#idk if this helps but it's late and i'm tired

[carmenlikeme]

COWBOY LIKE ME: PROLOGUE

pairing: Jack Abbot x rescuer!reader

summary: After an unexpected storm hits Pittsburgh, the entire city stops. Floodings and destruction everywhere. Jack ends up trapped for two days at PTMC. When he's finally allowed to be outside, he ends up at the frontlines of the disaster, back to his MASH unit days. Abbot works right next to the rescuers, helping them stabilize patients before they reach the hospital. He meets an interesting person amongst the rescuers, and the magnetic pull is too hard to ignore. Will he give in?

OR

Where Jack Abbot meets an eccentric doctor in the middle of a catastrophe, and finds light in one of the darkest places imaginable.

genre: romance, slowburn, hurt/comfort, sprinkled comedy, idk what else, highly medically inaccurate, heavy dialogue for the first chapters.

wc: 2.3K

warnings: age gap, (reader is in her late 20's, jack late 40's) major natural disaster, medical trauma, PTSD, mentions of war and violent situations, graphic depiction of injuries, mentions of COVID and death. Will edit as I write more.

a/n: hiii!! this is the prologue of my story, it's mostly a set up of characters and storyline, I hope you enjoy it! I'll be posting chapter one in the next few days hehe

you can find the masterlist HERE!

"How are we doing?"

Gloria asked as she walked into the never welcoming Emergency Room. Robby stood in the middle of the nurse station, his eyes glued to the board as his mind raced to gather his thoughts and course of action. 

He barely registered Gloria’s voice until she stood next to him. He was sure she’d asked something more; her piercing gaze made it obvious. She blinked repeatedly, a silent question, and only then did he snap out of his world and sigh, as if he could handle her right now. As if he could handle anything else right now. 

"So far, so good, but we have a lot of people coming in just seeking shelter. Power is out almost everywhere in Pittsburgh, and according to Abbot, there are already entire neighborhoods that got wiped off the map."

Gloria didn't respond; the only answer between them was lightning and thunder outside the ED. The rain was heavy and unrelenting, but the real problem was the number of traumas they weren’t getting; just a few, something they could handle in a couple of hours. 

That meant people couldn't reach them, and God knows how many would come once the rain stopped.

It also meant that his adrenaline junkies; or as others called them, students, were fidgety, which was never good.

Shit, it even made him fidgety. He didn’t know that looking at all of those empty rooms would make him feel like that.

"Yeah, I heard it's bad. I'm trying to get you as many supplies and food as soon as possible, but all roads are blocked. How's everyone?"

He stopped blinking.

"Skittish, suicidal, damn; I'm sure they're about to jump out of the building at any moment. I would too."

She stayed quiet once again.

"Yeah, I can't reach my family either."

Robby finally looked away from the board, he sighed once more. Gloria didn’t seem to move, she was oddly calm for a situation like that. It wasn’t foreign to her, in all their years working together, she never flinched. Not even at the peak of the COVID crisis, even then, she was counting patient satisfaction scores.

“I’m sorry. I’ll ask Kiara if she can reach them.”

“Thanks. I’ll be in my office if you need something. I heard it’s all hands on deck.”

Just like that, she left before anyone could ask her anything.

Abbot joined the conversation just as Gloria left. He looked a little bit tired, but he was as sharp as ever. On the other side, Robby felt like something horrible was about to happen and he didn't have any form to stop it. Abbot was the complete opposite, a good man in the storm, —no pun intended—, the clear and calm mind in the middle of chaos. Robby would lie if he said he wasn't a little jealous of him sometimes.

Jack didn't ask about Gloria, despite his shameless eavesdropping from behind. Instead, he looked at the board along with Robby. It wasn’t time to activate full emergency protocols, but he knew it was close. Still, that wasn't the intention of his impromptu visit to the nurse station.

"Did you hear? They declared state of emergency, and they're getting rescue teams down here to help us."

It had been a bad couple of days. The rain came out of nowhere, and it only got worse, slow, relentless, and destructive. Before anyone realized, people couldn't leave their houses and some of them were already compromised by the heavy rain. It was still somewhat salvageable but less than 12 hours ago it got worse, with high speed winds that threatened to make everything worse, the city was on pause. Still in the middle of chaos.

Worse part? Immediate response was already at max capacity, and they had barely touched the surface of the catastrophe. 

"Well, I now thank my old concrete apartment complex, at least I know it won't fall apart."

Jack scoffed, his hands going to his face in early defeat. If it weren't for the hospital being in a relatively safe zone, and their emergency protocols in place, he was sure they would be underwater too. But at the moment, it felt like they floating on a bubble under the ocean.

And it could burst at any second.

"Is it true?"

Princess walked towards the two men, her phone in hand, showing them a video. Robby had to put on his glasses to see, but even then, they still weren't sure what they were looking at.

"They say a rescue team from Mexico is coming due to the disaster."

Princess flipped the phone slightly towards her to speed up the video, where now a dozen people with orange jumpsuits could be seen getting ready to board a plane.

Abbot was immediately interested. He’d heard about those rescue groups and knew a bit about them, was never able to see their work up close to thank them for their labor. The wicked part inside of his brain sparked at the idea of seeing that in action.

"They're called topos." Princess’s Filipino accent slipped on the last word.

“Topo? As in mole? Like the animal? That’s Tagalog.” 

“And Spanish.”

Perlah joined the conversation and pulled out her own phone to show them more pictures of the team. She knew a little about them too, but it was also mostly a mystery to her.

"Oh, yeah, I know them. They're like rescue nomads.” Abbot said, finding a granola bar in his pocket and opening it as he spoke. Robby took a piece without asking. Princess and Perlah followed suit, which forced him to find another one for himself.

“What does rescue nomad even mean?” McKay asked, sneaking next to Abbot.

Robby bit the inside of his mouth and took a look at the oddly clean board. No one wanted to say anything, they feared the minute they would mention it, patients would fall from the sky into their ED. Something about everyone gathering there started to bother him. Those were the moments when he needed Shen to crack a joke and hope for the best, maybe even throwing the Q word, and just end their misery altogether. 

“They’re specialized lightweight first responders, any type of disaster you can think of, these guys can be there by yesterday and help you solve it. Last I heard, they were helping people in Spain due to their flooding. They even have K9s they train themselves, but they’re not your standard government issue rescue, they’re all volunteers.”

“Specialized in floodings?” McKay asked as she peeked beside Robby, trying to catch a better glimpse of the people they were talking about.

“Specialized in everything. Flooding, earthquakes, hurricanes, explosions, fires, you name it.”

“Damn, so they’re pretty badass.”

“Oh, so they’re those people who get under the rubble to pull people out?” Perlah scrolled, looking for more videos and pictures. By that moment, Dana was coming back to the nurse station, which immediately made Robby walk away in silence as he knew what was coming.

“Yeah, that’s why they’re called moles.”

“Wait, how do you guys have wi-fi and I can’t even get—?”

“Looking for anything here, folks?” Dana asked, which made Perlah and Princess scatter immediately. McKay tried to be more subtle, turning back slowly as if she’d just been there to grab a chart. Abbot disappeared before anyone even noticed.

“You’re scary.” Robby whispered, taking one of the coffees Dana offered him. She laughed, taking a sip of her own as she settled beside him. “Is your family okay?”

The hospital was safe, it seemed as the only place like that, for now. The worst of the heavy rain started right in the middle of the shift change, so they were working in a forced on-call rotation. Right now, most of the night shift was sleeping, at least the ones who could. 

“Yeah, they left for Florida to visit the grandparents before all of this. At least I know they’re okay. What about you, is Jake okay?”

Jake. A whole unexplored topic for Dana to poke until he caved. Robby looked to the side before laughing to himself.

“He’s good. He’s talking to me now, which is way more than I expected. He and his mom are in a safe zone.”

“Well, yeah. I’m sure he’s feeling guilty about how he talked to you. It’s been almost a year.”

Dana didn’t push further. She didn’t have to. Instead, she stood next to Robby. He knew she was trying to comfort him, but at the same time, Dana would never escape the chance to try and pull him out of the gutter, no matter how much he grumbled about it.

“Stop looking at the board, it’s bad juju,” Samira whispered as she passed by. She had that same energetic bounce as the PittFest mass casualty hit.

“You believe in that stuff?” Robby asked, glancing one more time before walking away.

“You don’t?”.

Sixteen hours and at least two gallons of coffee later, Abbot and Robby started to despise the once beloved cafeteria sandwiches they were eating. Food supplies were still running low, so they were working with what they had and stretching it out as much as possible. But in all honesty, as their once-endless stack of coffee dwindled, things started to get very worrisome.

Doctors could live without food. They’d die within the hour without coffee.

It was noon when the rain stopped, or at least eased enough not to drown anytime you tried to come out. There was still an eerie silence as people mopped the entrance of the ED, but it seemed as if catastrophe was just creeping behind them. The TVs came back on, power was restored all over the hospital but they were told it could disappear again at any second. Gloria still made sure to come back and demand not to use any type of non-essential device, so everyone made sure to charge their phones somewhere she wouldn’t check.

Patients trickled in quietly. The cafeteria, waiting room, and other parts of the first floor turned into a shelter for those who couldn’t get to their home in time, or for the unfortunate unhoused who arrived at the shelters too late. By 2 o’clock, the ED was partially full.

“Hey, Robby,” Dana called from her spot. He walked over, giving Mel a few instructions for an incoming patient. Dana tapped her pen against the desk with a quiet sense of urgency, something she only did when facing a difficult choice. She allowed him to continue speaking even as he stood next to her. 

“Command is asking for backup: emergency, surgery, and a nurse. Oh, and anyone else you can spare. Seems like the rescue guys are working overtime. ETA for transport is ten minutes.”

“Oh, yeah…” Robby looked around, scanning the ED before grabbing one of the phones to call surgery. “Can you call Abbot? He might be sleeping, but I need someone up front when I’m gone.”

“I’ll go wake him up myself. Do you want Jesse or Mateo in the field?”

“Either is good, ask them if— hello?” 

Robby turned around right as Dana headed towards the call rooms, waving goodbye. 

“Yes, Dr. Stevens, command just called. They need at least one from surgery on the field, plus anyone you can spare.” 

He paused, the always unfortunate Whitaker walked by, just close enough for Robby to motion him over. “Garcia? Yes, she’ll be great. We leave in ten. Whitaker! Get a jacket, we’re leaving.”

“A jacket?” Whitaker whispered to himself and walked towards the locker rooms with more urgency than expected.

In the meantime, Robby took a final walk around the ED before heading out, but just as Jack walked next to Dana, go-bag in hand, he knew that wouldn’t be necessary. Jack would tackle him before missing the chance of running point at the triage zone. 

“Get any good sleep?” 

Robby didn’t stop walking, falling in step with Abbot as they reached the ambulance bay. 

“I never miss the feeling of sleeping on the floor, but I’ll manage.”

“You can always steal one of those plastic chairs from the cafeteria.”

“And risk hurting my back again? No, thank you.”

They were the last ones to join the group.

Garcia snapped out of her phone but didn't say anything. Abbot dropped the bag on the ground. Rain needled the pavement, the faint wail of sirens layering over the already high tensions in the air.

“Got everything you need?”

Everyone nodded. Abbot stood in the middle of his newfound team and Robby. Silence filled the cracks. His mind raced to find some reassuring words, but he came out empty. He sucked at it. Finally, the transport unit showed up.

“Any words of encouragement, chief?” Abbot inquired once everyone was settled inside. 

Robby’s gaze hit him, exasperated. 

“Okay then. Let’s go.”

Finally, something broke the silence.

“Uhm, where are we going?”

Garcia, barely spared Whitaker a look, pressed lips into a line. Her fingers squeezed the backpack.

“Triage on site. They need someone to stabilize patients before they reach the hospital.”

Robby held onto the door, Abbot still urged him to say something. But maybe nothing was better.

“The van will take you as close to the disaster zone as possible,” he mumbled. “But there’s about a five-minute walk to reach the rescue teams.”

He paused.

“Good luck.”

Robby stopped himself from closing the door.

“Wait, I forgot.”

He smiled widely, unapologetic. 

“We’re out of coffee, try to bring some back, or else.”

“Coffee?” Garcia snarked back, deadpan. “Even the Waffle House back in Washington is closed. Best I can give you is mud with stevia.” 

“Damn” Mateo muttered. “Not even a limited menu? We’re in deep shit.” 

“I know a Chinese place that’s still open, but they don’t do takeout today. Marco is out.”

Robby sighed in true defeat.

“Then just get the coffee. Organic.”

“Gravel is up to your taste?” Garcia suggested before Robby closed the van’s door for good.

Any sparkle of joy died almost instantly.

The silence was immediately replaced by the rattle of the van. No one said anything, or rather, no one knew what to say. They feared they were getting into something bigger than themselves.

And oh, how true that was. 

© CARMENLIKEME 2025. All rights reserved. Do not repost, modify or claim as yours.

[stupidlittlespirit]

Hello!

Sorry if this has already been asked before, but do you have any tips for writing Ford?

Thank you and I'm sending you a virtual hug <3 🫂

Hey!

Thank you so much <3

I'll put some of the stuff I find helps me below here. I find it really hard to describe sometimes so if it doesn't make sense or if you want clarification then let me know :)

Be familiar with the source material. This might sound silly but I've seen fics where the a/n is like 'yeah I haven't read Journal 3 or finished the show but I wanted to write-' .....Please. Just. Finish the show and the Journal. The Journal gives you TONS of useful insight into Ford's actual personality and I think you see a lot more of his mannerisms in it. Rewatch his episodes. Use what you've got of canon stuff.

Watch other stuff with JK Simmons in. It'll be helpful for you to pick up how he sounds and then make it easier replay his tone in your head and make your dialogue more accurate. I don't actually know how helpful this tip is bc I brought this up to my partner (RE: Hearing the character's exact voice in your head as you write) and they said this isn't really something people do, so I'm not sure if I'm alone in that technique or not....? (also sorry Mr Simmons but a lot of your movies are d o g s h i t! So, suffer through them as much as you can for the sake of research. Whiplash isn't in the bad pile though btw, it's one of the greatest movies ever made. Just watch that 14 times in a row until you can quote the entire thing by heart. Or use Portal/Cave Johnson audio. Much more fun.)

Know the Ford you're writing. Is he younger, likely at college? Is he research-era? Is he post-portal? Ford presents (at least to me) as multiple different versions of himself over the course of his journey. He has fundamental traits but the degree to which he displays/shows/acknowledges/applies them varies dramatically depending on where he is in life and who he's around.

Balance him. He's strict and sharp and sometimes rude, but not so much that he's devoid of all other emotion. He's funny and he likes to get silly sometimes. We're literally told that exact thing (quite a lot actually) in the canon material. This is especially relevant if you're writing post portal Ford or pre-Bill/pre-obsession-with-work Ford. Again, he isn't all the time but he definitely is more than people give him credit for. If you're writing Ford during his Bill obsession stage then he's going to be erratic and harmful, more than anything to himself. He's going to be acting poorly because he isn't in his right mind, so extend some sympathy to the guy. You don't have to make it okay that he might be lashing out and hurting others, obviously, but there's a reason behind why he's acting like that. He isn't just 'a bad guy'.

However, he is also an asshole sometimes. Everyone can be. He's very diverse. This diva HAS the range! (He experiences the world in a very different way to most other people, I think, so his behaviour can be perceived as difficult to 'normal' people).

Ford is never one emotion at a time. No character is. If he's angry, there's going to be a reason behind that anger and then several emotions behind that reason. Is he telling someone off because he's intrinsically and irrevocably an asshole? No! He might have been afraid of them getting hurt and snapped at them, and the fear shows as anger. Maybe he's frustrated with them and doesn't know how to appropriately address that frustration. There's always a reason.

If he is just being a bit of jerk, because that's plausible, it's not going to be the case that every time he does something that can be perceived as being jerky, that he is being so.

He is very full of love. For his family, for his work, for his friends, for his object of affection (these tips apply to him in general, if you're writing ship stuff or reader stuff or gen). He is full to the brim with it, he just struggles to identify it, to know how to show it and how to express it.

I think that for Ford, acknowledging his feelings is a bit like touching a hot stove: He recoils from them immediately because feelings are painful and intense, and they're hard to handle. They hurt and he's going to be loathe to keep touching the thing that reliably burns him every time he goes near it. Ford isn't very good at being bad at things and he IS bad at emotions. Really bad. They're not finite or logical or able to be proven like science is. They're artistic and available for interpretation, and they're often nonsensical. That's hard to get your head around for someone who likes to view everything from a black and white perspective.

If you think he has a disorder (autism, BPD, NPD, HPD, whatever) and you yourself don't have that thing, then RESEARCH THE FUCKING THING! Ask people who do have it for advice. Treat it with respect. People that have 'negative traits' from these types of disorders (and believe me, people do think you're awful if you have a personality disorder or autism) are not inherently bad people and them enacting their symptoms doesn't make them evil, provided they know how to acknowledge their wrongdoing post behaviour and try to do better in the future. If I split on someone and act out by starting a fight, it is my responsibility to return to that person and apologise for inappropriately starting a fight once I've cooled down. It can be hard, it can be done through gritted teeth, it will be uncomfortable, but it must still be done because I'm an adult. Obviously, when it comes to things like this, we're always working on a sliding scale because people with complex mental health issues don't always know they've made a mistake so they may not feel like they need to apologise/may not even know that they've done something wrong if they're in a really bad episode. That's difficult to get right however, and I would not recommend writing intensely detailed stuff like that unless you're very used to/accustomed to the disorder.

HE KNOWS HOW TO SAY SORRY and he knows when he's fucked up. This is a skill he's learnt better over time. I think it would be most relevant to use if you're writing him post-portal, though. I don't think this was a skill he had when he was younger/pre-portal and if he did apologise, it was something that had to be really dragged out of him.

Show that he's tender and capable of empathy. I think it was only really during his obsessional years that he locked off that part of his brain, and even then it was more out of pure delusion and trauma/self-protection than it was an inherent drive to be evil. He's never been evil, just misguided, betrayed and a bit of an ass at times.

He does more through action than through talk. In comparison to Stan, who is all mouth and uses verbal communication frequently, Ford is more physically inclined. He tries to be very esoteric but he gives away a lot in his behaviour instead of talking. I don't actually think he knows he does this and that's why he thinks he's super mysterious.

If you're stuck on a scene, play it out as him. Not yourself. It's not so much how am I going to do this, but how is Ford going to do this? What do you think Ford would do in that moment, according to what you've seen him do in the show?

Don't be afraid to make your own Ford, to a certain extent. I'm not writing about a strictly canon!Ford. He's informed by canon for the most part, but he's also my little barbie to dress up and be silly with. I don't necessarily have to solely make him do what I think his canon counterpart would do. I think canon!Ford is aroace/just not interested in romantic or sexual relationships. I don't think he has interest in much of the stuff that my fanon!Ford does, but this is fantasy land and Ford isn't real so we can do whatever we want. He'll feel more real if you give him his canon traits and then add some of your own spices to the recipe on top.

Be nice to him. This isn't advice, I'm just begging you LMAO. When you're writing him talk about his science stuff or whatever, have your other character (reader, I presume?) be engaged and happy to listen to him. I wouldn't be interested in someone who annoyed me with their passions, so don't write it as though he pisses you off because the audience can tell if you don't actually like him that much. They will pick up on how you really feel about a character as the author unless you're an excellent liar and it's really hard to actually lie like that and retain a sense of genuine love in your story. Just treat him with love and care. Treat any character with it.

Okay anyway WHEW that's a lot! Sorry. These are just things that I do and they're not my view of how to write Ford 'correctly' or anything, they're just what I find helps me characterise him for my fics. I'm sure plenty of people would disagree with my interpretation and that's fine, we're all receptive to art in different ways so there's not really a 'right' way to be for the most part. Just listen to what he tells you/shows you about himself and the way in which other characters speak about him truthfully.

[sunlit-mess]

I can only take so much, but lately, they have replaced my reflection. And realize I'm just as bad as them.

[ultimatekecaps]

My earlier take on drawing ttte humanized back in february-march 2024 i guess aha

I remember watching "Thomas and Gordon" out of curiosity, then it got me inspired to draw them and brought me into the world thomas the tank engine, i had brief history watching the hit era during my childhood but it didn't really hook my interest until i dug more to the model series and the railway series. I'm so glad this media become one of my interest that i adore ^_^

[telesodalite]

Every now and then, I stumble across that "Fulcrum was Pivot" theory/headcanon post again, and I have a thought about it, not exactly a theory at this point, obviously, and not backed up by any evidence whatsoever, but a funny headcanon/au that relates to it

What if Pivot and Fulcrum were twins? More specifically, identical twins.

Separated at birth, from one of the last Cybertronian hotspots, as the planet began to steadily decline, and resources continued to run out, one was taken away by the Decepticons, off to further and help build the future of the Decepticon Empire, and the other brought into the Autobots, learning and helping to further science and their continued survival. Neither one ever knowing about the other, or what happened at the hotspot they both came from.

We don't know much about Pivot, other than that he was lucky enough to find love in the shape of Chromedome, which uh... makes the "lucky" part a bit debatable, seeing as the next fact we know about him is that he's dead, and that Chromedome erased his memory of him, and that Brainstorm is the one that carries the burden of those forgotten memories.

But what if Pivot had one hell of a chin, and a coppery orange face, with bright warm golden optics, and little winged finials over his audials, maybe he smiled real wide too, maybe he had a big laugh in contrast to his leaner frame, maybe he had a terrible taste in comedy, maybe he was smart, another bright mind in the dark halls of the New Institute, and he fell in love, and he was loyal, and he committed, and maybe he was brave, too brave, and he messed up, or ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time, or he ran towards danger, and then he was gone, and Chromedome forgot him, but Brainstorm didn't.

(And somewhere, far far away, Fulcrum feels an odd pang in his spark, unfamiliar and strange, almost like a rip or a tear, a sudden separation, which is probably concerning, but then it's nothing compared to the damning shadow of an Autobot dreadnought breaking through the atmosphere above him as he steps out onto freshly cyberformed ground, and it's background noise compared to the cold sinking feeling in his tank, and the sharp jittery urge to run as far away as he can as gunfire erupts and voices scream and shout around him, and he forgets it as his pump hammers a panicked doomed beat in his audials as he's dragged back home to face his commanders and his people as a coward and a failure.)

Years and years and years pass, and its been a long time since they've chatted in person, old contacts, subpar wartime spies, a handler and his insider at the bar, on a victory lap, and isn't it funny how the universe brings you together? But Brainstorm can't focus as Misfire chatters on, because that mech in his group is nagging at his processor. Because there's something so terribly, painful familiar about that face, those optics, even the chin?! But he can't place it. Somethings too different. The frame, the mannerisms, the voice. But maybe Misfire notices the wandering look, he waves, and Fulcrum turns, and it hits Brainstorm when he recognizes that look, that smile, that fond exasperated crinkle of warm golden optics, directed towards the mech beside him, because this has happened before, and suddenly, for a moment, he's back in the New Institute, with Chromedome at his side, and it's Pivot sitting across the room smiling at them.

Cue Brainstorm desperately trying to figure out how and why Fulcrum looks so much like Pivot.

Did Pivot somehow live?? Did the Decepticons kidnap him, then brainwash him, and then turn him into a bomb?! Is this just an imposter!?! Who's... not really good at being an imposter... Did Chromedome and Pivot secretly create an evil Pivot clone in the labs without including him or letting him know!?!?!?!

Shenanigans ensue

[lesbian-in-leather]

Okay lads here's the deal

I've been flirting with one of my friends for literal months now, and she flirts back a lot but ALSO has been giving some signs she's interested and some that she's not so I'm kinda confused. But the last time we hung out one-on-one she was talking about how people should be confident with their feelings and... idk what to do. also we drunkenly made out one time but idk if that's relevant. she instigated

So here's the plan! I am considering maybe telling her how I feel but idk if that's the right move so. please weigh in. I will be seeing her one-on-one again in a few weeks time and the context of this meeting is very likely to give me a good opportunity so. thoughts?

actually please elaborate on any of your answers I have never confessed to anyone I've caught feelings for and I have 0 romantic experience idk what I'm doing

[catkin-morgs-kookaburralover]

questioning sexuality is so exhausting

[seventh-district]

not even gonna try to contain this vent post within the tags bc i can just feel that i'm gonna yap

for the first time in a very long time, i'm watching an old video of me, age 13, playing with my dog on the kitchen floor. and i can barely handle the envious sight of how absolutely free i was. like, i know i've rewatched this video at a few other points in time in the nearly 12 years since i recorded it, but i've never really watched the full thing, paying as much attention as possible to every single detail.

i initially dug it up the other night because it's one of the only videos i have of Sassy on my current phone, and i wanted to.. see her again. but while i was analyzing every frame of the 3min video trying to drag as much of her memory out of the past as i possibly could, it dawned on me in a way it never has before just how unbelievably free i was behaving.

i was on the floor. touching it, sitting on it, putting my hands down on it and then (to my current self's horror and disgust) putting them on my cheeks, touching my face. i sat my drink down on the floor next to me. i picked Sassy up over and over again and then touched my face and drink and then i picked her up again and actually put my mouth on the top of her head to give her a little kiss. i did all of it without a second thought. it obviously came so naturally to me. i was moving around, interacting with the world around me in such an unbelievably normal way that i barely even recognize myself. and i was doing everything so quickly, too. i had energy. i moved (what seems to me now as) recklessly (though to a normal person it is probably just. normally.) and i just touched anything and did anything and. there weren't any consequences. it was fine.

that was roughly 1.5 years before Sassy dropped dead with zero warning and zero explanation and i developed severe OCD.

my memory is too far gone for me to figure out if the two events were cause-and-effect, or simply happened to take place around the same time in my life. it's not like i kept any sort of detailed log of my developing symptoms so i don't know if i'll ever be sure.

regardless, all i can focus on is how nowadays i wouldn't be able to do any of that. nothing aside from my shoes can come into contact with the floor. and i cannot come into direct skin contact with my shoes. if i find myself in a situation where i have to sit on the floor, as soon as i can get up, i have to remove all clothes that touched it and put them in the dirty laundry, and wash my hands, and if i had to touch my phone after touching the floor, i have to disinfect it. i will under no circumstances touch my face after contacting the floor until my hands are washed. i cannot touch or pet or hold either of my pets without washing my hands and preferably removing whatever clothing they came into contact with.

they are not allowed in my room nor my bed. Sassy slept in my bed with me every night. i never put my mouth on their fur to give them a kiss. i gave Sassy head kisses without a thought. they are not allowed to lick me. i used to find another one of my past dog's 'kisses' on my hands to be very endearing and unproblematic. now if it happens i have to wash it off immediately. anything that gets touched between my hands contacting either pet and being washed, i have to disinfect it.

i mean it with my entire fucking heart and soul when i say that OCD is an insidious disorder. having lived with it for a decade now, i couldn't be more aware of this. but, therein lies the exact point i'm trying to make. in spite of knowing that it has wormed it's way into every single aspect of my life, brain, and personality, it's entire nature is defined by the fact that it will do so, and it'll do it in such a way that the disordered mindset becomes your new normal. it had managed to completely overwrite a lot of my pre-disorder memories of how i used to... operate in the world around me. it has entirely altered the way i do every. single. thing. to the point where i just can't even fathom how it used to be any different. if i didn't have videos like this one to serve as proof that things did used to be different, i wouldn't have any basis for what my "normal" ever even was. it robbed me of those memories entirely.

let's fish one example out of the thousands of different ones i've got siting around: i've spent years trying to figure out how i used to take a shower that didn't take me an entire hour. i have no video of something like that obviously, so it just feels like.. like when i try to envision how i used to bathe myself it literally just goes black in my brain. there's no memory or mental images left in there. i can't fathom it. i mush have just been walking around halfway clean. i don't know. i don't understand how anyone can take a "quick" shower and get out feeling clean. my brain just absolutely cannot grasp it because the OCD is all that's left. it snuck in and completely rewrote the code of who i am and how my brain functions and how i perceive the world and i am never going to get my old self back. no amount of medication or therapy can truly, fully undo the damage it's done to my mind and body.

i mean. i have learned to live with it, barely. i wouldn't really call what i do 'living' but i am. surviving. and some of my obsessions and compulsions have the tendency to fade in and out over time, so i've been able to CBT myself out of some of the most disabling ones. showers take 1 hour now instead of 1.5 to 2.

i can read normally again now, after that period of time around uhh 2018 i think where i could barely read since i had to count the letters of every single word i saw. that was a pretty miserable time and i eventually forced myself mostly out of it. but i still slip back into it when i'm exceptionally stressed, which makes written communication difficult. but it's not like you can just explain that to people and expect them to believe you. but the uh. idk what to call it. OCD cranked the pattern-seeking part of my brain up so far that the metaphorical knob broke off and so the uh. like. the ability for me to notice which words have what amount of letters is always there, i'm just good at overriding it now. that's what 'learning to live with OCD' is like for me. the tracks that it carves into my brain never go away, i just get better at overriding them. but certain stupid little rules never really leave you, like if i'm lengthening a word like turning 'no' into 'noooooo' or 'holy' into 'hooooly' then the new lengthened form of the word has to have a 'good' number of letters like 3 or 7 or whatever my brain deems fit.

i can sit small objects down now without compulsively checking that the surface i'm about to sit them on is clean. ...most of the time. that got really annoying but also embarrassing to be seen doing it. having to re-wipe the counter down every time i'd pick up my water bottle and put it back down. trying to do Anything in the kitchen was an absolute nightmare. and yeah it still takes me a long time to cook anything, and there's countless other compulsions that make me dread the kitchen, and yeah i still can't sit large objects down without thoroughly inspecting the surface below them, and. sigh. there's no making this one sound like it's much improved at all. cause it hasn't

at least the compulsion to re-live and commit to memory every possible detail of my dreams immediately upon waking has left me. that's one rare example of a compulsion that has totally left instead of just adapting to be less intrusive. it was so miserable laying there for ages every morning trying to force any shred of memory out of my dreams and then panicking when i oftentimes couldn't remember anything.

anyways. i could and would have to write a literal book to fit in even half of all the examples of every single compulsion i've ever had in the last 10 years. most of them are still with me. some of them are very.. evolved, but most of them are still with me in one form or another. there isn't a single aspect of the way that i interact with the world around me that isn't heavily influenced by my OCD.

i don't expect to ever get to be that 13y/o kid again. and even back then, i was far from neurotypical. mental things were already starting to spiral for me around 11 or so. but none of my other (numerous) illnesses hold a candle to the disabling effect that OCD had and has on me. it's one of the WHO's top 10 most debilitating illnesses in the world, physical health issues included. i think i heard it ranked at #7, ironically enough. that stat might not still be accurate but i can't help but constantly want to quote it because i think one of the most tortuous aspects of OCD is the inability of those who don't have it to truly grasp how much you're struggling. how bad it is. it's taken so unseriously by the majority of those who don't have it, that trying to get across to someone how much you're struggling feels like this constant uphill battle that you never asked to fight.

one of the most difficult things for me to live with is the knowledge that most people just aren't going to understand. or believe me. and feeling unseen while suffering through immense pain is just. it's maddening. and dealing with that exact issue of struggling so much, both in physical sorts of pain and with mental illnesses, and having everyone around me never take it seriously enough.. it has been such a prevalent part of my life for so long that it just. it's slowly driving me fucking insane lol. not to be dramatic. i know i've got a relatively easy life. but there is always gonna be this invisible, bleeding wound on my soul that gets torn open a little wider every time i have to look someone in the eye and try, exhaustedly, to explain the absolute dumpster fire shitshow that i have to live with in my brain 24/7, only to get some fuckass excuse of a response like 'haha yeah i know what you mean! i'm a little OCD too!' and they just like. like seeing things organized neatly and sometimes experience a passing worry that they left the stove on.

and i just wanna say that 'we are playing life on two very different difficulty levels and i don't think i'll ever be able to get that across to you' but no i have to be nice and downplay it and get along bc it's just not worth it. i'm so fucking tired. OCD is exhausting enough to live with, let alone trying to educate other people on it.

maybe one day ill post that stupid excuse of a poem i wrote regarding my frustration with that exact experience.

but like i said, i don't ever expect this to go away. medication only treats the symptoms and i can only force myself to suffer through so much CBT. this will be with me forever, in a significant capacity. i just hope that before i die, i'll get to know what it's like to have someone look me in the eye and understand. not necessarily from personal experience, but to at least know me well enough to be able to understand how serious i am when i say that OCD ruined my life.

but it might turn out that the only place i'll be able to find that level of understanding and acceptance, is when i look in the mirror.

that might just have to be enough.

[n3ongold3n]

I feel like adhd is a bit like an very beautiful wool garment - intricate and finely made. But it has moth holes. Some are visible and some are hidden, only to present themselves when that part of the fabric is strained.

[sapsolais]

sometimes you have a shitty day but there are things that make it easier to keep going like:

- being silly with basically strangers

- hugs when you really need them

- quiet 3 am phone calls with people you really love

[seaofreverie]

Anyway how is everyone doing

[tjerra14]

cw pet injury, pet death

nothing more unnecessary than losing your 3 month old kitten to a tilted window (or your 14yo diabetic cat to hypoglycemia because for some reason you waited another three hours after finding her comatose, cold, and barely breathing in your garage, and merely covered her with a blanket. When she came in, our thermometer refused to give us a reading, she had a heartrate of 40, and a blood glucose of 0.7mmol/l.)

[talkorsomething]

I can't sleep again.

[paramores]

feel more and more incompetent lately. this burnout came so unexpectedly and it has prolonged for months and i don't see an end.

[koka-mi]

Can y'all guess what these untitled documents are of