#i would be more angry at myself than at her

[cherubcameron]

Love Espresso

Chapter two: welcome back to Kildare island

Synopsis: after her breakup with Rafe and him kicking her out. Her best friend offers her a new job and a place to stay. But when Rafe comes back from Morocco. He realizes he’d made a grave mistake. Will Sofia go back to him? Or will she decide that her new life means more to her than him?

Sofia was placing books by their respective shelves. She stared down at one that read “how to win his heart back,” then immediately shoving it back into one of the shelves. Even when she tried to not think of Rafe. Signs of him were everywhere. Like he was cursing her for what she did to him. And she couldn’t blame him for being angry. She would have been too. If it were her.

“Sofia! Do you know where I left the bookmarks?!” Liliana yelled. Sofia attention deviated from the books.

“Yeah! It’s in the back. Next to the printer!” Sofia yelled, she came out of the shelves. Finally finished with her tasks. Wheeling out the book cart with her, to place in the back.

“Okay, found them! Can you please start the coffee machine?!” Liliana yelled again, now in the back.

“Got it!” Sofia yells back, walking swiftly towards the coffee machine. She was glad that Liliana taught her how to use it properly. She knew how to make drinks thanks to the country club. So it wasn’t much different from that. She began to set it up, allowing the coffee machine to heat up.

She began to make sure that she had enough coffee beans, making sure it was cleaned, and making sure things were working smoothly. Before letting the machine do its thing on its own. It was ready for its first batch of coffee.

Liliana came out from the back finally. Carrying the box filled with bookmarks. A big grin on her face.

“I made these myself.” She said proudly, showcasing them to Sofia. Sofia looked at each other, her eyes roaming through them.

“Those are so pretty.” She said in awe. “You’ll definitely stand out with those. They’re not like the typical ones you see at the bookstores. It looks like you took some time with them.”

Liliana blushed, “It just took me three days to finalize. Oh! Also Hector is coming to help us with the shop. He’s going to be making all the little pastries.” She waved Sofia’s comment away. But Sofia could tell it meant a lot. Liliana loved anything creative. It made perfect sense that she made the bookmarks herself.

Sofia looked at her agaped, “Hector? Seriously? How?”

“I’m good at finding what makes people heart sing.” Liliana said, her eyes closing as she smiled. Sofia gave her an incredulous look.

When Liliana finally opened her eyes, she spotted the look Sofia gave her. Her smile dropping replaced with a scowl.

“He likes to bake. I helped him discover his dreams and to chase them.” Sofia raises an eyebrow at her, Liliana face drops once more.

“Rude. Anyway, he’s going to help us on that front. You and I can switch between doing the register and the floor. I’m still trying to hire more people.” Liliana explains, looking around. “They do say it takes a village.”

Sofia smiled up at her friend, she couldn’t help the way her heart swelled. She was so proud of her friend. Happy that she got to experience this with her.

Liliana goes to squeeze Sofias hand. “Thank you so much for helping me. I wouldn’t have done this without you.”

“Same here.” The words hold more weight, she hopes Liliana understands how much everything she’s done means to Sofia. She can only squeeze her hand back.

Rafe stared up at his house, apart of him hopeful. Maybe she hadn’t left. She hadn’t run off, this whole situation was messy. He hated not having the chance to talk to her. He wished he hadn’t let his anger get the best of him. She still betrayed him, so why did he feel like shit about it?

Once he managed to get himself to walk inside. He walked in slowly, trying to see if he could hear any noise. He didn’t hear any movements. He began to walk in quicker to the kitchen. He took a harsh intake of breath.

There lay the ring.

So she hadn’t taken it. She hadn’t left with it, to pawn it. She’d let him go, just like that. He didn’t know why he felt so upset. He’d told her to pack up her shit and leave. Of course, she listened. It was Sofia.

Rafe ran a hand through his buzz cut. This is not what he had anticipated. And now he had to admit to himself that he wished she had fought for their relationship.

“Hey Rafe?” Sarah says coming into the kitchen. She stops once she sees what he’s looking at. “That’s mom’s ring.”

Rafe nods, his eyes glued to it. He couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that Sofia had just left it.

“You gave her mom’s ring?” Sarah asked, in shock. Rafe doesn’t speak at first, the regret building a home in his heart. Why didn’t he hear her out? He never found out the reason why Sofia did it.

“Rafe—

“I don’t want to talk about it, okay.” Rafe says quickly. He doesn’t want to be around anyone at the moment. He wants to be alone. This was all too much. He sees how spotless the house looks. Like Sofia had never even step foot in here since he’d proposed. Since he… broke up with her over the phone.

Sarah looks at him, but doesn’t say anything more. Rafe can feel her eyes on him and he tries to keep his face neutral. But he can’t help but let a scowl appear on his face.

“Rafe, she obviously meant a lot to you.” Sarah whispers. Rafe stares only at the ring. Tears start to film in his eyes and he wants to be alone. But doesn’t know how to say it gently. So he just shrugs.

“She betrayed me. Why am I the one who has to feel like shit for breaking up with her?” He asks bitterly, his voice is hoarse.

Sarah puts her head on his arm. A gesture that was very foreign for the Cameron siblings. But things had changed.

“You still loved her Rafe. That doesn’t change how you felt.”

Rafe finally managed to walk towards the kitchen counter. Picking up the ring in his hands. Letting the light glint against the diamond.

Sofia met up with Catalina. She still worked at the country club and she’d just gotten out of her shift for the day. Catalina took one good look at her and smiled.

“Mi amiguis!” Catalina squealed running towards Sofia. Sofia laughed, as Catalina wrapped her arms around Sofia. Sofia returning the hug.

“Hey cutie.” Sofia looked towards the country club. Seeing it again stirred emotions she didn’t think it would. Her smiles falters for a second before she turns her attention back to Catalina.

Catalina can see the conflicting look on sofias face. She sighs.

“He’s back.” She simply says, Sofia hearts drops.

“Oh.” She wasn’t expecting Catalina to tell her that. She lets a fake smile appear on her face.

“Good-good for him.”

“Sofia. I know you’re not happy about it.” Catalina says, unfortunately her friends could read her like a book. A quality that she both admired and hated at the same time.

“It’s fine. It’s— fine.” Sofia lies, she’s not ready. She can feel her heart sink. She doesn’t know how she’ll face him. She’s glad at least she’s no longer apart of the country club. She doesn’t have to deal with Rafe and his kook friends. Sofia lets out a sigh.

“Let’s go, okay. I’m hungry.” Sofia is glad that Catalina changes the subject. Sofia nods and takes Catalina to her car.

Song Sofia is listening to on her playlist

[pocket-stars]

okay i want to talk about the awful doctor i had

i am autistic, i’m normally just fine at verbalizing and vocalizing, but stress can make me nonverbal. sometimes stress makes me vocal stim, which is usually long aaaaaaaaa hhhhhuuuuuuhhhhh ehhhhh type sounds. these are usually quiet, just my way of telling people hey, im not comfortable, please help

so far, ive been fortunate to have doctors that were patient and understanding with me. i was allowed to have my headphones on when i went under anesthesia, and was promised they would put my headphones back on when i woke up

in the past when i went under anesthesia, i felt myself falling asleep, had a dream, and then woke up in the operating room where i had fallen asleep. today when i went under, all i remember was being in the pre op room, and then waking up in the recovery room. so obviously, that transition was very disorienting

what was worse, though, was that i was only partially conscious. i felt almost paralyzed, i couldn’t move my body. my eyes wouldn’t stay open for more than half a second at a time, so i couldn’t get a good feel for where i was. a nurse was talking to me, and i could hardly understand a single word she was saying to me. there were wires on me that weren’t before. and, there was pain in unexpected places- they had to put a bit of air in me for the cameras they were using, and that air had made its way up to my shoulders and under my ribs, and it hurt like a damn bitch. plus, my headphones hadnt been put back on yet, so the noise in the room was causijg additional pain.

so i was really disoriented, scared and confused and in excruciating pain. so uncontrollably, i started making my stressed out noises, and LOUD. i couldn’t control myself. things like this cant be controlled.

the nurse with me immediately began scolding me, as if yelling at someone whos scared will make them feel any better. she was angry, really angry, and was telling me to shut up, be quiet, theres other patients in here stop being a nuisance, she came to my ears to Shout At Me “CAN YOU HEAR ME??? SHUT UP”

so i started wailing, because she was just making me more scared. one of the nurses reminded her of my headphones and they put them on, which made me instantly more comfortable, and i got a lot quieter. i was still making stress noise though, just at a mostly normal speaking volume. i still couldn’t move or hardly see anything or process any sounds other than the same nurse still bitching at me to shut up.

now my memories aren’t great here because i was still affected by anesthesia and hardly awake, but i think they were moving me around to unhook me from stuff, which was making the air move around which hurt and so i got louder again. and the nurse was Pissed at me. she kept snapping at me to either talk to her or for the love of god shut up. rather than trying to comfort me or anything.

getting moved around made the air under my ribs press up against my lungs, and suddenly breathing more than the absolute shallowest breaths i could manage felt impossible. my nose had gotten stuffed up, so i could only breathe through my mouth, and i started hyperventilating and crying and screaming the first words i had been able to say for god knows how long: “i cant breathe, i cant breathe, help me i cant breathe” and that nurse came up to me and told me actually 👆you Can breathe cus you’re screaming. no regards to my panic or pain at all, she just continued scolding me and trying to get me to shut up. she told me to breathe throuhh my nose, and i tried, but it was too stuffy, and she got frustrated with me for not listening to her.

i don’t remember how they got me breathing okay again; part of me remembers them putting an oxygen tube up my nose but i don’t know if that was a dream or not. i just remember that eventually, i was able to breathe okay, and my nurse was still being rude. so i mumbled to her with my dry mouth and sore throat, “you have terrible bedside manners.” she left, and i continued uncontrollably making uncomfortable stressed noises, but i was quieter now. it was mostly just groaning at a regular volume. the nurse came back much later, gave me some ice for my dry mouth, and didn’t say another word to me.

that was my first time ever experiencing anything like that in the healthcare system, and im lucky it was only the one recovery nurse. but it still hurt my heart. what about other autistic adults who may be even louder, who may get physically aggressive when people are being rude and making them more stressed out? every other doctor ive had, if something starts to freak me out, they’re gentle and reassuring and patient and explain things to me.

im going to complain about this woman when my surgeon calls me later, so im writing all of this down so i dont forget. annoying or not, no person should ever be treated this way.

[genderkoolaid]

still fucking pissed about the way im being treated by my professor. she basically told me to my face that my trans experiences & opinions were too advanced and complicated for our class, & that she had to teach them the basics...

and what exactly are those basics? cis people. cis experiences. cis opinions. this is not intersectionality. "basic feminism" should not mean white cis feminism. & i feel like she is projecting onto my classmates, many of whom seem very interested in what I have to say. one cis boy in my class even tried raising questions about nonbinary people based on those in his life, and she shut him down because she refused to understand what he was talking about. she's just fucking obsessed with her idea of feminism while trying to feel like an intersectional ally yet the minute ANYONE brings up trans people when she doesn't want them to, she throws a little fit.

just. when exactly are cis people supposed to learn about us? i am used to having to explain transness to cis people. i am willing to do that! i am willing to simplify it if need be! but cis adults & older teens can handle being challenged a little bit. in fact I'd say it's pretty healthy for them to be introduced to trans theory as part of their introduction to feminism, especially in an age where transness is a major part of the ongoing culture war. but noooo god forbid this cis woman's ego is challenged in the slightest. god forbid i have an original thought about gender that i didn't get from her fucking textbook

[power-chords]

She’s also going to try to track down a therapist who specializes in mood disorders, costs less $$$, and can see me sustainably long-term for talk therapy. I told her that I was having trouble processing what happened to me, probably a common sentiment in the aftermath of psychotic mania. She said I was lucky, that she sees a ton of bipolar patients, and that the fallout from mine was “nothing” (which was not to diminish the extremity of my experience, only to emphasize just how destructive the disease can be and often is). I had just enough insight, grit, and craftiness to recognize that my beliefs and perceptions were bizarre and required concealment from loved ones/employers. It was a blessing and a curse — on the one hand, very few people figured out that I was sick. On the other hand, very few people figured out that I was sick! What might have lasted three weeks dragged on for three months because the (reasonable, lmao) threat of involuntary commitment petrified me. I’d done the psychiatric ward once before in 2008 while waiting for a bed at Silver Hill to open up. Those 36 hours in a blank, padded room scarred me worse than anything I had ever done or had done to me under the influence. I was completely unprepared for the terror and humiliation that is the total revocation of one’s autonomy. The nurses were callous, and I felt like an animal. To call it dehumanizing is an understatement. As hostile as the environment in my head was becoming, I was convinced that the ER posed the more immediate danger and had to be avoided at any cost.

Somehow I succeeded. I was listening to a clinician on a podcast the other day, this guy who runs an outpatient facility for people with mood disorders, and he said that manic episodes inevitably end in one of three ways: death, jail, or hospitalization. HA HA! Not for me! Meep meep, bitch! Weaseled my way out of that one!!! (Ironically, it’s a permutation of the old AA/NA refrain I had heard so many times before: "We are people in the grip of a continuing and progressive illness whose ends are always the same: jails, institutions, and death." Dodged two bullets, apparently.) I have to laugh about it so I don't cry.

I'm sure it's annoying that I'm posting about this so much but having my whole life upended again at 36 was not on my bingo card. I had been so stable for so long, I was by all accounts a well-adjusted, normie-passing yuppie, and assumed the psychic turmoil of my youth was ancient history. It is a miracle that I was not seriously injured — for a while I was wandering city streets late at night, believing no harm could come to me — and that my career, finances, and marriage have survived intact. The statistics on bipolar illness are astonishingly grim. It’s like being in possession of a nuke inside your skull that can arm itself without warning and the codes to destroy your own life. You think of yourself as a sane person; you take for granted that the state of "sanity" is a robust and stable one, and that only the most extreme circumstances would push you over the edge. It is, and I do not use this term lightly, traumatizing to spend 12 consecutive weeks unmoored from reality and behaving in ways that are completely at odds with your personality. I am not a paranoid, angry person. I don’t hold grudges or presume the worst of others��� intentions. On the contrary! If anything, I am too trusting, too forgiving. I reflect on this past summer and don’t even recognize myself. The existential reckoning, the guilt and the shame, are overwhelming.

Last week I finished reading An Unquiet Mind and one of the things that struck me is how fortunate this woman was in three respects: the timing of when her manic depression struck (I.E., at intervals that still permitted her to finish college/her post-graduate studies), the uncommonly generous support of her family and colleagues (back when the stigma against mental illness was even worse than it is now), and probably most significant of all, access to superlative medical care (the UCLA psychiatric department) and responsiveness to lithium treatment. I benefit, thank god, from a situation with many of the same resources. She's led a fulfilling, successful, and ultimately long life. It felt good to read about a woman who played a "happy ending" out of the rotten hand she'd been dealt, whose experiences reflected so many of my own, and who seems to have retained her sharpness and verbal acuity well into old age. Cognitive decline is common as the illness progresses, and this is my greatest fear of all.

What's immediately, tragically evident in perusing the r/bipolar subreddit is just how many people find themselves in the exact opposite position. Insanity strikes at the worst possible moment; abandonment ensues from friends and employers, relatives and spouses; therapy and medication are lacking and insufficient, respectively. Financial and social ruin, and the resultant despair, are frequent outcomes. Dependency on SSDI and/or abusive and inescapable housing situations are documented left and right. The scope of the devastation is harrowing, and the guilt and humiliation that follows on its heels is a compounding cruelty. Knowing this, I am opting to feel lucky instead of unlucky. It has not been easy. It will not be easy. But I am as stubborn as they come, and I will figure shit out. "One day at a time," to borrow another 12-Step adage.

Dr. Ferrari referred me to a ketamine clinic and we're shooting for the week after Thanksgiving to commence infusions. She wants to space them out more than is typical, like every four days as opposed to every other day, to minimize the risk of triggering mania. But that's strictly precautionary and she thinks I'm an excellent candidate overall. Fingers crossed...

[prettyboysdontlookatexplosions]

like on the one hand language matters and i too sometimes find slang trends annoying and/or concerning and on the other hand sometimes women do actually make jokes and talk shit on the internet with their friends and it is not actually that deep and commentary on phenomena gets to a weird point where i’m like i don’t know how “these idiot losers on the internet using a two to four word phrase they will have moved on from in a year are basically the primary cause of patriarchal oppression” is the feminist take. like sometimes i start to think the plot has been lost.

[itz-pandora]

Huh. If my life was a quote, it'd be "one of those sad ones with a deceptively happy tune"

[shi0n]

already dreading new years bc i have to go out drinking w friends <_> i think i would actually enjoy it if i had a say in how much i wanna drink.. agh. guh. AOUGH OUGH.. sorry coughing a lot lately. maybe im getting sick.. would be a shame..

[lilaccatholic]

how do i do it though. how do i let go of the bitterness and the hardness when they kept me "okay" for so long? does it come when i finally leave? can it ever?

[elytrafemme]

i tried to be the strong one at age 17 and my alters were trying to be the strong one for me, they always thought i was weak. and now i'm vulnerable and stupid and incapable of doing much at all, i'm so much weaker mentally than my friends. and i just think they'd be disappointed if they saw me. or maybe proud but like, it's not like i can ask. but i have a party tonight. and some work i should do. and i don't want to be a fucking downer. me and klavier always felt like we were both late to the party, to our own party, and i guess in his stead i have to get my shit together and get us there. because some time ago he might have really liked that. and i'll never know.

[butterflies-and-bumble-bees]

...

[sudokuplayer]

i'm so angry and heartbroken and i think this is all i will ever be

[lepidopterium]

-

[aberooski]

My episode 95 aftermath oneshot will probably be coming out within the next week or so. I'm very happy with it so far, it's probably the one thing I've written where I legitimately like the actual writing and have looked at a sentence or a paragraph and have legitimately said to myself "damn, that's good!"

Plus just dealing with the fallout of that duel in honestly I feel a better way than they did in the actual episode feels good to see, despite it being me writing it and not someone else who might honestly be able to do it better than I could. But getting a moment for not just Jaden to be worried about Syrus's health and safety but Hassleberry too rather than having him just standing on the sidelines with Aster is so satisfying for me and protective Hassleberry gives me so much joy. Being able to give myself moments that I needed from the actual episode that I didn't get almost feels healing in a way.

Syrus means so much to me, we're the same person in a lot of ways and I relate to him more than any other character I've known. That's where a lot of my beef with Zane comes from, I'm very protective of Syrus and seeing him be hurt by him so unapologetically is very hard. And then to have the entire situation glossed over and Zane being given a pass by everyone in the cast after everything he did to Syrus before and during said episode is one thing that never ceases to baffle me.

Giving myself the opportunity to deal with that situation in the way that I emotionally needed was important to me and I'm very proud of this work so far and I'm excited for y'all to read it when it's finished. 💜

[reflectionsofgalaxies]

EI rejected my claim and doesn’t say why, and I’m panicked and furious. This could mean I receive no EI support at all this month, and not only do I have rent to pay which takes almost two EI payments alone, I now have school costs as well.

I feel like the world is falling apart around me just as I started to move forward for the first time in eight years.

[merkerlerspeaks]

Zodi/Celeste/Raine is somehow both my baby and also the girl my inner little weird girl looks up to so much she adopts parts of her as her personality