#ive had anxiety since i was young and ive always been doing the normal coping things

[birdgee]

saved myself from an anxiety attack by going through bullets and revenge and trying to remember the order of the songs and singing every lyric i knew. I knew enough for it to be pretty easy but it was still challenging enough to distract me from my thoughts, and made me think about the demolition lovers and how much i love the lyrics rather than spiraling anxious thoughts. Genuinely such a good way to cope when normal breathing/ naming things you can see or whatever isnt working, and you could do this with any album, or even things other than music, like naming characters and facts about them or something. you have to breathe a lot to sing as well so it helps you calm down and focus on your own voice ^^

[starryeyes2000]

That Night and Morning on Discovery: Chapter 3

Chapter 2 | Chapter 4 Masterlist|

Pairing: Christopher Pike x OC

Rating: Teen, mild references to sex, mild references to assault

Word Count: 1.8K

Summary: A week after the events on New Eden, Discovery's crew is granted much needed leave. Chris' wife joins him on Discovery for a little R&R of their own. But a Captain is never really off-duty and personal time is scarce.

Ghosts of Talos

Chris decided to run one more lap before returning to his quarters. He found solace in physical exertion. Pushing his body allowed his mind to let go of unproductive and endlessly repeating thoughts which he could then analyze individually with context rather than assumption and speculation. He believed that permitted him to resolve the matter rationally and move on.

It had been months since a trigger from the Talos IV incident affected him, even mildly. He felt trapped and anxious. And if he, an officer wielding great influence – oh hell Christopher be honest with yourself, not just influence but power – felt this way; what was it like for that young woman this evening caught in a situation with only bad options? Truly a helplessness beyond what he experienced on Talos. And it happened on a facility belonging to the organization I served. That is unacceptable. And one thing I can fix.

As the anger grew, his pace quickened. His breath hitched and his wounded side protested. If he didn’t behave sensibly, his wife’s tacit agreement to go along with downplaying the injury’s severity would end. And that would be a poor tactical move, he thought, especially if Aalin teams up with Tracy Pollard. He slowed to a jog. Then to a fast paced-walk as he let his breathing return to normal.

Per his usual practice, once the physical injuries from Talos healed, he dissected the experience looking for the lessons it contained and compartmentalized those. Moved on. This time he had glossed over the significance of the ordeal.

No crew coped well when their commander engaged in numerous casual relationships among its members. And while he didn’t live like a monk, he had always indulged carefully, typically confining sex to a small set of friends with benefits, mostly off ship. Or flings during leave where neither participant was looking for a long-term commitment. And he wasn’t a “sleep with the alien princess” type of guy. Therefore after Talos it had been easy to slip into a celibate life without questioning why.

Then he met someone, and the attraction was more than sexual desire. They became lovers in every sense of the word – except physical. Each time the moment was right, he pulled back. Unwilling to trust himself. Unsure it if was real. That was when he realized or rather admitted the Talos incident was more than kidnapping, imprisonment, and mind-control.

It was an assault, a violation not only of his mind, but also his body. He was tricked into believing he felt an attraction. His physical response was coerced with illusion as well as physical, mental, and emotional reward and abuse. Threats and violence were employed attempting to force consummation with any partner.

Only now, after three years of marriage, did he feel comfortable with his wife initiating sex. Sometimes … occasionally … well it was still a work in progress.

As he walked back his thoughts turned to Tilly. She continued to surprise and impress him. While he couldn’t officially condone her throwing the first punch, he certainly wasn’t going to punish her for it. She stepped up and fulfilled her oath to protect and serve, regardless of the consequences. And she would do it all over again, in exactly the same way if necessary, choosing to help over the cost to her career. Even if it landed her in the brig. When they discussed the incident tomorrow, he would acknowledge her kindness and … initiative, while still coaching her to first look for a less aggressive solution.

Seeing his wife’s face brighten when he returned melted away most of his remaining anxiety. Catching up over the salads he brought from the mess hall dissolved the rest.

“Better?” She asked.

He nodded and explained what happed without compromising Tilly’s or the victim’s privacy.

“I finished comparing Spock’s latest drawings to the map of the seven signals. Do you want to review it?”

Chris shook his head. “Right now I want to be with you.”

She smiled. That smile of love and contentment she reserved for him. The one that picked him up from his lowest moments. Rising and holding out a hand, she coaxed him to lay on the sofa and tucked in beside him, gently resting his head on her lap.

He noticed the lights were lower than their usual harsh setting, a change that made the small space feel more intimate. And a few odds and ends from their quarters on Enterprise – a cactus from his home, now their home on Earth, a bowl with pieces of sea glass they gathered on a distant planet, a couple of books, a favorite photograph – were placed around the room.

He gestured at the additions. “Thank you for this.”

Aalin leaned down and, like a whisper, kissed his forehead after smoothing his hair back. Once confident Chris wouldn’t pull away from her touch, she started running her fingers lightly up and down his chest. When he sighed and closed his eyes, she knew the memories of Talos had faded. He was truly healed from his ordeal. But the guilt of leaving Vina behind unprotected, although it was her choice to stay, was nearer the surface and more easily triggered. As had happened after this evening’s incident in the bar.

Leisurely, she began tracing small circles on his chest then expanded the circles to more random patterns and deepened the contact as she moved across and down his chest and abdomen. A few times, here and there, she ventured a little lower, stroking a line just past his waist, loosening the drawstring of the sweats he changed into after showering and slipping her fingertips just inside the waistband. She was careful to keep her touch intimate enough to be grounding without expectation of more.

Chris clasped her hand and lifted it to his lips. “My turn.” In one graceful movement he sat up and settled her on his lap which she straddled. “You are wearing more clothes than when I left for the Starbase,” he scolded and began unbuttoning her blouse.

“If anyone came looking for you, I preferred not to greet them in a skimpy robe.”

He rested one hand on her hip, providing balance as the other slowly traced up her spine causing her to arch her back and shift her hips as she squirmed. Nibbling her neck he murmured in her ear, “Yeah that sight is a pleasure I reserve for myself.”

Their lips met and the kiss lingered and slowly built. The next kiss was more intimate; tongues touching, sweeping, and caressing. She felt him respond and moved her hand down to encourage it.

The door chime shattered the moment. Chris dropped his head to her shoulder and groaned. “What the hell else can go wrong? I envisioned this night differently.”

After one final quick kiss she moved away, her hand brushing across his groin and thighs as she did. “Ah, hmmm, ok … I should answer that.”

Aalin straightened her shirt and refastened the buttons while walking to the door. As it opened, a small woman held up a finger as she rapidly and loudly spoke into a communicator. “I’m with the Captain now.” She walked into the room. “No. Do. Not. Not until I get back.” Snapping the communicator shut she muttered “children” under her breath and then looked up and stared at the woman in front of her. “Captain, you’ve changed.”

Hearing heard Reno’s insistent tone, Chris, modesty shoved aside by concern for the ship and crew, strode towards the door. “What’s going on?”

Aalin caught Reno’s faint smirk as the engineer looked to the Captain, to Aalin, back to the Captain and sized up the situation. The smug look was replaced with a deadpan expression as Reno regarded Pike. Her eyes moved over him slowly and carefully, top to bottom. Casually she said, “I always thought you were a robot designed by Command. You know, as the perfect officer.”

Her gazed raked up and down him again. Combining a mischievous tone with her impassive look she drawled, “But it turns out you are a real boy after all.”

Aalin quickly turned towards the wall, slapping a hand over her mouth and trying not to laugh, shoulders shaking and eyes watering from the effort. Chris merely raised an eyebrow. “Aalin, this is Commander, soon to be Ensign, Jett Reno. Commander, Lieutenant Pike.”

Now more composed, Aalin nodded as she faced Reno. “Nice to meet you. I’ll give you some privacy.”

“No need. Having met you I no longer remember why I came to speak with the Captain.” Reno grinned. “By the way, you’re way out of his league, how did he snare you? Whatever it was, I assure you, I’m better at it. And the dimples are overrated.”

“Are you chatting me up Commander?” Aalin teased. “It’s been, well forever, since anyone did.”

“I imagine even the most foolish junior crewman thinking with the wrong part of their anatomy would be dissuaded from their ardor by the stripes. But then I’m not a junior crewman,” Reno replied.

Chris now drumming his fingers impatiently on his crossed arms interjected, “For. The. Moment. Did I mention that, once again demoted in rank crewman Reno will be cleaning plasma ducts for the next six months if she does not expeditiously explain what is happening on my ship?” His eyes glinted with amusement despite the stern tone.

Reno tossed him a communicator. “Internal comms are down. Should be back in a couple of hours. I’ll send a report but the short answer to your next question is maintenance gone wrong, the main link was damaged. Nothing to worry about. And I finished an overdue inspection of the dilithium crystals. One has a hairline fracture. I want your permission to take the warp engine off-line and replace the damaged crystal. That will require a cold restart.”

“Granted.” He called the bridge. “Take us out 275 million kilometers and hold position until Commander Reno sends an all clear. Full impulse. Inform Commander Saru and the local port authority we are leaving orbit for an engine restart. Return ETA three …” He looked to Reno and she nodded, “Three hours.” After closing the communicator he asked, “Anything else?”

“Nope.” Reno answered. “I’ll go see to the children so Dad will be relaxed and happy in the morning.” She gave him the once over again. “And I will inform Linus his estimate was accurate.” Smiling wickedly and chuckling to herself, she left.

Noticing that again his wife was trying, unsuccessfully, to hold back her amusement, Chris sighed. “Do I want to know what that is about?”

Between strangled whimpers Aalin answered, “Probably not.”

Chris narrowed his eyes slightly; now certain he did want to find out more. Later. He reached for Aalin’s hand and guided her to him. “Where was I?” He asked. “Ah yes, I was about to make love to you for the rest of the night.”

[lovelyrocker]

Love Is Blind Ch.24

~ RPF

~ Characters: Jensen Ackles, Lexi Ackles(OFC), Jared Padalecki, Jesse(OMC), Bethany(OFC), Dr. Turner(OFC)

~ Pairings: Jared x Lexi(Sorta,kinda)

~ Warnings: Talk of Suicide, Talk of Alcohol abuse and Drug abuse, Slight Smut, Angst(of course), Mental Health Situations, 

~ Word Count:7,288

~ Un Beta’d - All Mistakes are my Own

~ *FEEDBACK IS GOLD*

Love Is Blind Masterlist

<Previous Chapter

Lexi had been in the hospital for going on seventy two hours. Other than the four hours Jared had left to clean up and try to sleep, Jared didn’t leave Lexi’s side. Between the blood loss an overdose, alcohol poisoning and her heart stopping, her body was going to need more time to recover. When Lexi woke she’d worked herself into a panic attack in Jared’s arms. Out of fear of putting stress on her already delicate heart,the nurses came in and sedated her in a mess of of rushed apologies and greetings of relief and tears. 

Lexi’s anxiety took over the minute she saw the bandages on her wrists, giving her a short lived calmness of seeing Jared. The realization of what she had done smashed into her like an anvil. She was filled with sadness and regret that she’d been so stupid. She wanted to apologies but couldn’t speak. He throat was raw and every sound felt like needles. 

The next twenty four hours Lexi woke  underwent dozens of tests. Neurological, to make sure her brain function was normal. Physical, to see how she was about to function. But most importantly, psychiatric. She spoke with a Psychiatrist for a bit, not saying much. She was still groggy through most of it and her body hurting from being shocked after her heart stopped.

Lexi was sedated again, resting, while Jared and Jensen sat diligently at her bedside. “You’ve been here for a while. Go home and get some rest.” Jensen told Jared.

“I’m good.”

“Jare,”

“Jay, I’m fine.”

“Go home, see your kids, eat, sleep.” Jesen lifted a hand when Jared went to protest.  “Don’t even. Doctor said she’ll be out til the morning, at least.” He looked down at his watch. “It’s nine pm. Go. I got this for the night.”

“Promise me that you will call if she wakes up?”

“You know I will.” Jensen assure his friend.

~

It was eleven PM now. Jared stopped by Genevieve’s t see the kids for a bit, then swung by Danneel’s to say a quick hi and pick up a few things from Lexi’s  room he’d thought she’d like.

Jared sat in his bed with Lexi’s journal in his hands. Why did he take it from her room at Jensen’s? He remembered the day he gave it to her. It was in Jensen’s trailer a few days after her sixteenth birthday. He had searched for weeks but couldn't figure out what to get his best friend’s little sister. He’d seen her journaling on set one day and noticed she was nearing the end of the small notebook. So he looked at all  the nearest bookstores but never saw anything he thought she would like. They were either too small or too bulky. Too plain, to girly, nothing that fit her style or her personality. That’s when he took the internet and design her a journal. One she could add to, one she could carry with her easily. She’d never used another journal since. 

He tapped his thumb on the cover of the black leather debating whether or not he  wanted to read it. Did he have it in him to invade her privacy? Would he like what he would read?  Lexi was currently laying half sedated in a hospital bed with four inch cuts on both her wrists. Now was not the time for privacy. Now was the time to find out why. More so, what could he have done to stop her. He opened it to a random page and began reading.

 I woke up this morning and for a split second I didn’t hurt. Then I remembered I’m 2200 miles from Jared. That’s when the empty sinking feeling set in.

He swallowed hard and flipped a few pages over.

Today was another bad day. Jensen keeps trying to talk to me but after what he did, I don’t care what he has to say.

Jared stood placing the journal down and went to the kitchen. When he walked back into his room he had a glass and a fifth of whiskey. He had decided that if he was doing this he was gonna need some liquid courage. He turned the pages to the beginning and began again. He mostly flipped and skimmed through reading over the entries.  It was mostly school, work, college choices, school boys, friends, normal teenage things. The handwriting was  different. Softer more carefree. Then he scanned a page that made him pause. 

I have a big problem. I think I have a crush on Jared.

He gave a small smile and kept reading.

Very cliche’ I know! Little sister having a crust on her brothers bestie. But it’s weird, i’ve never looked at him like that until I moved to Vancouver and I have no idea why. 

Then again, how could I not have a crush on him? The man is fucking gorgeous! 

Jared gave chuckle and flipped a few more pages.

I think I’m losing my mind. No way in hell was Jared flirting with me, right? It's in my head, it has to be! He is like  16 - 17 years older than me. That's almost two decades!! But then he looks at me with those piercing eyes and I suddenly forget how even breath. And when he touches me, my whole fucking body is electric. 

Jared let out another chuckle. He knew she made him feel like that but didn’t know that so early on, she felt the same way. 

I’ve never thought a kiss would make my heart literally stop. I feel like that everytime he kisses me. That can’t be normal, right? And I know he wants to take things slow but God, I want him. I know he wants to respect Jensen and I know he is scared because he has WAY more experience. But when we have sex its something that Ive never felt before. Even when we had sex the first time it was so different from with Chris. 

Jared paused just seeing Chris’ name on the paper. 

With Chris it all seemed rushed. Like he couldn’t wait to fuck. It was all pulling and rough. More focused on what he wanted.  Jared was different. He was gentle and careful. I could tell he wanted me but he also wanted to feel me. He took his time and made me feel like I was everything. He still does.

Jared downed his drink and flipped through a few more pages stopping when he saw the handwriting change again.

I hate feeling like I can’t control my life! Every always know whats better for me. Jensen knew better when he made me and jared break up. Jared knew better when he told me to leave and basically forget about him. What about me? What about what i want?! At least chris gives me the benefit of the doubt. He gives me the chance to make up my own mind.

Jared looked at the date and saw it was about three months after she’d moved to L.A. She was diagnosed around this time. He could tell the differences in her handwriting. It was a tell tale sign of her moods and her ups and downs. Jared adjusted his position and several folded papers slide out of the folded back of her journal. 

Dear Jared, I'm above the clouds right now on my way to Austin. My chest aches because all I can think about is you. I know Jensen thinks he is doing the right thing but how can it be right if you and I are hurting this much? The main reason I guess i'm writing is to let you know I get it. I get why you told me to go

Jared swallowed hard pouring another glass of whiskey before finishing and moving on to another paper.

Dear Jared, 

Today didn’t hurt as much. I miss your text messages and phone calls. 

Dear Jared,

I finally got out of the house for a few hours today. It wasn;t bad. Went to a movie with some friends. I was missing you by the end of the night. No one to tell my night to.

Dear Jared,

Tom reminds me so much of you! Gen came by with the kids today and even though she looks at me like she wants to kill me, I’m happy I got to see the boys.

It was letter after letter that she wrote as if she would be having a conversation with him. This was how she coped with not having her best friend anymore. Even though she knew she probably would never mail a single letter, she still wrote and told Jared about her days. The letters went from almost daily to a few a week. Then every few weeks until she left for L.A. Then the handwriting changed again. 

Dear Jared,

L.A. is nice. I’m sure it would be better if you were here with me. I’m managing to deal with everything pretty well. 

Dear Jared, 

  I saw Chris today. He is doing well and getting help.

Dear Jared,

I want to tell you how much i’ve missed you, how much I still love you. I’ve thought of the day you;d be standing in front of me again so I could tell you. But when I saw you I was so mad!

Jared fought back a tear as he kept reading.

You were worried I would recent you for being with you but truth is I recent you for not being with me.

Jared swallowed hard as he flipped to another letter. He saw one dated the night before she hurt herself.

Dear Jared,

  I’m sorry. For being so mad at you. For pushing you away. For such a headcase and making things difficult. I wish things would have been different. That they could have been different. Maybe things were supposed to happen this way. I don’t know. All I do know is you were one of the best things to happen to me. And I want you to know that I love you and none of this is on you.

Always, Lexi

She was saying goodbye. He took another long sip from his glass emptying it. Jared flipped through another handful of of letters and a few more pages of her journal before getting up from his bed, dressing and heading back to the hospital.

~

The nurse walked into Lexi’s room at six am with an I.V. bag of fluids. She was quiet as she walked through the room as to not wake up Jensen who was sleeping on the small couch in the room, feet propped up on the edge and his head on the other, arms crossed over his chest.  And, Jared was on his side next to Lexi in her bed. His head nestled close to hers on the pillow, arm resting across her belly, hand on hers. 

The machine beeped and Jensen blinked awake looking over at the nurse.  “I’m sorry, sir.” The young nurse whispered.

“It’s fine.” Jensen whispered back sitting up the couch squeaking waking Jared.

Jared climbed out of Lexi’s bed and looked at the nurse. “Everything alright?’

“Yes, sir. Just hanging more fluids.” The nurse said to Jared as she pressed a code into the machine. “Her vitals are staying steady.” She told Jensen as he stood next to the bed. “I have a few papers that need signing. I have two contacts on her list?”

“That’d be me.” Jensen raised a hand.

She held the clipboard in her hands. “Which are you, Mr. Ackles or Mr. Padalecki?”

Jared and Jensen both looked at the nurse then to one another in surprise. “SHe has me as an emergency contact?” Jared questioned. 

“More than that.” She looked at the papers in front of her. “You’re Jared Padalecki?” Jared nodded. “You and Mr. Ackles are on a form stating that if anything happens to Ms. Ackles all legal and Medical decisions are to be made by the two of you.” She showed Jared and Jensen a copy of the legalized document. “How are you two related?”

“I’m the brother he’s her boytoy.” Jensen told the nurse casually. “Ma’am when was this document made?”The nurse pointed at a date. “That the year she moved to L.A., look Ellie even signed as a  witness.”

“You didn’t know about this?” Jensen asked him and Jared shook his head. “I’m sorry,” Jensen told the nurse. “What do I need to sign?”

“The first two. It’s consent to treatment for the neuro exams and the other is for billing.”

Jensen signed the papers and the nurse left then he shifted his attention to Jared. “You really didn’t know.”

Jared looked up from Lexi. “Not a clue.”  He gave her hand a squeeze. “She is always full of surprises.” 

“What time is it?” They heard a raspy mumble.

“Lexi?” Jared looked down to see her squirming in the bed. “Hey, baby girl.” He cooed.

“Can I get some water?” She asked trying to sit up

“No, no, don’t sit up.” Jared held up his hands.

“Don’t push yourself.” Jensen handed her a cup with a straw.

Lexi sipped the water and handed the cup to Jared who placed in on the small rolling tray. “How do you feel?” Jared asked. 

“Tired. Kinda groggy.” Her eyes focused on her hands in her lap, instant tears welling. “I’m so sorry,” Both men were at her side in an instant, arms wrapped around her tightly. “I didn’t, I-I just wanted the pain to stop.” She sobbed into Jensen’s chest.  “I couldn’t stop it. It was like I couldn’t breath, my chest was so tight and heavy.” Lexi wet on looking up at Jensen. “I felt like I was on autopilot and once I’d done it, it all just went away.”  She looked between them. “How could I be so stupid?” 

“You’re not stupid, you’re sick.” Jared pulled her close.

“Lex, why didn’t you tell us you were bipolar?” Her brother  took her hand.

“Things were calm and good. For the most part.” She wiped her eyes leaving her head on Jared’s shoulder.  

Two more days past and Lexi began to regain her strength, slowly. She managed to get by with no brain damage but suffered from headaches. Her heart was undamaged as well but the doctor still insisted she remain taking this as slow as possible.  Her mental health was a different story.

“Hey, Jay.” Lexi spoke gaining both Jared and Jensen’s attention. “When can I go home?”

Jensen sat on the edge of her bed and took a breath. “I kinda been wanting to talk to you about that.” He took Lexi’s hand in his and looked her in the eye. “I talked to the doctors and they think that you should go to a place to get some help.”

“You want to send me to a mental hospital?!” Lexi shot up in the bed.

“No, no.” Jared said quickly sitting on the opposite side of her. “It’s a treatment center-”

“You’re in on this, too?!” She looked at Jared horrified.

“Baby girl, listen to us.”Jared said calming her as he placed a hand to her cheek.her face. “It’s not a hospital. It’s a treatment center, kind of like a mental health rehab. The doctors want you to get back on the proper medication and dosages. For that to happen you need to be monitored for a few days or so.” She shook her head in protest as tears threatened to spill from her eyes. “We would never send you somewhere if we weren’t absolutely one hundred percent sure it was a good place and you would be taken care of and safe. It’s run by the same doctors that run the practice I go to. I wouldn’t trust you with just anyone, you know that.”

Lexi looked from Jared to Jensen knowing this wasn’t a discussion. “How long?”

“Two, Three weeks, at least.” Jensen said with a small exhale.

Lexi shut her eyes as a single tear escaped. “Where?” She asked swallowing hard as she looked back at them. 

“Like I said, here in Austin. We’d be able to visit you while in treatment.” Jared told her.

~

By the next afternoon she was being shown to her room at the Austin Recovery Center. It was the last place she wanted to be but she knew it was something she had to do. Her room held two beds and was plain. The building was on the outskirts and on several acres of beautiful full green pastures. In fact, the place reminded her of an old ranch, without all the animals. 

Lexi spent the first few days in her room trying to be okay with the fact that she was away from the people that kept her sane. She’d cry then she’d get angry then she’d cry again. 

Her new shrink, Dr. Turner, was a brunette woman that had a bubbly personality. Reminded Lexi of herself a few years ago. Dr. Turner suggested Lexi began taking Lithium again and wanted to make sure the dosage was correct. Three session with Dr. Turner a week along with group every day. Lexi didn’t like the idea of group too much. She didn’t like telling her therapist things much less an entire group of people she didn’t really know.

Which brings her to where she is today. A week and a half of being in treatment and she still hasn’t opened up much. In group she hasn’t opened up at all. So she sat quietly in her chair, knees up to her chest, listening as the other patience spoke.

“I wanna know why the new chick never talks.” Jesse, a young man, early twenties, long, dark brown layered hair nearly to his shoulders and light blue eyes spoke. “Do you think you’re better than us?”

“Not at all.” Lexi shifted her eyes to him but moved nothing else.

“She speaks!” Jesse said lifting his hands. “I was starting to thing you didn’t have a tongue or something.”

“I just don’t like talking to people I don’t know.” Lexi answered still not lifting her head.

“Well, you’ve been listening to us babble for over a week. Don't you think you know enough to share a little?” Jesse asked moving his dark hair away from his face.

“What do you want to know?”

“Is Lexi your real name or nickname?” A girl, Bathany, a bottle blond, very thin, asked across the circle.

“Nickname.”

“What’s your real name then?” Jesse asked.

“Alexia”

“That’s pretty, why change it?” He asked.

Lexi simply shrugged. “A nickname my brother gave.”

“Why are you in here?” Bethany asked again. “Aren’t you a model or some shit?”

“Language.” Dr. Turner, who was leading the group that day, spoke.

“I did model, yes.”

“Then, why are you in here?” The girl asked again. “Isn’t your brother like really famous, too?”

“Yeah, he is.”

“You say that like money and fame fixes shit.” Jesse said towards the other girl.

“For some people it would.” The girl spat. “So why are you here. You’ve been sitting in group for almost two week and said nothing. You never talk outside of group either.”

Lexi looked at Dr. Turned who nodded her head as a sign of motivation to speak. “I tried to kill myself.”

“How?” Jesse asked sitting forward, curious.

“I  drank a bottle of whiskey, took a handful of vicodin and slit my wrists.” 

“Damn, you really wanted to get the job done.” Bethany said with a grin.

“Okay, that’s enough for today.” the Doctor spoke.

Lexi sat on the grass looking out at the flower filled fields across the property. The wind was warm against her skin as she watched the birds fly.

“So, you care for company?” Jesse said walking up.

“Sure.” She looked up at him as he sat down next to her.

“What are you doing out here alone?” He asked looking at her.

“I like the view. Jesse, right?”

“Yeah.” He nodded looking at her carefully. 

“How are your cuts?” She asked pointing to his bandaged forearms.

“Better. You?”

“Okay, I guess.”

“You really tried to kill yourself?” He asked bluntly as Lexi gave him a nod. “How and why?”

“I told you in group.”

“That was a watered down version.” He told her.

“I drank a fifth of whiskey then walked over to my-” She paused and corrected herself. “A friend’s house and took a handful of his pain pills. After sitting on the floor I took his razor and just cut.”

“Why?”

“I just didn’t want to feel anymore.” She looked at him. “The minute I heard my friend’s voice I knew I’d made a mistake but it was too late.” She took a breath. “Does that satisfy your curiosity. Is it enough info to run back and tell the little bitchy blonde in hopes of getting in her pants?”

“I-”

“I am not stupid. I learned how to read people years ago.” She turned her attention back to the field.

“Maybe I just changed my mind on that.” He was clearly intrigued.

“You’re not getting into my pants either.” She said with sass.

“Wow, you are a feisty one, aren’t you?” Jesse gave a cheeky grin.

“You have no idea.” A deep voice came from behind them.

Lexi turned to see Jared standing there with his hands in his pockets and a visitors tag clipped to his shirt. “Jared?” Lexi stood looking at him her heart began to race at the sight of him. The last time she saw him she was still in the hospital. “What are you doing here?! Oh, Jared this is Jesse, he is in my group. Jesse this is Jared-”

“The friend?” Jesse said with a smile looking at her. “Hey, nice to meet you.” Jesse extended his hand to Jared.

Jared shook his hand. “You too.”

“I’ll leave you two.” Jesse turned walking away.

Lexi turned to Jared and he gave a hesitant, nervous chuckle, clearing his throat. “Can I- can I hug you?”

“Of course!” She wrapped her arms around his shoulders.  “My God, I’m so happy to see you. I’ve missed you.” 

“I’ve missed you too.” He leaned his head on hers. He took a step back and looked at her. “You, you look good.”

“Liar,” She looked away trying to hide her redding cheeks. “I look like crap.” 

“Nonsense.” 

 “Come on, let’s sit.” She guided him to a bench.

“Seriously, you look great. Your cheeks are a perfect pink.” He said giving her cheek a small touch. “How do you feel?”

“Tired mostly. I have these really bad headaches. Doctors say it could be from my meds or from the trauma of all that happened.” She fiddled with her hands in her lap. . “I- I like the beard.”

“Yeah?” He ran his hand over his facial hair. “We finished filming like a week ago.”

“Ahh, so it’s hiatus beard time.” She said with a smile tucking her hair behind her ears.

Jared saw the bandaged on her wrist and gently took her hand. “Are you healing okay?”

“Yeah. They’re just itchy.” She looked up at him. “How about you? How are you with all of this?”

“I’m good.” He spoke and she gave him a look, a look he knew well. A look letting him know she didn’t believe him. One look and he gave in. “Alright, I lied. I’m worried about you.”

“I know.” She placed her hand upon his cheek. “But, you don't have to. I’m okay. I feel a lot better being on medicine again. It was adjusted to higher dose last week.”

“That’s good. I’m glad you’re sticking to the doctor’s instructions.”

“I should have never stopped taking my meds. I felt good. I figured I was better.”

“A lot of people do that. That’s why they tell you talk to a doctor before stopping your meds.” He placed his hand on hers. “Oh, Jay told me to tell you he misses you and you need to get your ass better so you can come home.”

“I’m actually surprised he wasn’t here with you.” She gripped his hand a bit. “He has been here every visitation day since I got here.”

“He called me and asked if I would like to come see you. I asked if he was coming but he said I could come just me.”

“Really?”

“I was just as surprised as you.” Jared told her.

 Lexi nodded. “I’m glad you came. So, Are the kids good?”

“Yeah. They actually ask about you a lot.”

“Awe, I miss them.” She smiled.

“Oh,” He pulled a few pictures out of his pocket. “I have something for you.”

It was all photos  of the kids playing at his place in Austin. “Oh, look at them!” She boasted. “They’ve gotten even bigger.” She said as she flipped through seeing different picks of Jared and Jensen with them as well as Danneel and Genevieve.

“Odette is starting to crawl.

“Is she?” Her eyes sparkled. “And the twins?”

“Are just like Jensen in every way.”

“Poor Danneel.” She giggled flipping through the pictures still. “It’s only been a few weeks but seems so much longer.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Here you go.” Lexi handed him the photos.

“Oh, no, those are yours to keep. I asked the doctor and she said it was okay.” He looked around and reached into his jacket pocket. “Actually. I have one more for you.” He handed her a picture of the two of them together from when they were together. 

Lexi looked at the picture of the two of them snuggled together outside by a fire. One of the few times they had gotten to be outside like that together. “This is one of my favorite pics of us.” 

“‘I know.”  He smiled down at her, the glimmer in her eyes filling his heart. “That’s why I brought it.”

“Thank you. It means a lot.”

The two hour visit went by a lot faster than they’d liked. We they hugged before he left, Jared held on a little longer, a little tighter than he needed. Just the feeling of having her in his arms, so warm and full of life. It’s what he needed after finding her cold and lifeless in his bathroom. Lexi could see in his eyes the longing he felt.

 Lexi sat in Dr. Turner’s office watching as the doctor settled into her position across from her. “So, you had a visitor today.” The doctor began. “Who was it?”

“Yeah, Jared.”

“How do you know Jared?”

“He’s a friend. Also my brother’s best friend.”

“Oh?” Lexi nodded. “Is that all?” The doctor challenged. “Just you and your brother’s friend?”  

“I don’t know what we are to be honest.” She said looking down at her hands as she picked the remaining nail polish off.

“Why is that?”

Lexi looked at her therapist and took an audible breath. “What I tell you can’t leave this room, right?” Lexi eyed her. 

“As long as you or anyone else isn’t in any danger, that’s correct.”

“So if I tell you some stuff that happened like two years ago, even though it’s not really bad but some people may not approve, you can’t say anything? Right?”

“Unless you’re hiding a dead body someplace, no.” Dr. Turner chuckled.

“Okay, um, Jared and I have… history.” She looked at the doctor. “Like romantic history.”

“I see. Why do you see that as a problem?” The doctor scribbled something down.

“Because I was a minor at the time. I - mean sorta but not really.”

“Oh?” Her eyebrow lifted.

“Not Like a kid, but I was seventeen the first time we slept together.” Lexi’s hands were sweaty as she rubbed them on the knees of her pants.

“How old was he?”

“Thirty two. And I know that sound really bad.”

“Lexi, why are you jumping to defend this to me? That’s legal.” The doctor asked as she wrote in her notebook again.

“Because,” She sighed with an eyeroll.  “I know what you’re thinking and what you want to say even though you can’t say it.”

“Is that so?” The doctor studied her for a moment. “Lexi, do people know about and Jared’s past?”

“A Handful of people.”

“Did they react unfavorable?”

“My brother threatened to have him thrown in jail for statutory rape.”

“You brother who is his best friend?” Dr. Turner added.

“Yeah. But that’s not the worst of it.” Lexi scoffed.

“I’m guessing the world wind love you told me about was Jared?” Lexi nodded. “Tell me What happened?”

“See, I was living with Jensen and Jared up in Vancouver where he worked. When he found out he made me move back down to Texas and forced us to cut all ties. When really hurt because Jared was my friend, he was my person, you know?” The doctor nodded. “And things just went south after that.”

“How so?”

“Well, first my sister-in -law Danneel through a party with Jared’s ex wife and Jared had to be there for support and all. That night we ended up sleeping together and the next day Jay found out. It was bad. That night Jared broke up with me for good.”

“That must have hurt you.” 

“It did.”

“When were you diagnosed?”

“A few months after I moved to L.A.” She watched as the doctor shook her head and wrote. “Why?”

“Lexi, can I be frank with you?”

“That’s kind of your job.”

Dr. Turned put her book down and leaned forward a bit. “When you’re symptoms began you were focused on Jared. That’s why you didn’t notice them. You were young and in love and it's easy to misplace the highs and lows.”

“So you’re saying, you’re saying I wasn’t in love I was sick?!” She looked at Dr. Turner neary horrified.

“No, no! That’s not what I'm saying! Not at all! I’m saying it seems to me, Jared kept you grounded. When you were forced to cut contact, you lost your anchor.”

“So you’re saying this is Jensen’s fault?” Lexi asked even more confused.

“I’m not saying that, either.” Dr. Turner held up a hand. “Do you feel like it’s Jensen’s fault?”

“No! I mean, I was mad at him at first but I understood and I’m over it now.” Lexi pushed her long, now auburn hair back from her face. “That was the first and only time I’d ever really been that angry at my brother. See, aside from Ellie, Jared was my best friend.”

 “And with Ellie off at college that left Jared. You began to go down and you had no one to catch you so you spiraled.” Dr. Turner” explained. “Lexi, tell me, when you hurt yourself, where were you?”

“Why?” She asked with a small shake of her head.

“You were at Jared’s?” The doctor saw the look of confusion growing on Lexi’s face. ‘Weren’t you?”

“How did yo-” Lexi shifted in her seat. “Uh, yeah, I, I to his house when he wasn’t home.”

 “Why?”

“Because I felt safe?” Lexi answered with no hesitation but paused, a look of extreme horror on her face and tears in her eyes. “And he, he found me.” 

“Did you want him to be the one that found you?”

“No, no, I just wanted to be somewhere I-I,” She quieted not being able to speak. The doctor saw her emotions flashing in her eyes as she recalled that day. “He sounded so far away but I could hear him screaming my name.” Her lip quivered as she spoke the sudden unexpected wave of emotions came down on her. “I could feel him grabbing me and begging me to wake up.” That’s when she broke. “Oh God, how could i do that to him? How could I let him find me like that?”

Dr. Turner moved  next to Lexi and held her. “Because you had no control at that point, it was your illness, not you.”

“He had crap he has to work through, too. How could I be that selfish?” Lexi looked up at her.

“Lexi, when you aren’t medicated and your illness takes control, it’s not you anymore. I’m sure he knows that. If he is as educated in mental health as you say, i’m sure he knows.”

Lexi’s mind was spinning. She’d always wanted to keep Jared safe. She never wanted to drag him into the mess she called a life. She felt as if she’d betrayed him. As if she let him down in the worst possible way.

That was the last time Lexi talked to Dr. Turner in recovery. That breakthrough was what Lexi needed to truly clear her head. She was released from the recovery center but wasn’t ready to be on her own yet in L.A. Although Ellie would be there, she felt she wasn’t at the point to be around all her old triggers. Since her mom and dad were traveling a lot due to her father’s work, Lexi opted to stay at Jensen’s instead of being home alone in Dallas. Lexi much preferred to be around family than alone in a huge house. Not to mention Jensen wouldn’t take no for an answer. 

Lexi would continue to see Dr. Turner in office one to two times per week and ground at least once a week. More if she felt she needed. Her group was similar to an A.A. group. Except instead of drinking the people were anxiety ridden. depressed self harmers. They even had sponsors of a type, “buddies”. Your buddy would depend on you in his/her times of need and vise versa. It gave them responsibility for their actions.

It had been two days since Jared was back in Austin having started filming again, and he still hadn’t contacted Lexi. So, being curious, that afternoon she made her way down the stone path along Lake Austin till she came up on Jared’s backyard. 

He was sitting in a wicker patio chair with his guitar in his lap. Lexi smiled as she walked up the path listening to him strum. Standing just feet away she stopped and watched him for a while. When he glanced up and saw her he stopped playing. “Lexi.” He placed the instrument down and stood. “What are you doing here?”

“I got home a few weeks ago.” She said with her hands in her back pockets. “I thought you would have stopped by when you got home the day before yesterday, but-”

“I was- I did..” Jared shoved his hands in his pockets. “I pulled in the drive but never got out of the car.”

“How come?”

“I didn’t know if I should. I didn’t want to mess up your recovery.” He admitted looking at his feet for a moment. “I’d only seen you the one time in treatment. I didn’t know if you-”

“If I’d be pissed at you now?” 

“Yeah.”

“So, you tell me you won’t push me away this time and you help me then completely disappear after I get released?” She waved a hand.

“You heard that?” He asked in disbelief. “You heard what I Said when you were unconscious?”

Nodding her head. “Most of it, yeah.” She took a step toward him. “Jared, can we talk?”

“Yeah. Come in, I’ll get you something to drink.” He motioned to the door as she followed him in. “Beer, soda, water?”

 “Water is good. I’m kind of staying away from alcohol for now.” 

 “Of course.” He shook his head in realization as he grabbed a water from the fridge. “I’m sorry, I-’

“It’s okay.” She smiled softly taking the bottle of water from him.

They sat in the living room, Jared making a mental note of her physical condition. Her cheeks held a pink tone again and her lips were back to their red shade. She seemed to have more charisma in her although she did have a cautious air about her.

Placing her bottle down she looked at Jared and raised her hand to his cheek for a brief second before grazing along his stubble. “You look good, Jare.” She told him with an exhale.

“Are you okay?”

“Jared, I came here to tell you how truly, unbelievably sorry I am.” Jared gave her a confused look. “I didn’t think about how finding me like that-” Taking a pause for a breath she looked up at him. “I’m so sorry I did that to you.” She tried to hold back the tears that insisted on rising.

“Don’t be.” He told her. “I’m not.”

“What? How could-”

“Because if I wouldn’t have found you then you wouldn’t have been here today. I rather deal with that then putting you in a casket, do you understand me?” He told her holding her face between his hands. “Listen to me.” He gained her eyes and focus. “I heard you. I heard you before the paramedics came in. You said you were sorry.” Tears threatened to rise in his eyes. “You said you wanted to take it back.”

“You could hear me?” Her voice a whimpered cry.

“Always.” He pressed his forehead to hers. “I’ll always hear you, baby girl.” Touching his lips to hers for a moment he pulled back and looked at her. “Lexi, I love you.”

“Jared,” She looked down finding it hard to concentrate or even breathe looking into his eyes. When she glanced back up his eyes drew her in. His touches, swift and calculated, felt like fire through her body when he touched her. “My God, I’ve missed you.” She whispered between sweet, simple kisses.

In a mess of pulling and grabbing, they traveled up the stared to his bedroom dropping clothes from the door to the bed. All Jared wanted was to be inside of her again. He needed it like he needed air to breath.

Sliding into her Lexi gripped his arms burying her face into the crook of his neck, the scent of him filling her, heating her already heated flesh. She tangled her fingers into his silky long hair giving a slight tug, her hips rising from the bed as Jared grinded into her never letting the bodies part. Sweat beaded his forehead as Lexi pushed away the hair from his eyes, his lips finding hers easily.

~

Now they lay in his bed with the hot Texas sun shining in through the balcony windows. Lexi sat up, the sheet still pressed against her body knees to her chest. Jared laid with an arm behind his head and his other stretch out caressing her bare back with his calloused fingers.

“What are you thinking?”He asked her.

She stared into the bathroom. “How stupid I was.” She looked back at him. “How much I’ve screwed up over the past few years.”

Jared leaned forward pressing a kiss to her shoulder. “Don’t apologize for being sick. That’s something you couldn’t control.” Lexi looked into his eyes and a pang of guilt hit her. “I miss this. You and me, being together.”

“Me too.”

“But Jared, I have to be honest with you.” She faced him. “I’m not supposed to get involved with anyone for a while.” Looking down she felt Jared’s fingertips grazing her bare arms. “It’s part of my therapy.”

Leaning back he looked up at her. “I know.” Her eyes darted to him. “Well, I didn;t know but I had a feeling it would be.”  He Cleared his throat shifting to the edge of the bed. “Listen, why don’t we get dressed and head downstairs.” He slid into his Saxx and grabbed his shorts. “I’ll meet you down there in a bit. Take your time.”

Lexi dressed quietly and made her way down stairs thoroughly confused. Rounding the kitchen she heard Jared talk and stopped just within ear shot. “Yeah, she’s okay.” She heard Jared say. “I promise I'll bring her back later.” Lexi took a step closer trying to see if she could hear who was on the other line. “Jay, i’ll keep her safe.” Jared turned and saw Lexi standing there. “I gotta go.” He pulled the phone from his ear and looked at her. “How much of that did you hear?”

“Were you telling him you just got done nailing his little sister?” She said hoisting herself up on the counter. 

“No, I wouldn’t-”

“It’s a joke, Jare.” She said with a smile. “So what was this? Just a quick hit before it's too late?” She eyed him. “What’s going on? If you knew I had conditions to my treatment why didn’t you stop what just happened?”

“Lex,” He grabbed her hand and pulled her from the counter and sat her in chair at the breakfast nook. “Listen, I need to tell you something.” He walked to a drawer and opened it. “I took your journal.” He held he worn book in his hand.

“Why?” She looked up from where she sat unsure what he was about to tell her. “Why would you do that>”

He placed the book on the table and sat next to her. “When you were sedated, I - I read it.”

Lexi looked down at her hands feeling her anxiety bubble to the surface. “You did?”

“And I found the letters.”

She stood from the table feeling mortified as she carefully pushed the chair beneath the table. “I should, um I should go.” 

“Wait, no.” He stepped closer to her and placed his hands on her arms.

 She backed away crossing her arms over her chest. “Please don’t.”

“I’m sorry.” He held up his hands. “I- I just, this isn’t going how I thought it in my head.” He huffed.

“You’re having conversations in your head but, I’m the one that just got out of the nut house.” She shook her head. “Hell of a match, aren’t we?” After everything her sarcasm remained.

He then ran a frustrated hand over his face. “Can I explain? Please?” He held out a hand for her to sit back down with him and she did. “I’m trying to tell you that I get it.” She gave another unsure expression. “I just,  I didn’t, I didn’t know I was, that you, ugh, damn it” He ran another frustrated hand over his face. “It was the same for me as it was for you.” He finally got the words out. “You kept me calmer, my anxiety was less, I felt like I could function on a whole new level when we were together. Even my bad days were good.” His confession poured out catching Lexi off guard. “I wanted to tell you that I know how it felt. It wasn’t just you. And, and being with you today, It was good to feel that again. Even if I know it won’t last.”

“Wow.” Lexi let the word out in an exhale. “I, uh, I think I should have went with that beer.” She chuckled.

“What? I, I mean, you’re not mad?” He asked astonished.

“Jared, if I was to trust my deepest more personal thoughts to anyone,” She reached taking his hand. “It’s you.”

Jared still held a guilty look. “I’m still sorry I invaded your privacy.”

“If you can forgive me for what I did, I certainly can forgive you for being so concerned.” Jared smiled at her and her heart fluttered. “Now what?”

“We focus on you getting better and know i’ll be here for whatever.”

“Jared you know I-”

“You don’t want me waiting for you, I know.” 

He kissed the back of her hands. “Just focus on you, okay?”

Next Chapter>

TAGS: @saxxxyjared @xostephanie @onethirstyunicorn @dreaminemz @squirrelnotsam​  @jbbarnesgirl @thevelvetseries​

[goldendiie]

as the sun sets fillmore dies, and sarge copes.

. . . .

1979

Fillmore is dying. Sarge knows that much. It’s been a month (or maybe two, or three) since he’d been admitted to some hospital in Albuquerque, and five days since they’d stopped letting Sarge into the room. Not Family, the Nurse had said, an apologetic, red lipstick smile plastered on her face. Bullshit, Sarge had replied. Still, she didn’t let him in.

He goes to the hospital every day, only to sit in the waiting room and stare at the same point in the wall, anxiously waiting for any news. He thinks, maybe Fillmore will just get up and walk out, completely healed by some miracle that Sarge would never be able to describe. Any second now. Any second…. No. No, that’s childish. He gets up, and makes for the door.

As he faces the bustle of the outside world, a part of him wants someone (a nurse? A doctor?) to run up behind him and tell him to stay. He’s been asking for you, they’d say, you can see him now. He pushes open the door, and walks into the dying sunlight. Nobody calls after him, nobody is completely healed.

He returns the next day, like he always does. The secretary remembers his name.

Sarge watches the people who come through the waiting room. They’re here to see sick grandparents, newborn children. Lovers, parents, friends. He begins to fall into space, lost in the cycle of existence that he had come to know. Fillmore is dying. Fillmore could be dead, for all he knows. Maybe they’re removing him from his hospital room now, making it all neat and proper for the next dead man to pass through its door--

“You’re here for Fillmore, right?”

He snaps out of it, and looks up. He’s met with the same careful, sad, red lipstick smile that he’d seen a few days prior. Sarge must look awfully pale, or awfully shocked, because the Nurse quickly says: “You can see him now, if you like.” He hardly feels the ground beneath his feet as he follows her deep into the bowels of the hospital.

“He’s been begging to see you, you know.” the Nurse says cordially, resting a manicured hand on the doorknob of room four-nine-eight. For whatever reason, she pauses before letting him in the room. It’s dark, save for the light coming in from the hallway, and that of the quickly setting sun outside. The only sound inside the room is the unceasing beep, beep, beep of the electrocardiograph monitor.

“You have a visitor.” The Nurse says quietly, turning on the lights.

Sarge watches in vague, distraught horror as Fillmore sat up and turned his sallow, sunken face to look at him. He certainly looked dead, with empty, glossed-over eyes and too-thin appendages. Yet, a wide, familiar grin split across Fillmore’s face as he spoke in a struggling voice: “Hey, man. It’s been a while.”

Sarge deflated in some strange form of relief as he drifted forward to catch Fillmore’s outstretched hand. It felt foreign in his own. Too frail, too cold.

“I’ll leave you two to it.” The Nurse says, exiting quickly.

Fillmore falls back on his pillows as the door clicks shut behind her. “Dunno why she wouldn’t let me see you.” He says, “You know, I’d like to see my lover before--”

“She’s just following rules.” Sarge replies, almost curtly.

“They’re stupid rules.” Fillmore huffs.

The revolutionary spirit Fillmore had gained during the tail end of the sixties never left him, even on his deathbed. Sarge chuckles weakly. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

“Why would I change?”

Sarge shrugs as he pulls a chair up next to the bed. He opts to change the subject instead of answering the question: “You look like hell.”

“I feel like it, too.” Fillmore replies. “They don’t let me smoke ‘round here, man….”

“That would probably just make it worse.”

“I’m dyin’ here, dude, they could at least let me have a smoke before I off myself.”

It seemed that Fillmore had grown comfortable with his inevitable demise. Ready to meet the unknown, or ready to find true peace. Whichever. Sarge grows quiet with this thought, now staring down at their clasped hands.

Fillmore clears his throat, somewhat startling him. “I, uh, wanted to ask you something, man.” He says. “Like my last wish, or something.”

“What’s that?”

“Lemme preface with the fact that I know you, Sarge.” Fillmore says, “You’re stubborn, you’re damned sentimental, and--”

“Fillmore.” Sarge interrupts. “Get to the point.”

“Move on.” His voice is clear, strong. “Live your life.”

“You can't ask me to--”

“It's all part of life, man. It's gonna happen eventually.”

And that was that. Sarge knows that it’s no use to argue with him; after all, he’s right. In time, he would move on whether he liked it or not. He sighs. “Yeah. Alright.”

Fillmore grins and opens his mouth to say something more, but is overtaken by a coughing fit. Sarge dropped his hand and shot to his feet, ready to find help if need be. “Fillmore, are you--”

“I’m fine.” Fillmore’s hands clutch his chest as he gasped. His voice had become raspy, hollow.“Sit back down, wouldja?”

Sarge did as he was asked. “Sorry, I thought--”

“Don’t apologize.” Fillmore interrupts. “It happens sometimes.”

It shouldn’t happen, Sarge thinks, This shouldn’t be happening to you.

The silence that now consumes the room is pregnant. There’s whispers of ideas of what Sarge could say, but he finds he wouldn’t be able to verbalize them even if he tried.

It’s several minutes until their silence is broken.

“How’re the folks back home?” Fillmore asks. “Any customers?”

“None.” Sarge replies. “And they’re doing fine. Flo and Ramone said they were gonna stop by tomorrow.”

“That’ll be nice.”

It’s difficult to decide whether small talk is a vice or a virtue. In the moment which it matters most, they’re unable to talk about anything meaningful. Yet, conversation is better than the bitter silence, filled only by the monitor on Fillmore’s heart.

Sarge finds Fillmore’s hand again. He squeezes it in some attempt to ease the anxiety he must be feeling. Outside, the sun had begun to set in a fantastic wash of red and orange and periwinkle-blue. The hour had grown late.

“You should get some rest.” Sarge said.

“Yeah.” Fillmore returned, “Sounds like a good idea.”

“I’m gonna stay with you.” He said, “In case I leave and they don’t let me back in tomorrow.”

Fillmore laughed. “See you in the morning, then.”

It’s so normal, natural, that it feels somewhat like a promise. Morning will come, and Fillmore will still be here, waking up with the rising sun. It isn’t long before the sunlight falls off of his face, and he is asleep.

Fillmore looks almost peaceful, if not for the wires and IVs pumping life into him. He didn’t belong here, in this sterile, white environment. He belonged at home, in Radiator Springs, playing that obnoxious music and arguing about the moon landing.

The Nurse ushers in once more, long after the sunset was replaced with a sky dotted with stars. “Visiting hours are over.” She said, lingering near the doorway for a moment too long.

“Can I stay with him?” Sarge asks. He turns his stinging-tired gaze onto her, Fillmore’s hand still clasped between both of his own.

There’s a terribly long pause, before she melancholically utters: “Of course.”

He returns his gaze to Fillmore, who hadn’t stirred. His head is turned towards the ceiling, and he snores quietly. He could tell that he was in pain; every so often his breathing would turn to quiet, strangled gurgling. It never lasted long, though. Fillmore was right. It happens sometimes.

“You’ve fought hard.” Sarge whispers, and Fillmore’s fingers tighten. “But you can’t give up. You need to keep--” his voice deteriorates with each word. “You need to keep going.”

His words fall on deaf ears. Fillmore’s face remains turned towards the ceiling. Sarge sighs and rests his head on the edge of the bed. He closes his eyes, and the night consumes him.

It's not half a moment later, and Sarge is raising his head. He wonders if he’s imagining the flatline. It fades in and out of his hearing as Fillmore’s grip on his hand loosens. His fingers are thin, he notices. As are his wrists, and arms, and torso. He’s too thin. His eyes travel upwards to Fillmore’s (thin, sallow, lifeless) face. His mouth is slightly open, and his empty, glossed-over eyes stare, unseeing, at the ceiling. There’s color yet in his cheeks.

Sarge lets go of his hand, and it falls limply to the side of the bed. The walls are closing in on him, and the flatline only grows in volume as he reaches for the body in a haze. His hands grip the sheets, and then the thin hospital gown. He tries to speak-- some mixture of a question and a plea-- but the only sound that escapes him is a strangled moan.

He’s painfully aware of the Nurse prying him away from the body. She guides him into the hallway, leading him by the arm, as a doctor rushes in to pronounce the death.

“He’s not in pain anymore,” the Nurse hushed, “He’s in a better place.”

Sarge broke away from her and not-quite-ran for the exit, dashing into the lobby and then into the parking lot. Its early morning, almost the time that he play his Reiville, almost the time it would be met with that god-awful rendition of the national anthem--

He slams the door of his jeep and covers his head with his hands, his entire body shaking with silent wails.

. . . .

Fillmore is buried on a wonderfully, painfully sunny day in July. Sarge watches numbly as the plain, matte-black casket is lowered below the desert floor. He hated black, he thought as it’s slowly covered up with dirt. Only then did he share in the opinion; it was void of all life and feeling, not at all suitable for someone who had been as vibrant and intrinsic as the sunset over Willy’s Butte.

Yet, the sun had surrendered itself all too quickly, and Fillmore died young. Born 24 April, 1948; Died 29 June, 1979. He was only thirty-one. Far too young for someone like him, Sarge muses. He’d had a whole life ahead of him, brewing those horrible teas and playing that god-awful music--

“Are you gonna be alright?”

Sarge had lingered too long. He hadn’t noticed that the crowd had dispersed, leaving only him to watch the grave. Ramone is standing behind and to the left of him. His voice is concerned, condolatary.

Sarge turns his back to the gravesite. “I’ll be fine.” He said evenly, brushing the hand away and walking past him.

“You were close to him, man,” Ramone said, following closely behind him. “I’m just worried that you’re gonna--”

“I’m fine.” Sarge insisted.

And that was that. Ramone left him alone, and he continued towards his home in peace. It wasn’t the quiet, content peace that he’d grown accustomed to. No, now it’s empty, void. Silence is better than conversation.

Sarge doesn’t look at Fillmore’s dome (nor the “for sale” sign in front of it) as he passes. He looks straight ahead, chin up and shoulders squared. He lets himself inside his shop, and the door quietly clicks shut behind him. He continued towards the back of the shop and through another door, into his living area. It’s nothing special-- a small kitchen, a sitting area, and a bedroom behind a door off to the side. He stands in the center of it all, aimlessly staring into space.

He needs to clean out Fillmore’s dome. Clean out all of the junk that he’d accumulated over the years, determine what he’d keep and what he’d sell. Speaking of selling, he’d need to get rid of the bus, too, now that there was no one to drive it… Sarge decides promptly to stop thinking about it. He re-enters his shop, flicks on the lights, and stalks up and down the rows of military surplus. Backpacks, boots, butterfly knives. His medals--currently pinned to his lapel-- are usually in a display case front and center. He keeps them in prime condition, like everything else from his time in Vietnam--

He hears gunfire. The surplus shop is gone, replaced by a jungle under a cloudless night sky. He’s cowering behind a tree, holding his rifle to his chest. The NVA or Viet-Cong or whatever they were had gotten their hands on an anti-vehicle gun. Five, maybe ten men were dead just past the perimeter line. Phuoc Tuy, that’s right, he’s in Phuoc Tuy--

Just like that, it’s over. He’s back in Radiator Springs, swaying back and forth like he’s about to fall over. Sarge supposes a car had backfired, or something had fallen over in another room. It’s just stress, that’s all, he thinks. That’s all it took. Stress, and a loud noise.

He occupies himself and his mind by displacing and replacing items on the shelves. Vaguely, he realizes how silly he must look: he’s cleaning his shop in full dress uniform, shoes polished, medals pinned to his suit. He really should go change, but he doesn’t. He continues to tidy the shop, over and over again until he can’t bring himself to do it anymore.

He collapses on his couch, and falls asleep almost instantly. He dreams of gunfire and Fillmore’s sallow, sunken face.

The next day is just like any other: Sarge wakes in the early hours of the morning, head pressed uncomfortably into the arm of the couch, staring through the slats in the blinds as the new day rises. As he forces himself to get up, he notices the new creases in his suit. He’d have to iron it sooner or later.

Sarge’s routine is slow and grueling-- or, rather, it had become slow and greuling. He leaves his suit in a heap on the floor, showers with cold water, and dresses once again. A passing glance in the mirror tells him how god-awful he looks: his features are tired and gaunt, complete with heavy bags under his eyes and a thin frown etched into his face.

He looks somewhere between dying and dead; a little like Fillmore before he’d passed. Vaguely, he imagines himself in Fillmore’s place, frail and weak while nurses and doctors prodded at him with needles and tubes. Surely, he would put up a fight, yet it would be all for naught. Inevitably, he would die. The image fades back into that of Fillmore, coughing himself into a sleep from which he would never wake. He hadn’t gone peacefully, Sarge realizes. His eyes were open upon his death.

The thought had shocked him into a stupor. He stands, like a fool, staring at his own wide-eyed reflection in the mirror. He shakes his head, as if to rattle his realization away, and continues on with his day.

. . . .

It’s early October before Sarge had grown numb enough to finally clean out Fillmore’s dome. No one ever bought the lot-- it was practically useless, since traffic on the road had long since ceased-- but cleaning it out still seemed to be a worthwhile idea. Fillmore would have wanted his stuff to be given away, anyways.

The once-colorful interior of the dome was covered in a thick layer of dust. It had been months since anyone had inhabited it, making the haphazard placement of personal items seem like an exhibit out of a museum: the kitchen still has pots in the sink, the bedsheets are still disheveled, and the needle of a record player is still in the grooves of an LP. There’s no good place to start in all of the mess. After all, how is one supposed to go about sorting through someone’s life? There must be an established method, a routine he could follow….

He opts to start with the records. That’s easy, right? They’re neatly packed into crates beneath a wooden stand, on top of which sat a poorly-aged Achiphon. There’s an old ten-inch single under the needle, and Sarge somehow recognizes it, despite how long it had been since he’d seen it. How many times had Fillmore played it for him? Ten? Twenty?

Sarge replaces the needle at the start of the LP, and switches the record player on. It pops with the dust and grime it had gathered over the past few months, before finally crackling to life. There’s drums as a guitar settles down into a melody, and a great diminuendo is met with Jimi Hendrix’s vocals. “Waterfall, nothing can harm me at all…” The music settles into every corner of the dome. Sarge had hated this song back in the day, but now it somehow relaxes him. Fillmore wouldn’t have let him hear the end of it, if he were still around. “My worries seem so very small, with my waterfall….”

He takes in the dome in one sweeping glance, now realizing that he doesn't fully want to disrupt it. It’s as though he’s erasing Fillmore’s last remaining presence off of the earth, truly killing him once and for all.

That’s entirely irrational, though. He flicks through the rest of the vinyls (Hendrix, The Kinks, Donovan, Janis Joplin, Jefferson Airplane), and sets them to the side. He thinks he might sell them. Someone else could get better use out of them.

Sarge moves along, looking for something else to look through. He turns next to the boxes of clothes that are pushed underneath the bed. Most of his shirts are garishly tie-dyed, and most of his pants have holes in them. Surprisingly, Sarge even finds a few of his own items of clothing, evidently left here throughout the years. He moves the boxes next to the crates of vinyls, designating it as things he would get rid of.

He moves on to a bookshelf at the foot of the bed. It’s packed with old, torn-up volumes. There’s old college textbooks, fantasy, science fiction, and…. The dome is suddenly quiet as Sarge pulls an unmarked book from the shelf. He’d been working so quickly, so efficiently, that he hadn’t realized the song had ended. He opens the book, only to find that it wasn’t a book, but a photo album. Sarge flicks through it absentmindedly. Photos of people, places he didn't recognize. Perhaps they were some old college buddies, or some fellow hippies he'd run into in his travels--

Sarge stops, mid-page turn. There’s a polaroid stuffed between the pages like a bookmark. With one steady hand, he removes it from the book and stares at it. He doesn’t remember letting Fillmore take a photo of them together, yet in his hand he held evidence that proved otherwise. The photo is at such an awkward angle that it was obvious Fillmore himself was the one holding the camera. Half of his face was visible: half of a crooked grin, half of a newly-grown beard, half of a nose, one eye. Sarge wasn’t looking at the camera when the photo was taken, instead looking out over some unseen distance. His head rested on the edge of Fillmore’s shoulder, like their closeness was the most natural thing in the world. On the white border of the photograph, scrawled in round, looping handwriting, was a date: August, 1967.

That had only been a few months after they’d met. He remembers that they-- the hippies and the press and whatnot-- had called it “The Summer of Love,” and he never really understood why. Such a strange name, when there was a war in Vietnam and protests in the streets… Sarge’s nostalgia was fleeting, and quickly left him feeling empty. In a fit of sentimental longing, he finds himself wishing to live it all again. To find himself in Radiator Springs again, to meet Fillmore again, to fall violently, fitfully in love again. They had wasted their time together, ignorant of the fact that it would be cut short.

Sarge realizes that he had been staring off into space. He stands, dusts himself off, and pockets the photograph. He sets the photo album aside, and stacks the rest of the books next to the pile of items to be sold. He puts the needle at the start of the LP again, and loses himself as he continues to work.

Waterfall, nothing can harm me at all…

. . . .

Sarge finally decides to visit the grave in November. It’s colder than it had been all week, and the temperature was dropping by the hour; he’d grown so used to the heat that anything lower than sixty degrees felt like winter. With his hands balled in his pockets, he sets off into the desert. He reaches the gravestone as the sun is beginning to set. He stares at it for a moment, coming to grips that he was standing above the body of his closest confidante.

Sarge isn’t sure why, but he begins to speak. “Hello, Fillmore. It’s been a while.”

Half of him expects a reply-- a “hey, man,” or something like that-- but the only sound is the wind, and the distant echo of interstate traffic.

“It’s quieter, without you.” He continues, “No one around to argue with.”

Dead, incomplete silence.

“I miss you.” Sarge blurts out, “I really do. And the time we had together was….” He trailed off, not exactly sure how to say it. “Well, it was just great.”

If Fillmore was listening, he would be grinning from ear to ear. Sarge knows that much.

He kneels down, and scrapes the dirt from the lettering. Born 24 April, 1948; Died 29 June, 1979. Only thirty-one years old. A life as vibrant and intrinsic and fleeting as the sunset over Willy’s Butte. Sarge stands again, and wipes the dirt from his pants. He watches the grave for a moment, now aware of a tremendous weight that had been lifted from his shoulders.

“Goodbye, Fillmore.”

As he leaves, the sky is a wonderful wash of red and orange and periwinkle-blue.

[nobleofthemanor]

Self help doesnt always work

When I was born my parents weren't in a stable place. My dad 20, strung out on heroine and was a dealer himself. My mom was 19 almost 20. Both grew up in abusive, neglective, and manipulative house holds till they married at 18. Neither had very great examples of parenting. My dad was either partying (sometimes at our home) or doing drugs. He did some things that Im not comfortable sharing on the internet, mostly because it's not my place to say it.

My surrounding family wasnt very stable either. My mom did her best to raise me and two sisters, but after my second sister was born she had a 2, 1 and newborn. I dont remember if she was trying to do college or not, but I know she was going through alot on top of raising kids.

My parents life changed drastically a few months before my 3rd birthday. My dad was busted and my mother was arrested with him. On the way to meet the cops my dad had given his life to Christ. Now this didnt mean he stopped struggling with his drug addiction. It took him roughly 6 months to truly quit, but he did. It was a hard six months as they had to deal with themselves and their relationship. (They almost divorced at one point).

Eventually my family reached a point of stabillity. My dad became a pastor at the church that had supported and guided him in his walk with christ. He also joined another ministry and started helping people who struggled the same way he did.

Id like to state both my parents had alot of issues. Both had to deal with their abusive past, parental issues, trust issues. They also had sepererate issues that the other did not have. but fast forward 15 years, with the help God, the wounds have healed.

My dad is no longer in drug ministry, but has taken on a more adminastrative role in the church. My family is still together and closer than ever. Also, in a few months my parents will celebrate 21 years of marriage and over 25 years of being together. My great granfather and great grandmother have both given their lives to christ(something my dad has been praying for since they were the ones who raised him). I graduated Highschool ast year and one of my younger sisters is about to graduate highschool and is hoping to join the airforce.

Im in college now and currently working in a preschool that my church runs. I love every moment of it.

While this is my wholesome storry it doesnt quite end there.

You see, while my parents had dealt with their issues and had healed. I had not.

My dad was saved when I was 3. So, for those three years of my life I lived in that really unstable enviroment. I suffered constant nightmares. I was also being somewhat raised by my grandparents, as they were usually baby sitting us when my mom and dad went to work/school. I was also the first born to two people who had bad examples of parenting. Basically, the trial run/expeirement I dont remember much of those three years, but I do know living in that enviroment for those years really affectted me growing up. However, my sisters were lucky as they were to young to be affected.

Growing up I was a really overly emotional child. I got angry and violent quickly. I had an attention span of 2 seconds. I tended to easily take things personal. I was really chatty and wuth drawn at the same time. I tended to be a loner at school. I was terrified of many things. When I was about 7/8, maybe 9, I dealt with feeling like my family would have been better off with out me and started physically seperating myself from my family. Eating at a seperate table when we sat at the four seater table or staying several feet behind if we were walking somwhere. Whenever my paeents would get on to me, I would try to make my self small by putting myself into a corner. I was always anxious like I should be on the run. I was/am constantly second guessing myself. I had broken record in my head that I was never enough. There are alot of other things that I cant think of at the. All in all it was just general behaviors that werent normal. I wasnt a normal child to begin with, but these were big clues that I was dealing with stuff and not coping very well. Im sure I have some form of anxiety and ADD. Though I highly doubt it, I wouldnt be surprised if someone told me Im autistic. On top of it all I had the pressure of putting on a good face as a pastor's kid, which didnt help.

As I got older I tended to become obsessed with things. When I was 11 I became addicted to anime and did things Im not proud of. It was a bad coping mechanism and I ended up wasting about 4 years of my life living in my room. Dont get me wrong, there were good times when I first started getting into it, but at the end of those 4 years I was a borderline fem-neckbeared I even had a fedora. I realized how much time Id wasted and manage to break the addiction, but the issues were still there.

My parents did there best to help me. I saw two different therapist one my parents made me visit as a kid and one I asked for as a teen. I stopped going to them for different reasons. My parents couldnt afford itanymore. And the second one was because I didnt see any change.

Both of these therapist were in my small town. Both were men, and both knew who my parents were. It made talking to them and opening up hard. So I stopped going.

Fast forward to six months ago. I started college and a new job. Both required my full attention forcing me to stop going to church and quit my volunteer work. I couldnt keep up and my anxiety was always present. Especially since I felt like I couldnt keep up with the fast paced required there. I felt like I was drowning and I couldn't take this feeling of being broken any more, so I asked my mom about seeing a therapist again. At first Mom was against it, I was at the point where I would take whatever medicine if it meant this insanity would stop. Mom is the type who doesnt rely on meds or people, she and God can fix it. She did eventually agree and we found a therapist. A wonderfull woman whose office is located in a learning center for autistic kids. Which is really cool.

The two of us instantly clicked and I enjoy my visits. I do my best to follow her advice. She has been the first person to truly tell me, your feelings are vallid. I can honestly say Ive improved more in my six months with her than I did in 18 years of trying to fix myself. My relationships and my life gratefull.

[sisterbestill]

I write this on my iPhone, sitting next to my dad, who is currently getting his 4th Chemo Therapy Treatment of Carboplatin and Taxol. The drugs are chemical bombs and each week the accumulative damage grows. They pre-treat him with histamine blocking meds so he doesn’t have reactions, but he has reactions during the infusion, like he can’t breath. The nurses are well aware and calmly manage the reactions with more meds. These meds cause him to become very drowsy, so the remainder of the day becomes about keeping him from falling.

I still am trying to process all that has occurred since early August 2018. I look back on these pictures of our last outing at Lake Jocassee and never would have guessed how things would change just a week later. I’ve often wondered how cancer strikes people so quickly, now I know. I am writing this so I will never forget each minute that will forever live with me. I am also using this as a way to cope and understand something that is unfamiliar and terrifying.

My parents have always taken care of themselves and one another. They have been very lucky to have good health and I have been lucky to have them as energetic as they are in their eighties. When they moved up here from Florida, I was delighted I was going to finally be able to spend more time with them - like daily and weekly vs. just twice a year. They moved 15 minutes away or a lovely 60 min bike ride through rolling countryside and mountains. I was giddy and felt the universe shift a bit. I felt pulled to them. They are in fact two of the coolest, funniest, and open-minded people I know.

Shortly after this kayak trip (photos above) they decided to make a pact to live to 100 and created a “bucket list”. They were thankful for their health and never took it for granted. Perhaps the bucket list idea was a way to for them to celebrate how young they felt or perhaps they recognized they were chronologically getting up there.

Paddling on Jocassee was relaxing, calm, and beautiful; Certainly an experience they would have loved to have recreated again and I am hopeful they will. It may look different in the future, but I suspect the beauty and calmness of the lake will bath their brains in peace.

A week after snapping these pics, I got a call from my mom, she was on her way to the ER with my Dad. I was working one floor up and met them in the ER. While we waited, I learned my Dad had been feeling fatigued for several months and had developed shortness of breath over last few weeks. It wasn’t evident on the kayak trip that he was struggling, but it was obvious in the ER. My mom said they had been to their primary care several times and their primary care doc reassured him it was natural aging, as tests did not reveal anything to be concerned about.

As we sat for 6 hours in the waiting area, I was certain it was nothing serious. Afterall, my dad had no other health issues other than a little hypertension. His meds consisted of an 81 mg baby aspirin and amlodipine 2.5 mg each day - what a lucky guy. I was thinking maybe he had pleurisy or walking pneumonia.

We finally were shown to a room and labs were drawn. We were relieved to finally get things moving. By this time my sister, Lori, and I were getting silly from the fatigue of waiting. We were thoroughly entertained by a belligerent drunk guy on a stretcher in the halllway who seemed to draw all the attention of the medical staff while we well-behaved folks waited for answers.

I noticed my dad’s HR would easily jump to a sinus tach in the 130s with just a little bit of movement. Something didn’t seem right, but I was not going to speculate or think the worst. I was just his daughter, at his side, keeping the mood light.

We were informed by the physician assistant caring for us that his left diaphragm was elevated and was probably the cause of his shortness of breath. I was a little taken back as this was an unusual finding that left me with a knot in my stomach. Not too long after this finding he was whisked away for a CT of his chest.

He returned to the room and we waited for results. The PA came in with a sticky note and said she read off it: “You have a very large anterior mediastinal mass...No one here will operate because of your age...We are discharging you and you will need to see an oncologist.”

Our mouths dropped. My stomach bottomed-out as she said “mass” and my face flushed. We all just blankly looked at one another. Go home?

I spoke to a good nurse friend in recovery and she called the thoracic resident. I spoke to the PA who delivered the news and said, “We can’t go home. He is short of breath. He and my mom live alone. His Heart rate is bouncing up to 130s. He is weak. Please admit him and consult thoracic surgery.” My dad chimes in, “I’m not a throw away!” Meaning he doesn’t want to be dismissed because of his chronological age. He was far healthier than most half his age and this deserved a second look. The radiologist who read the report never actually saw my dad, but he did see a birthdate.

The next day, the interventional radiologist who read his CT and gave us the crappy news also did a needle biopsy of this baseball size mass.

We went home on a Wednesday after 2 days and waited. We were waiting for results and waiting for an appointment with a thoracic surgeon. Waiting is tough and if you are sick you will learn the meaning of patience.

We made it to Sunday when I thought something wasn’t right with my dad. He continued to have episodes of shortness of breath, but something was still off. I knew he had anxiety, but this was different. He said he felt fine and I almost left it at that. As a nurse you learn to listen to your 6th sense.

My parents live in a remote part of the county where everything is 30 min away. I left there house and an hour later returned with a pulse oximeter that I purchased from a CVS drug store. His oxygenation was 95% not bad for a guy now breathing 40 times a minute with 1.25 lung capacity. However, his pulse read 155 and I was baffled. No way?! I palpated his radial artery and it was a match. Off we went to the ER...

ER visit number II was faster as we went to a smaller satellite hospital 30 min from their home. The rhythm was too fast on the monitor to establish what it was so the ER MD attempted to chemically cardiovert him with adenosine. Adenosine is pushed quickly through an IV. It stops and restarts the heart. I can not lie, I was nervous. It’s so diffferent when this is your own family member. My mom tearfully excused herself and I stayed by his bedside. The ER doc informed my dad it would suck, and we proceeded. It sucked. He felt his heart stop and I watched his eyes bulge and panic come across his face for 3 of the longest seconds of my life. We were able to see he had an underlying atrial flutter. We were started on a verapamil drip and were transported to the main hospital for management by a cardiologist. His heart converted back to a normal rhythm on the verapamil drip before we left the ER in transport to Main hospital at 1 am. We were under the impression it was stress related to the new shitty diagnosis and having to wait on results.

The next day he had an echocardiogram to look at the structure and function of his heart. He was started on a Metoprolol a drug that blocks adrenaline and keeps heart rate lower and it was doing its’ job.

He spent 2 nights in hospital and outside of naps, lacked solid hours of good sleep. We finally got word that his ECHO results were good. No one said a word about metastatic disease to his pericardium. We were told he had a small ring of fluid within the pericardial sack, but it wasn’t a lot and certainly not something they felt needed draining. The atrial flutter responded well to the metoprolol and we were discharged home to once again wait for our thoracic surgery appointment.

We finally made it to the thoracic surgeon to learn of what was growing in my dad’s mediastinum. I was hoping for a thymoma, but instead we drew the really short stick with a highly aggressive, highly invasive cancer called: Squamos Cell Thymic Carcinoma.

WTF? Come on! Can we not catch a break here?

I had never heard of this type of cancer and neither have many in the medical field cause in addition to being aggressive and invasive, it is also a rare tumor. A rare tumor that hasn’t impacted enough lives that researchers devote a lot of time, money and effort into understanding it. Not only that, but sadly, most people die before any data can be collected. Once you get short of breath, dry cough and fatigue it is usually advanced.

PET Scan had some questionable lymph nodes light up, but no other disease was noted distal to the mediastinal cavity.

We hoped it could be removed. Excising the tumor was first choice in the management of this cancer and had the best outcomes, but to do this the surgeon would need to get clean margins. The thoracic surgeon wanted a cardiac MRI to examine if this tumor had invaded any of his great vessels. CT scans had only shown that the tumor was abutting the ascending aorta, but we needed to be certain cause the surgery involved opening his sternum with a saw and recovery would be 5-6 weeks. The surgeon emphasized that he didn’t want to operate and create trauma without being able to get the entire tumor. He didn’t want to delay care in a time-is-of-the-essence scenario.

It was 6pm on a Monday evening just days out from last hospitalization, when I returned to their house to check on him. Earlier that morning, my mom and I took his mini Pomeranian back to the vet and learned it was dying. The vet apologized and said it was time. We put my dad’s 18 y/o Pom, Ben, to sleep at 10:30. My mom held him and he passed. We were a mess. We told my dad and his response seemed flat. Distant.Something else was on his mind.

I stayed close and felt something was amiss, something was unfolding, progressing. I was thinking is he getting an infection? His temp was 100.2, slightly more SOB, and his pulse was 95-110 at rest, on a beta blocker. Nowhere near his norm and I could not ignore this or excuse it. My dad is precious to me. I looked at my mom and dad, apologized as I informed them we needed to go back to the ER. They were agreeable. I think he was relieved I recognized something was wrong.

Shortly after arrival at the satellite ER labs were drawn and ultrasound of his heart was done by ER doc. He said there appeared to be a large fluid collection around my dad’s heart. We were again admitted to ICU for a condition called Cardiac Tamponade. Early the next morning he had the fluid drained 600 ml from around his heart. The fluid build up which is inside the pericardial sac squeezes the heart. The heart can be stunned and go into failure. The fluid that was drawn off was sent for cytology. It was suspicious. It was likely metastatic disease.

In fact after annoying the cardiologist with repeated questions in the hallway, he motioned me over to his computer screen. He showed me the ECHO and pointed out the thickening of the pericardium and showed me a mass dangling from his ventricle. I didn’t need to wait for cytology. This was confirmation for me that we were very far into a disease process. My face flushed, my heart sank, and my stomach dropped as I comprehended the situation. I thanked the MD and my mom asked what he was showing me. I told her. I saw the color leave her face.

The thoracic surgeon was still hoping to remove the mass as the CT didn’t show it had invaded the great vessels, but he did want a Cardiac MRI which was on the back burner. We were still in ICU cause the Cardiac Tamponade and procedure to drain the fluid triggered a lot of Atrial Flutter and Atrial Fibrillation. We waited for the Cardiac MRI for 3 days. There is only one machine and his was repeated twice before they got quality images. The thoracic surgeon finally met with us and after consulting his partners, radiologist, and oncologist, it was decided surgery was just too risky and he wasn’t certain he could get clear margins. He stressed how he didn’t want to create more problems or delay my dad in getting treatment if there were complications. We very much appreciated the thoughtfulness of his answer. We really didn’t have a minute to spare. The surgeon decided to cut a window in my dad’s heart so the cancer did not build up more fluid and compress this vital organ again. The cancer cells would drain into his belly instead of filling the pericardial sack.

We were discharged home in a questionable state: weak. At first we were told he would stay until he was walking well, but the hospital was full and we were off-loaded unexpectedly. Home is a place with stairs. Stairs to to get in and stairs to get out and the most movement he had done in a week was walking 25 ft with a walker and that was exhausting for him. I was concerned about falls. How were me and my mom going to get 170 lb man up 5 steps safely? He was too weak. He hadn’t eaten, he had not slept in 10 days. We were behind the eight ball and chemo had not even started.

Chemo is rough. To survive chemo, one needs some level of fitness, meaning able to perform ADLs independently and move often. We were overwhelmed. The next week was labor intensive and emotionally draining. Here we were home and we were struggling. He still wasn’t eating, still not sleeping, and my radar was on constant alert. I spent my days observing and looking for subtle changes. Oh and there were changes that needed immediate attention as he flipped in and out of rapid atrial fibrillation and got urinary tract infection.

I was scared and my dad was terrified. In times when we were alone, he would ask me: “How did this happen?” He would shake his head as if disappointed in his body. Disbelief. He was unable to comprehend it and he too was terrified.

To be continued...

[ishitakka]

for the mental illness ask: 1-30

aaaaaa omg thnnk you! 

tw: self harm

1. Name one healthy coping mechanism you have.

if i ever feel like im going to relapse, i scratch my legs or arms instead of cutting (or if i want to see red use a red marker to draw lines)

2. Name one unhealthy coping mechanism you have.

completely avoiding activities (i dont like eating in front of people so i dont eat unless im home alone, miss class a lot, etc)

3. When did you find out you’re mentally ill?

i think i was 14 or 15 when i was diagnosed? id had depression for a year before that and anxiety since i was a child

4. Are you professionally diagnosed, self-diagnosed, or both?

professionally diagnosed! however, i need to be re-diagnosed because my brain has decided within the last year to show different symptoms than before lol

5. Have you told people about your mental illness?

yes! my family knows and my girlfriend, as well as some other random people

6. What is your experience on therapy?

awful. i went for about a year and after being forced to have my mom with me during all the sessions and being forced to call people until i had an anxiety attack i had to stop.

7. What is your experience on medication?

ok i guess? ive been on the same medication for coming on four years now, but im gonna switch soon! 

8. What has been the most helpful during breakdowns/very bad moments?

when i feel really bad i paint my nails to keep my hands busy. basically anything that will keep me busy. when im having an anxiety attack, i lay down and try to count my breathing

9. What misconceptions do people have about your mental illness(es)?

i think that people dont think that anxiety and social anxiety is as bad as it is sometimes. i often go a week without leaving the house, and even then i have to leave to go to my job. i think people also think that people with eating disorders want to be that way? trust me i dont lol

10. One thing you wish people knew about your illness(es)?

in order to help me, you dont always have to offer solutions. most of the time listening is just enough

11. Do you know anyone IRL with the same illness(es)?

yes! i wont name anyone just in case but i know quite a few people actually

12. Are you friends with people with the same illness(es)?

yes lol

13. What would you like to tell people who have been confirmed that they’re mentally ill and are having a hard time accepting it?

i know the stigma around mental illness is awful but theres nothing wrong with you. you arent ‘crazy’. accept help from people around you.

14. What do you do to let out your emotions?

cry, write about it, talk to myself

15. Do you think mental health services should be improved in your country/area/in general? How?

honestly i dont know of any mental health programs in my city so?

16. Does your family have a history of mental illness?

my mom and my sister have ADD but im not sure if that counts or not

17. Have people ever told you that you’re too young to say that you’re mentally ill?

absolutely. 

18. Is/are there any mental illness(es) you wish you knew more about?

honestly i want to learn about every mental illness more! theres so much stigma that no one wants to talk about it

19. Do you have any phobias?

im not sure if they’re a phobia but anything sensory that is not normal for me i dont like (for ex: snow sounds, the feel of pudding, any sort of yelling); the auditory cause me to get upset a lot

20. Do you watch any mental health YouTubers? Which ones?

not really

21. Do you have a favorite mental illness blog?

@anxiety-relief-masterposts is awesome!

22. Do you run a mental illness blog?

i do but im not sharing the link :)

23. Have you ever been afraid to tell someone about your mental illness because of the stigma surrounding that particular illness?

absolutely. my parents only know about my diagnosed anxiety and social anxiety not about anything else

24. Does your mental illness affect your gender and/or your sexual/romantic orientation?

i dont think so but i wouldnt be surprised tbh

25. What would you like to tell the people who have invalidated your mental illness?

fuck you

26. Who do you prefer talking to about your mental illness?

my girlfriend or my close friends!

27. What are you like when you’re having a good day?

i either have really good days or really bad days and there’s no in between so im full of energy and impulsive 

28. Do you think the mental illness(es) you have should be talked about more?

yes, all mental illnesses should be talked about more

29. What do you find comfort in?

my cat, big sweaters, my bedroom, my girlfriend

30. Is there a mentally ill person you look up to?

not really

[luc4ri0]

So,in a stroke of good mood i decided to sit down and type some sort of year review/objectives for next year,just to have it documented here.

this year was definitely a wild ride,a year of some definite solid improvement in my mental health.

starting with a short but important “relationship” with a younger girl who set the train in motion.

for the first time someone was madly in love with me,i couldnt possibly compreend, after several failed attempts my whole life to win the heart of people i met throughout my life,i finally did it,i met someone amazing who felt so much affection for me that i actually didnt know how to respond,even though i had the intention to have a relationship in the first place.

that was an incredible experience,it felt like after so much suffering,the “rainbow after the storm” finally happened, i was in absolute bliss, she liked anime,she liked games,she was adorable,she was caring,she was lewd just like me,there was nothing to complain...

with that newfound strenght i set out to show my age by becoming a good example for her to follow,i did the best i could to make her understand how incredible she was,and how confused i was about her actually liking me.

i was roped by my mom to enter highschool again,after 3 years without going to school,in a newfound happiness that felt like the perfect oportunity,i was a 21 year old boy being looked at like i was amazing,so i started highschool again.

and it was incredible,i felt like i was regaining my lost teen years,i felt incredibly powerful,like the world was mine to do as i please...but as time went by,i felt scared,i regret giving up on that girl,but she was 16,and i panicked because i thought i could never live up to the expectations of her parents,specially after her father saw her giving me a goodbye kiss..

but in a way,she was incredibly infatuated,it was like each of us were fueling a really lonesome part of our personalities,we were both incredibly needy,and the more i fueled her neediness,the more she fueled mine.

but it didnt cancel it out,on the contrary,it just made things even harder,because now her dad had an incredibly wrong image of me,because he was very overprotective (also used to be a trucker,so that scared me)

dialing back a bit,i was surprised by how i actually managed to join a social group in my class on day one,and there was this really cute gay guy who i kept flirting back and forth for about a couple of months of school time.

it even led to a successful trip to his house for my first ever netflix and chill session,it was incredible,me,the shy guy who couldnt even say lewd words next to girls,suddenly managed to flirt my way into a netflix and chill session!

we watched lucifer,it was really good (although later on it started getting predictable),and he actually said he liked my body hair!? it was a really weird situation where the thing i hated the most about my body was called sexy by another person,we cuddled a lot,and he gave me a few kisses,but no tongue (later on he mentioned he wanted to kiss me more intensely)

with a few months passing by in school,there was a class president election,and suddenly i thought “i never once tried to do anything that actively tries to help a class i was in...maybe this could be fun for a change?”

so me and this cute guy who i had a nice time with (which didnt lead to anything more than just kisses that one time i might add) volunteered to it,he ended up winning and i got vice-president (because we were literally the only ones who volunteered)

i was a bit bummed out at first because i REALLY wanted to be class president,but at least i would be vice together with this cute boy i was getting super attached to.

but thats where things started to go downhill.

or at least thats where people SAY things went downhill.

around the time the election happened,i finally mustered up the courage to go back to therapy,after 3 or 4 years of wallowing in my own thoughts i did what i promised my best friend i would do,and started treatment,and god damn,was it a relief,i noticed instantly how much i missed having a therapist (as i had one for 3 years straight when i was growing up)

but as sessions went by,and i started touching more sensitive topics,my mood started to waver a lot according to the session

i started overthinking everything,as it usually is with analizing yourself in therapy

but that started getting the best of me,and thats when i finally started the oficial treatment with actual medication. and as youre probably aware of,starting to take anxiety/depression meds can do a lot of weird things on how you act

specially now that i was taking it for an indefinite time,as opposed to only taking it for a week once when i was very young

and,although i acted out of my best intentions,telling everybody in our class group in whatsapp about all the tests and posting pictures of each day’s material for people who couldnt come,somewhere along the way,people started getting annoyed with me,allegedly being “too pushy with the good responsible student act”

later on a weird occurance happened where a new classmate who’d just transfered accidentally posted a selfie to our whatsapp group (we had one for informative class stuff exclusively and another one for social chatting and doing basically whatever the fuck)

at the time,my phone was having a lot of charging problems,leaving my only option to charge its battery directly,meaning i had to charge my battery all afternoon with my phone turned off,and turning on my phone before leaving for school

so i turn on my phone as im one step away from leaving my house (and i didnt have a data plan,so i only had internet while i was at home),and see a simple selfie in the wrong group,with no comment added by anyone or an “oops wrong chat” message,just a message from two hours earlier with a selfie,so,as vice-president what do i do? i ask “why is there a selfie in this group?” because the only rule of the group was informative class stuff only,no memes or chatting.

thats literally it,word by word,what i said,so,after an honest question with simple curiosity,i leave home,not too worried,expecting that “she probably will say sorry and delete it,no big deal”,i arrive at the school and theres an uproar

the class president says hes having to deal with the mess ive made,and im completely confused,it was such a simple message that it didnt even cross my mind that it could be the reason,so there i am absolutely lost on what i couldve done (and if you struggle with anxiety you can guess i was in absolute panic)

so he shows me the chat log,and theres a huge wall of messages in the informative group talking shit about me,calling me names and complaining about how rude i was,and how i attacked the poor new classmate who just didnt know about the rules of the chat group

and there i am,more lost than i was before knowing the reason for the uproar,obviously feeling like shit because i had absolutely zero intention to hurt anyone,and honestly couldnt understand how i offended someone with literally one message

and mind you,the girl in question wasnt even offended,in one of the voice messages in the group she was laughing her ass off at the whole situation (so in a way there was a lot of white knighting from the class),but as i should,i go to the girl anyway and ask her if she was offended,and apologize for any misunderstandings

but like i said before,this was the start of the downfall,from that point on there were several classmates who set out their goal to hate my guts,one in particular looked at me with incredible hatred every time she passed by me,like,the type of person who you feel intimidated just by their stare alone

she would always be rude for no reason with me,talking shit about me at any given time she saw me in the vicinity (mind you,behind my back,but in clear sight,like i couldnt obviously hear)

and after some trouble trying to understand the whole situation and process why i was being hated by a bunch of people for not only something that wasnt offensive,but very strongly so

but i move on,more or less,time passes by and people end up not mentioning it anymore,but later on,as i had already burried the subject in the back of my mind,a class council happens and the teacher asks us to bring up anything troubling us that she could mention to each teacher,you know,normal school stuff

the teacher then asks if the whole selfie situation was handled and finished,because apparently some people went to the principal complain about me and the whole situation and it was archived as a problem

and some of the classmates that hated me bring up the whole argument again about how ignorant and rude i was,and god,i tried so hard to block out the situation in my memory,but my anxiety came waving back with full force

after that point the whole situation kept nagging me at the back of my mind,trying to compreend where i went wrong,and how what i said couldve possibly have been all that people were claiming it to be

and as months passed by,it started eating me up,and around the middle of the year (at winter break,which is the equivalent to the 2 weeks of summer break people get in the us,but our seasons switched) im looking at the chat group and something comes from deep bellow in my mind and comes out completely unfiltered

i post a photo of my school grades with the message,word by word: “post a photo of your grades so i can boost my ego”,as my grades were excellent and i was fed up with all the passive agressiveness half of the class was giving me.

granted,that was an incredibly dick move on my part,but i have this really bad habit where once im at my limit with someone talking shit about me for an absurdly stupid reason that makes no sense,i just sorta play into it,to “see if they like it if i really become the evil they so claim to see in me”

i could hide behind the fact that it is a coping mechanism to feel empowered for a short period of time,since i spent my entire life being abused mentally and physically by my mom,but honestly,it was just me having a breakdown

obviously the message caused a huge uproar and people were rightfuly mad this time around,but i just laughed it off,because they reacted exactly how i expected them to react,claiming having definite proof of how much of an arrogant asshole i am

but i was still having a breakdown nonetheless,so it didnt take long for me to feel incredible regret for fueling the exact opposite image of myself

and,right after we come back to school from that short 2 week break,im leaving school like normal and i overhear a conversation between the people who dont like me,saying “now hes gonna feel it,im want a certain someone to quit being the vice president” (obviously talking about me),and the other girl says “quit being vice class president? i want him to quit living”,literally right as im walking by them

and at that single moment when i heard those last words so many emotions passed through my mind in a flash,i wanted to explode,i wanted to yell,i wanted to cry,but i just passed by silently,and as soon as i got home,those words kept echoing in my head,ive never heard anyone say anything so mean to me before,ive always been everybody’s friend in every class ive been to,at the most ive had some annoying pricks trying to flex on me for not having a girlfriend or being a shut-in

and that fucking destroys me,it was on a friday too,so i had a whole 3 nights with that shaking around inside my head,so i set out for first thing on monday to complain about bullying,prepared to tell the whole story behind it and how unfair it was but then,something beats me to the punch...

im called to the supervisors office,she wants to talk to me,i can already guess the reason,the girls probably schemed to complain about me,but it was worse than i imagined,they actually shared around the class on that friday a petition to remove my position as the vice class president

and im absolutely distraught as i look at the list of names,there were so fucking many,granted my class doesnt even have that many students that attend to class regularly,so about 8 or more of the 15 or so students of my class that frequently go to school sign it

and there i am,i received an “impeachment”,de-throned,the person who did their very best to help everyone in the class with absolutely everything,claimed to be arrogant.

but moving on,the situation is solved,people set out to hate me,i go through the year like normal,talking mainly to my two friends in class.

and here i am,in my summer break,passing with flying colors and excellent grades

in fact,at no point i had to re-take a test,the only ones i did were because one teacher in particular forces everyone to re-take them

when finals came around,no matter what happened in them i would still be fine,i didnt even NEED the finals,thats how good my grades were

overall,this year had its ups and downs,but as my therapist described it,this year was really hard for me because this was the year i rose from the ashes like a phoenix,in the social sense,and im very proud,but that aint ending there!

next year i have at least 3 things i plan to do (aside from obviously getting my official highschool certificate): im going to do a profficiency test in english to make it official that i am fluent in english as my second language (which can be used for tons of things,specially making your curriculum fancier),im going to work all year arround to gather a ton of money with the intention to be ready to move out on my own by the end of next year (or the beginning of the next next year) and last but not least:

i will turn on fuck it mode,i will help 0 people in my class,i will do all essays and group projects alone,and my notebooks wont leave my posession a single time.

this year i did my fucking best to help absolutely everyone,even the people who hated me,to give everyone a chance to succeed this school year,and all i got back was being shafted by almost the entire class for no reason,so yea,if they really hate me so much,they will fucking miss how helpful i am next year

i want 2k19 to be MY year,i finally feel like im myself after so long,so i want to do stuff I WANT,this year i already got my first tattoo,next year im getting another,and i will use the money i earn to buy stuff exclusively for me,im not gonna help with bills of whatever,its my money and my mom cannot make me give it to her,and if she complains i will literally use my own money to buy a router that only i can use.

so yea,bring on 2019,im fucking ready to rumble!

[kiasullivan]

A sentence that changed our lives forever.. “Well the test results are back and basically confirm what you already knew”… 

In that exact moment, all the questions were finally answered and confirmed our suspicions.

Why wasn’t my boyfriend able to handle heat, any temperature above 24 degrees, couldn’t participate in any sport, and had an exercise intolerance? Fabry Disease.

Why couldn’t he sweat, therefore severely overheating? Fabry Disease.

What were the small red sore dots he had sprawled over his body? Angiokeratomas, Fabry Disease.

Why was it ‘normal’ that my boyfriend spent a minimum of 45 minutes on the toilet directly after eating almost anything, healthy or not, associated with horrible stomach pain? Fabry Disease. 

Why did he live in constant discomfort and pain all throughout his body and struggle with every day tasks and work? Fabry Disease.

Why was it that approximately every 12-18 months he would go through a stage where he became dreadfully ill for a week at a time. It would always start out with the flu, a basic cold for most people and turns into him being unable to control the pain. Literally screaming out for help while being stuck in bed, held captive in his own body feeling like his limbs are being crushed and burnt - felt initially in the hands and feet and radiating to other parts of the body. Running a high temperature that wont budge. Unable to even hold himself up in the shower in an attempt to cool off and having ice packs and wet cloths on him throughout the night to try and manage the temperature. Uncontrollable shaking from the pain. Being in absolute agony and all you can do is watch helplessly and wish that you could take the pain away. Fabry Disease 

Before his diagnosis the hospitals put it down to anxiety and said to take Panadol. Monday was the beginning of another episode, which since his diagnosis in May 2017 we now know as a ‘Fabry pain crisis’. A simple sore throat from having a good late night out, and within 24 hours we’re dealing with everything I mentioned above. He’s sleeping at the moment which is good so I’m taking some time out to write this. We’ve been waking up all through the night for the next lot of medication and we’re all exhausted. We’ve got enough pain killing medication in this house to open our own chemist right about now.  Panadol, Nurofen, Tegretol, Cold & Flu Medication, Endone, cream to cool his skin down. You name it. We got it. 

I’m not normally one to complain about my life. I spent a lot of my teenage years self harming and suffering from depression but I’m learning to see the positive in every situation and sure we all have good and bad days, however, lately, we just cant catch a break. Between my Type 1 Diabetes, struggling with my blood sugar levels and getting my ratios correct, being miserable at work and unsure on what to do in that regard, and now with the recent diagnosis of my boyfriend and the current pain crisis and running on minimal sleep…. I just feel like crawling into a hole and disappearing for a few days.

Our future looked bright. I’m sure it still is, but the vision is just a bit cloudy at the moment. Our plans to save for a house, get married and have a beautiful family. What to expect seems really unclear right now. Can he still take over his fathers business? He can barely cope at the moment let alone the pressure and stresses of being there alone. How much longer can his hands cope with the demands of being a mechanic? 

The defective Fabry gene is inherited on the X chromosome, so all of our daughters would inherit the disease and none of our sons would. Females aren’t usually affected as severe and are often looked at as just “carriers” of the disease due to females having two X chromosomes, one inherited from each parent, and therefore having a ‘non defective’ X chromosome to fall back on resulting in the symptoms generally not being as severe as males. Although, my boyfriends Aunty has Fabry Disease as well and unfortunately suffers the full extent of the disease.

During the first night of this current crisis, my boyfriend asked me what we’d say to our children in the future when this inevitably happens again. I didn’t have an answer, and being completely honest - it breaks my heart. Seeing what he goes through is hard enough as a 22 year old, let alone explaining that to a child. Are our precious baby girls destined for the same fate their father has to endure? To what extent will Fabry Disease affect our baby girls, will they just be a carrier or will they have all the symptoms and suffer every day like their daddy does? Once our girls are old enough will they resent us for consciously passing this horrible disease onto them? If we never had a baby girl, the disease would stop where it is and not progress further down our family line. It’s a lot to take in, but when the information is laid out in front of you, you’re forced to think about the future and your children. Whats the right thing to do in a situation like this?

On the other hand.. my boyfriend is facing the unavoidable complications that correspond with Fabry Disease.

- Highly increased chance of kidney failure throughout life; - Increased risk of heart disease and high blood pressure; - Enlarged heart, malfunctioning heart valves, irregular heartbeat, heart attack and heart failure; - Obstructive pulmonary disease ranging from mild to chronic; - Fabry Disease can disrupt normal blood flow in the brain resulting in strokes.

Every post you read on Fabry Support Groups or online has a negative attached to it. “My father died at 50″, “My brother had 3 strokes by 45″, “I have heart problems by 30″. 

I am so scared to live a life without him by my side. Especially if anything happened to him so young. *touching all the wood I can find* And how does a mother explain to their kids that dad can’t ever go and play outside with them because he is in too much pain, or dads had a heart attack and is spending a bit of time in hospital and that's why he's not there to tuck them into bed. What kind of a life is that for a child. Fabry Disease is complicated and daunting enough for a adult to take in their stride, let alone children trying to understand whats wrong. Not having children was never an option for me, I can’t wait to be a mother one day and experience that kind of love. So naturally you start to question your plans and life timetable.. Would it be better to have babies sooner than planned? So he can enjoy them before he gets worse. We don’t know what the future holds and can’t foresee how, when or even if he will deteriorate. I’m just praying that when he’s ready to be a father he’s still okay.

We’ve spent numerous days in hospitals having various tests done to determine if any damage has taken place yet. To qualify for treatment for Fabry Disease you need to have proof that one of your major organs have been affected by this disease. How stupid is that right? Treatment that will benefit the patient and boost their quality of life, but no you can’t have it until damage has already taken place.

We were told that he had light scarring on the heart. Yes, at 22. I wont lie, I cried a lot about that. This finding automatically qualified him to receive Enzyme Replacement Therapy (ERT). ERT replaces the enzyme that is missing or not working correctly so that the body can break down fatty substances the way it should normally. The drug is administered by intravenous (IV) infusion. This is a process that involves injecting the drug into a vein, directly into the bloodstream and is done every 2 weeks under the care of a hospital for the rest of his life. Treatment can take 5-6 hours to begin with. As the body is not use to having this enzyme it is important to administer the drug slowly to ensure there are no detrimental reactions. It will slowly decrease to a few hours. We were told that sometime in the future there would be a possibility of receiving ERT at home. 

He is due to commence ERT on Wednesday 16 August 2017. And I will be by his side every step of the way.

I am so scared as to what the future holds in all of its uncertainty. But what I am certain about, while I’m sitting here next to him and he is peacefully sleeping, is that there is nothing in the world that I love more than this wonderful man right here and there is no where else I would rather be, then going through all of life’s highs and lows with him. I will always strive to be the best I can be for him, to support him in any way possible. To help him achieve his dreams and push him to reach for the stars. To care for him and love him a little bit more when he is down, and to be his biggest fan and supporter when he is up. I love him unconditionally and do not need a marriage certificate to vow “in sickness and in health” because we already took that vow on 1,537 days ago.

[letssmakethislastforeverr]

In tha feels

I've always been a firm believer, everything happens for a reason....to an extent. But god damn I never thought by 21 life would shit on me this hard. I'd kill to be young and innocent again because that's the last time life felt right. Between the abuse I watched between my parents, watching my mother drink herself silly and pass out before the sun went down. I knew what a shot was before I was 10. Going through their divorce and watching as my mother got on a plane and saying what I never knew would be my "final" goodbye because she never came back, she never gave me a dime. I needed that guidance, I needed someone to teach me to be a woman. But no, I did it all on my own. To watch my dad struggle to take care of me, having to go out of town for work to provide for me, but again left to fend for myself. Then to watch him drink himself to death, may his dear soul rest in peace. But then again left to take on this cruel world on my own. I don't know stability, I don't know "normal". All I ever wanted was that, I wanted a family, I wanted someone to just hold me and say I love you, whether it be love me as a person or in love with me, that's all I wanted and still wanted, yet I learned to be cold and numb. Depression and anxiety took over me because it was finally something to feel and that actually became normal to me. Turning to drugs to cope with life because reality scared me, dealing with the next day scared me and to be honest most days I didn't want that next day to come. So I shoved whatever I could up my nose whether it be xanax or heroin, it numbed a part of me that I never thought I could numb and that also became normal, forgetting reality for a little while was nice. Knowing that the drugs may or may not have killed me didn't really matter to me, even if I didn't know what I was taking or snorting I really didn't care as long as it fucked me up I was just fine with that. I never knew growing up would feel so terrifying because all I knew was just bad memories so why have hope that good was to come? I let guys emotionally abuse me, I stayed in relationships simply because it was someone to say I love you, knowing they didn't I just wanted to feel like I mattered finally. And you know what, I found that love, yet at the time he didn't know how to really show it and at times we were toxic for each other but I felt something even without the drugs, although there weren't many times drugs weren't involved. We fought like cats and dogs but at the end of the day we knew we were partners and life didn't really seem right without each other. I soon left because I thought it would make their life better because of the toxic person I am, all I do is being everyone down around me like a bull dozer, but really he passed away and all of a sudden it made sense, I was truly and deeply in love, I realized I had my soulmate and I was convinced no matter where life took us, we'd end up together... But that's not how the tale ended, I loved and I lost him, the first ounce of love I felt and it got ripped away from me in the blink of an eye. Since then I haven't been myself, I look in the mirror and I don't even recognize myself, I'm not Briana I am a ghost and a empty shell. I don't feel any emotions anymore besides sadness or anger, I forgot what happiness feels like. Since then I've made some dumb choices I do admit and ive really dug my own grave, but its never too late to change, tomorrow is a new day. I wanna be happy to get out of bed, I wanna be excited to live life again. My eyes are open and its time to change and become who Briana is really supposed to be. Simple fact is, I want normality.