#i’m cured TM

[howls-memeing-castle]

[wilberave]

god i hate therapy so much i really need to just quit lmao the amount of dread that i’m filled with before every session usually feels worse than anything else i deal with at this point. it’s been over a decade and i still have not had a single moment, out of like five therapist, where i thought “wow, this is helpful and i’m glad i’m doing it” literally the biggest impact has been being MORE traumatized by terrible therapists so like i think it’s probably time to throw in the towel. the first therapist i ever went to (when i was in 2nd grade) locked me in a dark closet for increasing long intervals of time. so that was my first experience with Mental Health Treatment if that maybe gives some context to my opinions here

[heavy-buddy]

if i ever get a partner I want lovesong to be our song

[indieyuugure]

God I love Mutation situation version of Mikey. I do think he’d be pretty well off to help with some kind of cure though, because of the season 1 episode with the mind control larvae that takes out the other boys. He memorized the formula, and was able to make the antidote all by himself, WHILE slowly succumbing to the poison (?)

Also them just going around barefoot with WEAPONS in an American high school is sending me lol

Lol, shoes are overrated.

Hm, you are not the first to point this out to me.

I think it is definitely a valid argument for Mikey. Remembering back to that episode (“Parasitica” ep 23, s1, if I remember correctly), Mikey did do a pretty good job. Considering TMS is meant to take place in later season 2, I think that I might rewrite it slightly to include that.

I believe it was @thejavavoid who first pointed this out, thank you both! I’m very glad to have people who are also super fans of the show who can nit pick my work to make it perfect!

[thatchickwiththecamera]

seeing as it seems like you don't know, erra don't have a permanent foh, they went this entire festival run borrowing other bands' sound guys, mostly fit for a king's and alpha wolf's as they shared a lot of dates

matt used to be erra's tm/foh full time back until bomens approached him during the sumerian 10 year tour (which matt did with erra) but he did jump on a few tours with them after

here's the group pic from erra's 2015 headliner (polyphia, invent animate and the afterimage on support), and there's matt lol

since then, conor has become erra's tm and I know for the cure headliner they got thornhill's foh to mix them. (he's since returned to the thornhill camp for their current us tour)

I think matt also mixed them on the concrete runs last year, I'm not completely sure, but he was tuning alex's drums

Uhhh, my friend, I have been a fan of ERRA for over 10 years. I know Matt used to be their FOH/TM and everything you’ve just explained. ERRA being on the Sumerian Tour and becoming friends with them is how I actually heard about Bad Omens, but I didn’t become a regular listener and fan until around when FGBGFM was released. I’m responding because there are fans that don’t know all this info and you’ve explained it very well.

But, the captions I put on the video post reacting to his IG story were more of an excited statement/question rather than a legitimate one. Cause I recognized the track he was mixing (originally thought it was Cure, but later realized it was Slow Sour Bleed) and got excited about him doing FOH for them again this weekend at INK because we all know Matt is amazing at what he does.

I even mentioned to another friend recently that I wish he was doing FOH again for their upcoming tour this fall with Wage War but some of the dates overlap with Bad Omens festivals in October so he probably won’t.

[the-moth-from-elsewhere]

. ݁₊ ⊹ ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ ☾. ⋅ . ݁⊹ . ݁˖ .

My name is Elsewhere, although I usually go by just Elsie.

I’m a girl, she/her :)

I am an older minor who can in fact drive a car into a Walmart

i know Biblical lore TM

I REALLY REALLY LIKE INDIGO

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁Rules and silly stuff like that . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

No NSFW. Period. Not even jokes.

No venting in my askbox unless I know who you are lol

I will generally assume anyone in my asks who are wanting donations are scams for my own sake. No, I cannot donate. My apologies if you’re a real person.

please no arguing over politics or current events.

tag me if you use my art or characters. Basic credit lol

I don’t curse. You can. But I don’t.

sorry if I’m a bit of a goody-two-shoes lol

ask me whatever the frick you want lol I love asks

i’m really particular about ships and don’t tend to ship characters easily lol

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁Hobbies. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

I make characters. Like, a lot.

I’m an amateur artist and writer ;v;

Most art that I make is for Taocc.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁Stuff I like. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

I like…well, a lotta stuff lol

TAOCC is my everything my beloved my darling ajdheksndjjs

NSR, Splatoon, No Man’s Sky, Stellaris, Pathologic, Hollow Knight, OneShot, FF16, Presentable Liberty, etc etc etc

I don’t watch too much stuff, but I like Glitch and Liam Vickers’ work. Murder drones especially. I have a very complex relationship with TADC.

I am OBSESSED with madoka Magica and magireco. And magical girls in general. Pretty cure my beloved

VOCALOID MY BELOVED. My favorite producers are Pino.P, Deco, MitchieM, and more.

As for other music? That varies wildly. I have an on off obsession with ELO but like only three songs LOL

Occasionally I will sob over Percy Jackson. Or the Graveyard Book. Or Warrior cats. Or WOF.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁Titles Bestowed Upon Me By The Internet. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Pretty Lady Maker

The TAOCC Encyclopedia

The Moth Empress

”Elsie go to bed it’s 3 AM FOR GOODNESS’S SAKES”

”girl get some self esteem already”

Mediator TM

Causes problems on purpose

I won Halloween 2023

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁Most recent art that I’m proud of. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁Other links. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

- Artfight - Reblogs/aesthetics blog: @a-garden-somewhere

[writerfae]

Okay so I finished Dark Rise and I am SO unwell TM idk how to survive till book three

Just three things I want to say real quick (even though this is my writing blog so no one on here will know wtf I talk about):

I love James with everything I have

I would die for both Will and Violet

I do not trust the sun kingdom one bit (very suspicious)

That’s all I’m gonna annoy you guys with haha.

Anyways who wants to pay for the therapy I need now to cure my after-book-depression?

[menacingdino]

The little joys

Robin was awoken by rustling and a couple of bangs. She rolls over before hearing a louder one and a harsh shush. She also realizes that Nancy isn’t even in the room. She tends to wake up before Robin, but usually she’ll at least sit at her desk reading and wait for Robin to wake.

So she pulls herself out of bed at 8:45 AM, a miracle. Rubbing her eyes before opening the door to see Nancy holding to the leash to a large dog happily panting and bouncing about the walls.

Nancy just kind of awkwardly smiles up at Robin.

“Well, that ruined my surprise!” She giggles.

“Wait wait— Sorry you know my brain doesn’t work before 10, is this dog ours?” Robin might explode. She always wanted a dog but could never have one as a kid.

And of course, Nancy paid attention to this; which somehow shocks Robin. Robin had clearly needed a dog anyway, always mentioning how much she loved them, how she wanted a friend for when Nancy was gone. It always crushed Nancy how the difference in shifts would leave Robin lonely so often. She’d come home to Robin all curled up in many blankets re reading comic books.

It had gotten to the point where whenever she would have a meltdown she would pet this small sample of faux fur she bought at a craft store to calm herself down. And hell, it worked. Robin would start whining and tapping her feet and Nancy had learned to just take it with her to places, handing it to Robin to fight off the incoming wave of upset.

And it wasn’t a cure, but it helped. Robin had also always bought those dog calendars, staring at those while petting the fur when she was underwhelmed, bored, or kinda sad.

Plus, a dog that could make a good service dog in the future for if Robin gets overwhelmed, or if Nancy or her have a flashback would be a huge bonus now, and something that they knew was becoming more and more necessary.

Basically, Robin loved dogs. She knew everything about them. And she needed one at this point.

And Nancy did too! Because who doesn’t like dogs? Nancy had always wondered about pets, they seemed like they’d be perfect for the couple. So when she was walking around town and saw a pet store, she splurged on all the nice food before going to the nearest shelter.

And thus, the large land seal was happily searching the apartment.

“Yes, she’s ours.” Nancy says. First, Robins eyes go wide, her mouth agape just staring at Nancy. Then at the dog, then she smiles and starts jumping.

If Nancy was a cartoon character she’d be wiping a huge bullet of sweat right now, the initial reaction did not seem good.

But the reality is Robins emotions, even positive, are so overwhelming for her she can’t even think of what to do with herself.

She runs up to Nancy and hugs her so hard Nancy thinks her bones might pop out. But she’s very used to The Robin Hug (TM). And she’s grown to love it.

“Oh my god! She’s so beautiful. Oh my god. A pitbull too! I could actually die right now,” her hands flail radically, “but this little baby is too cute I have to like, not die!” She bends down towards the excited pup, letting her sniff gently before giving a soft pet on her head.

“She’s perfect right?” Nancy asks, both infatuated with the new addition to the family. Robin nods with a large grin.

“But,” Robin lets out a kind of dinosaur esc screech, “what do we name her!”

Nancy’s mouth opens. She kind of forgot about that part.

“Hmm.” Nancy’s perfectionist brain is massively anxious about this. “Something.. Nice. Pleasant! Like, Lilith?” She offers.

“Mm that’s kind of an old lady name.” Robin giggles up at Nancy while still crouched, happily scratching the little lady’s ears.

“What about Teresa?” Robin says kind of unsure.

“That’s also an old lady name. Or at least not a dog name.” Nancy replies, an eyebrow arched.

“Ehh, we’ll figure it out.” Robin shrugs. “I’m hungry!” She exclaims moving towards the kitchen, the dog happily following.

And ideas float around for the rest of the day.

Nancy’s making the coffee, and Stevie’s suggested, making Nancy make a face.

“That just makes me think of Steve. I mean, he’s great but I won’t name my dog after him.” Robin laughs at this.

Robin flips through channels.

“How about Jade?” Nancy says.

“Jades a green stone, she’s grey!” Robin says like this is obvious.

“Dogs are not green!” Nancy did not think she would have to say this.

“Yeah, ours isn’t!”

“No dog is green, Robin!!”

——

Robin calls Eddie for advice, as she often does.

“Eddie, Nancy got me a dog!” She gives a pause for Eddie to congratulate. “And we need names. She thought Jade and I was all like, dude. She’s not green. And every other name so far is just, not for a dog? Yeah.” Robin explains the situation.

Eddie hums.

“Kind of a bummer yours isn’t green.” Robin takes offense to this. “I’m kidding! Anyway, what about uh, Joan. Like Joan Jett.”

“Not sure who that is.” Robin states. She can hear Eddie’s intense disdain over the phone through his stuttering.

“Well then I got nothing else! You put me on the spot here.” Robin scoffs.

“Alright, thanks anyway.” She hangs up. “No help.” She shrugs towards Nancy.

——

The dog kind of anxiously looks around, typical rescue anxiety. So Nancy pats the bed a couple times.

“Come on! Get up, girl. Bedtime.” Nancy calls. The dog looks at her with slight fear before climbing slowly onto the foot of the bed and curling up. Robin smiles at Nancy and then at the dog. The girls lay down and as they look at each other and then Nancy makes her little ‘I have an idea!’ face.

“What is it, Nance?”

“What about.. Joya? Because she makes us happy!” Nancy smiles at Robin even in the dark. This sparks something in Robin.

Joya. It’s simple, it’s pretty, it’s got a cute meaning.

“Joya.. I love that.” She grins with excitement.

“It’s good right?” She tries to reassure herself. Robin nods at her and gives her a peck on the lips.

“It’s great. Joya. Welcome Joya!” Robin says suddenly sitting up and waving at the dog at the feet of the bed; who looks at Robin like she’s a mad woman. She just giggles.

“Goodnight, Rob and Joya.” Nancy says rolling onto her back.

“‘Night.”

[it’s on ao3!]

[galaxywarp]

hey blu! id be curious to know about your thoughts on how addicts are represented in media? if theres any specifically that come to mind that you really love or really hate? id also love to hear about your opinions on amanda from saw if youve seen it, shes a heroin addict :o

I haven’t seen any of the Saw movies actually ;w; I’m sorry Saw mutual ahshdjrhbdbdvdbe i should really correct that

But!! I will say that my personal pet peeve with addiction in media is when rehab is treated like a “one and done” solution. Character gets addicted, goes to rehab for a month, gets out and is Cured(TM). End of story

Addiction and recovery is so much more complicated than that. Extensive aftercare happens after in-patient rehab. Recovery is a lifelong process that is never complete. You can be clean for dozens of years and still need to work every day to stay clean

I really enjoyed seeing Bojack’s rehab experience in Bojack Horseman! I appreciated seeing him struggle through the first part of his treatment where he really didn’t wanna participate or be there. I enjoyed how he struggled with the transition after coming home, and how he needed a lot of help and support even after being in rehab for months. His journey was far from over, and the show depicted that very realistically

[invisibleraven]

Phantom Carols

For the @jatp-adventevent prompt: Best & Worst Christmas memories?

Warning for Alex's parents being The Worst (TM) in this

Day Thirteen: Make The Yuletide Gay <-AO3!

Alex has always loved Christmas. Every year right after Thanksgiving ended, his dad dragged out the boxes, his mom set up the Advent candles, and Alex’s eyes would shine as they reflected the small flame, reciting the prayers, his heart glowing warm.

Alex loved the decorations, the tinsel and lights, the smell of pine that filled the house when he and his dad dragged in the tree. The carols that rang through the air echoing the church bells as they went to every service. Alex loved how the community came together, celebrating this joyous time of year.

Sure, he got in trouble for playing with the Nativity figurines, replacing them with his He-Man dolls and Olivia’s old Barbie's. Rolled his eyes through the lecture about respecting the sanctity of the display, and was way more sneaky about making the wise men fight.

His parents were happy to lavish them both with gifts, sitting back as Alex tore through the paper, finding toys and books and then one year, a drum set. Olivia got dolls at first, and then as she grew she got clothes and make-up, and then stuff she needed to help her once she got to med school. She stopped coming home once she was at college, and Alex kind of resented her for it. He missed his sister, so sue him.

Then Alex came out.

Things became downright frosty at home, his parents vehemently refusing to accept his sexuality-to accept him. They prayed for him a lot, bringing in Father Michaels to lecture him about the sin of homosexuality, of fire and brimstone.

“I tried praying about it Father,” Alex responded coolly. “But I’m still gay. And God doesn’t make mistakes. So he must want me to stay gay.”

“You’re not praying hard enough,” his father responded. “God will listen, he will cure you of this vile disease.”

Alex sat there, enduring the judgement, their hatred, their threats. But he knew he didn’t need a cure, he wasn’t sick. He had wrestled with the truth long enough, and everyone else in his life accepted him. Maybe it was his family who were the sick ones.

He wrote to Olivia, and even she told him she loved him, no matter what. Promised to try to come home that year. But she was married now, and her partner’s family were lovely and warm where the Mercer’s were not. Alex wondered if he could come spend the holidays with them instead. But their parents refused to let Alex go, and Olivia couldn’t go against them.

That year, Alex’s gifts were brochures for conversion camps, a very large Bible with all the parts about homosexuality and sin highlighted.

And porn.

Glossy magazines covered with mostly naked women in provocative poses that his father almost shoved under his nose. “Maybe you just need to see what you’re missing. These will straighten you out.”

Alex threw them away with the wrapping paper the next week.

The next year, he spent the holidays with Luke and Reggie, squatting in the garage they were using as a studio. The three of them didn’t make it to Christmas the year after that.

However, that wasn’t the last Christmas that Alex got to celebrate. Because he got to come back. As a ghost, granted, but here he was.

And the Molina's didn’t care that he was gay. Julie was openly bi, Victoria aroace, Carlos wasn’t sure where he fell. Ray was pretty tight lipped, but Julie confessed that her dad was ‘pretty open' and left it at that. He was pretty sure he wouldn’t get porn from them. Something super gay to make sure he felt accepted, yes. But not anything as traumatizing as that last gift from his dad.

Plus being a ghost meant he had Willie.

Willie who flaunted his queerness with pride, tagging homophobic stores with graffiti, stealing queer themed decorations to put on the little tree Julie had set up in the studio, wearing rainbow striped Santa hats and socks.

Willie, who took him through the botanical gardens that were all lit up with lights for the purpose of finding real mistletoe to kiss under. Who smuggled him out eggnog and gingerbread from the club to eat with the guys. Who gave him new drumsticks that he actually paid for (Alex didn’t ask where he got the money) and a set of matching rainbow socks.

Willie, who helped him track down Olivia.

She was older now, with an adult son named Patrick who looked like he could be Alex’s twin. Who looked at his moms with the utmost love, and who introduced his boyfriend to them without fear.

“Do you wanna go in?” Willie asked. “Tell her you’re okay?”

Alex shook his head. “Just knowing she is… that’s enough for me. Let’s go home.”

Willie grinned, took his hand, and poofed them back to the studio. Where he may have strung up some more of the mistletoe, and Alex smiled as he sank into the kiss. Sure, he was a ghost, and it kind of sucked some days. But this was shaping up to still be the best Christmas he’d had in a long time.

[stevensaus]

The Casual Disregard Of The Neurodivergent Voice

I had the pleasure of watching the 2017 BBC2 TV movie "Chris Packham: Asperger's and Me" (IMDB, BBC) recently. The whole film is (as far as I'm aware) NOT available for purchase or viewing any longer, although Packham's new documentary, Inside Our Autistic Minds, is available on the BBC iPlayer for those in the UK. There were two brief instances from "Asperger's and Me" that really highlight why I have such a big problem with Applied Behavioral Analysis (ABA) as well as its largest proponent, "Autism Speaks." I excerpted the two clips for this discussion (YouTube, Vimeo), though I've transcribed the audio below if you cannot watch or the embed is broken. In the first section, Chris Packham (the host) is speaking to Joann, whose autistic son is being treated with TMS during a clinical trial. PACKHAM: You’ve brought up an autistic son. I think a lot of people probably don't realize the enormous amount of energy and the difference that impacts on the family. that's hard. JOANN: it's very hard and that's why autism is very isolating for families. it's it's exhausting to meet the needs to meet the safety, you know, there's divorce, there's bankruptcies... because everything goes into the safety well-being and treatments for our kids. PACKHAM: it's it it is you know painful to watch I've been there I've struggled myself so you know in that sense you know you're looking for any form of cure at times you see him failing and that's that's uncomfortable. If another therapy arose whereby you could cure autism. What would you think of that? JOANN: I think on a bad, frustrating day, I'd say yes. I think on a day like today, where I've never been so proud of him, I'd say no. It's complicated, but on the on the bad days, absolutely. There's two things of note here: Joann's not quite hidden reaction to the idea of a "cure" is the first. The second, and more important one, is that while Packham speaks of the the challenges his autism has caused for him, Joann (without malice) focuses on the ways that her son's autism has effected the family. The second clip is a stark contrast. In this section, Packham interviews Vincent Strully, who founded the New England Center for Children, which heavily relies on Applied Behavioral Analysis therapy. During the introduction to this bit, Packham commented on how unfriendly the school Strully founded is for those with sensory processing issues, which is common in autistic people. Strully compares ABA to "chemotherapy," awkwardly trying to joke that chemotherapy was originally considered "poison." Except that is a fairly accurate description of chemotherapy -- it's just that chemotherapy is designed to kill the cancer faster than the patient. Strully, who is NOT a doctor of any kind, as he only holds a bachelor's in political science, is clearly unaware of this fact. Yet Strully has unexpectedly made a perfect analogy. ABA is about deliberately removing autistic behaviors so that "professional observers would not be able to tell the autistic child ." The question -- just as it is with chemotherapy -- is whether or not that treatment is worse than what it proports to cure. That is a deeply personal and subjective question with chemotherapy, and one where there is no one-size-fits-all answer. Packham muses on this throughout the documentary. He recognizes that he has relatively low support needs, and while the world may be difficult at times for Packham, he recognizes that other people with higher support needs may have a far worse subjective experience. Strully, on the other hand, has absolutely no hesitation in knowing what is "best" for other people. STRULLY: This is educational chemotherapy for these kids. Who wouldn't deny them the chemical or medical chemotherapy they need for their cancer, but to deny them the the work that we and our colleagues around the country are doing successfully? Is, you know, it's just wrong. PACKHAM: If you could, would you cure autism? STRULLY: If I could, of course. And that would be a prayer come true. Strully's language makes it clear that he views neurodiversity as a disease -- he literally compares autism to cancer -- and that the goal of the treatment is to make autistic people more convenient for society, not the other way around. The quick, thoughtless arrogance that Strully shows here seems like it should be the exception. It is not. Physicians -- even those who are the heads of "Autism and Psychology" at major healthcare corporations -- who acknowledge that "each person with ASD presents unique experiences which can make finding effective care more difficult as it’s often personalized to an individual’s specific needs" will then immediately turn around and advocate that ABA therapy is the appropriate therapy for all autistic people. While "Autism Speaks" continues to receive criticism from actually autistic and neurodivergent people, the organization -- which is also a staunch advocate of ABA -- is regularly cited by network and cable news. The optimistic part of me thinks that ABA's popularity is due to big business, with its largest proponents and advocates either not being qualified (cough Strully cough) or are burdened with enormous financial conflicts of interest. The pessimist side of me thinks that ABA's popularity is because of its patronizing arrogance that values other's convenience over the autistic person's needs. But it does not have to be this way. On the "1800 Seconds On Autism" BBC podcast, Packham was interviewed by hosts Robyn Steward and Jamie Knight (audio, transcript). One of the things Packham talks about is working with his allistic (or neurotypical) colleagues. Packham said, "...very often I'd be working in situations which I was finding suboptimal or occasionally difficult. But now I'm just candid and upfront, and I find that the people that I work with are enormously respectful. They might do very often small changes, which mean that I can become a far more effective and productive part of the team." When I mention these kinds of accommodations to others, I often get a lot of pushback. The allistic person seems to expect that there will be huge, taxing demands made of them. Their focus is not on the overall productivity of the team, but instead on how inconvenient whatever accommodations will be for them. Consider: It is now commonplace to talk about people with "different learning styles" and to make sure that any training -- including the most routine annual training at a workplace -- makes an effort to address visual, auditory, kinesthetic, and reading/writing learners. Yet a neurodivergent person's need for specific, detailed instructions or direct communication styles is somehow seen as too great a burden. Instead of minor changes being made to improve both the employee's quality of life and the effectiveness of the work unit as a whole, neurodivergent persons are forced to work in allistic conditions. A personal example: I work quickly and effectively with fast and rhythmic music in the background, with as few vocals as possible. (Thank goodness for Digitally Imported.) If there are conversations or other snippets of "words" flying about (such as in the lyrics of pretty much any top 40 pop song), it makes it extremely difficult for me to focus. But for years my co-workers actively tried to exclude my few selections from the music playing at the office. As I wrote in 2019: the people around you would rather make you listen to music you hate all the time rather than let a single song you care for play once every hour or two. How would you feel in that situation? How hurt would you be after seeing that your peers would rather have you be uncomfortable all the time rather than give up their preference for what they want all the time? That even though you went out of your way to make sure others felt included, they actively excluded you? I did not realize at the time that my own flavor of neurodivergence was what made it so disruptive and difficult for me. But I definitely realized how much their actions had both my productivity and feelings of isolation. The mindset behind ABA and that kind of lack of accommodation is unneeded, wasteful, and cruel. Like Packham, I am certain there are those neurodivergent people who would take a cure, where the differences in their brains get in the way of what that person wants. And make no mistake, I am far more aware than most of the emotional, financial, and even physical toll that neurodivergence can take on a family. But I also wonder how many people feel that way not because of their own needs and desires, but because everyone else simply cannot be bothered to take enough time to think about someone else's needs. Featured Image by nugroho dwi hartawan from Pixabay Read the full article

[fractallogic]

I asked gang whether anyone knew wtf was with my lips, because at least two of them know more about skincare than I do and my lips were feeling icky and hurty and weird. And also because the internet was like “probably cancer” and I was like no no I can’t take that right now, but also there’s been this one patch on my upper lip that’s been weird and scaly and flaky for MONTHS now, like probably almost a year, and no matter what lip balm I put on it it’s not going away, and now it just feels like my lips are sunburned all the time and the scaly patch has grown to just be ALL of my lips and I AM IN OREGON I LEFT THE DRYNESS OF SOCAL AND COLORADO AND IT IS LITERALLY RAINING AND OPPRESSIVELY HUMID OUTSIDE WHY ARE MY LIPS SO FLAKY AND CRACKED AND CHAPPED so maybe it IS cancer

So then @paty-ofarrell said (almost verbatim) lol no and sent me packages of Skincare Knowledge(tm) because she is the best boyfriend anyone could ever hope to have and the first one came two days ago

Now I’m convinced that this nonsense with my lips was just like “oh you think Burt’s bees and your organic beeswax locally made lip balms are spendy and fancy wait until you can only make me happy with Sephora products!!!”

Because again, it’s been MONTHS of at least this weird scaly patch on my lips. Anything from normal lip balm to medicated-hydrating-whatever lip balm to aquaphor? No change. Taking antihistamines because maybe it’s allergies? Nah. ONE NIGHT with a laneige lip mask? Cured.

Well, fine. FINE.

So I probably don’t have a very weird and very specific form of skin cancer that only affects the lips (but also still a good reminder that lips need sunscreen too anyways)

[icanonlybe-human]

So, yesterday I crashed. Physically. I had another fainting episodes which freaked one of the nurses out so much she wanted to call an ambulance.

Basically, I’ve been having blood pressure problems which the GP here thinks is because of the cocktail of meds I’m on. But since I started TMS, I’ve been getting random bouts of dizziness and going from feeling weightless to feeling like my bones are made of lead. It’s like everything takes 10x more effort just to move, it’s hard to talk or walk or stand and hard to stay awake. I can’t describe it as fainting as such, because with fainting, you can’t really fight it, and it feels different to this. This is like my body doesn’t have enough energy to hold my head up or move my mouth or keep my eyes open. I tried talking to my main doctor about it, but she’s always in such a rush to get to the next patient that she doesn’t seem to listen. I was trying to explain last night to her and she kept going back to the blood pressure, even though I told her that the nurses checked my blood pressure while the episode was happening and it was normal.

But anyway. Mum, Dad and Nan left yesterday after we went out for lunch with some friends. I had to dress up (aka not psych ward outfits) and hide my tagged cord and wristband labelling me as a hospital patient because they’re assholes about mental health and think that by telling me that “a lot of people have it worse than you do” that that’ll somehow instantly cure me. Funnily enough a thought process that my Dad tried on me recently.

Speaking of, I never got to have that conversation with Dad. He never gave me the chance. So now I guess that I’m going to have to have it over the phone.

Anyway, today was a quieter day. I am absolutely physically and mentally exhausted after the weekend and had to have a nap this morning because I was so tired. But my one actual friend here (not just acquaintance) left today. And the other one I’ve been talking to is leaving on Thursday. I don’t think the girls I play cards with will be that far behind. I’m trying not to get upset about it, I knew it was coming. But also, getting myself out there is a lot of energy and a big deal for me, and to have to go through that process again… it sucks ass.

But looking on the bright side, I have made an actual friend who wants to stay friends outside of here. In fact, she felt so close to me that she started calling me her little sister. That was really cute. I miss having her around already.

One of the nurses asked when I’m having a visit next. I genuinely don’t know. I can’t keep asking Bo and N out here since it’s such a drive for them. I doubt MC is going to visit again. And I doubt Dad will want to come down 2 weekends in a row because I haven’t been worth the petrol cost before, why would I now?

Frustration. I think that sums me up right now. And really fucking tired.

[reflect-on-this-fully]

Happy Diwali!

{Photo courtesy of Ravi Roshan via Pexels}

Wishing everyone a beautiful, victorious, and prosperous Diwali!

As I reflect on my faith and this spiritual journey I’ve been on, I decided I wanted to share a meaningful experience I had with all of you.

A key point in my spiritual development right now is to control the mind. This has always been a point of contention with me. A good portion of my life was ravaged by anxiety, a sense of unrest and unease that pervaded through my entire being. It was largely resistant to medication, perhaps due to genetic factors, as my entire family– going back several generations– has struggled with this disorder. After a while, you start to assume it’s hardwired into your brain.

I won’t divulge into details, but I was fortunate to receive a groundbreaking medical treatment for my mental health that put me into complete remission after 13+ years. When we talk about treating mental health, it’s usually in the context of symptom management and lifestyle changes. Not once in my life did I hear someone say, “I cured my depression,” or “I am anxiety free.” I never even imagined being “cured” as a possibility. To be fair, I knew TMS had exceptionally promising results and a plethora of data to confirm its viability, but I never imagined I’d be one of those people.

Anywho, getting this treatment was the first big step in attempting to “wrangle” my mind. Before, it seemed like an impossible task. It calls to mind a passage from the Bhagavad Gita. Arjuna says to Krishna, “This yoga of equanimity you have taught seems unendurable for the restless mind. | For the mind is turbulent, strong, and obstinate, Krishna, and to subdue it is as difficult as controlling the wind. | The Blessed Lord said: Truly the wayward mind is hard to subdue, but with practice and dispassion it can be trained. |For one with uncontrolled mind, yoga is hard to attain. Yet I say that with practice, one who strives with disciplined mind can succeed.” (6:33-36)

I know that some people may read this and assume that “practice” means that you can overcome an anxious mind just by trying hard. However, that’s not the case. Practice can mean an infinite number of things, and for myself personally, I think my practice was in going to therapy, going to my doc, and going through TMS. I took the steps and initiative to wrangle my mind. Even though I wasn’t on my spiritual journey at the time, I believe that the divine walked alongside me. A great change was coming on the precipice, and I could feel it in my bones. I was determined to beat this disease, or at least make a fool of it. The divine saw that and carried me the rest of the way.

Even though the change has been nothing short of drastic, there is a sense of normalcy to be had. With TMS, I feel like I’m starting with a blank slate. After living with debilitating anxiety for over a decade, what the hell is normal now? This past year has been one of relearning what it means to live. Every day is a gift beyond measure. Even still, I will have a bad day from time to time. Such is normal. Sometimes I think, “If I hadn’t gone through TMS, this day would have taken me out.” And it’s probably true. 

Just when I think I’ve made leaps and bounds in recovery, there is still progress to be had–even those without anxiety can suffer from the uncontrolled mind. I learned this when I received my first set of mala beads. They were African turquoise, and I felt immense peace turning over the smooth beads in my hands. That night, during puja, I sat down to quiet my mind and meditate. I had never recited a mantra in full succession before and was feeling somewhat apprehensive about it. How would the experience go? Still, I felt a strange calling, like a beckoning to do this.

I chose the mantra “Om hare Krishna” for its simplicity and the closeness I’ve felt with Lord Krishna as I’ve read the Bhagavad Gita for the first time. As I repeated the words and steadied my breathing, I felt my mind dissipate to a serene ocean. I felt a sense of urgency and longing to connect with Krishna. I struggled to form his image in this vast ocean. I repeated the mantra, breathing in slowly, when I felt like something clicked. The sense of urgency left me. I felt warm. I felt like I had gained control over the endless tides of the ocean. The waves now swelled and crashed with every breath. I slowed down, and with my eyes closed, I saw the most incredible materialization of blue. A crisp, Prussian blue that brought rest to my eyes. And in that beautiful mirage, Krishna’s precious face developed. We looked upon each other in peaceful solitude, as the ocean crashed around us. I repeated, “Om hare Krishna,” with all the gratitude my heart could muster. When I had finished my 108 mantras, I spoke to Krishna, his presence so tangible and intimate. I had never experienced an encounter with the divine like that before. What does one say in the presence of the Supreme? I told him of my calling to write and to reach my community. I told him of my desire to help bring others peace in a restless world. As Krishna appears in the world to help bring enlightenment throughout the ages when it is needed most, I wanted to walk alongside him. That calling with ingrained in my soul. 

When I opened my eyes and left the altar, I thought I’d feel a sudden rush of coldness or abandonment. But it was the opposite: I could feel Krishna within me. 

It was a remarkable experience, and I'll carry it with me always.

Namaste.

Pax

[tyrianlynch]

Things might be starting to be less horrible, I will list evidence in the tags

[betelguwuse]