ll can already see the cracks in him where Felicity’s absence has hurt him.

Without Felicity, Oliver will fall: LL's presence won't stop that.

Without Felicity, the city will crumble… because in the end, ll’s just a tiny pawn in a huge movement that she hasn’t contributed much to and she admits this finally to herself and to Oliver. The dirty truth.

It was all to feel alive, not to SAVE lives. It was all for her. But that doesn’t mean she’ll just let Oliver live without her because it’s thanks to her that he got on that boat: she helped create him! She’s responsible. She’s the ALBATROSS and she will never leave him. She changed his life forever: she left her indelible hand-print: SHE IS IMPORTANT DAMMIT.

The most important.

FLATLINE.

The end.

O_O

Yeah.

There's a less harsh explanation for LL:

She’s defensive due to the bad way she was treated after believing that her life was perfect, to her own detriment. She doesn’t have the kind of personality others can enjoy and rather than try to gain friends, she decides to simply be herself no matter how she comes across.

And there’s a much harsher explanation:

LL, at heart, isn’t a very nice person. She knows this so she builds an image that opposes the inner her. Addictions make her feel better about who and what she is, but they also help her to manage the stress of being, inside, the kind of person who doesn’t feel the empathy she should. There's an image to maintain so that no one knows the truth. Becoming a vigilante is more about how it feels to break rules and gain the kind of power only a mask can provide, than it is about helping people. In the end, she’s able to gain that vindictive pleasure of knowing that Oliver will never be without her. And every version of a canary has caused Oliver nothing but grief which is fine… because he broke her. Deep down, she just wants to be bad without being judged for it. Without facing consequences, which is why black siren fit the bill so much more than E1 LL ever did.

Again, this is just an opinion and a bit of fun when writing fanfic-

Anyway, Jessica's shutting up now because that’s enough out of me for one day. Back to work.

[kokomatcha]

Running With It

A writing exercise for myself.  Get it?!  Because running and exercise—sorry, haha.

Anyway, this will be an exercise in learning to not be too much of a perfectionist and try to write shorter doses because my problem is I overthink my writing and I also make it long and convoluted with added details.  This, in itself, actually started branching out into more of a plot, but it’s mainly slice of life style and the way it started and the following interactions does make it easier for me to keep things broken down so I guess we’ll see how it goes.  I think I’ll try to write it by night/encounter (I mean in the story, I definitely can’t update this every night.  It’s really a miracle I’ve written and posted twice in the span of a few days!)

The funny thing is I was going to write something else because I was feeling not so Plus Ultra yesterday, but I actually fell asleep, lol so I woke up feeling better and got this idea instead!

All Might x Reader

You’ve noticed the same strange man jogging along your street at odd hours of the night and early mornings.  He never fails to slow down and take a breather right in front of your apartment building and as time goes on you find yourself lingering on your balcony, intrigued by these indirect, nightly visits.

                                                         Running With It

                                             Chapter 1: I’m Staying Up For...

As a night shift worker, sleep loves to elude your grasp like trying to hold water in your hands.  No matter how hard you try it always manages to slip between your fingers and you find yourself sitting awake in the wee hours of the morning exhausted and miserable.

Too tired to do anything productive.  Not tired enough to fall back asleep.

As such, you’d often find yourself running on small amounts of broken sleep, either going through cycles of staying awake for an entire day or even days before finally passing out for a good twelve to fourteen hours only to find yourself repeating the cycle all over again.  It was taxing on your body, but it was an adjustment that you chose to live with.

Which is why your best friend was caffeine.  A cruel mistress that offered temporary charges of energy to get you through your job, but lingered in your system to continue to exacerbate your insomnia.  And then, of course, there were the caffeine withdrawals, but it was better that than having nicotine invading your blood stream and filling your lungs with plumes of smoke and tar.  You had enough time huffing and puffing up the stairs from exhaustion resulting out of your sleep deprivation—you didn’t need to diminish your lung capacity in addition to that.

Although, you muse lightly as you cross your arms over your balcony’s railing, you’d look more intimidating with a cigarette between your fingers than with an energy drink in your hand.  

You lean your head to the side, resting against one of your arms as you lightly swirl the contents of a small can of coffee held limply in your grasp that dangled over the railing and the street below.  

It’s fine, after all.  It’s two in the morning.  No danger of dropping it on some poor, unsuspecting pedestrian.  And even if you had, you’re only on the second story.

But then the universe was always a force you should know better than to tempt as the distinctive sounds of footsteps caught your ear.  You turned your head in the slightest, squinting in the darkness.   A few street lamps offered some light, but the reach was small and you could barely make out a figure approaching at a steady pace in the distance.

Their footsteps were almost like gunshots, their shoes slapping against the pavement and echoing against the cluster of apartment buildings and concrete walls.  It wasn’t long until the mystery runner finally popped under the fluorescent light for you to get a quick look at their guise.

They were incredibly tall, even in the distance you could tell especially when comparing their height to the street lights they passed.  A shocking head of bright blond hair and a brightly color jump suit decorated in colors of red, blue and white.  It had distinctive American-styled influences, but with the familiar patterning, you could guess the runner was either an alumni or associate of the famous hero school.  Definitely not a current student, you judged from what you could see of his face, which was very little thanks to the lack of light.

You also noted how incredibly skinny he was, his sunken cheeks made the angles of his face stand out starkly given the harsh lighting he’d pass under.  His breathing was audible and you could hear the underlying wheeze straining his lungs and the glint of perspiration drenched across his brow and down his neck as two loose bangs flapped wildly across his face.

You watched him lazily, briefly wondering what on earth could possess a man to take a jog at this hour, but you stopped yourself since you’re sure if the question was turned around on you, it did seem odd for someone to be hanging about on their balcony in the dark staring out into the empty streets for the past half hour.

Surprisingly, the tall skeleton of a man slowed his pace and stopped right in front of your apartment.  His breathing was harsh and he was doubled over, grasping his knees tightly as he struggled for breath.  At this distance you could actually see the drops of sweat hitting the drying pavement.  His form seemed to be trembling, whether it be from the exertion of his run or a chill from the cold exacerbated by his clothes dampened by his sweat, you weren’t sure, but you felt a twinge of sympathy.

For whatever reason, this man felt driven to push himself to his limit and it was almost painful to watch as he struggled to meet his own self-imposed standards.  When he did manage to look up, staring down the path in front of him as if to gauge what more punishment his body could take, you noted how extremely pale he looked.

You hadn’t moved from your spot since you had first noticed him so he was unaware of the small audience of one that had been keenly observing him from your darkened perch.  Your hand holding your can of coffee had even stilled, your attention raptly focused on the stranger before you.  In your mind you briefly debated going inside to fetch him a bottle of water, but several things stopped you.

One, you didn’t know this man and you have never seen him before in this area,  which didn’t mean much since you weren’t exactly keeping tabs of all your neighbors.  He was also very tall and could easily scale the wall of your building into your apartment to murder you, if he so wished.  

An extreme assumption, but not unheard of in these trying times.

Two, you’re pretty sure you didn’t have bottled water laying around and the only thing you had was cans of coffee and energy drinks you’ve collected from supermarkets, convenience stores and vending machines during sales or on your walks home.  You’re not even sure if you had any other variety of beverages in your home at this point in time, if ever.  But by the looks of it, he actually did look like he could use an energy drink.

Three, it might unnerve him to find someone had been watching him, making you seem like the possible threat and maybe even a bit creepy.  

And lastly, while you were busy pondering if this man had the potential to murder you or if your underlying altruistic nature would win out on forcing you to action, he had already caught his breath and was straightening up.  

You watched as he picked up his jog, traveling the last few yards up to the corner at of your street, pausing at the crosswalk only to choose to round the corner and disappear from sight.  For a few moments you stared at where the man had last been, as if waiting to see if he’d come back the way he came, but minutes passed and you came to the conclusion he probably had used the opportunity to turn around and run back the way he came on the other side of street, probably for a change in scenery.

Ah, you thought as you finally pulled yourself from your slouched position to straighten up, I guess he made the decision for me.  

Your joints popped and cracked in protest, but you sighed as the tension left your body.  Remembering your drink, you swiftly downed it in a few swallows before returning back inside, making sure to carefully lock your sliding door to your balcony behind you before ambling to your kitchen to rinse out the can and set it aside to dry for later recycling.

You were unhealthy, but at least you recycled your bad habits.

Actually, that didn’t make it sound any better, did it?

You glanced at the clock on your microwave, the digital numbers glowing brightly in the darkness.

3:11AM.

Sighing you made your way to the bathroom to rinse your mouth and brush your teeth, resigning yourself to making another attempt at sleep, but you could feel it was already a lost battle with the peculiar incident of the strange man jogging down your street still running through your mind, already wondering if he would be okay or if he made it home by now, why was he running around at this time—

You closed your eyes, starting to shake your head as if to rid your self of those thoughts, but stopping as minty foam dribbled down from the corner of your mouth.  You rinsed your toothbrush, spitting the used paste out into the sink as you wiped your chin with the back of your hand.

It was just as well, you thought as you filled a small cup with water to rinse your mouth, swishing it around a few times before spitting down into the sink.  

You probably wouldn’t see that man again.

Spoiler: You do.

If you enjoyed this, let me know!  I’ll probably still post a few chapters regardless since it’s an exercise for myself, but I’d love to hear from anyone who enjoyed this or any constructive criticism to help me become a better writer! My anons are turned off tho, sorry, I’m kind of shy and fragile so I keep them off just in case.  

I know not much interaction happened this time, but next time for sure, promise!  I might post on AO3 but it depends on how complicated it is since I’ve never used it before, but I know tumblr (which can also be frustrating) so most things will be here first.

[aijee]

IDOTSC BTS #6: In the eye of the storm

Here’s a revelation I had with my therapist that, surprise surprise, manifested in my first foray into FWB dynamics in fanfiction, at least with the dynamics specifically practiced by WW and J. What a strange thing to write, but I guess it really emphasizes how much I use writing as a form of self-expression.

Growing up in a household that honors a collectivist mindset and the act of debt-paying, I ended up feeling reflexively responsible for the outcomes of people outside of myself—more so emotionally and mentally than materialistically, in my case. In other words, my actions, decisions, and very existence were inextricable from the lives of other people, especially as a dependent and minor. Despite the obvious repercussions of having such a responsibility (Rebellious Kids With Obedient Siblings Squad, where you at), there was a twisted power that came from seeing my actions incite such responses from family. Yeah, acting out led to consequences, but, in a way, I’m the one controlling that outcome. I’m the one who made someone else feel a certain way.

After fully moving to America—where individualism runs so deep that our disregard for others have manifested in laughable COVID infection rates—it was hard to translate that constant anxiety about the consequences of my actions. I was overthinking fucking everything.

Did a misunderstanding at work cause the boss harbor ill will? (No, he has a million other things to worry about and the nature of our workplace breeds trial and error already.)

Will my clubs see me badly for not participating in some big event because I just really need to rest? (Maybe, but it’s on them for prioritizing a social activity over someone’s private responsibilities.)

Does this email read okay? What about this word? Or that? Will my professor misinterpret me? (They’re adults with PhDs, for god’s sakes, if they read too much into the tone of an email, that’s not your fault.)

Obviously, interactions are more complex than presented. But the through line is this: I am frequently projecting and predicting other people based on what I do or say. I am unconsciously forcing myself onto the pedestal of being the center of the universe, from which everyone else’s feelings and outcomes ripple out. It’s not meant to be an arrogant statement, calling myself “the center of the universe.” In fact, I’d argue it’s a burden I put onto myself. I am fixated on how my actions could affect other people, often imagining the worst possible outcomes, which then feeds into insecurity like a self-destructive feedback loop.

I’m habitually assigning myself a “power” and sense of control that I realistically don’t have over other people. I may unconsciously do this because, as a child, I felt so responsible for the emotional and mental states of other people in my household—I continue to feel that way as an adult. In reality, I’m surrounded by adults, grown-ups who have their own autonomy, dictate their own actions, process their own feelings in internal realms entirely separate from those in my mind.

I don’t know if any of that makes sense; the intentional vagueness of my personal life details might exacerbate that. But, man, therapy has been great in those first few steps into deconstructing why my mind is a giant maze that never has the courtesy to be rational to navigate. 

Originally written on February 12, 2021.

[phantombrushy]

Please ignore me if I'm off base, but if I'm reading this right, your mom came into your room in the middle of the night to ban you from doing something that makes you happy because you were fighting through a depressive episode? They cut you off from part of your treatment because you were showing symptoms that they exacerbated in the first place? Because if that's the case, then I am so, so sorry. You seem like a nice person, and you deserve to be able to do what makes you happy.

Hey, nonnie.

You’re not entirely off-base, and it’s partially because I’m bad at articulating what I want to say because I overthink what I write and say a lot. It’s comforting to know that everyone is being supportive about this, so thank you so much for your kind words. It means a lot to me and I feel better knowing such kind-hearted people care

I’m going to go into more detail about what happened to clear things up, and if reading stuff like this distresses you, please don’t continue. It doesn’t help that I don’t talk about this much, so this is long (5-6 paragraphs) because I’m pretty much unloading, and it’s probably not pleasant to read.

TL;DR - My mother burst into my room a couple of weeks ago, not yesterday morning. That’s my mistake because I’m not always the best writer and didn’t make that clear yesterday. And while I never thought about my art being like a treatment, you’re right. 

When I said that my mother came into my room at two in the morning, I meant to say that she had done that a couple of weeks ago, when she found out my room was a mess. She does this a lot when she gets into a fight with my dad: she’ll fight with him and then come up the stairs to see if my room is up to her standards. Since it never is, she comes in and throws some things around, yells at me and threatens to throw everything I own away, then leaves so that I can spend the rest of the early hours cleaning up. 

I knew what was going to happen the moment she started up the stairs because since she’s done this a few times already, the moment someone sets foot on our creaky staircase I go on high alert. Even if I’m in a deep sleep, because I don’t want to be woken up to someone screaming in my face again. So I resigned myself to what was happening. Sure enough, she did what she normally does and then left with an ‘I’m going to take your tablet away after you finish your commissions’. I didn’t necessarily take her seriously, because she’s made threats like that before and never followed through. I also paid for that tablet with money that I made through commissions, and even though she likes to say that doesn’t matter and that nothing in this house is actually mine, I sometimes like to think that my mother respects the fact that I earned that tablet on my own. 

Anyway, right before I made that post yesterday she asked me about the final commission I have left to finish. I said I had started but hadn’t finished it. So she got aggressive with me and said that I shouldn’t be drawing anything else because, and I quote, “You’re banned from drawing anything else.” Ignoring the fact that, earlier, I told her I was writing and doing homework all day. The fact that she’s brought this up again tells me she’s being serious, so after this next commission (and hopefully a zine piece that I’ve already committed to, if not, I have to tell them I have to remove myself from the project), I have to relinquish my tablet to her and stop drawing entirely. Which… makes me nervous about my concept art class, since we’re starting the digital part soon. I’m still going to try and keep my tablet, but who knows.

To be fair to my parents, I never let them know when I’m not doing great. It’s partly because they belittle me and partly because I don’t always like to admit I’m having trouble. What they do know, however, is that my art, my writing, and my social media helps me a lot when I get like this. I get to separate myself from the real world for a bit and have a little bit more control over my life. 

It hasn’t stopped them from taking those things away on occasion, however (like that one time they forced me to delete my old Tumblr and Instagram and took my phone because I made an online friend and then screamed at me in a crowded airport about it, threatening to leave me behind in another country because of that. Or when my mom made me throw my art out into our outdoor trash bin which is filthy and wet most of the time, and thus ruined it all and made them irretrievable when she said I could have them back days later). Now that I think about it, it’s been traumatising every single time. So, you’re right, my art is, in a way, my treatment. And it sucks that it’s getting taken away again.

But all I can do right now is try to fight it, and if I can’t, then just grin and bear it for the time being. But you guys have already been such a great help, and every message I’ve received has been tremendous. Support and understanding is all I can ask for right now, and I’ve already gotten more than I was expecting. So thank you so much.

[d-rklaw]

Please Like Me

I’ve been watching reruns of this series on Netflix recently and can’t seem to bring myself to stop. I remember the first time I sat through it I couldn’t wait for the next episode - the characters have this dysfunctional allure about them that keeps me wanting more.

For those who aren’t familiar with the show - it follows the everyday dramas of Josh, an early twenties Melburnian man who has recently come out as gay and has dysfunctional, divorced parents.

For some strange reason, I see more of myself in Josh’s character than I initially thought I would - he’s awkwardly humorous, with a natural charm that draws certain personality types towards him but ultimately it seems as though a lot of people view him as someone who is just ‘there’; a character in their own lives whose existence is acknowledged, but doesn’t play a main role (which is ironic given that he’s the primary protagonist of this show).

Additionally, a lot of his potential love interests, whilst their interest is piqued by his unique charm, never seem to want to stay around to see how things turn out - probably due to the fact that he is not the most aesthetically pleasing, which unfortunately remains a dealbreaker in the gay world.

I’d certainly call myself awkward, and definitely in the past, had considered myself to play only minor roles in various friends’ lives. This probably holds true with my past relationships as well. It’s taken me a long time to get over the fact that “someone else is more important” to other people than me - which probably stems from the fact that deep down, there’s a voice that keeps resonating within me telling me I’ll never be good enough, in the way I look, in the way I present myself, in my work... the list goes on.

These issues have flared up in recent times. Only a select few know about the details surrounding my ex and how terribly we left things, and my current partner, as amazing as he is, has had to deal with my insecurities and needs at large. Furthermore, all of this has probably been exacerbated by the fact that I’m unemployed and have way too much time on my hands; time spent overthinking issues that I shouldn’t. As practical as I’d like to think I am, I have a tendency to dwell to the point where they spiral out of control, something that used to happen quite frequently when I was in medical school, struggling with my sexuality.

Sadly, I do think a lot of this negativity stems from how my parents raised me and talk about me in front of others - a bugbear that I’m not quite ready to vocalise yet as it upsets me too much, although quite a few things have triggered me to think about it recently.

I think overall, what I need to focus on is not how to impress others and get them to stay with me, but on how to improve myself; not in a destructive, self-reproachful manner, but in a constructively critical fashion that will help me to not just feel better about my life, but also make some real lasting changes to prevent this from happening again in future. My wise partner has said to me more than once, to quote Newt Scamander, “My philosophy is that worrying means you suffer twice,” which in my case holds incredibly true.

I can keep telling myself positive things every day, but there are certain issues to do with my mindset that I’ll need to work on so that one day, hopefully, I’ll start to believe myself when I say that I’m good enough.

But for now - onto the next episode.

[renewingagain]

monday 14th february 2022 // 11:30pm

today i have been feeling slightly better but not amazing really

still feeling rubbish from over the weekend and that could be lack of sleep or maybe a little comedown

but just the whole relationship stuff is getting to me and is going round and round in my head so im just gonna type what comes to mind

i think i am now maybe even resenting alex over all this stuff, i dont even fully understand resentment but i think thats what it is too

like today for example i've wanted to avoid him and not really talk to him, but what makes this harder is the fact that he hasn't done anything malicious to hurt me

but he has still hurt me (i think?) i dont even know at this point lol. i cant determine what the source of the pain is

it hurts me that we cant have sex. again, i just dont understand it and i dont understand where hes coming from with it all. i want to understand it and maybe i have to talk to him about it again but i dont

because all i can think about again and again is how all this time and for years, hes had sex with many people

ive had a rubbish day but then i saw shane for a few hours and that made me feel a bit better and just take my mind off it a bit

but then after i left i just felt sad again, and then alex facetimed me and all i wanted to do was talk and tell him how upset i was over the weekend, but i wasnt ready to talk about it so i tried to just ignore how i feel and make normal conversation. but my feelings were still eurgh and i just felt more anxious after the call. and i felt anxious too because i wasn't very talkative so lowkey i think he may not be happy with me (but i actually recognize that thats me being silly there and way overthinking)

i dont have the guts to say what i want to say and the timing of this all is just fucking shit too. its my birthday next week and we had plans and everything but dunno if they are gonna happen now

but i dont know when to see him and bring this all up

i cant even like understand why this makes me so upset. it feels humiliating? isnt it humiliating that my own bf doesnt wanna have sex with me

and again, if it was a thing where he was never into sex before or whatever or like i dunno was afraid of it and stuff because he was new to it i would understand, thats different

or if this was a result of sexual trauma / trauma in general then again i guess i get it and thats different. hell i only realised this year that i have been through trauma

but its the fact that hes been very promiscuous over the years (i hope thats the right word to use, dont mean it in a negative context) and obviously thats great! sex is amazing hehe, but now he wont do it anymore and wont do it with me, his boyfriend whom he loves

im saying the same things again and again but this is just all going on in my head. it makes me feel crap and sad and i dont know what to do

we have to talk about it but i dont know when

and i dont even know what i want to do. should we break up? is this worth it anymore?

i'm not fully happy with him, and maybe im just painting a picture of the ideal relationship that may be unrealistic but it feels like we've barely had that sort of sweet spot / honeymoon period in a relationship where everything is actually just fine and you're enjoying it

im pretty sure normal relationships have that stage, for months! before things start to happen. where its all just fun and games, you enjoy each others presence all the time, and everything is just so sweet and beautiful

not we haven't had those times, but its never constant and i do not believe we should be facing what we're facing now at only 5 months officially into our relationship

its actually been quite anxiety inducing for me since the beginning of it all. some of that may stem from my own anxiety issues as i know i have them, but maybe this relationship exacerbates them

like even when we first started talking, when things got a bit funny when i moved home i found that hard

when we've officially gotten together, all this sex stuff has been from the beginning of it all and its caused me anxieties because of worrying about my feelings against his feelings and not feeling like i can say what i want to say

there were several points where we wernt doing it / the sex journey

- getting tested

- sobriety and not doing it (for weeks)

- trying to and then stopping because he wanted to [which is ok]

- going open (no penetrative stuff)

- open (nothing whatsoever)

there was the constant fretting of all of that and even though we compromised in going open, im still fretting now because again i just dont understand the whole thing

and then there was confusion and still is confusion in what we can and cannot do sexually because i thought we could still do stuff and then we couldnt do anything and then we did stuff so i was like huh

that was actually really hard

im probably being stupid and delusional, perhaps the fact that im up past midnight thinking about this and journalling this says enough

im just gonna have the shittest birthday next week because it wont be with him anymore and i'll be alone through the day and it will just be a reminder of what should have been but wasn't

and i'll be so fucking sad because i love him a lot despite all of this and i was convinced he was my person

and i'll be so sad because i will miss all of his friends who im getting to know

not to say that we may never get together ever again in the future, but maybe right now isnt the time

maybe (i cant make this decision for him obviously) but maybe he needs to do sobriety by himself

we tried being open as compromise but its not fixing the problem but is there a fix to it?

also this might sound really shitty of me but it feels like in my head that hes not trying in terms of sex, but equally how can i expect him to do that anyway

absolutely no way would i force him to do anything or make him do things just to please me that he doesnt want to do. thats fukin gross

if we broke up i dont think i would mind us still being friends but doubt that would happen, dunno if it would work as friends but who knows

i dont know, maybe we should break up. we can see how a talk goes but its all just so hard

maybe i will go see him on wednesday or thursday, see what train times are saying cus going brum this weekend

gonna book my tickets now so i can plan what to do

[anxietysimplified]

3 Solutions to Manage Social Anxiety

​What is Anxiety costing you? More Than You Think.

Podcast (Audio Only)​A help guide learning new skills and adopting a different outlook if you feel socially awkward

3 Solutions to manage Social Anxiety

In this episode Joanne Williams, LCSW discusses solutions forsocial anxiety and how it starts, it is not your fault.​What is anxiety costing you?  A relationship, fun and excitement that promotion you were overlooked for? We humans are very social creatures; other people are important to us.  As we all know from personal experience, human relationships can deeply affect us, emotionally; they can either enrich or complicate our lives.Not surprisingly, the roots of our anxiety may lie largely in our childhood: Our early childhood experiences shape our later relationships, romantic and otherwise.As infants, we develop an "attachment style" that reflects how we relate to our early caregiver(s), reflected in a "secure", "anxious avoidant" or "anxious ambivalent" (either "resistant" or "passive") style.Those who have a responsive caregiver who meets the infant's needs tend to develop a "secure" attachment style (happy at caregiver's appearance, upset at his/her departure, empowered to explore the world and connect with caregiver).Those who have a responsive caregiver who fails to meet the infant's needs can develop an "anxious avoidant" style (indifferent to caregiver appearance, unreactive to departure, detached- little exploration or connection with caregiver).Those who caregiver isn't reliably present can become "anxious ambivalent".  If the infant feels is unable to influence the caregiver, then can become "resistant" (showing anger at caregiver's appearance); if not, they can become "passive" (helpless).

Relationships can be the cause of a great deal of anxiety.

Conversely, healthy and personally-satisfying relationships can work wonders in reducing anxiety caused by many life-challenges.Adults with Secure attachment tend to be high achievers who enjoy exploring and don’t overly fear failure.  They have good relationship skills (communication, conflict resolution, etc., and don't long tolerate unsatisfying relationships.Secure adults tend to partner with other secure adults.  (In relationships, one Secure partner is enough to stabilize a relationship.)  They see sex and intimacy as a single thing, and they share initiation and enjoyment of sex.Anxious-Preoccupied adults seek high levels of intimacy and approval, and can become overly dependent on partners.  They have low trust in self and others, are emotionally expressive and impulsive, and are sensitive to separation.Anxious-Preoccupied adults can overreact and can read too much into situations, resulting in self-sabotage.  They often partner with Dismissive-Avoidant partners.Dismissive-Avoidant adults are highly independent, and seem to avoid attachment and commitment.  They see themselves as self-sufficient, often distancing from others, and suppressing their feelings.Dismissive-Avoidant individuals often feel good about themselves, while distrusting others. They prefer low-intimacy sex, and don't seem to much enjoy physical contact.Fearful-Avoidant adults desire close relationships, but they are often uncomfortable with intimacy.  They tend to mistrust their partners, seeing themselves as unworthy of love.  They suppress their feelings and avoid intimacy.Attachment anxiety can produce specific behaviors in the course of developing a romantic relationship: seeking closeness, seeking comfort and support ("safe haven"), seeking security in exploring. It's normal to feel some attachment anxiety in the course of developing a romantic relationship.

How our relationships can affect our level of anxiety:

Close relationships with family, friends and romantic partners affect the onset, course and treatment of anxiety disorders.Having no close friends is significantly associated with GAD, social anxiety disorder, agoraphobia, and specific phobia.Dissatisfaction with familial or marital relationships is associated with GAD and some phobias.One's relationship status (single, married, divorced) plays into how the quality of one's relationships with family, friends and romantic partners affects potential anxiety disorders:For single or divorced individuals, poor relationships with family or friends is associated with generalized anxiety disorder, social phobia and agoraphobia.Married people with anxiety disorders tend to have higher divorce rates, and are more likely to be single. Adults with anxiety disorders are less likely to be married, and more likely to divorce.For married people, poor relationships with family or romantic partners is associated with generalized anxiety disorder and PTSD.Marital distress may be causally related with anxiety disorders (GAD, social anxiety disorder, PTSD).Wives with anxiety disorders perceive their husbands as having a role in their anxiety, and vice versa.For young adults, friends can provide more emotional supports than do parents, and parents can produce more conflict than friends.High anxiety can cause a person to seek safety and support from others, which can strain the relationship with those others.How we (mentally) "see" the world can affect our anxiety:Peoples' cognitive style (way of interpreting past occurrences and projected future consequences) can provoke emotional disorders.Perceiving a threat can cause exaggerated focus on possible signs of a threat, causing anxiety. Negative life-events can exacerbate this anxiety.Many early-life negative interpersonal experiences (e.g. parental separation, discord, unavailability, or trauma) can predispose one to anxiety.Negative perceptions of romantic relationships can cause anxiety.How our social connections can affect our anxiety:Exclusion from social groups can have many adverse effects.People seek out inclusion in important or valued social groups, motivating much of social behavior.Exclusion from social groups can induce social anxiety, jealousy, loneliness, shyness and depression, often in concert.Social anxiety is more common in those with low self-esteem or insecurities.For adolescents, high social status, solid friendships and dating relationships can protect them against social anxiety.Conversely, exclusion or aggression or troubled best-friend relationships promote social anxiety.Adolescents may offer useful lessons for adults:Belonging to high-status groups can boost self-esteem and reduce loneliness.Victimization by peers (exclusion, aggression) can increase anxiety.High-quality friendships can reduce the impact of low peer acceptance.Positive close friendships can reduce social anxiety, while negative friendship interactions can increase anxiety.Positive romantic relationships can reduce social anxiety, while negative romantic relationships can increase anxiety The #1 challenge I found from a survey I did to anxiety, was in social situations. If this is you, You are not alone,  The CDC is reporting that depression, anxiety is increasing to nearly 50%. of the population right now.Without tools or skills to bounce back better with resilience, this is going to be another very long year and we have been socially isolated too long and my have lost our social edge.  The definition of Social Anxiety is if you feel uncomfortable or anxious being in one or more social situations, where you feel exposed to people looking at you or expecting something from you and you fear you will say the wrong thing and be embarrassed or feel unwanted by others and this provokes anxiety. So you avoid situations or feel the need to just endure it.If this is you….The good news is, these are skills you were meant to learn in your family and you can learn them at anytime in your life.   I am going to give you some tools to learn some skills that you missed out on.  But, will you dare to use them?? Or will your excuses keep speaking louder than your will to learn some skills and enjoy more of life.You could look at social anxiety like you are supporting your own anxiety habit? An anxiety thought habit. Because you spend so much time thinking about ways to avoid feeling insecure, it has become a habit to avoid the feeling of insecurity.Like changing any habit, the best way is to replace it with a new one.  And the replacement is learning the skills needed to feel confident.  How does anyone learn how to be socially confident?   They just do it and practice it until they feel comfortable doing it and find success and satisfaction from doing it.For extroverts who are 75% of the population, it is easier because they get energy from being around people.  Where an introvert has energy sucked out of them being around people.  But, there are way to manage this.You could save so much more energy, if you can flip this habit around to reassuring thoughts instead of negative catastrophic ones.  Like…I hate that, or I will die to face them. Change it into, I will check it out and promise to stay for 15 minutes, and leave, if I don’t find the people interesting. But, I can have a good time, if I choose to.I did a survey with my clients and there were 3 anxiety situation that were the most challenging that I want to offer solutions for.They were #1 anxiety was in Social Situations, …sleep issues with ruminating thoughts that interfere with getting to sleep and anxiety interfering with achieving goals were the others, I will go into those at a later time.  Today we will focus on Social situations.Generally, one of the reasons that you have anxiety is because You are looking at situation, through a lens of I can’t or I will be embarrassed if or What if this happens or don’t know what to say. Does that sound about right, then here are some things to look at.Do you care to much about how you look to other, or if you will be accepted or liked and are overthinking this situation.  Learning confidence skills can lower that need, because you do feel confident.  Start to like the person you are and care less what others are thinking since you can only control one of these situations.Learn emotional skills Or Emotional Intelligence, to keep up with the many changes happening in the world will help you be ready for changes, in many different situations, at work, in relationships or socially.  Emotions are your friends once you know how to use them, they are actually telling you what is needed. But, I think everyone can get up to speed with the emotional intelligence needed with a few skills that you need to master with practice.So, I want to ask you again, what is anxiety costing you?  Have you thought of it as a real cost?   It might be larger than you think, because of your insecurities, lasting friendships or more? The worst thing I hear from clients is they have just give up and giving in to the anxiety and just say no thanks to friends asking them to do things and avoid doing things that would make their lives better?If this is you, You are not alone,  The CDC is reporting that depression, anxiety is increasing to nearly 50%. of the population right now.Without tools or skills to bounce back better with resilience, this is going to be another very long year.So, I will offer 3 skills for solutions to Social anxiety to put this under your control.What I want to offer first is just a simple mind set shift that you can practice.  Know that eight out of 10 participants in a study felt some level of insecurities, going into a meeting or a new social situation. They’re checking their teeth for spinach. They are seeing if their hair is okay.  So, know that almost everyone is feeling some level of insecurity, so you are not alone. It is normal.  Start to look at this differently. You are fine the way you are.First-Start to notice what you are thinking about before going into the social situation. Check in with yourself and see how you are feeling about yourself do you feel like you look good, prepared and looking forward to it?   .Check your attitude about the situations.   Are you feeling confident or insecure before going into it?  If not, then get prepared and make sure you look good and are feeling strong.  Are your shoulders back, is your head up high, or are you kind of slouching into the situation? Know that 50% of your communications is body language. All of these things are broadcasting to everyone how you are feeling, without being aware of it.   As you come into this meeting, are you open and interested and saying hello, or are you just being quiet and staying back.  All of these can be the difference between insecure and secure. Have you noticed as some people enter, they light up the room with their energy and people are drawn to them right away or the opposite, have you noticed that some people come in like a black cloud is following them and people are moving away from them.This is your attitude conveyed with your personal energy entering a room.  This is something that you can control and project Confidence with practice.Start today by preparing your energy, by holding your head high, shoulders back, Put a smile on our face that shows genuine interest in going to the meeting, it shows I'm interested in you and what you have to say.  This can be fun to play with to see the different reactions.You can build a plan before you go to a social situation.  Start to Notice the kinds of thoughts that are ruminating around in your head, they are usually worry thoughts.  You can put them behind imaginary doors and say later to them.Then can start to look at some new habits of letting go of the What if’s, what if I would have said that or the ruminations of the thoughts that are going around and around, by learning to stand up for your self with a good come back that can will show respect for yourselfor tells the other person to stand down, to feel more confidence. I wish parents would teach these to the shy kids so they don’t freeze up and instead stand up for themselves.Like, Clearly you’ve got problems…I thought you were better than this..Do you have many friends if you are treating me this way.You really need to get some help, you are Out of control.

Clearly this is not about me…

- Start a daily practice of meditation. Proven to lower blood pressure and create better letting go and calming skills. letting go the worry, instead of holding on to the stress will help in the long run. Because you are either building up or accumulating tension or releasing it. these are skills that pay a huge benefit to shift these rumination to a more peaceful place when you learn letting go skills.. - Is it worth it to make these changes? Sometimes when you really want something, you will make the changes. One study showed that you could be losing $105K, per year, with lost promotions, or not being to speak up for a rent reduction, or getting a better price buying a car. or What is fear costing you if it is getting in the way of a relationships that you really want. So they may need more exploration and practice to address them.This is something I see consistently with my clients, they are more focused on what they don’t want, instead of what they do want. What I hear is….I don't like the way he does this,  I would never be with that type of person. I don’t like… And then more complaining about not getting what they want to have?Think clearly about the kind of person you do want to meet, what are the qualities you are looking for, not what you don’t want? What would that new job look like?  Your focus on your goal is critical to getting to it.It is Like driving a car looking backwards, but expecting it to take you where you want to go, and then being mad at yourself, for not getting there.  Maybe you haven’t taken the time to truly think that through.So there is much more that I would love to be able to offer you around this and Cut your losses of what anxiety is costing you with my professional abilities. I feel with my 30 years’ experience, to help you to get to your goals, to have better sleep, feel more confident in social situations in my private sessions.Find more Way to Challenge negative, unhelpful thoughts that trigger and fuel social anxiety, replacing them with more focused re assuring thoughts.Learn how to safely Face social situations with increased confidence over self-doubt.Remember to practice the skills we shared today to feel more joys in your life.You can contact us at anxietysimplified.net or find out more how to get an Emotional Support animal for housing or a Certified Psychiatric Service dog to go anywhere with to feel the calm. By for now.Our next podcast: Vagus Nerve- the secret calming chemicalSee other podcasts atAnxietySimplified.net Load More Read the full article

[hoaxmakesmusic]

Hi! I'm the anon from thatadhdfeel and I wanted to let you know that you seem to have put my feelings into words better than I could! I could theoretically cut my mom out of my life but she keeps wanting to spend time with me and I'm not good at saying no. Additionally, I want my sister to remain in my life so I can meet my future nibling!

Oh dang, I’m glad I was able to help clarify it in some way or another. RSD can be a bear to deal with, particularly when it intersects with parental disapproval. My own mother basically raised me alone, my father being emotionally distant and physically absent (he was a truck driver and a gearhead, and I was born at the advent of video games; all my fun was indoors, and his was outdoors, so there wasn’t much overlap in our personal lives) so while my RSD is mostly mild when it does kick in, it goes from a 2 to a 12 immediately wherever my mom’s concerned, and all I’ve ever really had to deal with with her was lengthy unemployment, as I’m closeted bi. 

Our arguments about my not having a job always boiled down to “well try harder” in the end, because she didn’t know how else to “help”, and treated it like a personal failure on her end that she couldn’t get me to become employed. It’s worth noting, however, that she almost certainly has ADHD, and with such a high comorbidity as ADHD/RSD has, it’s almost guaranteed my mother has that too. Coming to terms with that was important in me being able to forgive her, at least in my own head, for being so overbearing. (That isn’t to say that I will forget that she was overbearing, mind you: I understand why she was that way, but I still acknowledge that she was, and will be still should it arise again.)

It may be that your mother’s misgendering and deadnaming you occurs because she doesn’t understand that it’s a problem, or because she doesn’t know how to handle herself in the situation; it may also be that she does it because she thinks she’s doing the right thing, as parents are often prone to doing. In both cases, the intent doesn’t change the result, but if it is in any way possible to explain it to her, it could help ease things a bit; but then, it may also exacerbate the issue if your initial coming out to her as agender didn’t go over well.

Ultimately, it’s up to your discretion whether to go forward with anything of that sort, and I would encourage caution: if you think you’ll be disowned and thrown out, then for your own safety you may have to try and knuckle under for the time being, as much as that may hurt. Being able to discuss the situation with your sister as well might potentially help, as she may be willing to provide backup in the discussion or emotional support outside of it, depending on the depth of your relationship with her. All of this still comes with the warning, however, to be aware of your thoughts on the matter. Don’t go off half-cocked, but don’t overthink it to the point of scaring yourself into immobility.

As silly as “try not to think about it too much” sounds for us hyperbrains, it’s really the only recourse available to prevent hyperfocus RSD overload: training yourself to not assign unnecessary importance to the belief and support of the people that set off your RSD, and training yourself to recognize when you’re going down that rabbit hole in your own head, and redirecting yourself accordingly. I hope that you can find that balance, and that you can get this situation sorted out with as minimal pain as possible. All power to ya, anon.