#i'm keeping a tally of people who tell me to get medicated.

[kirvia]

i'm going down to kamurocho 😭😭😭 gonna have myself a time 😭😭

[ladyyatexel]

Hey, what's up, hello, I'm Xel, I truly have Donald Duck levels of bad luck and yet I do not have the rage button that makes things work out if I throw a tantrum, which feels like yet another failure of media, what is the deal with this.

The deal is:

Temp job had to let me go instead of make me permanent because the economy scared the 5 people over 65 in that department out of feeling safe enough to retire

None of my applications are getting interviews and I don't know what I'm doing wrong. Donald Duck tantrum did not assist me in this realm.

Holy shit seasonal depression I can't get out of bed like.... A Lot.

I have a convention to go to in February where I am selling art in the art show and where I will see many of my friends the only time per year.

I'm scared of everything haha wow 😬

I'm am an artist who just feels too upset and worried to art

I'm having trouble getting everything together and maybe will feel better with some level of stability? I need to do a lot of paperwork. It is proving hard. I have the Tumblr popular suspicions about my level of neurodivergance. (Fun story: I told members of my my family that I have thought in the last two years especially that I might have ADHD or Autism or something, and my cousin said, "Oh, honey *just the last two years?*" Obliterated.)

My abusive dad recently joined a cult and my grandmother thinks he'll try to contact me after 15 years and I'm fucking scared of him and that is Affecting Me in A Way boy howdy.

I do not have the money to pay rent even a little bit! I'm trying to get January and February taken care of maybe? So I can try to exist for this period of time and maybe not have a breakdown or get evicted or something?

Some real not awesome medical junk happening also because why not.

SO, I'm doing Tumblr's favorite thing and being a starving queer artist with brain worms who needs help. If you are interested in helping me out and making a donation to the "Why don't my Donald Duck tantrums solve my problems" fund, I would be Really Grateful.

I am on Ko-Fi, which is really just a funnel to PayPal, over here.

$2500 would keep me on solid ground. I'll try to keep a tally here in a read more along with a expenses tally if that would help you feel better about me! I know I've had to ask frequently in the last few months, so I understand thinking I'm full of it.

I have a commission to finish currently and a few buttons and things that need to be mailed. You could also ask for button and commission, but I am doing prep work for my part of the art show in mid February, so I'm not available until after then for that!

My grandfather used to do a Donald Duck impression that was really good and it convinced me that either he WAS Donald Duck or that old people all knew how to do this because they all talked like this in the era Donald Duck was from.

Here is Ko-Fi again. If there's something you'd like to see me post or unearth in atonement, let me know. If you'd like other places to aim your dead green American presidents, I can give you that too.

Thanks for reading and/or reblogging! Tell me how Donald Duck's freakouts impacted you. Take care of yourselves!

Rent is $710/month, so 1420 is January and February.

65 for the internet, 130

65 for car insurance, 130

65 for electric unless I can get the assistance plan up again, same 130

250 to survive at the con maybe?

Also just like food until i can get the foodstamps stuff sorted??

Gas???

Anyway, that's an idea of what and why, if that is helpful.

Jan 8:

We are at $460!

Thanks!

[lookatmysillies]

AREPH Main Facility - Eddy POV

Tallis was brought to the facility shortly after Round 7.

While his companion, the guard, Hayate, was dragged unconscious to the lower high-security floors that Eddy had yet to attain access to, Tallis was immediately transferred to the ICU. Usually, this space was reserved for injured workers, but Tallis was an exception. He was placed in the same bed that Eddy had been vacated from after a long rest and recovery following its near-death encounter with the target Solei. Or... whatever they were now. Eddy wasn't certain. It was still set on the idea that it could save them and bring them home after such a long absence.

While Eddy was slowly integrated back into the field, they lingered in Tallis's room during the long days. At first, they merely observed him; a real Alien Stage contestant, up close! It was a marvel. He was marked for death by his loss against the contestant Daiki with her edgy wit and charm, but AREPH must've had bigger plans.

Maybe they brought Eddy a friend after all this time. They hadn't had a friend for a very long time. Not since... not since him.

Eddy tried not to think too much about Sebastian most days. Some days they allowed themselves to look at his baby pictures and smile and tear up.

Tallis was a lot - well, bigger than Sebastian was, but he worked well as a friend all the same. Eddy clumsily re-braided his hair whenever his braids loosened in his unresponsive state. It checked Tallis's IVs and the bandages on his midsection, one for the first bullet (it definitely got him good, but only pierced the fatty tissue of his side) and another for the second, which had pierced his abdomen. The aliens who tended to Tallis's health joked that Eddy might as well be their boss, seeing as it was there even more than they were.

It read case files to Tallis to stimulate his mind, ate meals in his presence and told him that he would love the pudding from the caf once he woke up, studied his calloused fingers (how did they get so rough?) and gently wiped his face and neck with a wet cloth every now and then to keep him clean. When one day, Tallis was transported to the lower levels where Eddy couldn't go, it was sad to see its new best friend go. Waiting for him to wake up felt like it was taking forever.

When he re-emerged a few weeks later, he was still asleep - kept in a medically induced coma, the doctors told Eddy, for his health. They told him he should wake soon and put him in one of their medical observation rooms. Eddy couldn't braid Tallis's hair anymore, as it had been buzzed sometime when he was gone, but they could resume their usual routine.

Until Tallis did finally wake a few nights after Eddy monitored Round 16 to watch for Aurien and Solei.

And Tallis was not happy.

They got past the initial awkwardness after Tallis threw things at them the night he woke up and spit in their face. Tallis must've realized relatively quickly that he was surrounded by aliens and his best bet was to let the only other human stick around.

He rejected Eddy's friendly gestures for a solid week. He pushed away the warm washcloths and refused to eat much of the food Eddy offered him despite his gaunt, sunken appearance. The only times he addressed Eddy directly (or anyone, really) was to ask questions.

Where am I? The AREPH facility. Where's the facility? I'm so sorry, I can't tell you that! How am I alive? The guard saved you - I'm glad he did, too! Where is he, then? Undergoing treatment in the lower levels, then he'll probably be questioned. Are you going to question me? Soon, yes, we think you might have information pertinent to our investigations.

Tallis's jaw ticked at those words, and Eddy knew he knew what that meant.

Tallis had ties to high-profile figures.

(And that was the only reason he still lived, not because his life had any worth to anyone, but because he had information on the people who really mattered in the eyes of others.)

Which brought them to their first compromise.

Eddy wasn't technically allowed to show Tallis any information regarding Season 39 of Alien Stage. He was supposed to be in the dark.

But it broke Eddy's heart to reject him any information on his friends, Tov and Himei. He cared about them. He had a human connection with them, like Eddy had a human connection with Sebastian once upon a time.

"I'll be your friend if you tell me if they're okay," Tallis said ever so quietly one night from his bed, eyes wide and teary. "Just tell me if they're alive. Tell me how many of my friends are still alive."

And Eddy broke.

"Tov," Eddy whispered in his ear so no sound systems would pick up on it. "Himei, and all the others who won their rounds before you, all but Vera. Khoi." Tallis's eyes fluttered shut. "Lark, Akane, Jae, Lang, and Onyx."

Tallis's throat caught on a harsh swallow. "No Castor?"

Eddy hesitated, wishing not to have to be the one to confirm it.

"No Castor," it murmured, shrinking away when Tallis's face briefly crumpled, a single tear released from his eye. Then he wiped his face with his blanket like a small child might and forced a stoic look upon his face, though his lips still trembled.

"Tell me," Tallis said shakily, "who wins the next row. If you can."

Eddy couldn't turn him down again after that.

"I can."

AREPH had different plans.

Eddy didn't have to tell him one thing, because for Rounds 17 and 21, Tallis was placed on a chair in the observation room with wires and electrodes attached to his head. Eddy and a few others had already taken a few cracks each at getting Tallis to talk about his classmates and he had thus refused.

"Is this necessary?" Eddy whispered to the small alien named Yakun, chewing on the inside of their cheek behind their facemask. Tallis's face was nearly green with sick as the countdown to Tov's round whittled down, his friend about to meet the fate she was destined for either way.

Eddy hoped she won, for Tallis's sake and their own preferences. She was Eddy's favorite contestant. She was radiant.

"It is," Yakun told it. "If he won't tell us about his connections, we'll learn ourselves."

Tallis had already been irritable and jittery since he woke up from his coma. Now, he was downright mercurial as the round progressed live on a projector before him. He shook violently in his seat from the beginning till the end. When Lark hit the floor, he covered his eyes, his mouth moving in what could be some silent prayer. He only removed his hands when the announcer bellowed Tov's name.

Round 21 was worse. Like Round 17, Tallis's friend took the early lead and held it throughout, but also like Round 17, there was a wrench thrown into it. Instead of Lark falling to the ground, it was Himei, forced down by Noora. When Noora started raining punches down on Himei, Tallis, who had already been anxious the whole performance mouthing "something is wrong" promptly burst into silent tears, biting down on his fingers as Himei was hurt. The gunshot piercing Noora's neck almost seemed like a relief to him, making his teeth unclench from his flesh, dark bite marks left in their wake.

Eddy hated it.

That night, Tallis was utterly defeated, pale and shivering. He let Eddy clean his face, or maybe more accurately, he had no energy to resist it. He let them steal an extra blanket from an unoccupied room and put it on Tallis's bed.

Eddy watched over him that night, eyes fixated on his sleeping form, pierced by the familiar ache that came with connection.

Sebastian's pictures felt like they were burning against Eddy's leg where they rested in its pocket.

Not much more than a week later, Himei's long black curls were falling to the floor with each rhythmic snip of the scissors.

Daiki was dead. Himei had outlasted her. She won the stupid fucking game she was playing against herself.

But with every photoshoot and interview that came afterwards deeming Himei a member of the Elite Eight, declaring her better than Daiki, pitting her against Tov whose points count loomed ahead of her, Himei knew the truth.

Every time she glimpsed herself in the mirror and saw her bruised, sore face, she knew the truth.

Every time she laid eyes on Cirrus, whether in a magazine, on a billboard, or at mealtimes, she knew.

She didn't win.

She'd already lost, regardless of the outcome.

The morning of Round 24, she woke with a heavy heart.

She needed to see Tov.

Tagging time! Tov belongs to @ivanttakethis; Daiki belongs to @daiki1k; Sebastian belongs to @sotogalmo; Lark and Noora belong to @kamersona; Cirrus belongs to @cirrusoftheclouds. Everyone else is pretty much mentioned in passing, so I won't tag those people and spam their notifs, lol.

[excitingrbl]

it'll be two years next month...

...that I've been legally divorced.

I knew it was definitely the end in 2016. meaning, there would be no more reconciling or attempts to for the greater good of the family. the other party had some other agenda still in mind because no matter how clear I was that a divorce was needed, I was met with resistance until 2020. that logically tallies up to be only 4 years but I stated that we should get a divorce after we had been married a year. I was told that I was giving up too easily.

if you haven't heard this from anyone else, please listen when I say that choosing to walk away from abuse (doesn't matter the kind; walk away from it) and/or toxic behavior that is not changing is not just giving up. there is no right way to stay in a harmful situation, mentally, physically, otherwise. unfortunately, if your partner isn't leaving visible bruises, scars, or causing obvious signs of neglect, people will minimize your shit. as hard as it may be to get through that alone, I do encourage pushing through.

it'll be two years next month that I've been legally divorced with the ex-husband having a child support decree of $182/per month. since he wasn't working at the time of the divorce, the amount was based on his attained education. since we've been divorced, he's had 3 different jobs. I haven't taken him back to court. he also went back to school and if I'm not mistaken, has completed whatever he returned for so that means more education. I haven't taken him back to court.

because I don't want the hassle of court, as long as he pays what he was decreed to pay, he'll hear nothing from me. does my daughter deserve more support than this? OF FUCKING COURSE. she deserves emotional support from BOTH of her parents. she deserves financial support from BOTH of her parents. before anyone says the $182 IS financial support, sure. however, anyone actively raising a child full-time knows that $182 is insulting to the amount required to provide for a child every month. so when he doesn't pay or pay on time, it's a reminder of how much he doesn't care.

he didn't decide out of the kindness of his heart to give me $182 a month to contribute to the raising of his child. he pays it because the court told him he has to as a result of us getting divorced. during the divorce, I found out that he pays two of the mothers he had children with after our daughter, $200 a piece. even more of an insult that there's not even a thought of rounding up $18. I pause when this thought crosses my mind because if he was truly paying the other mothers $200 a month but didn't even care to send anything for our daughter until he was told he had to, what makes me think he gives a fuck enough to round up? silly me.

why didn't I seek child support prior to the divorce is a question I've been asked here and there. the amount of mental stress required to follow through with everything wasn't ever worth it to me. the paperwork alone is enough to fuel whatever rage I have tucked away to keep moving forward. 21 pages of a document asking the basic of questions but because they're so basic, it's a constant poking of the bear kind of thing. there's also a chance that I will have to prove he's the father, beyond the birth certificate. even more insulting and a reminder that I was once involved with someone who really don't give a fuck about nobody but himself.

I'm also reminded that he's supposed to pay 50% of all our daughter's medical bills. he doesn't because I don't send him the bills. he didn't have a job so what good would it do? we're supposed to tell each other whenever we move and give each other the new addresses. I still don't have a address of where he lives to this day. I even reminded him when I moved. nothing.

these are all things for which I can take him back to court. however, it will be on my dime. much like literally everything else. the divorce he refused for years, included. so I often sit and ask myself "is going to court worth it?" and because he knows this much about me, he "safely" assumes I won't take him to court. stress is a major trigger to my diabetes being unmanageable so these assumptions are no longer safe to make. I shouldn't have to remind a father to pay a crumb of financial support every month. not even once should I have to remind a father to give a fuck, even if it is a small one. especially when no one has to remind me to provide for our child every day, week, month, year of her life.

and when we reduce this entire post down to that, it's clear to see why I asked for the divorce the first time, 10 years ago. no one should have to remind you to take care of anyone you claim to love. if you need reminders, you might also need to sit with your definitions of love and priorities.

[loudgothbf]

I'm not denying any of that stuff you said. What I'm saying is: what do you want us to do about it then, if it's true? We can't help you, you don't want our help, you can't get your own help, you don't want our advice, you don't want to talk about what happened, so then what do we do? What are we supposed to talk to you about then?

“The truth is, I want to talk about it beyond what I am now, but that’s a very vulnerable thing for me and I don’t want to be seen as weak, because being seen as weak means being seen as a target, and we’ve all seen where that landed me before. That’s why I’ve been avoiding rehab-- beyond the fact that it’s such a restrictive environment where basically all of my already very limited choices are taken away, I mean. Rehab means I get to talk about it, but I also have to be seen as too weak to have fought back and kept any of this from happening, too weak to stand up for myself and leave when I had the chance back in high school, and too weak to deal with what I’ve been through without falling back on a habit that I know almost killed me before.”

“And it’s also embarrassing to talk about all of that stuff. Just... what happened to me in concept alone is embarrassing. It was designed to be humiliating, and so admitting that it happened is also humiliating. That’s part of why no one ever came forward. There was just the constant threat of humiliation, and just enough doubt that everyone ended up blaming themselves and thinking they were completely alone.”

“There’s no good solution and it scares me. If I go to the hospital, I have to walk fifteen miles, which would take me five, six hours, which is plenty of time for me to get freaked out and change my mind. Not to mention I still have a very fresh memory of being mugged while I was walking alone, so the idea of venturing that far knowing that no one is looking out for me is terrifying. But if I make it there, then I have to go through withdrawal, which is miserable. I’ll be in constant, horrible pain for hours or days, and then the symptoms will last for weeks, if I even survive it. Because the fact of the matter is, while the chances are better that I’ll survive it in the hospital, I could still die. And then it would’ve been for nothing. But then, after the hospital? After I get medically stable? Then I have to go get locked up with a bunch of strangers who all have drug problems of their own, which means at least a portion of them are gonna have anger problems. And I can’t stand the idea of being locked in a place like that, constantly being monitored and bossed around, not being allowed to look like or feel like myself, and surrounded by people who are looking for any outlet they can find. Especially if I’m weak. Especially if they know what happened to me, because it... it makes me seem like an easy target.”

“And the therapy part of it... the idea of having to dump all this out to a therapist who could more easily make things worse than better? Someone who’s job it is to decide whether or not I can go out on my own and not end up back on drugs? Do you know how tempting it would be to lie to just get out of there at that point, with how tired and isolated and stressed I would be? And add on top of that the emotional toll of having to talk about what happened to me and ‘take responsibility’ for the role I played in my own problems. I know that they’re not telling me that what happened was my fault when they say that, but it sounds like I can’t put any blame on the situation for how I’m feeling, so I’m just supposed to blame myself for everything.”

“Not to mention the reason I started back on drugs was to help myself with the flashbacks and nightmares. When I’m not on them, will I even be able to sleep? Especially if it’s the only thing I’ve been allowed to think about all day? I probably won’t be able to eat, because I’ll be so nauseous from the withdrawal that I won’t be able to keep anything down. And I’ll have to take even more time off work, which means I may lose my job completely. Not to mention every minute spent in rehab feels like it’ll be just another minute I’m giving to Yuta. Even if that’s a twisted mindset to have about it, that’s what it feels like. As if every minute I spend thinking about him and talking about him rather than ignoring him and trying to pretend it never happened is just another one on the tally sheet. And then I go through all of that, maybe I get sober, maybe I talk about it and... then what? I’m terrified that I’ll never be happy without the drugs, that I’ve destroyed everything about me that made me fun or interesting or... someone that people want around, and I’ll end up just being alone and miserable, and either just live out my life waiting for something to change, or relapse and die knowing that nothing ever will.”

“It’s not true that I don’t want your help, it’s just that it frustrates me that it’s not as easy as you all say it is, and... and you all make it sound so easy. And you really... can’t help me, and it scares me because I’m starting to think that nobody can. That I’m just a lost cause, that the only thing that’s going to make all this stop is me just dying. But then I’ll never have done anything with my life except wait to suffer and be used.”

“I just... I have to convince myself that I don’t want help and that I don’t want to talk about it, because if I start to believe that I do want those things, then I’ll have to acknowledge that the reason I’m not doing them is because I’m scared. And if I’m scared, then I’m weak. If I’m scared, then I’m an easy target. So I have to make sure that no one wants to help me and everyone thinks that I’m just choosing not to get help for whatever reason rather than being too weak and afraid to get it.”

Mega Truth 3/5

[taki-sensei]

I need some advice. So I'm a trumpet player, I just started around 3 months ago and I have horrible anxiety about playing in band. When we are practicing I get so scared and I sit there and sometimes I can't even play. How do I get over that?

hi anon! sorry to hear this ;_; but there might be some ways you could go about dealing with this! 

The first thing is to talk to your band director and let them know your situation. Tell them that this is a serious problem you have– make that very clear. Tell them they should not do anything to put you on the spot, embarrass you in rehearsal, or question you if you choose suddenly not to play. 

The purpose of talking to your band director is to ensure that nothing happens in rehearsal that will make you even more nervous than you already are. For someone who already has anxiety about playing, being called out in rehearsal even once could be extremely damaging in the long term.

Next is to sit down and really, really take a hard look at yourself. You need determine where your anxiety is coming from. Usually it’s one of the below :

You’re anxious because you KNOW you can’t play your part very well.

You’re anxious because you THINK you can’t play your part very well (or you play well alone, but feel like you’re going to mess up if there are people watching.)

Somebody (or multiple people) in the band dislikes you, and you’re afraid they’re judging you.

You’re diagnosed with some form of anxiety.

You have good ol’ regular stage fright.

I have advice for dealing with all five below the break. (I’m using a break because this post will get kind of long. If it’s not one of those four, send me another ask and I’ll try to help. 

1. You’re anxious because you KNOW you can’t play your part well. If this is what’s freaking you out, I think you ought to congratulate yourself first. Many beginning players lack enough self-awareness to grasp that they aren’t very good. This realization can be a driving force for you to improve! The best way to solve this is to PRACTICE HARD AND SMART. I have a list of clarinet-focused practice tips here (link), but a lot of them work for any instrument.

2. You’re anxious because you THINK you can’t play your part. Are you in that situation where you can play your band music at home, but once you get to rehearsal you’re terrified you’re going to mess up? A lack of faith in your ability to perform in a one-time-chance situation means you probably have poor consistency.

Consistency, for musicians, is EVERYTHING. Often the musicians that earn top spots in auditions aren’t the most talented, but they’re the most consistent. They know that if they have one shot to do it right, they can rely on a 90% chance they’ll pull it off perfectly. Won’t you be less nervous in rehearsal if you KNEW hat at any given time, you had a 90% success rate? Or even an 80% success rate?

Personally, I find that the best way to develop consistency is to keep a tally chart in a practice notebook. When you play your music at home, tally how many times you:

totally mess up,

play it kinda meh,

play it really well.

This way, after about a week of practice, you can get a good look at how likely you are to play well at any given moment. If your “really well” percentage isn’t very high, then that means you need to either practice MORE, or take your practicing more seriously. A good way to raise the “Really well” percentage is to remind yourself that EVERY NOTE YOU PLAY IS A PERFORMANCE. This way, you don’t get in the habit of goofing off on your instrument, or not taking your playing seriously, just because you don’t have an audience present. Remember that once you play a note, you can’t ever take it back– so make every note count!

3. People in the band dislike you. 

Firstly, are you sure they really don’t like you? Or have you just not spoken to them enough? Try reaching out to your section members and casually letting them know that you get anxious sometimes (“Hey, sorry if this is kinda weird, but I get nervous in rehearsal so don’t judge, aight? I’d really appreciate that :) and trust me, I’m working on it!”) I can’t see why they wouldn’t be nice about it. If they tease you or do stuff to make it worse, tell them straight up that “you are REALLY not helping.”

If they actually don’t like you, and you know that for sure– I totally get where you’re coming from. I was terrified for two whole semesters in my college’s top band because people in there didn’t like me, and it made me so nervous to play. The best way I found to deal with that was to remind myself why I’m in the band. Why are you even in band in the first place? Something must have drawn you to trumpet, and drawn you to join. Why are you here, and why do you love music? If you can keep that reason in sight and in mind, you can overcome whatever drama there is.

If it is a serious problem with people disliking you, try direct conflict resolution methods, or even try telling your band director about it. Reach out for help.

4. You’re diagnosed with some kind of anxiety. I don’t think I’m qualified to help with this one, but you should definitely talk to your school counselor, or a medical professional. There isn’t a 100% chance that any of the methods I listed so far will help you with a chemical imbalance in your brain that is causing you distress. Tell someone, and ask for help.

5. Good ol’ regular stage fright– you’re gonna hate me for saying this, but here it is: stage fright never goes away. Ever. I was first chair clarinet in one of my university’s bands… and I’m 20 years old… and I still got nervous when I had to play a solo in rehearsal, or play a tuning note for the band. The best musicians in the world still get nervous on stage, or when performing for people. But that’s just part of the thrill of live music performance– the thrill of knowing there’s a chance you’ll mess up. If you can learn to embrace this feeling and practice hard enough that you can consistently play well, stage fright will affect you less badly over the years!

I hope this was helpful anon! Please send more asks if you have more questions, or I didn’t address the issue that’s really bothering you. Good luck with the trumpet, and good luck in band!