#like my brain is just Stuck in Hunger Fog but I can’t Eat about it

[clownboyskingdom]

Who needs to worry about things when Capitalism can just beat you to death

[lexosaurus]

Going Angst Week 2021: Instinct

Read: [1: birth]

Warning: Ghost Hunger

---

Ectoplasm was poisonous to humans. Danny knew that, it was one of the first things his parents had drilled into him when he was a kid.

If humans ingested small amounts of ectoplasm, they’d be sick but would likely be fine the next day. If they ingested large amounts of ectoplasm, they’d be rushed to the ER to get their stomach pumped, and if they didn’t make it there in time, they’d die.

Danny had accidentally eaten ectoplasm-infused cookies enough times in his childhood to be able to taste it’s gross battery-acid flavor. He’d felt enough stomach cramps from his mother’s cooking before Jazz insisted that they install a second fridge in the lab to store their samples inside of to know how much the human body hated the substance. 

Ectoplasm was poison. Period.

So then why was it that when he stared down longingly at the carnage before him, did he want nothing more than to dip his hand into the delicious pool of green and scoop it into his mouth?

He knew he should leave—his parents would be arriving soon—but as he stared down at the unfortunate remains of the giant ectoplasm mosquito on the pavement, all he could think about was how hungry he was and how sick he’d been all week and this was it, this was the thing that would cure him, he just needed to reach down...

Danny shook his head in disgust. He was still partially human, he couldn’t just eat ectoplasm. 

But he was so, so hungry.

Nothing he’d eaten in the past week had satisfied his hunger. No, this was something else. Something that originated deep down in his core. No human food could fix this, he knew that on instinct.

Ectoplasm was poison.

But he was starving.

Danny closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. This wasn’t the first time he’d gotten these strange cravings. They’d been happening ever since he learned how to shoot ghost-rays with his hands. 

At first, it was easy to ignore. Just a twinge of his stomach here, a slight watering of his mouth there. Little annoyances, but nothing he couldn’t blame on exhaustion or academic stress.

But lately, the hunger had been getting worse. Just looking at a pool of ectoplasm made his heart skip a beat, and the sight of an entire ghost mosquito carcass was enough to make him want to collapse in relief.

He needed to do something. Leave. He couldn’t stay here, he was going to lose it. 

God, this was horrible. He was disgusting for even entertaining the idea.

Danny glanced back at the mosquito. Its core had smashed somehow during the fight, allowing its fresh ectoplasm to pool onto the pavement before it. The sun was setting, and it was hitting the fresh green in just the right way.

“Shut up,” Danny snapped. He wasn’t some feral vampire, he was Danny Phantom. Amity Park’s local ghost protector. He wasn’t just going to…

He glanced around. No one was here, and no one was passing by on the street either. Maybe he could afford just one little taste…

...just one…

...no one else had to know…

...he just needed to reach down and…

His fingers brushed the cool liquid, and as if he were shocked he jolted up, pressing his back into the brick building behind him and breathing hard. 

That was close. Too close. He needed to get out of here quickly before he lost control.

But as he stared back down at the gooey carcass, it was as if a trance had overtaken him. His mind fogged up, and all his worries and stresses seemed to melt away.

The only thing he knew was that he was starving, and there was food. 

Danny crouched down over the mosquito and shyly stuck his hand back out over the glowing pool of liquid. He hesitated, as if there were still some part of his mind that was trying to resist when he knew that he just needed to chill out, Danny. It’s okay. Trust yourself.

He was a ghost. He knew what he was doing.

Closing his eyes, he dipped his hand into the ectoplasm. He shuddered, allowing his hands to explore the cool liquid. It felt...nice. And his hunger seemed to yell louder until he couldn’t ignore the voice in his head goading him to eat the ectoplasm, just eat it, eat the ectoplasm, eat the food.

He brought his hand up to his mouth, and it was as if something inside him shorted out. 

His brain switched off, all thoughts left his body. The only thing that mattered was the ectoplasm, the food, his hunger, god this tasted so nice. 

His world was green, and that was all he needed.

---

“What’s wrong with me?” Danny cried. “Why can’t I stop?”

His hands were plastered in ectoplasm, and he could feel the sticky substance dripping down his suit, threading in his hair, smearing across his face.

“Well, isn’t it obvious?” Vlad said, hardly looking up from his paperwork on his desk. “You’re starving yourself.”

“But—but I don’t…” Danny collapsed in a chair and buried his head in his hands. 

“Daniel, really. I thought you were better than this pointless drivel.”

Danny shook his head. In a muffled voice, he whimpered, “Please, just tell me how to make this stop. I—I can’t stop. Please. I don’t want to be this monster.”

Vlad sighed and set down his pen. “Halfas have unique biologies in that due to the nature of our deaths, we have naturally powerful cores. The more powerful the ghost core, the more self-generating ectoplasm they can produce for their bodies, which then can offset any ectoplasm lost through daily functions. Like blood cells. Except, if you use more ectoplasm than your body can produce, it starts looking for other ways to replenish it. Typically for ghosts, the ambient ectoplasm in the Ghost Zone would do. But in the human world, there isn’t enough ambient ectoplasm for us to use, so we starve until our core takes matters into its own hands.”

“So, what. I have to move to the Ghost Zone? I don’t understand. Do you get like this?” Danny lifted his head up to see Vlad massaging his temples.

“Well unlike you, I’m not a complete moron who lets themselves get to the point where they can no longer control themselves.”

“But I don't want to do this! I don’t want to...to eat other ghosts.”

“Then don’t.” Vlad stood and yanked Danny through the floor and into his lab. He shoved Danny into the corner of the room. “Clean yourself up. I won’t have you dripping used ectoplasm all over my clean floors.”

Danny hung his head in a mixture of shock and shame as the hot water from the decontamination shower sprayed down on his body, washing the green stains from his suit onto the floor and down the drain.

Meanwhile, Vlad flitted around the lab, wasting no time in between plucking various tubes and files from their shelves to simultaneously berate Danny. “Really, Daniel, I know you’re an idiot but even you can’t be this appallingly stupid. There are many ways to consume ectoplasm that don’t involve tearing the cores out of your adversaries. Of course, if you continue to insist on being a toddler about your different biology then I have no doubt you’ll be back in this sorry state sooner than you can imagine.”

“Please, just tell me what to do.”

Vlad pulled out what appeared to be glowing green lettuce. “These are ectoplasmic vegetables. They grow in the Ghost Zone. I tend to prefer them with a nice cherry vinaigrette and paired with a glass of dry chardonnay. Do you understand, Daniel? The Ghost Zone is a parallel of the human dimension. If there are plants in the human world, there will also exist a variation of those plants in the Ghost Zone. You find the right ally, and you have your dinner.”

Danny stared dumbly at the plant. He’d only been to the Ghost Zone once before, when he was terrified his parents were getting divorced. And that trip had left him too scared to even think about going back.

“Where do you get yours from?” Danny asked.

Vlad put the lettuce back in the metal refrigerator. “Skulker. You know, my lackey? You may have heard of him.”

“Right.” Danny furrowed his brows. He couldn’t ask Skulker if he could have some of the plants—the ghost wanted to kill him. Again.

But he didn’t know anyone else who had ecto-plants either.

“I don’t know where I’d get them. I don’t know any ghosts.”

“Well, that seems like a personal problem.”

“Please!” Danny begged. “There has to be another way. I don’t know anyone! I can’t do this again. Please, Vlad.”

The true question was hidden underneath. But Danny knew what Vlad was going to say, and judging by Vlad’s vicious smirk, Danny’s assumptions were correct.

“Maybe if you stopped fighting your true nature, you wouldn’t have to beg for my food like a pathetic child.”

“Vlad, I—I don’t know what to do.”

Vlad transformed into his ghost form, his eyes glowing a harsh red against the dim light. “You may be a human, but you’re also a ghost. It’s time you started acting like one.”

He could feel it. His core, taunting him from under his skin. Telling him to give in, just trust it, trust his instincts.

But he couldn’t do it. He was scared, he didn’t understand why his instincts were telling him to act certain ways and do certain things. Why were the emotions of his friends and family suddenly so important to him? Why did he feel so compelled to play protector to the town? Why did he have to try to be so normal around Sam and Tucker?

Why couldn’t he go too long without transforming into his ghost form? Why did it feel like an addiction that was impossible to break?

What was wrong with him?

Give in, just give in. 

“I can’t.”

“You have to, Daniel.”

“But if I do that…”

“Then you’ll finally be admitting the truth of what you are. Why is that so wrong?”

Because I’m a ghost, ghosts are evil, ghosts are wrong, they shouldn’t exist, ghosts and humans don’t mix, ghosts are cruel creatures, they’re selfish, they’ll only act in their own self-interest.

But that was what his parents had told him. Was that true?

Did he know anything about ghosts?

Not really. Except for one, crucial thing:

Ghosts were different. 

Danny Fenton couldn’t be different.

---

<previous / next>

[another-tmnt-writer]

Congested and Contested

Donnie x Reader

Author: Admin JemPrompt: Hello! May I request a Image where the reader, (Donnie’s GF), is sick but denies it until she gets her butt kicked by the guys at training, almost faints, then confesses she that she is ill and Donnie cares for her? Thank you!!

Note: I am under the weather a bit so this really made me feel all happy and wanting a turtle to take care of my sick college bumm. 

Warnings: Being sick? Undereating? Close to fainting? Honestly pretty chill.

Word Count:   2.1K

When you woke up for the day you could immediately tell something was off. Your eyes were so heavy and it felt like someone had shoved cotton balls into your skull, and left some plugging your nose. You couldn’t breathe except through your mouth which was so dry that you could barely take a breath without feeling like each inhale was a barbed wire being pulled down your throat then back out again. You groaned when you found your limbs were jelly. Everything felt disjointed and heavy.

You forced yourself upright and could feel your nose alleviate some of the blockages before coming back full force with a new friend- a pounding headache. Oh just great. I love a double whammy. Not.

When you heard the knock on the door and the bright light of the hallway invade your senses, it felt like your head would explode.

“You’re up- good. We have breakfast ready.”

You squinted at the large figure in the doorway, seeing enough features to determine it to be Donnie, with his bo staff strapped to his back and glasses being adjusted by a three-fingered hand. He smiled as you just groaned.

“Can I just stay in bed today?” You croaked, placing your head in your hands and gave a sharp sniff, trying to breathe easier.

Donnie moved towards you quickly and sat next to you. He moved your hair from your face and placed his lips against your forehead. You sighed as his cooler lips came into contact with your overheated body.

“Sweetheart,” He pulled away, “you’re burning up.”

You pouted as he got up and began walking the space of the room and began mumbling to himself on what your symptoms were. You sighed. You knew he would work himself into a worried frenzy and work until he was able to get you better. He had already been in his lab so much trying to find Shredder and what he was planning, you couldn’t put more on him.

You shook your head, “Don’t worry, love, I’m fine.”

You pushed the blankets off of you, shivering as you crawled out of your warm cocoon. Your headache began again with a vengeance. Taking a moment to recuperate, you pretended to look around for a clean shirt, when in reality you didn’t want to drop to the floor.

Donnie remained on the bed watching you with a crease between his brows. He knew you weren’t feeling well. He knew how stubborn you were. He also knew if he pushed the issue too far you would go silent and walk around the lair anyways. As long as he kept an eye on you today, Donnie could help when you were ready to ask.

When you were finally dressed- who knew trying to put on a sports bra when sick could be so freaking difficult??- you shot Donnie a smile and took his hand before leading him from the room. Donnie kept your hand in his and kept himself close to you the whole way. You just shrugged and let him have his moment of being protective. You couldn’t handle an argument very well with your nose running a mile a minute and your brain trying to replicate a whole drumline in your skull.

As you walked into the kitchen you were hit by so much noise and chaos you debated on turning around right then and there. Mikey was blasting “Wap” from the speaker April had gotten him- the same woman who introduced him to TikTok- while tossing a pancake onto a plate periodically. Leo sat with a smile, occasionally mouthing the lyrics and bobbing his head with the beat. Raph had resorted to banging the cutlery on the table in an impromptu drum session and was catching a pancake as they flew past him. Splinter merely sat reading a novel as he cut his pancakes into precise pieces.

Donnie nudged you towards a chair next to Leo before grabbing the two of you some plates. As he set one down in front of you you saw that Leo had been staring at you.

“What’s up, Fearless?” you drawled.

He just smiled softly and passed you some orange juice.

YES! Vitamin D to help take away some of the grogginess. When you were younger your mom would always make you a grilled cheese sandwich with either tomato or chicken noodle soup with a glass of orange juice. She always said it would help cure three parts of a cold. The hunger, the frowns, and the sleepies. It always cheered you up and never failed to make you feel like a little girl again when you got orange juice or grilled cheese.

You nodded gratefully before filling the glass and taking a big gulp. The cool drink on your dry throat felt amazing and you could feel your headache abate a bit. Well until Mikey walked up to you and decided to scream, “HOT PANCAKES!” before plopping six on your plate.

Your eyes widened. You were a food lover for sure, but there was no way you were going to be able to eat all of those. You raised your eyes to see Donnie smiling softly as he put four from your plate onto his. You nodded in thanks and started to nibble on what was in front of you. You weren’t even that hungry but you knew that if you didn’t eat at all then you would drop halfway through the day from malnutrition. That wouldn’t help your case of not being sick. 

The boys were done eating in record time while you struggled to eat even half of your food. They shot looks at each other while Donnie’s eyebrows furrowed at your attempts to finish off your plate.

“Love?” 

You looked up to see 5 pairs of eyes on you. You chuckled, “Guess pancakes aren’t the move for me today. Sorry, Mikey.”

“It’s all good, sweetcheeks,” Mikey took your plate and began eating what was left, “You feeling okay?”

“Of course. Fit as a fiddle.” You bluffed. 

Donnie shook his head at you and stole a glance at Splinter, who nodded back.

You narrowed your eyes at them. What on earth were they concocting? 

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were stuck on the side of the mat as the boys trained. Splinter would ignore your attempts to jump in to spar with the boys and passed over you on all the demonstrations. It was infuriating. You had been training for months with the boys, proving you could handle yourself despite your smaller size. A stupid cold wasn’t going to keep you from training. Raph had the flu and still got to fight and go on patrol, but you couldn’t even train? No way.

You looked onto the sparring mat to see Raph on the ground, pissed as usual that he hadn’t beaten the leader in blue.  He ignored Leo’s hand and stood up by himself. Leo shook his head and went to where Splinter was working Mikey and Donnie through some movements. 

You smirked. This was your chance.

Snagging some water you strode over to Raph. Sniffed before getting to close so he wouldn’t hear your breaths ratting as easily. 

“Hey Red,” you offered the bottle to him.

He took it with clenched hands. “Hey Y/N. How ya feelin’?”

“Fine,” you said through clenched teeth.

Raph raised an eyebrow.

“wanna spar?” you shot out before he could begin to ask further about how you were doing. Honestly standing and talking was wiping you out and your head was pounding. 

“Nah I can’t fight ya when you’re like this. I would-“

You cut him off. “Scared you’re gonna lose again? I’m sure Leo would be willing to spar- more of a challenge anyways.”

You turned around but paused when Raph grabbed your elbow and whipped you back around. 

 “Let’s go.” He growled. He tossed the water bottle to the edge of the mat before backing away to get into his stance. So predictable. 

As you lowered yourself into a stance, he pounced at you. You had to duck and weave to avoid his offensive approach. You were hardly able to take in a breath and all the jumping around was making your head spin. Raph landed a blow to your shoulder and sent you back a good 2 feet. You could hardly breathe anymore. Your vision started to get darker spots on the edges of your vision. Raph stopped and called out for Donnie. You crouched down when you began to sway. Your breath came in shallow gasps and it felt like there was fog in your ears, your eyes, and your tongue felt so heavy. 

“Y/N?” you felt a cool hand press itself to your clammy forehead. “Love, you’re burning up”

Just as your vision faded completely you managed to get out, “It’s cuz I’m so hot.” Then it went dark.

When you woke up later, it was very quiet except for the mild hum of a diffuser on the table next to you. As you tried to sit up you found there was something heavy on your head. You lifted your hand and removed the damp cloth from your forehead to see that you were in a cocoon of blankets, head propped up by a pillow. As you shifted, you saw that someone had changed you out of your sweaty clothes into a clean T-shirt. You sniffed it and determined it was Donnie’s because of how big it was on you and the light scent of motor grease. You sat up quickly and took another deep breath. You could smell again! You smiled and saw a glass of ice water on the table. You gulped it down quickly and sighed as the cool liquid soothed your dry throat.

The door cracked open and Donnie popped his head in. He smiled and opened the door further when he saw that you were awake. He carried a tray with a bowl and toast with him, which he sat on the table next to you. He placed his hand on your forehead. 

“Hi love,” he took out a thermometer and turned it on, “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” you opened your mouth and he placed the device under your tongue. 

“You scared me back there. Why didn’t you just let me take care of you earlier? You could’ve gotten seriously hurt.” He looked at you in concern. You knew you worried him and it wasn’t fair. But you don’t want to be the weak link in his family. He was always so strong and took care of everyone else. You wanted to show him you could be strong too. 

Instead, you pointed to the thermometer in your mouth. 

He chuckled and nodded. “I’ll wait.”

The thermometer beeped and Donnie read the temperature. 

“99.7. Still a little high but better than before.” He said.

You looked down at your hands. “I’m sorry I worried you. I didn’t want to upset you.” You explained how you felt and Donnie remained quiet until you were finished. He pulled you into his arms and stroked your hair from your face. 

 “You are the strongest person I know, Y/N. You fight every day for us and you support me in so many ways. You always help patch up the boys after a patrol, staying up to help us talk through our problems. You always are so positive and push us to do better. You make me better every day and I am so grateful I get to have you in my life. You are so wonderful and giving and strong, it makes me want to be worthy of you.” He placed a kiss on top of your head. “You don’t need to be strong all the time. I am your partner and it’s my job to take care of you. I love getting to take care of you.”

You sniffled into his chest and wrapped your arms around his neck. 

“thank you.”

“of course.”

You both sat there for some time, simply taking in the other's presence. It was quiet and peaceful. Well until your stomach grumbled. 

“Hungry?” Donnie chuckled.

You nodded and took the bowl from him. Tomato soup and grilled cheese. Yes! You loved this turtle. You offered him a bite of the grilled cheese, then hunkered down into the blankets as he turned on Star Wars. He crawled in next to you. Wrapping his arm around your shoulders, your head against his chest, and your favorite movie marathon in front of you, you knew you could stay here forever. With Donnie, you were happy and content. Maybe having him take care of you wasn’t as bad as you thought. 

[cipher-fresh]

Just Out Of Reach

Posting on tumblr due to Discord's character limit, this one's a lot longer than my other ones. A prompt from @marlinspirkhall about how food on the holodeck doesn't exist once you step off it got me thinking. TW for violence, injury, blood, food, eating disorders I think (?? rather safe than sorry) and long-term distress. Thank you for the Federation gothic prompt!

It's fuzzy, you remember the ship leaving spacedock after repairs, and some of the anticipatory silence as the odd lack of Dominion ships greeted your rush toward the Bajoran sector to help recapture Deep Space Nine and the Bajoran wormhole. You had never been this far away from home, but you'd tried to steel yourself. The red alert had blared in your ears, and you don't remember much else. You look down. You're bleeding. You curse, and look around for medical supplies.

You're in a dark building, with debris strewn around. A force field makes it's presence known as a hurtling piece of Dominion ship tailwing is stopped in it's tracks from perhaps it's original destiny of destroying wherever you were. If there was a forcefield up, there must be an energy source. You find you had crash-landed here, as there's an escape pod near the fallen bulkheads. You saddle up with the materials from the escape pod, and hunt around for any available resources on whatever man-made, oxygenated building you'd been lucky enough to land in. You put your bag down, and take off your Starfleet outer shirt. You're still wearing the gray undershirt, and over it you tie the main shirt over the wound. You wish it had been an easier area to tie, like your lower leg, and press on. After a trek over fallen metal, everything from large carts, a whole shuttle, bulkheads and PADDs, you find the opposite wall, marked with a plaque designating it the Miyamoto, a mini-space station hardly the size of a neighborhood street. Some place, you scoff. It feels like a shadowy castle fallen into disrepair, with the flickering lights looking like the occasional sunbeam brightening it. Atmospheric, at least, if it wasn't going to comfortable. It feels as if you could almost hear sad music, accentuating just quite how dark the station was, cold and alone. The Miyamoto station echoes sadly, the destruction and carnage of Dominion and Federation ships making their final stand above the station feeling long off, although you could place it as happening mere hours ago. Continuing onward, you clear a path the best you can of the debris on the ground, in case you round this area again.

You see places that look like shops- the *Miyamoto*, as per it's informational plaque, was a station commissioned and controlled by Starfleet, but it had housed many Federation-aligned planets, that is to say, planets that hadn't joined the Federation for one reason or another, but remained in contact with it, politically or economically. Your journey around the station ends as you look back down at your outer shirt, wrapped around your torso wound, and it's too red with blood for comfort. You take an unfortunate, seething inhale, processing what this might mean. You have no other than the most basic medical supplies on your bag, and you're alone on a mini-space station with debris that was ripe to fall over and crush you at any time. Nobody else seems to have crashed near you. You're alone, on an at least semi-functioning, mini-space station. And you were determined to survive. The bleeding cut on your torso should be dealt with first. Can't look for food or set up a distress call if you're bleeding to death. You take a tricorder from the bag, and scan around for anything useful. It picks up gauze a few meters ahead of you. Better than your shirt, certainly. You navigate toward it with the tricorder's map, and it navigates you to a holodeck, you recognize from the doors. Gauze in the holodeck? You thought the violin music had been a symptom of a bleeding body and the brain processing your day, but no, the violin was louder. Getting closer to the holodeck, that made more sense. It was extremely lucky the program was still running. You walk inside. The inside is a gothic, turn-of-the-century sort of laboratory. Indeed, a holodeck character playing a violin spots you, and huffs.

"You're bleeding. Are you looking for my partner, Dr. Watson?"

You take a moment- oh, this was a Sherlock Holmes program. You doubt Dr. Watson could help you, but then you take a moment to think. Emergency Medical Holograms are just as holographic as Dr. Watson here, and they have helped millions of people. You're too tired to act, so you ask him, "Yes, I need a doctor. Can you get him?" Too much also eating at your mind to enjoy the program, Dr. Watson fixes you up in the flat. You wince at the old medical technology, and wish the two of them lived in a period of time with more current medicinal knowledge. - Wait. "Computer?" you say. "Change the time period to, uh, 22nd century. No, I mean, to today. 24th century. Keep Sherlock and Watson with me." The computer responds to your request, and you see the program change around you. You laugh at the mystery-solving duo's updated outfits for the 24th century, then look back at Dr. Watson. It's a little jarring how seamlessly they continue from the jump in time, but better that than their program stop working. Watson asks a replicator- a holographic replicator, which makes you laugh a little bit, for a dermal regenerator, and you get patched up. "Stick around for a cup of tea?" Watson asks. "Sherlock really wants to know why you broke into our flat." You consider it. You've heard jokes from non-Federation species when trying out holodecks for the first time, "Calories don't count on the holodeck!" Anything you eat here wouldn't sustain you, the minute you left the holodeck. You could activate this program so long as there was energy to the station, but food was a priority. Assuming the *Miyamoto* had been in a tussle just a few hours ago during your fly-over to Deep Space Nine, now was a crucial time to find genuine replicators before they went offline. You leave the holodeck. You see the gauze over your injury (kept for good measure) disappear as you exit the holodeck, but not the skin you'd grown back from the dermal regenerator. The gauze was holographic, but the stimulated skin cells and tissues were not. You follow the path set by rounding around the small, circular station, and tracing your steps back through the cleared path you made. Your injury healed, you could now look around and find something to eat. You follow around a downloaded map of the *Miyamoto* from the plaque's infochip, and hunt down all the replicators marked on the station. One by one, they're all broken, in pieces, or missing. Maybe the station was in poor shape to begin with. You take another trip around- at least you're getting plenty of exercise in, you halfheartedly cheer- and visit all the food shops. You raid the fridges, cabinets and cupboards, and still find nothing. Intending to not be disheartened, you sit down for a moment. Your hunger is suddenly made aware to you, your vision swirling. Not good, you decide. Your stomach hurts, and you try to remember the last time you ate. Breakfast on- on the *USS Halay*. Maybe tea with Dr. Watson wouldn't be so bad, you assure yourself. You have some food with the two of them, think of a new plan, then go back out there and find some food. Some water, while you're at it, too. You walk back, and almost trip over debris you swore you moved out of your path. You enter back to the holodeck, and smell the fresh air. You find Watson and Sherlock again, and you're offered a pastry you can't remember the name of. You eat, and have some tea, and you feel at peace. You're still directly aware of the stakes, you're stuck on a space station in the middle of nowhere, but you're at least still alive. And going from desperately hungry out there to the sweet scent of buttered pastries in here in a still-peaceful London before the Dominion invaded was a sense of home you'd missed. You sat down, and considered your optics. If you left now, you'd probably be just as hungry as before, but here, you could come up with a plan, and make the time before it worth it. You clued in the holographic Sherlock and Watson into it, without exposing to them they were holograms. Quite tricky, it was, but you were glad they got over

their suspicions and were just willing to help. You and the two problem-solvers looked over the schematics of the *Miyamoto*, and found from your walkaround of the station, the replicator at the Bolarian food shop was the least broken- it had gotten halfway to forming bread before it puttered out. Although not quite a chief engineer, this seemed to be your only option. You picked back up your supplies from the escape pod that you'd kept with you, and journey off to the replicator. You feel the distinct hunger pangs as soon as you leave, and almost regret leaving. Little matter. You'd already gone and done it, you might as well make it worthwhile. You get to the replicator, and try to recall your engineering training. Basic engineering design over necessary machines like replicators and transporters were required classes at the Academy, and you couldn't remember a thing from it. You open a hatch at the back and fiddle with some of the wires and steel EPS hubcaps, and put everything back into place. Not ever quite sure what to do, you feel a fog in your brain, you know you're putting a square peg in a round hole as you try to fix this. You screw things on and off, scan it, flip a switch. Closing the hatch, you hit it for good measure, and try replicating food again. It produces a gray slop of what could only technically be edible, organic material. You take your tricorder out and get a holo-scan of it. A moment of darkness in your vision, you fall to the ground. You're really feeling it. You hold a hand to your stomach, and close your eyes tight. It hurts, it does. You could make the feeling go away, if you just went back.

A deep breath, and you turned around. Just back for a second.

Desperate to get back to the holodeck, you're assured you can figure out the replicator's problem with the holo-imager scans. You get back inside, and feel the pleasant, clean air, and walk back inside. Ravenously, you scarf down the food given to you, and you can feel your mind finding clarity again. If you could find a way to fix the replicator while inside the holodeck, you'd be set. You could fix it there, and only be hungry from the minute you walked over to the replicator, no brain fog as you tried to fix it. Maybe engineers had "Don't fix things on an empty stomach" as a rule. If not, they should. You spend a few more hours there, going over the specs of the replicator, sitting in the nice flat. It's an amalgamation of every depiction of 221B ever put to screen, and all the books are real, wholly scripted ones. You chuckle, certainly sure only a man of fiction could read so many books, bookshelves stacked wall to wall. Many of them had frantically scribbled notes and writings in them. After some time, you fall asleep. You're woken up by Watson, telling you again that you need to wake up. You rub your eyes, and consider everything from the day previous. Hungry, stuck on a space station with no food, and surviving in the holodeck. This would be a lovely nightmare to wake up from, eh? Lovely, for the fact you're waking up, you joke. "-get out there and find something to eat or your body will starve. Please. The program-" You burst out from under the blanket on the couch. Dr. Watson looks at you. "Sherlock and I put together that you're on a holodeck. Incredible inventions, truthfully, but what is more important now is your life. You haven't eaten in how long? A human would starve after not eating for-"

"About a week. But without water is a different story. Three days, at most." Sherlock filled in. You swallowed. Wonderful. You look back at Watson. "Please, we're trying to help you. You need to head back out there." That's the last thing you want to do.

Neither of them were being helpful. "Look, we can't leave the holodeck. All we can do is-" "I don't care!" you yell. "I'll just-stay in here until I figure it out." The two exchanged looks with each other. Watson got closer to you. You feel small. Threatened. "You're Starfleet, right? You haven't even given us your name. How about you-" You lash out. "Computer, delete characters Sherlock and Watson." "Not possible." "Fine! Delete whatever you need to get rid of them." "Confirmed." the computer says. The two of them phase out of existence. You breathe heavily. You hope they won't be mad at you. "Computer, change scenery. Somewhere on Earth. As far away from Sherlock as possible." "Changing location to Dunedin, New Zealand." the computer replied. You stop, and catch your breath. You'd just- stay in here. For a while. Yeah.

The systems of the Miyamoto station degrade. The holodeck, over time, begins to lose critical imaging projectors. One corner of the holodeck shows the depressingly bare and black wall, the whole program not covering the entire room. You try not to mind. You sleep. If you could just- just learn how to fix the replicator....no. You have everything you need right in here. Everything....you need. You take an arduous breath. The holodeck doors have sealed shut. The imagers have stopped working. You're trapped inside. A lone Starfleet officer starves to death on a holodeck, over an agonizing three days, just as Sherlock predicted. The Miyamoto station is destroyed by the Breen a year later, unimportant and completely alone. If one listened closely, passing an unimportant, tiny little station, they may have heard faint music of a violin.

[danideservedbetter]

Day 7, 8, 9, and 10 / Elaboration

Hey y’all! I said yesterday I would elaborate a little more on what my doctor’s visit yesterday told me, and here I am to do just that! I meant to yesterday, honestly, but by the time I got home my medicine had worn off and that wasn’t looking very likely 😅😅 But regardless!!! Here is what my results look like and honestly? These things probably have been affecting my sleeping disorder to a degree I’d previously disregarded without detailed info I’ve gotten from these tests.

Full write up under the cut!

—I got two major tests done, blood work and a genetics test. Back in my hometown the nurses couldn’t even figure out how to open the damn swab, but technology here managed to map out my entire DNA sequence which is utterly NUTS to me.

—My body is deficient in almost every important vitamin known to mankind, which makes sense because my diet is not… the best 😅 So, I started on several (SEVERAL) supplements to start out.

—I say start out because it’s very likely that I’ll be taking vitamin C and some liver enzyme through an IV once a month. A younger me might’ve thought something like this was scary, but at this point I’m so desperate to be healthy that getting nutrients drip fed into my system for them to work quicker sounds just fine to me.

—Other than that it’s normal lifestyle stuff. Eat more fruits and vegetables (I’ve been eating olives by the can for like days and I intend to buy fresh fruit packets for breakfast whenever I can afford them) as well as staying more active— which I DEFINITELY have been since I moved closer to New Orleans, in Louisiana proper where my dad lives.

But enough of the boring medicinal stuff. I’m sure you guys are much more interested in the whys— is there a reason my hypersomnia is so bad? Is there a deeper explanation than “lack of vitamins bad and you should feel bad”?

Well, yeah. YES. The genetics test revealed a metric fuckton to say the least 😂😂😂 but the most important was what kinds of diseases I’m predisposed to or how my body can process certain types of hormones/enzymes/proteins. Things like why caffeine won’t work for me (my body processes it very fast but not very thoroughly) or my metabolism being the strongest recorded genotype (which is why it’s been so hard to gain weight). Below, I’ll go into detail about stuff my new general doctor’s in-office geneticist (I still can’t believe that’s a thing I’m typing) has revealed about my disorder.

Naturally, this is specific to me because of my parents and our family lines. Maybe if you see info pertinent to yourself, looking into genetic mapping may be a good idea for you?

We are pretty confident that I have Idiopathic Hypersomnia. The reason for this is that a tiny link has been found between individuals who contracted mononucleosis in their childhood and adolescence and individuals who fell within the sleep cycles indicating IH. Now, IH will be genetic sometimes, but considering I’ve tracked my disorder to starting around 14, the same year I contracted Mono, the coincidence definitely doesn’t seem like… well, a coincidence. My blood test shows that I do in fact have the antibodies in my system, and they’re doing something… odd.

The geneticist found some “active” antibodies. Well, not some, really 😅 Basically, she’s surmised that these antibodies have a hair-trigger response and can react to any given environmental factor (stress, hunger, etc.) to the point where they activate as if they think they’re **fighting off a virus that’s been out of my system for ten years.** Of course this takes up an inordinate amount of energy, which is her hypothesis as to why my hypersomnia is so random and varies in intensity. The goal for this summer is flushing these antibodies out of my system.

My previous neurologist tried out a couple stimulants and then shit insurance prevented me from trying any others. So I’m stuck on something traditionally prescribed for adhd. A narcotic. *However* since my body is severely dysfunctional in general, the way I describe it is I basically have to induce a high to stay awake and function normally. We want to eventually get me off of these kinds of drugs, of course, since prolonged exposure weakens their effects and they’re highly addictive.

Another in credibly interesting thing we found is that I'm lacking in three major hormones. However, it's not because I don't produce them. I've never identified with symptoms of depression (anxiety, certainly, but not depression) yet for most of my life my childhood general practitioner insisted I had it. Well, the geneticist found that while I'm lacking in serotonin, dopamine, and melatonin, which yes are the two major mood enhancers and then the hormone that induces sleep, it's not because I can't produce them. It's because my neural transmitters are so damaged from a less-than-good diet and years of exhaustion that they simply can't process them. Just as the antibodies can have a hair-trigger response to environmental factors, so too can these processors. Simple things like a good meal, my high from my stimulants, or even micro dopamine shots from getting things done can activate the transmitters. Another thing on the docket for the summer is fixing these permanently with treatments of vitamins and supplements.

My stimulants have caused appetite issues, unfortunately, and that plus Covid at the beginning of this year caused me to get down to my lowest recorded weight ever, 94 pounds, which I haven't weighed since before I hit my final growth spurt way back in middle school. My dad does physical labor (he's a contractor who frames houses in the humid heat of the Deep South lol) so he's used to feeling tired. When he caught Covid, he said that he'd never felt as tired, drained, or out of it in his entire life. He never gets sick and hardly goes to the doctor and NEVER takes off work because of health, but in his last few weeks before full recovery he had to take off early multiple times. He was floored when he described the brain fog and exhaustion and I told him that I had no idea I even had Covid, because I just thought it was my disorder acting up. It was only when my grandmother started feeling tired that we got tested and we tested positive.

All that said, we think that there's hope for a future for me. She said that while there's no cure for IH, the cause that I have may can be mitigated by changes in exercise, diet, routine, and medication,to the point where I may mitigate symptoms of my disorder entirely. I'm still setting up appointments with a new neurologist here in the city, though, because technology is of course more advanced here.

And again, taking all of this into consideration, while it was looking likelier by the day, we've both agreed that I'll be here in the city 'til New Years. Which means no school this semester, but if I can go back in spring at more than 20% functionality and maybe succeed, I'm perfectly fine having to remain on break.

However, another good update: I weigh 103 pounds! I'm steadily gaining weight-- which means the other medication, the one for my appetite, is working as it should and as long as I stay on-track I should reach my goal of 120 by the end of the year as well.

So, yeah! That's what it's looking like. I have another appointment to go more in depth with the results tomorrow, but for now I'm planning out my week since I decided to let myself rest all last week. I'd love to finish helping out for our current podfic, ACTUALLY start the damn 100 Theme Challenge (LOL), finish betaing something that's been on hold for months, properly reconnect with our discord, catch up on all the media I fell behind on, clean my damn room, and establish a budget for this week on what I can buy. A more specific plan for today will follow, but til then, I hope this gives everyone some insight on what I'm looking at and how I'm gonna try to fix it.

Xoxo

Dani

[scowlowl]

Hi c: I remember a post, I think it was from you, about long covid and getting it? Was that you? A friend of mine is struggling and I was wondering if you had any advice about what she can do :< Thank you!!

Oh no, I hope your friend feels better soon! That might have been me, I think I posted about it here a few times and there have definitely been twitter threads.

Standard disclaimer stuff: I am not a doctor. What I found helped me might not help someone else. Long covid is kind of fucked up to deal with because it seems to hit everyone in different ways, in different areas, and months later something that wasn't a problem before can suddenly become one. The long haul groups talk about it as something that feels like it moves around the body, like a total shit gremlin.

The thing that helped me the most initially was joining the facebook groups with other people figuring shit out. This was back April/May for me but they're still very active and full of people sharing resources.

Survivor Corps is I think the big one and they've been the ones reaching out to media and doctors to try to gain some recognition with the medical community initially (as far as I know, all kind of a blur tbh). There's also a long covid group here, and if your friend searches for like, long covid + the country they're in there are usually more local/regional ones for resources closer to home too.

Because we don't really know what specific mechanism is triggering a lot of the long covid stuff yet, most of us are just treating symptoms. Some people have been diagnosed with mast cell activation syndrome (MCAS) and I don't know diddly squat about that but it might be something for your friend to look into. My whole thing has been inflammation and my immune system basically attacking itself because immune systems are both very complex and compellingly fucking stupid. Not to victim blame the immune system or anything.

What helped me depended on what was going wrong at the time, obv, but it means it's a long list.

This is just going to be a brain dump, sorry.

- I never had pneumonia. Mine started in my throat, probably damaged my vocal chords, but never turned into pneumonia. I still had shortness of breath, pressure in my chest, and my oxygen levels dropped. I could breathe but with great difficulty and described it to the EMTs as "breathing is like work." It took all of my energy and focus to breathe in enough. If you are that this point, ever, like, literally fucking ever, call an ambulance.

- Tylenol for a fever. 

- Blood thinners if necessary, I never had any but we know now that a lot of problems are blood clot-related. Tbqh my blood is more thin now than anything but I always had anemia and some sort of “your blood is too small actually?” problem and we don’t know why. I just bleed a lot and bruise easier now. 

- If they try to tell you it's anxiety or in your head or you're not that bed, tell them to go fuck themselves and go to the hospital. Get tested if you can. A lot of the problems long haulers ran into was that we got sick before tests were available, or we were talked into staying home by the emergency workers, and we never got tested. This opens the doors for doctors to tell you it's all in your head, psychological, anxiety, allergies, etc. Just. Go when you first feel sick if at all possible. Get tested before it turns into long covid. 

- I was not sure in the beginning what "shortness of breath" or "pressure" actually felt like, and it made me delay calling for an ambulance for a few days as well. For me, it felt like there was an elastic band of pressure around my lungs. I couldn't fully inhale. My diaphragm was fucked in ways I still don't understand. My lungs also felt heavy, like there was a weight on them or like my lungs themselves were too stiff to inhale. That all counts as pressure/tightness/shortness of breath. So does air hunger, or feeling like you want to be swallowing air.

- I know I'm being super obvious but seriously shortly before I got sicker, I hit up twitter to ask what "pressure" was supposed to feel like because I couldn't tell if what I had "counted."

- Breathing: lying on my stomach with my chest propped up by pillow, in bed helped. So did  pursed lip breathing: here.

- I was prescribed salbutamol initially, which did help with the worst of the wheezing and opened up some of my lungs so I could breathe easier. When I went to the ER again a couple months later, they gave me like 5x the usual dose and sent me home.

- I'm also taking Flovent/fluticasone twice a day for asthma maintenance.

- Histamines are a problem for a lot of people. Some develop a histamine intolerance, which can be helped by eating a low histamine diet.

- Antihistamines helped me the most. I was taking Allegra-D daily. Pepcid AC also helps, because it targets a different kind of histamine. There was such a run on Pepcid when this started that it was actually impossible to find in my area and I had to order some online. 

- I was recently prescribed Singulair and it has been life-changing this past week or so. As far as I know it's not really an antihistamine but blocks/inhibits a particular receptor involved in inflammation that comes into play when allergies do.

- Electrolytes. I don't know why, but my electrolytes are permanently fucked and too low now. If I don't go through like a litre of gatorade a day (or whatever, pick your brand of supplements), I am even more tired and brain foggy than usual. Helps a lot.

- Inflammation is a major problem all around. Sometimes I go for the naproxen or advil and it will help any really major acute flare-up now (like, I can feel when my gallbladder is getting inflamed and about to spasm and I can cut it off sort of), but mostly it's also daily maintenance. I take cucurmin and black pepper daily.

- Other supplements: vitamins A & D, a multivitamin, NAC.  

- CBD oil. This worked wonders for me for a lot of the side-effects of covid, costochondritis and shingles pain especially.

- Diet. I mentioned the low histamine one above. Other people have had some success with a low inflammation diet. Some folks also have so many GI problems that they basically ate chicken and rice and slowly reintroduced foods to see what would trigger something. I appear to get super fucked by nightshades now, e.g. Alcohol is an absolute no. I had to cut caffeine for months because of my heart. (No caffeine/alcohol/red meat was my doctor's first and best advice for heart stuff at the time.)

- Speaking of the heart stuff, if your friend is dealing with that: electrolytes again. I have pedialyte freezies that I would suck on whenever heart palpitations started and it helped calm it down some. My heart was so, so fucked for months that whenever I ate or stood up or sat down it would hit like 140bpm and I had to spend an hour moving as little as possible or I'd just about pass out. There are a LOT of long-haulers now dealing with POTS and I can't really speak to what helps that in particular but if your heart is messing up at all: call a doctor. I still don't know how damaged my heart is from all of this because doctors and wait lists, etc. Get a jump on that.

- Insomnia was absolutely the worst I’ve ever had and I’ve had lifelong, “I’m awake for three days wee” insomnia. The Singulair knocks me right out at night, so that's a bonus, but there has not been a single night since getting sick where I didn't have to take something to help me sleep. I was on Zopiclone before getting sick, at least, but seriously talk to someone about insomnia if necessary. The sleep deprivation alone was making so many things worse.

- Brain fog? Brain fog. I don't have any or many answers for this. My short-term memory is wrecked and usually I'll remember something 2 weeks later, so I live my life on a 2-week lag now.

- Related to brain fog, fatigue. Don't fuck with it. Do not. Chronic Fatigue and Myalgic encephalomyelitis are both brought up often with long covid. I am dealing with it but don't know what to say about it yet because I haven't had a single doctor give a shit thus far. I've spoken to a relative who's an occupational therapist about it and her most helpful advice was about "energy envelopes," which is basically spoon theory. If you feel tired: stop. If you don't, or if you try to push through, we relapse hard and fast and you can pay for one day of walking 10 minutes too long with weeks of being stuck in bed. It's miserable. It will take longer to get back to normal. Some of us can exercise and feel amazing after; others are exercise intolerant and it wrecks them. (I feel best after like, 10 minutes of walking and sunshine right now, which is after months and months of being bedridden.)

- Treat mental exertion the same as physical. Doctors told me to drink Gatorade after mental work because it's still work, and it has helped a lot for whatever reason. It also helps to work on one thing at a time, take a break, switch gears, take a break, etc. I can't multitask anymore anyway.

- Eliminate whatever stressors you can. Stress will make everything worse. 

- It comes and goes. Every relapse was a bit shorter and a bit easier for me, so that now when I fuck up it's like 2-3 days instead of weeks, but it's a rollercoaster.

- It can be random as hell. For about two months my gallbladder just decided to up and die, basically, and we were talking about having it removed. And then it was fine. Hasn't bugged me again lately. I know I said it's symptom management, but it's also like... symptom chasing and trying to figure out what's happening every time the sun rises. This is also exhausting. Everything is exhausting.

- Brain shit. Some of us have serious trouble reading. Sentences swim together. Letters wouldn't turn into words. I took this as a Challenge and started reading children's books and then Animorphs again, like... slowly, as much as I could do without pushing it, and it's still not perfect or great but it was an okay place to start. Honestly the hardest part was the embarrassment and going from a PhD program to reading kids books, but. Do what you have to. Do what you can.

- Sticky notes and labelling things around the house so I could see them when I needed them. I am not fucking around when I say brain fog. I can open the fridge, know I have milk, know it is in the door, and literally not see it to find it. I will put the cream in the dishwasher. I will spin in circles in the kitchen remembering and forgetting and remembering why I’m there again. Sticky notes. Also: journals, index cards, write literally everything down if you need to remember something. Put it somewhere obvious. I like writing on the bathroom mirror for the important shit. (Don’t use lipstick.) 

- Unsurprisingly, a lot of us are struggling with anxiety and depression. Don't let doctors get it backward: it's not anxiety making us sick, it's being sick and ignored and fighting to be helped that's making our mental health worse. So many doctors tell us it's all in our head. I did not move across the country because I was too sick to take care of myself because of ~allergies~ or ~anxiety.~ Fuck off.

- So, so many people report that they relapse whenever they menstruate so if your friend is in that group, they might want to prepare to feel like fucking trash every 4 weeks no matter what they do. I don’t have any advice on this one, I’m sorry. There are a lot of people discussing it in the FB groups, though, and those are searchable for symptoms. 

- So... a tl;dr list of things that might help: anti-inflammatory diets, anti-histamine diets, pepcid AC, allegra or other allergy meds, vitamin A/D/E, multivitamins, electrolytes and gatorade, albuterol, fluticasone, zopiclone (or anything that helps with sleep), CBD oil, singulair, anti-nausea meds (buscopan), muscle relaxants (spasming gallbladder). Rest, so much rest, do not fuck with The Rest if you can help it. I also encourage just getting high and edibles as much as you can because it sure helped me chill out big time and I think was a big factor in my recovery, at least as far as helping me calm down and helping my heart were concerned.

- The actual most helpful part outside of what to take or do was other people. Friends would go out and get me things when I could not, including like, cat food deliveries and all. I had co-workers ready to step in to take over my work on days I could not. I had friends calling doctors because I was too tired to fight them or self-advocate. I don't think it's an exaggeration to say they helped save my idiot life this year. Literally. It's a lot to ask of anyone but it's also that level of support that some of us need, and there shouldn't be any shame in it. (I still feel bad about it anyway but what are you gonna do.)

Depending on where you live, some places are setting up long-haul covid clinics to help people. Reports are mixed: some demand you had a positive test even if you were sick before tests were available. Some people are getting a lot of help regardless. Some are being sent home and told not to come back anyway. It’s kind of a gamble right now but either way, there’s at least some medical recognition making headway now so my fingers are crossed.

Anyway you basically sound like a good bean and your friend is lucky to have you asking around. I have absolutely forgotten something at some point in here because, well, brain fog and no memory, but if you have any questions or want something clarified please just ask. Stay safe!

[butterflyinthewell]

To autistic people who are starting to menstruate...

Okay I’m gonna go all auntie Cyndi on all my younger autistic followers who are new to having periods. I’ve been having my periods for over 20 years now, so I’m experienced in this.

First off, you may have your first period and not have another one for a few months. Your periods may start and happen like clockwork. Your periods may always be irregular.

It’s normal for your ovulation and menstruation to shift throughout the year just like the seasons shift the sun’s position in the sky.

On average, your period comes about two weeks after you ovulate. I’ve pinned mine down enough to know I bleed exactly 19 days after I ovulate, so I can look at a calendar and figure out within a four day margin of when to expect my period. Note that I said on average, some people may have a shorter or longer menstrual cycle.

You’ll know you’re ovulating when you produce a lot of mucus from your vagina that looks and feels like raw egg white. It’s clear, a little more viscous than your spit, it’s very slippery and it will drip out in long strings. I produce a lot, another person may not produce much. If you notice you’re really slimy down there when you’re wiping after you pee, and the toilet paper comes away with stringy slimy stuff on it, take note of the date you saw that and note the date again when get your period. Keep taking notes and a pattern may emerge. That’s your menstrual cycle.

NOTE: If you have unprotected sex during this time, you have a strong chance of getting pregnant. Sperm can swim a long way and survive a long time in the Fallopian tubes, waiting for an egg to come down. Always assume you can get pregnant between the time of finishing a period and starting the next one.

(And I hope this second one never happens to you, but...)

If you were raped during this time, and if they ejaculated inside you or on your vulva, you may get pregnant.

Always practice safe sex and use birth control if you want to avoid pregnancy, and if you were raped you need to assume they got you pregnant and get help to deal with it ASAP.

Now, lemme tell you a little about periods and autism going together.

PMS and your period can really mess with your sensory issues, your meltdown / shutdown threshold, your tolerance for socializing and your ability to control emotions.

You might have brain fog and just feel yucky and groggy.

You might find you want to sleep more or can’t sleep at all.

You might wake up with your armpits sweating heavily.

You may notice you start sweating with less exertion, or you walk into a warm room and swear you’re standing on the sun.

On the flipside, you may feel colder than usual, so walking into a cooler place will feel like walking into Antarctica.

Your skin may get more oily and that may mean greasier hair and more pimples. I know that feels unfair if you already have a lot of acne and problems with hygiene. If your hair length permits washing your hair in a sink, you can do that if a shower is too much. Try to wash your face gently with a wet washcloth when you wake up and before going to bed. Make sure to remove all your makeup before retiring to sleep if you wear any, because it will clog your pores even more if you don’t.

Your body odor may intensify, so keep baby wipes and deodorant / antiperspirant around if showering is hard. Hand sanitizer wiped on your pits can help in a situation where you realize you reek and can’t wash off, but only use that in emergencies.

You may experience some constipation and gas. That’s progesterone’s fault, sometimes it slows down your colon.

You may go from constipated to having huge, greasy poops or even some diarrhea. That’s your hormones shifting. Sometimes a period is a natural laxative because your intestines move a little faster thanks to the hormones that make your uterus contract (prostaglandins) to push out the endometrium. So if you have issues with fecal incontinence, you may have to deal with extra odors and messes when you change your incontinence protection.

Once your period starts, you’ll probably have to pee a lot more often. This is your body getting rid of the water it retained. If you deal with urinary incontinence, this might mean you need to change your incontinence protection more often to avoid infections, skin breakdown and odors.

Btw, you can dehydrate a little as your body sheds the excess water, so make sure to stay hydrated. I take three small sips or one big gulp from my water bottle after I use the bathroom during my period. It’s a helpful routine.

You may have food cravings and appetite changes. You may feel always hungry or not want to eat much or at all. Your desire to samefood might increase. (Mine is currently the cheese pizza flavored Cheez-Its.) Increased hunger is your body getting ready to lose nutrients through your menstrual flow. If you don’t feel your hunger signals, notice if you feel irritable or weak more often, it may mean you need to eat.

Your boobs may get a little bigger and get achy-feeling, so much that you can’t stand a bra or binder. You may get achy feelings in your joints or muscles. It’s likely water retention.

You may put on some weight. This is also water retention. You may find you always gain around the same about of weight each time you’re close to your period.

You may be really impulsive or take risks you wouldn’t usually take, sometimes to the point of recklessness.

You may feel restless like you want to climb out of your skin. Your frustration threshold might plummet to nothing, so everything is aggravating.

If you have self injurious meltdowns, you may have more SIB than usual. You might also notice an increased need to stim, and sometimes stimming doesn’t help you feel better or calm down.

If you’re physically able, try to do something that makes you exert yourself, like jogging, moving heavy things or some other kind of vigorous exercise. Even dance is good if that’s what you enjoy. Think of it as venting excess energy so it’s not stuck in your chest.

If you’re not physically able to exert yourself, try snuggling under a weighted blanket and pressure stimming. Think of it as drawing excess energy to where you’re putting pressure so it’s not stuck in your chest.

You may have mood swings and default to a certain mood so much that you feel stuck in it.

If you’re prone to migraines, you’re more likely to have one when you’re premenstrual.

All of this can be scary if you’re still new to having periods.

See a doctor if your bad feelings are so bad that you get super depressed and have suicidal thoughts two or more periods in a row, It could be PMDD, which is the nasty older sister of PMS.

PMDD is premenstrual dysphoric disorder, or a very extreme version of PMS.

It’s kinda normal for PMS symptoms to vary in intensity from month to month, but if you find yourself consistently in a very bad mental state before your period, you may need extra help to handle it.

Once your flow starts, you might have bursts of feeling REALLY good or affectionate: that’s because of oxytocin and maybe some serotonin, enjoy it.

Your flow may be fairly light, get heavy and then lighten again. You may start with a lot of gushes and then it lightens up until it stops. If you normally have a light flow and suddenly it turns heavy with an increase in cramping, there may be a problem that needs a doctor to check out. If your heavy flow gets even heavier, to the point that you’re soaking through the thickest pads, there may be a problem. Don’t let them blow you off, be firm. “I don’t normally bleed this much or have this much cramping, something is up.”

Things like stress, weight gain or weight loss can affect your period. Being sick can sometimes throw it off. Periods are fickle, annoying and weird things. Keep track of them, take note of the color and amount of your flow and get to know it. Knowing your body at its baseline will help you recognize it later if something goes wrong. It may take your cycles time to find their “normal” as your body figures out how to handle having periods.

It never hurts to always have a pad, tampon, menstrual cup or whatever you use to catch your flow. Keep it in your backpack, purse, pocket, etc.. If you prefer pads, it’s always a good idea to put one in your underwear if you’re expecting your period and you go out somewhere. That way it won’t be a huge emergency if your flow starts. Putting one in when you go to sleep at the time you expect your period flow can also help you sleep easy and not worry about making a mess in your bed.

(I personally prefer thick pads, so it feels like I won’t leak, but I know that may be a sensory yuck for someone else. Try different things till you find what works.)

Those little gushes you feel occasionally are normal. Yeah, sometimes you will feel your period goop coming out. Some advice: when you’re using the toilet, push a bit and then do a kegel, which is squeezing the muscles in your vagina that stop your pee from flowing— you might push a lot of period stuff out. It’ll help you not have to change your pad as often.

I’m cis, so I can’t speak on how taking testosterone will affect periods. I will leave this open for an autistic person who is taking T to add to this if they want. 👍🏻

Now that I said all that, it’s possible you may have zero premenstrual issues and your period won’t cause you much trouble at all. Every uterus-owning body is different. People already dealing with depression or other mood disorders may have more trouble during their period, or their period may even boost their mood for a short time. As I said, everyone is different.

❤️ Take care! ❤️

[sophisticatedloserchick]

Fanfic - Afternoon (Not) Delight - 1/1

Summary: Iris tries to surprise her husband for a Afternoon Delight but then things don’t go as planned.

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 1818

A/N: A fluffy fic I had chilling in my drafts that I decided to finally finish up XD

Barry could feel a pressure headache building at the back of his head.

Today had been an awful day. The only other CSI tech called in sick which normally Barry could handle but today the case load included three homicides, two armed robberies and one break-in. He could speed through the paperwork in the blink of an eye but all the DNA and forensic samples he sent to the lab to be analyzed took time to process leaving Barry stuck waiting.

And other small things started happening since the moment he woker up to ruin his day. The water for his shower this morning came out a dark rust color. The the barista at Jitters got his coffee order mixed up, instead of his usual americano double shot  he got some whipped cream caramel confection that tasted like pure sugar. Then as soon as he walked through the doors at CCPD Singh let him know that two of the CSI's quit and as the newly appointed head of the department it would be up to Barry to find their replacements.

Barely half way through the day and Barry felt ready to call it quits.

He doubted anything could turn this day around.

The universe decided to prove him wrong as his wife walked through the door of his lab.

“Iris?” Barry perked up at the sight of her. “What are you doing here?”

His eyes greedily drank her in. She wore a tight navy blue skirt that hugged the curves of her hips and accentuated her small waist. Her crisp white dress shirt with the top three buttons undone revealing a tantalizing V of brown skin. Her long black hair swept to the side in loose curls. The smile on her lips seemed to make the dark confines of Barry's lab become brighter.

“Hi babe,” Iris walked towards him, high heels clicking on the wooden floors. “I thought you could use a lunch break.”

She held up a bag of Big Belly burgers for him to see.

“I know today has kind of sucked for you,” Iris looked at him sympathetically.

Barry rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment remembering the phone call he gave Iris an hour ago to rant about his troubles. He felt bad for making her worry but at the same time getting to see her always made his day better.

“You're an angel,” Barry breathed out when she reached his desk to put the bag of food in front of him. “Best wife ever.”

“Its just fast food you cornball,” Iris laughed but Barry could tell she was pleased by the compliment.

For a few blissful minutes Barry inhaled the burgers and fries. There was something about greasy and cheesy food that made even the worst days seem better. After a moment he consumed two bags worth of food realized that Iris wasn't eating and she didn't even attempt to steal any of his fries. She simply perched herself on the edge of his desk looking at him with a thoughtful look on her face.

“Hows your day going?” Barry asked, using a napkin to wipe away the ketchup and mustard on his face. “Any good news stories break out?”

Barry crumbled all the burger wrappings into a ball and hand tossed them into a waste basket a few feet away.

“Not really,” Iris pursed her lips. “Been a boring day actually.”

“Well I'm happy if it meant I get to see you,” Barry grinned broadly up at her.

He meant it too. Any time he got to spend with Iris he would cherish. Even a simple lunch date was enough to make his terrible day way better, he didn't need much more than that.

Lucky for him Iris had other ideas for their lunch date.

Without warning Barry found himself with a lap full of Iris. His hands went up immediately to steady her. One hand curling around her waist, the one resting on her knee. Heat spread through him at the feeling of her soft, warm body pressing into his. His senses filled with the smell of her lavender soap and the sound of her light giggle.

“Iris?” Barry swallowed thickly. “Are you making a move on me?”

“Absolutely,” Iris leaned forward to press her lips against his jawline. “Can't I spend a little quality time with my husband?”

“Its the middle of the day,” Barry shuddered as Iris shifted in his lap so that her ass rubbed against his crotch.

“Like that's stopped us before,” Iris's fingers ran through Barry's hair, her nail scratching along his scalp causing tingles to shoot down his spine.

“A little afternoon delight?” Barry's hand slipped under her skirt to touch the sensitive skin of her inner thighs.

Their lips then finally met in a heated kiss and Barry could barley breath let alone think anymore.

What happened next occurred in a complete blur. Often when he was this close to Iris his powers tended to go haywire. The speed that already infused his cells would intensify at the feel of Iris's hand touching his skin or her lips moving against his. Sometimes he would vibrate, sometimes tiny bolts of lighting danced across his skin, sometimes he would slow down time in order to savor the moment.

Other times Barry would move about the room in small bursts of speed.

One moment the two of them were making out in his office chair. The next Barry had Iris pressed up against a wall across the room. Her skirt had disappeared in the process allowing her long bare legs to wrap around his waist. Her head tilted back as she moaned when Barry grinded his hardening cock against her.

In a blink of an eye Barry zipped them back to his desk. His paperwork fluttering to the floor as Iris lay on her back spread out across his desk. Barry towered over her body looking down at the hunger in her dark eyes.

Barry should of taken a moment to catch his breath. To calm down his nerves that felt like they were moving a million miles a minute. He could feel his grip on control slipping with each passing second.

Which is why Barry wasn't looking when he sped them over to the laboratory side of his office. His focus more on getting his wife out of her remaining clothes then being aware of the shelves filled with bottle of chemicals.

The sound of glass breaking ripped Barry out of the sex induced fog he'd been lost in.

“Wh-what happened?” Iris blinked in a daze.

She was sitting on the edge of the metal counter with her shirt completely unbutton exposing her white lacy bra. Barry stood between her legs, his hands gripping her waist ready to pull her underwear off. Looking at Iris distracted him again but he was vaguely aware of the white mist from the chemicals hitting the air surrounding them.

After his brain snapped back into focus he finally saw what liquid  had been in the glass beaker that broke.

Oh schrap, Barry cursed to himself, its hydrochloric acid.

“Honey I'm so sorry,” Barry spoke quickly while looking into Iris's confused brown eyes. “I need to get us into a shower to get this off us.”

“Wait Barry-” Iris started but Barry had already scooped her up into his arms then sped off.

While not lethal in the small amount that got on them hydrochloric acid in a concentrated form could be corrosive and could do a lot of damage. In their case they were at a high risk of irreversible skin burns. Barry's speedster body would heal in time but Iris didn't have the same advantage. The last thing he wanted was to be responsible for marring his wife's perfect brown skin.

In under a second Barry moved them down two floors to the staff locker room. Thankfully no one was around leaving it completely empty.

Faster than the human eye could see Barry got Iris out of her remaining clothes, turned on the facet, and put her under the spray of water.

“Oh god its co-old” Iris winced as the cool water hit her skin.

“Sorry, sorry,” Barry apologized knowing his wife usually preferred her showers to be scalding hot. “The water needs to be cold to counteract the acid burn.”

“Acid burn?!” Iris whipped her head up to look at him panicked.

“You're going to be okay,” Barry soothed. “I think we got here in time.”

Barry examined Iris's arm that had been exposed to the acid mist the most. The skin there looked slightly darkened and irritated but thankfully hadn't escalated to a burn. His focus wavered a little given his wife was now completely naked getting wetter under the spray of water but he didn't think she'd appreciate him lusting after her in this moment.

“Does it hurt?” Barry asked gently, his hand stroked the skin of her waist to help calm her nerves.

“A little,” Iris's lowered her eyes down to her arm. “More itchy and irritated than painful.”

Barry breathed out a sigh of relief. At least he hadn't permanently injured her due to his speedster clumsiness.

Iris's body began to tremble kicking Barry back to worry mode.

“God your shivering. Sorry we should stay under this cold water for a little longer,” Barry wrapped his arms around her to hopefully set off the chill in her body. “But tell me if you get too cold.”

“Its not that,” Iris pushed her hair out of her face and Barry could see she looked upset. “I try to surprise my husband to make him feel better and we end up covered in acid.”

“Which is completely my fault,” Barry gave a sheepish smile. “I got a little too excited like I always do when I'm with you.”

“I didn't make your day worse?” Iris asked biting down on her lower lip.

“I'm currently wrapped around my very naked, very wet wife in the shower.” Barry grinned crookedly at her. “A little acid isn't going to ruin that.”

Iris laughed as Barry nuzzled into the side of her neck. His arms pulling her tightly against him. Even with the cold water Barry could still feel the heat that always existed between them.

He meant what he said too. Every moment he got with Iris was special to him. Even if that included them standing in a cold shower to wash acid away.

“Well you know I'am a little cold,” Iris pressed a soft kiss to the center of his chest causing electric shocks to go through his body, “Will you help me stay warm?”

Iris shrieked in surprise when Barry lifted her up into his arms and pressed her against the shower wall fully intending to pick up where they left off.

[lloydskywalkers]

good or bad, hard to say

Round two of @ninjago-angst-week , this one’s for Jay, I’m so sorry my kid. The prompt for today is “Lost”, and there’s a lot you can do with that but I was thinking the other day about that one post that pointed out how Jay is the only one of the ninja who’s never really “died” per say and then my brain just. Ran with it. 

(this kinda jumps all over the place but it mainly takes place during the s8 finale and that episode of s10 btw)

Jay thinks he might be the luckiest person in Ninjago.

Like – not really lucky, because his entire life is one big roller coaster of wild ups and downs and constantly getting his home blown up and honestly it’s a miracle they aren’t all homeless and broke and several limbs down, but like – he’s still pretty lucky. If you use perspective, and all that.

That’s not to say that Jay’s lottery-lucky, or anything of the like. He’s – he’s Jay-lucky, if that’s a thing, and if it isn’t he’s gonna make it one, because there needs to be a term. There needs to be a term for Jay’s very specific brand of lucky, because honestly, it’s not really luck at all.

It’s hard to feel lucky when you’re terrified of how lucky you are.

__ __ __ __

See it’s – it’s like this, Jay thinks. His luck.

The most obvious example — parents. Jay lost his, yeah – Cliff and Libber, his mom and dad and isn’t that wild – he lost them before he ever got the chance to know them. And even in that, he’s still lucky. He’s lucky because he’s never gonna feel the same aching hunger Cole does when Edna kisses his forehead, or the awful twist in Lloyd’s smile whenever fathers come up – and on that note, the edge in Zane’s eyes when fathers come up – or the muddled confused mess of abandonment and not-really-abandonment-but-the-hurt’s-still-there that Kai and Nya are stuck with.

No, Jay gets Ed and Edna, continues to get Ed and Edna, and there’s a pretty big part of him that lives in waking terror for fear of losing them, because their team’s got a terrible track record with that, but – he gets a mom and dad with no strings attached. He gets love and support and maybe his childhood wasn’t spectacular, or anything, but he got two parents who loved him and really, what else could he ask for?

But the thing about having something is that you now have something to lose. This isn’t really a big deal, of course, until people start trying to use his mom and dad against him and then—

Well. Jay thinks he understands how angry Kai gets sometimes.

But he also gets scared. Jabbermouth, big chicken Walker, that’s him. Constantly jittery and constantly on-edge and constantly annoying and yeah, Jay gets it! He gets it. But he just doesn’t think—

Jay gets it. But everyone else doesn’t.

__ __ __ __

To be fair, he thinks, how could they get it.  

They don’t remember what it’s like—

Jay swallows. To be fair. He isn’t the only one terrified right now. Kai is white-knuckled where he grips the edge of the table, dried blood still on his hands where he tore them up on the rope getting down to Lloyd. Nya isn’t much better, her eyes a wildfire and a hurricane all at once, frightened and raging and desperate for a solution, for a cure, for a miracle. Cole is tight-lipped and ashen-faced and Zane’s mask of calm looks seconds from fracturing.

They’re all terrified, he wants to yell at Mystake as she chides them for impatience. Can’t she see – their brother is dying. They’re going to lose him, and Jay knows what it’s like to lose, and he’s only got so much luck here so why can’t she just—

Jay doesn’t say any of that. He doesn’t say much of anything, because he’s too scared that if he starts talking now he’ll never stop, an endless waterfall of terrified chatter will pour out from his mouth as if he can talk the problem away and won’t that just make everything so much better—

Jay doesn’t say much. But he listens.

Jay stares at his little brother writhing in pain on the table and hears Nya’s voice in his head telling him to make a last wish.

__ __ __ __

And there’s the thing, Jay thinks. They don’t get it because they just don’t know. Not like he does.

They don’t remember. That’s not to say they forget, but they don’t — it’s not present in their head like it always is Jay’s, he thinks. They walk into battle like they’re fearless, like they’re invincible, and Jay knows that they’re not.

Jay is scared, but Jay is scared because he remembers what it’s like to stare at the erupting Fire Temple and think they just lost Kai. He remembers every single emotion in Zane’s voice before he blew sky high in the Overlord’s hold. He remembers every last night he stayed up crying because his brother was dead, and how much it hurt when that ripped the team apart. He remembers how badly his hands shook as he tried to fight back against Morro and couldn’t because that’s Lloyd, that’s their brother he’s hitting, and what if he hits too hard—?

He remembers the sharp drop and falling sensation when he looked behind him and didn’t see Cole coming out of Yang’s temple. He remembers forgetting about Cole then remembering he forgot about Cole then thinking Cole was gone forever.

He remembers Nya’s voice telling him to make a last wish.

So the others – they’re brave, they’re so brave. And really, it sounds great and all, “whatever it takes” and fighting ‘til the end and nobly risking their lives and all that, and yeah, Jay isn’t saying he wouldn’t die for any of his family on the spot, but—

They’re willing to do whatever it takes to win, because winning is the only option for them. They don’t know what it’s like to lose, to really lose.

But Jay—

Jay knows what it’s like to lose. He knows what it’s like to win and still lose, because a win without everyone isn’t a win after all, it can’t be a win, not when they’re left wounded and mourning and Nya saying goodbye in his arms—

But Jay. Jay is lucky, and Lloyd’s breathing eases out and his eyelids flutter and his fever goes down. Jay is so very lucky, because instead of dying with the others as the Bounty’s crushed, they get bailed out last second by tea and Jay gets to keep his family again. Sure, they’re stranded in another realm and that sucks and Jay might be losing what’s left of his mind here, but – still. He’s so very, very lucky.

He reminds himself of that as Kai leaps fearlessly onto the Colossi’s back when they return to Ninjago, as if he had never been in any danger of being crushed by it before. He reminds himself of it even as his stomach twists and his palms go sweaty and Wu’s panicked cry of Lloyd! echoes over their comms.  

Jay reminds himself and Nya’s voice is still telling him to make that last wish.

__ __ __ __

Jay is lucky. Jay is so very, very lucky, because when Nya flips the lever wrong and the engines reverse, he’s just barely not in the path of the blast. He’s lucky because his part of the ladder holds strong, his hands don’t slip, and Jay’s never in any danger at all.

But—

Jay is lucky, but he’s Jay-lucky. Jay-lucky isn’t happy-lucky. Jay-lucky is constantly worried about losing, constantly worried about winning and still losing, constantly wondering how you made it out and they didn’t, and constantly wishing you could’ve swapped places.

Cole can’t be dead, he tells himself. Because Jay might not be easy-lucky but he’s never been unlucky enough to lose everyone forever. It hurts and it sucks and he mourns for a bit maybe but he always — he always — he got Nya back so—

Kai is crying and trying not to, all stifled and ugly. Zane is barely holding them together and he hasn’t even looked at Nya’s expression yet because he knows that kind of guilt, it hurts, and he’s too scared to — have it be real yet, because it’s not. Cole can’t be gone, Jay can’t have lost him again. Cole’s always doing that — throwing himself in danger’s way for them, for Jay — throwing him the Jade Blade, pushing him from harm’s way in Yang’s Temple, hugging him tightest when he’s warm and strong and solid again even though Jay was a big fat idiot who forgot—

Cole can’t. He just can’t.

Cole’s eyes, frightened and terrified, are frozen in Jay’s head and he just wants his best friend back.

Another thing about Jay is that he’s kind of smart sometimes. He knows things, things about gravity and falling and impact, and he knows that the Oni don’t save people.

He wishes he wasn’t.

Jay’s smart, and he remembers the wish he made. He remembers where he sent the teapot, and he bets — he’s smart, he’s lucky, he could find it. It’d risk Nadakhan but if it’s a risk for Cole then—

But Jay is smart, and he knows how that will end.

He wishes he didn’t.

Maybe Jay isn’t lucky after all, he thinks, staring hollowly over the deck of the Bounty where the dark fog swirls below, the knowledge that Cole’s left alone �� dead — eating at his heart and screaming in his mind because he can’t get his voice to work quite yet.

Maybe he’s cursed. There needs to be someone left to mourn the lost. Jay knows that.

He just wishes it wasn’t always him.

[crescentmoon223]

Two Worlds Collide Chapter 6

Read it on AO3 | Rated: NC-17 | Stella x Scully

As promised, here’s chapter 6 of my Stella/Scully fic, Two Worlds Collide. 7 and 8 will be along very soon! Oh, and if you’d like a little visual inspiration for Stella’s boss-turned-friend Fran, she was very much inspired by the fabulous Fiona Shaw as Carolyn on Killing Eve.

Chapter 6

May 2012

Scully arrived in London on a brilliantly sunny day, so different from the heavy, gray days she’d spent here fourteen years ago. Hopefully, it was an omen, a sign she’d made the right decision in coming here. Back then, she’d been hunting a vampire. Now, she was searching for a new version of herself, or something like that anyway.

She sat on the bed in her new apartment, bouncing slightly to test the mattress. It squeaked beneath her weight, and a smirk tugged at her lips as she imagined the noise it might make if it saw any action. She’d shipped several boxes of her belongings, but they hadn’t arrived yet—it took longer to clear customs than she’d realized—so all she had was the suitcase she’d flown over with. Thank goodness the rental came furnished.

She picked up her cell phone and dialed, listening as the line crackled across the Atlantic.

“Hello?”

She smiled involuntarily at the sound of Maggie’s voice. “Hi, Mom.”

“Dana,” her mom said, relief palpable in her voice.

“Just letting you know I got in safely, and I’m all settled in my new apartment.”

“And how is it?” Maggie asked. “Does it look okay in person? Clean? Safe?”

“It looks pretty much like it did in the pictures.” She glanced around the loft bedroom, open to her left with a low railing that overlooked the living room and kitchen below. A blue quilt covered the full-sized bed, with matching curtains on the windows. “I can’t wait for you to see it.”

“I can’t either,” Maggie said.

Scully would only be here for two months, and she’d insisted Maggie come for a visit before Scully started her fellowship next week. They were long overdue for a mother-daughter vacation together. The sad truth was, Scully was overdue for any kind of bonding time with another human being.

“I’m so lonely,” she’d whispered to Mulder one night as she lay beside him in their unremarkable house in the middle of nowhere. She’d breathed desperately past the tears clogging her throat, wondering how she could feel so alone when she shared her bed every night with the man she’d loved for most of her adult life, the man she’d thought she would spend the rest of her life with.

But as she’d lain there, waiting for a response that never came, she’d felt the truth of her situation. The man holding her wasn’t the same man she’d fallen in love with. He’d become a shell of the man he’d once been, retreating inside their house, inside his office, inside himself. Nothing, it seemed, could fulfill him the way the X Files once had, not even his love for her or the life they’d created together after they left the FBI. They’d become isolated in their little house, and despite her job at Our Lady of Sorrows, she was lonely. So achingly lonely.

What she hadn’t expected was that once she’d left him, once she’d gotten an apartment in Annapolis closer to work and her mom, she’d felt even lonelier, so lonely that when she lay in bed at night, she could hardly breathe past the emptiness inside her. Sometimes she felt like her chest might collapse in on itself.

Every morning, she got up and went to work. She fought for other people’s children, tried to fix them, tried to make them whole again. Sometimes, she succeeded. Sometimes, she failed. Never as greatly as she’d failed her own son. William’s absence felt like a missing piece of her soul, and losing Mulder only seemed to intensify it, until she felt like she was only a shell of herself too.

When she’d first heard about the opportunity here in London, she’d applied without thinking, desperate for a change. But when she received the call that she’d been chosen to study under Dr. Linenburger at The Royal London Hospital, she’d panicked. She was forty-eight years old. What the hell was she doing, considering yet another career switch and traveling halfway across the world to set it in motion? Was she having a midlife crisis?

In the end, she’d decided to go with the momentum she’d already set in motion. A few months in London might shake her out of the stagnant slump her life had fallen into. Maybe she’d find something here she’d been unable to find at home.

Once, a very long time ago, she’d found something here, someone here, who’d shaken her out of a similar—if milder—slump. Those two nights with Stella were a sparkling memory she’d carried in her heart all these years, a shining moment when she’d grabbed hold of what she wanted, when she’d shared something special, something wonderful with another human.

For two memorable nights, she hadn’t been lonely.

Smiling at the memory, she finished up her conversation with her mom and walked downstairs to the living room. Having already unpacked her only suitcase, she found herself at a loss for how to spend the rest of her first afternoon in London. She needed to grocery shop. And she should familiarize herself with her new neighborhood.

Deciding that was as good a place as any to start, she shrugged into a thin jacket, tucked her phone into her back pocket, and headed out. The sun still shone brightly overhead, and she squinted as she walked, taking in the buildings on her street, rows of two and three-story dwellings in aged stone. There was a sense of history etched into each elaborately carved façade that she’d missed since the last time she’d been here.

Spotting a café at the end of the block, she headed for it. A coffee might help clear the jetlag-induced fog from her brain. Tea, perhaps. She wasn’t a big tea drinker, but when in London…

What was Stella up to these days? Scully had hardly let herself think about her over the years, had semi-successfully convinced herself that her decision to accept a fellowship in London had nothing to do with the detective who’d once turned her world upside down.

She and Stella had kept in touch, albeit barely. Stella had indeed emailed to tell her when Ronnie Strickland was convicted and again after he mysteriously died in prison a few months later, having apparently starved to death despite receiving three meals a day. He’d been severely anemic at the time of his death, a fact Mulder had celebrated as proof Ronnie had indeed been a vampire, deprived of his usual diet of blood.

But a handful of emails and phone calls spanning more than a decade hadn’t given them any real insight into each other’s lives. She knew Stella still worked here in London, that she had climbed the ranks of the Metropolitan Police like Scully had known she would. But would she want to hear from Scully now? Would she want to see her?

And did Scully want to see Stella? That yearning deep in her gut said yes, desperately so. But after all these years, she could hardly expect them to share the same connection they’d shared then. It might be awkward. What if it somehow tainted the perfect memory Scully harbored of their time together? She couldn’t bear for anything to tarnish those moments.

Anyway, she had time to decide. She certainly wasn’t going to contact Stella on her first day in London. Scully entered the café and ordered a latte, figuring she’d been British enough for one day. She sat at a table by the window and sipped her drink, scanning local headlines on her phone. It grounded her somehow to know there was just as much murder and mayhem here as there was on her side of the Atlantic. Some things were the same no matter where you lived.

“Met Officer Attacked by Belfast Strangler”

The headline jumped out at her, although it took her a moment to realize why, and it wasn’t the headline at all. It was the photo below it, the photo of Detective Superintendent Stella Gibson. Scully quit breathing, nearly dropped her coffee, as she registered what she was seeing.

Attacked.

A sick feeling spread through her belly, and she gripped the edge of the table as she read the article, which told her little other than that Stella and another officer had been attacked by a serial killer while in police custody. Both had been treated at the hospital and released. It had happened almost a week ago.

Was Stella okay? Was she still in Belfast? Was she here in London? Is she okay?

Scully pulled up Stella’s email address on her phone and composed a message. They didn’t know each other well enough for Scully to ask the most burning question in her mind, so instead she stuck to the facts. She told Stella she was here in London for a few months studying pathology from a respected doctor at The Royal London Hospital and asked if she’d like to get together sometime to catch up.

Safe. Straight forward.

So much for not contacting Stella right away, but Scully wasn’t worried about protecting her feelings or her pride anymore. She just needed to know Stella was okay.

Before she could second guess herself, she hit Send.

***

“Are you sure you don’t something more to eat?”

Stella sipped from her tea. “I’m sure.”

Fran made a sound of disbelief as she bit into her steak sandwich, eyeing the empty soup bowl in front of Stella. She’d known Stella long enough to know soup wasn’t her lunch of choice and also not to question it, not to make her explain the soft diet that had her longing for the satisfaction of sinking her teeth into something, literally anything at this point, a hunger that grew steadily stronger with each passing day.

“Soup,” Fran muttered, eyes searching Stella’s for an explanation she knew she wouldn’t receive. Many years ago, Fran Kingsley had given Stella her start at the Met. She’d been Stella’s boss, had given her a leg up in a male-dominated world, and along the way had become one of her dearest friends. About ten years ago, Fran had been recruited into MI5, leaving the Met behind. Her short brown hair was shot through with silver now, but it only seemed to intensify the power of her presence. “So, how long until this bullshit inquiry is resolved?”

“Hopefully no more than a week.” Stella’s phone dinged with a new email, and she glanced at it instinctively, hoping irrationally that the inquiry into her handling of the Belfast Strangler case had been dropped and she might be allowed to return to the office this week after all. She swiped her finger across the screen, calling up the message.

Dana Scully, the sender’s name announced itself, and Stella inhaled sharply. There was a name she hadn’t seen in years, a name that stirred something warm deep inside her soul whenever she saw it. They rarely emailed, and when they did, it usually involved a case one of them was working on, but just knowing Scully was out there had always brought Stella a strange sense of comfort.

Today, it brought the opposite. Stella’s name had been in the news a lot over the last few weeks, for reasons she’d rather leave solidly in her past. She couldn’t tolerate the thought of any kind of “are you all right” message from Scully now.

So, she set her phone aside, returning her attention to Fran, who was watching her out of gray eyes as sharp as knives, ready to peel back Stella’s protective layers, an “are you all right” of her own. “You should at least drink something stronger than tea with that soup.”

Stella’s lips twitched. “Bit early in the day for that, don’t you think?”

“Never too early,” Fran said with a meaningful lift of her eyebrows. “Not in our line of work. Have you seen someone?”

Stella swallowed the question with another sip of tea. “I have an appointment on Friday.” A mandatory condition of her return to work.

“Good. Well, I’ve got to dash, but give me a ring if you need someone to have that drink with.” Fran was offering more than her company, and they both knew it.

“Thank you,” Stella told her quietly.

“Take care.” Fran’s hand rested briefly on Stella’s shoulder, and then she was off, striding toward the door as other customers in the café stepped to the side to let her pass. She was a force of nature, all right, and Stella was fiercely glad for her presence in her life.

She sat for a few minutes to finish her tea, fighting the growing sense of emptiness inside her that had nothing to do with the pitiful bowl of soup she’d eaten for lunch and everything to do with the week ahead. Without the prospect of work, it loomed impossibly long before her, almost overwhelmingly so.

Eventually, she left the café, stopping at the market on her way home to pick up a few things, including a fresh sleeve of flowers since the ones she’d bought at the airport two days ago had already begun to wilt. At home, she took Fran’s advice and poured herself a tumbler of whiskey, then set about putting away her groceries. She stocked her fridge and wiped down the counter before clipping the stems on the fresh flowers she’d bought and arranging them in a vase, a splash of red and purple against the otherwise muted tones of her kitchen.

She bent her head and inhaled deeply, eyes shut, lost for a moment in the intoxicating scent of fresh roses, until her cracked ribs spasmed, shooting bolts of fire through her chest. She froze, not daring even to exhale, one hand braced against the counter as she cursed furiously inside her head, waiting for the pain to subside.

Then she eased herself onto a barstool at the counter and took a hearty gulp of her whiskey. She reached absently for her phone, searching for a distraction, almost having forgotten the email waiting for her there. Dana Scully. Really, what was one more “are you all right” at this point? Stella had already fielded dozens of them. Even her mother had called, and they spoke about as often as she spoke to Scully.

I’m fine. Thanks for thinking of me. Just biding my time until I can get back into the office. She mentally composed her reply as she clicked on the message.

And then her breath caught in her throat again, but this time it had nothing to do with her cracked ribs. Scully’s email wasn’t an “are you all right” at all. She was here in London, and she wanted to meet. Stella set her phone on the countertop, taking measured breaths as she considered how to respond. This was the worst time to re-introduce herself to someone from her past, while she was bruised, physically and mentally.

Once upon a time, she and Scully had shared something incredibly intense and meaningful together, maybe the most intimate moment of Stella’s life. She’d been young then, so fucking young. But it wasn’t as if it would happen again. Scully had been with Mulder almost since she’d left London the first time, and while that wasn’t necessarily a hindrance for Stella, it certainly was for Scully. So, this would be dinner with an old friend, nothing more.

Stella desperately needed an escape from her flat, from the chaos in her brain, from the reality awaiting her at the inquiry next week. And right now, her escape had arrived in the form of Dana Scully.

***

Scully fidgeted in front of the mirror in the bathroom. What did you wear to have dinner with someone you’d once shared two of the most passionate nights of your life with? Someone you hadn’t seen in over a decade? She’d never been one for dresses. To wear one tonight felt disingenuous, like she was trying too hard to impress Stella. Instead, she put on dark wash skinny jeans and a black top, leaving her hair loose down her back. She touched up her makeup, adding a bit more eyeliner than she would usually wear.

And then she left the bathroom before she started overthinking things or second guessing herself. She headed downstairs, picked up her jacket, and set out. The restaurant Stella had suggested was only a few blocks away, so she decided to walk. She needed the fresh air to clear her head, because she had no idea what the etiquette for a night like this was.

Outside, dusk purpled the sky over the rowhouses on her street. The air was cool and refreshing, just what she needed. She started walking, heels clicking against the sidewalk, the knot in her stomach loosening with each step until it unraveled completely. Seeing Stella again tonight would be a good thing. She was almost sure of it.

She could use a friend here in London, and while she and Stella had never exactly been friends in the past, maybe they could be now. Maybe they could be more than friends. Warmth spread through her belly as she remembered the nights they’d spent together in their youth. Scully had been a single woman for over a year now. Whether or not she and Stella rekindled things, she was overdue to put herself back in the dating game.

It was intimidating at her age, especially after having spent over a decade with Mulder. It had been so long, so very long since she’d been on a date. Not since Stella, fourteen years ago. And here she was, on her way to meet Stella again. Maybe a date. Maybe just dinner with a friend.

That knot in her stomach tightened again, pinching at her ribs. She rubbed at it as she walked. What if she froze completely when she saw her? What if they’d changed too much to rekindle even a friendship? What if they were just two strangers trying awkwardly to generate enough conversation to make it through a meal together?

Scully huffed a breath, casting her eyes skyward. She was being ridiculous. She knew it but was powerless to stop herself. There was a reason she’d buried herself in work for most of her life, why it had taken seven years for her and Mulder to take their relationship to the next level. She wasn’t very good at this, at putting herself out there, at making romantic connections with people. She never had been.

Which was all the more reason for her and Stella to keep things platonic this time. A friendship would be more likely to last the duration of Scully’s time in London than any kind of romantic relationship, after all, and Scully was pitifully short on friends. After her case in Belfast, Stella might need a friend too.

Scully forced herself to keep walking as the restaurant came into view, not allowing her footsteps to slow until she was reaching for the handle to the heavy-looking wooden door. Inside, the restaurant bustled with activity, snippets of conversation in British accents drifting past her ears, but her gaze was locked on a figure standing to the left of the hostess desk.

Stella’s back was to her, but she’d know that stance anywhere. Her hair was shorter now, reaching just past her shoulders in perfectly coiffed waves. She wore a black pencil skirt with a blouse the color of a shiny penny, glistening beneath the restaurant’s track lighting. Scully sucked in air, heart racing, heat spreading through her like a wildfire, an instantaneous, almost overwhelming physical reaction she hadn’t experienced in, well…in fourteen years.

As if sensing her presence, Stella turned. Their eyes met, but the fresh-faced detective who’d swept Scully off her feet way-back-when was nowhere in sight. The detective superintendent who faced her now was older, hardened in a way that made Scully stand a little taller, her spine straightening almost involuntarily.

Stella still retained every bit of her ethereal beauty, azure eyes coolly assessing Scully as she toyed with the curve of her hair, fluffing it between her fingers before tossing it over her shoulder. Scully was so taken with the sight of her that it took several long seconds for her to register the bruising and stitches at Stella’s left brow, the discoloration over her cheekbone and her chin, carefully concealed with makeup but still visible to a doctor’s eye.

Scully’s stomach dipped, lust mixing with concern and the completely flustering experience of seeing her again for the first time in so long. The intervening years had strengthened Stella’s armor, her expression unreadable behind that icy stare. Scully hesitated for another moment before stepping forward, wrapping one arm around Stella in a brief hug.

“It’s so good to see you,” she breathed against her neck. She smelled the same, something fresh and feminine and uniquely Stella that had Scully’s head spinning through a whirlwind of memories, Stella’s bare skin pressed against hers, lips and teeth and more pleasure than she’d known possible.

Stella was stiff against her now, one hand tangling in Scully’s hair as she hugged her back before pulling free. “It’s good to see you too.”

Scully stood there, smiling nervously, hoping Stella hadn’t felt the frantic beating of her heart. They were older now, so much older, toughened and scarred by life. Scully felt a crushing pressure in her chest as she imagined herself trying to explain everything that had happened since she last saw Stella. And what things did Stella need to confess in return?

“Shall we get a table, then?” Stella asked, breaking Scully out of her spiraling thoughts.

She nodded, falling into step beside her as they approached the hostess. They were shown to a quiet table near the back of the restaurant, and Scully felt somewhat calmer once they were sitting across from each other with a bottle of wine between them. She sipped from her glass gratefully, watching as Stella seemed to settle as well, eyes softening as she looked across the table at Scully.

“So,” Scully said with a hesitant smile. I read all about Paul Spector this afternoon, and I’m so fucking sorry. But she knew better than to broach such an uncomfortable subject before they’d gotten reacquainted.

“So,” Stella repeated, the ghost of a smile on her lips. “Did you fly in today?”

Scully nodded. “This morning.”

“The redeye?” Stella’s eyes were sympathetic.

“Yeah. I got a few hours of sleep on the plane, but I’ll be glad to crash tonight.”

“I bet.” Stella sipped from her wine, eyes never leaving Scully’s. “And you’re here for work?”

Scully had forgotten the magic of her accent, that smooth, smoky voice, the way it crawled over her, melting her from the inside out. Stella’s voice was lower now than she remembered, somewhat scratchier. Scully found herself leaning in every time she spoke. “Yes. I’ll be working with Dr. Linenburger at The Royal London Hospital. He’s a noted forensic pathologist whose done some really interesting work in digital imaging that I’m excited to try my hand at.”

“You’re interested in pathology, then?”

She knew Stella was just making conversation, trying to get to know modern-day Scully, but the questions felt almost like an interrogation beneath her intense stare. She nodded. “I’ve been practicing medicine for the last decade, but lately, I’ve started to realize I miss being involved in the investigative side of things. So, yes, I’m considering a move into pathology.”

“Dr. Scully,” Stella said, tongue darting out to wet her lips. “I like it.”

Scully reached for her wine to cover the blush she felt rising to her cheeks. “A lot has changed since the last time I saw you.”

“Probably too much to cover during one meal,” Stella said, arching an eyebrow. She was playing coy, but also saving them both from diving too deep into personal territory tonight, and Scully was thankful for that.

“Yes. My life has been…I’m not sure there’s a word for it, really.”

Stella reached across the table, covering Scully’s hand in her own. “I’m so sorry about your son. I can’t even imagine.”

Scully felt the hot press of tears behind her eyes, her skin gone warm and prickly. She had foolishly mentioned her pregnancy during one of those occasional emails she’d exchanged with Stella, which meant she’d later had to explain William’s absence. She’d never had the words to describe that time in her life. Whenever possible, she tried not to speak about it at all. She cleared her throat. “Thank you.”

Stella’s brow wrinkled. “I shouldn’t have brought it up. I’m sorry.”

Scully shook her head, swiping beneath her eyes. “No, it’s okay.”

“Thoughtless of me,” Stella said quietly, staring into the ruby depths of her wineglass.

And Scully couldn’t bear her guilt, not over this, not over anything. She couldn’t let their evening turn sour because of her own sad history, barely ten minutes after they’d been reunited. “No, really. It’s…it’s gotten better.”

Stella met her gaze, uncharacteristically at a loss for words. Scully was torn between the urge to laugh or cry at the ridiculousness of it. Here they were, stumbling through the personal territory they’d both wanted to avoid tonight. Maybe the only way around it was to go through.

“I’ve seen pictures of him,” she told Stella, her voice hoarse from the lump of emotion lodged in her throat.

Stella’s eyes widened. “William?”

She nodded, willing herself to get the words out. “Once the charges against Mulder were dropped, things finally settled down. His life wasn’t in danger anymore, and neither was William’s. Last year, his adoptive parents reached out to us through Agent Doggett, the agent who’d helped me coordinate the adoption. They sent us pictures.” She closed her eyes, feeling the tears splash over her cheeks. “He’s happy. He’s growing up on a farm in Wyoming. He rides horses.”

Stella’s chin quivered slightly as she reached forward, brushing the tears from Scully’s cheeks. “I’m glad things have gotten better…that you have some peace.”

“I do.” Scully nodded as she blinked back more tears. “Not knowing was a living hell. Every day, I worried. I imagined awful things. But now…now, I know he’s okay.”

“And Mulder?” she asked.

“He’s still Mulder.” A wry smile curved her lips. “Actually, no, he’s not. He lost his purpose after we left the FBI. I went to work at the hospital, and he…he closed himself up in his office.”

“His purpose wasn’t loving you?” There was that arched brow again.

Scully dropped her gaze to her wineglass. She took another long sip. “He loved me. I think he still does. But the X Files were always his true passion. He didn’t know what to do with himself once he’d lost them.”

“It sounds like things have been very difficult for you both.”

“We broke up.” She glanced at Stella. “I moved out about a year and a half ago.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” If Stella had any reaction to learning Scully was single, she didn’t show it.

Scully blew out a breath, grateful to have it all out in the open. “Thank you.”

“Do you still love him?” Stella asked gently, eyes locked on Scully’s.

“I’ll always love him,” she said, “but I’m not in love with him. Not anymore.”

“I see,” Stella said, and Scully wondered if she did. As far as she knew, Stella had never loved anyone the way she’d loved Mulder, had never spent a decade living with someone she’d thought she would spend her whole life with.

Their waitress interrupted them to bring their meals, and they fell to lighter topics as they ate, Scully’s upcoming fellowship, her new apartment—flat, Stella called it, and Scully immediately embraced the term—things she should do and see while she was in London. Stella deflected Scully’s casual attempts at shifting the conversation in her direction.

This was hardly surprising. In fourteen years, Scully had barely learned more about her than her last name. But she knew parts of Stella few others had seen, understood her in ways she doubted many other people ever had or would.

It didn’t stop her from worrying about how Stella was handling the aftermath of the case in Belfast. Did she have someone in her life to confide in? A friend? A therapist? Anyone at all to share the emotional burden? Those weren’t questions she could ask, not tonight, anyway.

Still, they had to address the elephant in the room, so after they’d settled the check, she decided to just do it. “I read about what happened in Belfast.”

Stella went unnaturally still on the other side of the table, turning her head slightly to stare over Scully’s shoulder[RB1] . “I assumed you had.”

She touched Stella’s arm, offering comfort the same way Stella had done for her earlier. “I’m one of the few people in the world who can honestly say I’ve been there. I know what it feels like, and I’m here for you if you need a friend.”

Stella did meet her eyes then, just for a moment, gratitude gleaming in their crystalline depths. “Thank you.”

“Also, it’s not why I emailed you.” Scully sucked her bottom lip between her teeth as a smile threatened. “Or, it’s not the only reason, anyway.”

“No?”

She shook her head. “I had been thinking about you since I took this position, wondering…”

“Wondering?”

She shrugged, trying to keep things light. “Haven’t you ever wondered?”

Stella stood from the table, brushing a hand against Scully’s waist as she led the way toward the front of the restaurant. “Once or twice.”

 [RB1]A shadow flashes in her eyes that makes Scully’s worries intensify. She’s afraid Stella’s keeping it all bottled up, and no one’s armor can be that tough all the time. It has to come out sooner or later.

[bubblegumfiles]

Week 2 Food Diary/Workout Log

And other random thoughts

Day 8 - May 8, 2019

I left home hungry and felt like I was starving by the time I left work. I was very tempted to eat a spoonful of buttered white rice in the fridge even though I had a whole beets, black beans, and broccoli meal planned out in my head. But I didn’t. I chose not to. Instead, I ate a can of sardines and it’s quelled me significantly.

Made it to the gym. I chose to start with an arm day since I tend to be self conscious about my bat wings when I’m wearing short sleeves.

I did 30 lbs on the first three machines and 40 lbs on the last one, two rounds of 15,10,10 reps on each with short breaks between each set. I didn’t break a sweat anywhere except a light misting of perspiration on my neck, which is very unusual for me. I sweat easily. Maybe I didn’t challenge myself enough? Come to think of it, there wasn’t much burn either. Perhaps by some blessed miracle or cosmic joke there is some strength under all this flab. If I am not sore tomorrow, I will increase the number of reps. If I am, I’ll repeat the same thing again. Not too shabby for the first day in the gym.

2 cups of broccoli, 1 cup of beets, and 1/2 cup of black beans was the next meal. Or the only meal so far I suppose. The thing is I am hungry but I’m also a bit irritated so I don’t feel like doing anything, especially not cooking. My family is eating differently and the smell of hamburger meat is permeating the house right now, but I don’t feel tempted to eat it, even with being hungry. I think I feel let down because my mom said we’d go walking together at 6 and I was genuinely looking forward to going. If I’d known she’d change her mind, I would have gone earlier or gotten some cardio in at the gym this morning. Today is my dad’s birthday and I think mama thought we’d go out to eat today. She seems kinda tired though. I’m taking daddy out on Saturday but the place I’m taking him doesn’t have healthy options so I’m just going to eat at home first. I’m feeling sleepy and irritable even though I slept roughly 6 hours, give or take. I’m sitting at 419 on the calorie intake so maybe that’s why I’m feeling a bit frustrated and sleepy. Add that to disappointment and I guess I get where my mood is stemming from. I don’t want to be too hungry at work but it looks like I might end up that way. It’s the stupid anxiety again.

After a nap I felt a little less anxious and by the time I got to the parking lot at work and ate some beans, beets, and a few pineapple chunks, I was feeling better. By the time work is over, it’ll be another day survived. That sounds super good to me.

Day 9 - May 9, 2019

Saw Auntie Sherion at work and she gave me an apple and when I got to the car I chugged some water and had a few more pineapple chunks. The water distended my stomach enough to not feel super hungry during the drive home, which was lovely.

Threw all of these lovely things in a skillet and hit it with some paprika, black pepper, a little sea salt, a little parsley (I have no idea what this actually goes on), and a tablespoon of teriyaki sauce. Did I mention I’m not a cook? I’m sure it’s obvious to my tastebuds. I overdid it on the pepper. I also over cooked the vegetables which made me a bit sad but whatever. There’s always next time. A serving size of cashews did manage to improve my mood though.

Made it to the gym later than I wanted since it was raining when I got off work but I made it. Did 45 minutes on the treadmill at 3.1 speed and between 2.5 and 3 incline. I wanted to do more but Tiff was in distress and while it was easy to hold the phone and walk on the treadmill, I couldn’t do it with the weights so I called it a day. I still felt satisfied because I made it though.

My last meal of the day was really satisfying. 2 red potatoes, broccoli and sardines. Even though I ended up hungry about 2.5 hours later, it was nice not to feel that odd teeny tiny ghost of hunger immediately after a meal that tends to happen continuously these days. I’m not sure if it’s because of the calorie deficit or if it’s because I’m still not getting enough nutrients. Guess I’ll have to look into it later.

Day 10 - May 10, 2019

I ate 2 jolly rancher hard candies at work. When I got home I had eggs, broccoli, and cucumber and tomato.

Did an hour at the gym by accident, which really tickled me. Repeated the same arm exercises from Day 8 (reps and weight included) and decided to get on the treadmill since my feet didn’t hurt. For 15 minutes I did 3.0 incline at 3.0 pace, 15 more minutes and no incline at 3.0 pace, and a 5 minute cool down. I’m starting to believe my theory about healthy food and my brain is right because when I walked in the gym, I felt anxious and embarrassed because there were people there (didn’t expect that) but I was able to regulate my feelings and redirect my focus, so much so that I ended up staying longer than intended! It felt nice to be able to self soothe in a positive way.

Also...I have ankles?!?! Apparently I hold fluid there and have been my whole existence only to find out after attempting to stay properly hydrated that I don’t just go from leg to foot. Who knew? 😳

Next was brown rice, quinoa, sweet peppers and onion. I love eating this. It’s tasty and if I drink enough water with it, it takes away the hungry feeling for a little while.

Some things that are worthy of note: I finally drank a gallon of water in a day and I went to a prom send off with yummy food and stuck to eating fruits and veggies! Omg it smelled to lovely but I know what I want for my mind. The bit that the fog has lifted has provided tremendous relief without the weird emotional blockage that I felt with my medication. Because I’m still feeling the emotions, but it’s like now my brain has the ability to reframe it and the energy to process it. That’s the best way to describe it. It feels...amazing.

Day 11 - May 11, 2019

Had 3 grapes at work. They were so juicy!! Got home and made oatmeal and eggs. No fruit in the oatmeal this time but it did have honey and cinnamon. Also ended up eating a can of sardines too.

I woke up really hungry and decided on a Subway salad but was only a few bites in when it was time to go to daddy’s birthday lunch at Bluff City Crab. Their food is amazing so I may sit in the car to finish my salad before being tempted by the deliciousness. It’s seafood, sure, but how do I calculate the calories in the butter and secret seasonings and sauces or whatever? What if I go overboard on eating but undershoot the calorie intake? I don’t wanna risk it.

Snacked on an apple and it didn’t make my heart start fluttering. Had rice and sardines as the last meal.

No exercise today. I think I feel bad about it. I feel bad in general. Like I wanna cry bad. Not only did I not exercise but today I think I let myself get too hungry so I’m cranky. The biggest reason I didn’t get to exercise is because my free time went to other people. At the time it felt nice to give it but in retrospect maybe I shouldn’t have? I don’t know. I tasted a spoonful of rotel dip but ended up spitting the meat out. I even popped a mini snickers open and started chewing it but it tasted funny so I spit all of it out too. I’d like some different foods now I guess, but I can’t tell if I genuinely want it or I want it because I feel stressed all of a sudden. Holidays do that to me, especially when I’m not sure my mom will like her gift. We’re also supposed to go out to eat at Chow Time for Mother’s Day tomorrow. They have vegetables that I can eat but I really don’t want to go. I guess I’m tired of going out somewhere that has different food options from what I’m choosing to eat right now and not having a good vegetable option to choose from but spending my money on it anyway. I don’t have that problem if I’m not social or when I keep to myself. Only when I try to interact with people more. Every time I end up cutting a piece of my desires to please someone else.

I felt ugly today too. Like the gross kind. That’s when I lost my footing on my emotional state. Right now I want to go have some rotel and Doritos. Should I? Will I binge later if I don’t? Will I fall off the wagon and go back to eating the way I used to if I do? I wish the gym hadn’t closed early without notice. That was the beginning of the emotional spiral. I’d given to everyone else all morning but the moment I went to give something to myself, I wasn’t able. And now I feel a little low. *sigh*

Day 12 - May 12, 2019

Today I ate an unmeasured amount of white rice (probably about 2 serving sizes worth), a can of sardines, and a fourth of a red circle b smoked sausage. Didn’t care for the meat much. No gym again.

Day 13 - May 13, 2019

No food. Went to the gym at 5 A.M. and did 45 minutes on the treadmill. I alternated between 3.0 incline/3.0 speed and 0.0 incline/3.3 speed. Felt relaxed and mellow afterward which was lovely. Also got a gallon of water down.

Day 14 - May 14, 2019

No food. Did some exercise before work. Arms and treadmill on the hills setting. According to the machine I burned 407 calories in 45 minutes. Did another gallon. I feel like I need more water though.

[drlaurynlax]

The Most Comprehensive HPA Axis Dysfunction Guide

HPA Axis Dysfunction affects many people and having the right treatment could help them live fuller lives.

Stress is “normal.”

…So is feeling imbalanced. At least for approximately 3 in 4 Americans who will experience “adrenal fatigue” in their lifetime, according to Dr. James Wilson, author of Adrenal Fatigue: the 21st Century Stress Syndrome (2001). 

Stress: Mental & Physical

Most people think of stress as psychological and emotional stress.

Technically, however, stress is defined as:

 “Any event in which environmental demands, internal demands, or both, strain or exceed the adaptive resources of an individual.”

(In other words: Stress is a demand on our mental or physical body that we can’t handle well). 

Stress (both mental and physical) is the “elephant in the room,” that sets the stage for all sorts of disease and health problems we experience in our lifetime. 

Common Stress

You and I encounter hundreds—if not thousands—of stressors in our daily lives, some that happen in the blink of an eye, and others that linger for years.

Common daily stressors include:

Gut-irritating foods, like chocolate-glazed donuts, beans or even difficult-to-digest raw broccoli in your gut

Getting stuck in rush-hour traffic

An e-mail exchange where the person’s tone on the other end seems tense

A spat with your significant other

Negative news headlines on our notifications throughout the day

Running late

Drinking 2-3 cups of coffee to tide you over after 4 hours of sleep

A 3 pm sugar binge when a sugar crash strikes

Accidentally overeating or feeling really hungry before a meal

Pushing ourselves hard in an intense workout

Feeling the crunch of a tight deadline at work

Lack of sleep one night

Saying “yes” when you really wanted to say “no”

Getting over-heated in the sun

Generally, daily, or “acute” (short-term) stressors are things we quickly adapt to—

If you get hot for instance, you naturally seek to cool your body off with some AC. If you ate too much, you may not feel like eating as much the next meal; or if your body is ‘stressed’ with hunger, you typically eat something to ‘adapt’ and calm the stress.If you didn’t get much sleep last night, you may try to find time to take a nap, or to get to bed extra early tonight.

With short term stress, your body and mind is innately wired to learn how to deal with the stress.

However, when stress lingers and remains (with little to no relief in sight)…

Houston, we have a problem!

Some examples of chronic—lingering—stress may include:

A rocky or strained relationship with a significant other, business partner or best friend

Financial pressures

An autoimmune condition—that won’t go away

Years of eating a processed food diet or disordered eating habits

Daily (constant) demands of a boss we can never please or a job we hate

Trying to do everything—and not being able to do any one thing really well

Not eating enough (every day), dieting or restriction

Drinking 2 to 3 cups of coffee (every day)

Burning a candle at both ends—every day

Sleeping 5-6 hours most nights

Staring at screens fo 8-10 hours per day

Overtraining (Chronic cardio with little to no rest for recovery)

Overwork and little to no play

Staring at computer screens while hunched over—every day

  Try as we may to adapt, relief doesn’t come, and if chronic stress persists, things go awry BOTH physically and mentally.

Hello SUPER STRESS!!!

Technically we call this “HPA Axis Dysfunction.”

HPA Axis Dysfunction 101

HPA Axis Dysfunction is another word for what’s come known as “adrenal fatigue” or “poor stress management” in laymen’s terms. Mental and physical stress triggers the hypothalamus in your brain to activate two distinct pathways of the stress response:

1.) The “Fight or Flight” System (“Sympathetic Medullary System”): the system the responds IMMEDIATELY to stress, like increasing your heart rate, blood pressure, alertness, and metabolic rate; and,

2.) Your HPA-Axis (Hypothalamic Pituitary Adrenal Axis): the “mothership” of all things stress related in your body.

HPA Axis Anatomy

The HPA-Axis involves three key parts of your brain and body: 

Hypothalmus. The region in your brain that controls the “automatic” (autonomic) functions like: metabolism, body temperature, thirst, hunger, sleep and emotional activity.

Pituitary. A “hormone regulating” gland, in your forehead, that helps your body feel, helps you manage stress, and stimulates growth, hormone balance, reproduction, and lactation.

Adrenal Glands. Two pea-sized endocrine (hormone) glands that produce a variety of hormones including adrenaline, aldosterone and cortisol (your stress hormone)

If your HPA-Axis takes a hit from LOTS of stress or chronic (ongoing) stress, then it leads to “HPA Axis Dysfunction,” resulting in an assortment of side effects, including:

Inflammation

Blood sugar imbalances

Most all disease: Cancer, diabetes, heart disease, etc.

Mood imbalances, like depression

psoriasis or eczema;

IBS, bloating, or other digestive symptoms

Brain fog 

Hormone imbalances

Infertility

ADD/ADHD

And (you guessed it) chronic—ongoing anxiety—that anxiety you seemingly can’t control, no matter how hard you try to think about controlling it. 

  “HPA Axis Dysfunction” is simply another way of saying, “chronic” stress.” Chronic stress is the root of all imbalance in the body. 

And tying back to our gut-brain-body connection, chronic stress often stems back to the gut. It’s all intertwined!

HPA-Dysfunction vs. Stress

But don’t we all experience stress in our lives? Shouldn’t we just be able to deal with it?

What’s the difference in every day stress vs. “HPA Axis Dysfunction?”

Good questions!

True, our bodies DO deal with A LOT when it comes to stress; and your body (and brain) can take A LOT (“bring it on!”). But when stress goes overboard, or lasts for a long time (without proper recovery) our body can only handle so much.

Example: the Poptarts and Cheetohs I ate daily as a kid, and artificial sweeteners and additive-filled protein powders I ate for years in college and young adulthood. 

The result from these chronic stressors in my life? Frequent bloating, constipation, bacterial overgrowth, and the anxiety I battled in my teens and young 20’s. My body was not designed and wired to eat Silicon Dioxide, aspartame, corn solids or high-fructose corn syrup.

Gone are the days of our ancestors who lived in the natural (toxin-free) environment, ate nutrient-rich foods, and spent their days in accordance to the rhythms of the sun. Eventually my repetitive poor quality foods led to poor gut health, which then led to stress and a variety of symptoms. 

Consider the variety of stress your own body encounters on a daily basis:

Working a job you don’t love, staring at a screen for 8-hours and staying stuck in your cubicle;

Barely getting 6-hours of sleep

Running off 2 to 3 cups of coffee every day

Eating ketchup, pasta sauce, yogurt and deli meat—laden with hidden sugar

Forgetting to eat, or subsisting off of chicken and broccoli—not eating enough

CrossFitting, spinning or running miles upon miles 5 to 6 days per week with little attentio to your recovery 

If this becomes your “norm,” that HPA-Axis of yours also takes a hit. And when your HPA-Axis takes a hit, a “normal stress” response no longer remains.

Cortisol Conundrum

Speaking of “normal stress, “ever heard of the hormone cortisol?

Cortisol is your “stress hormone” that helps you deal with “normal stress.” In the good ol days, it helped humans run really fast from bears chasing them in the woods; and it helped you “suck it up” when the mean girls left you out at the lunch table in middle school. 

Cortisol is directly produced and regulated by the HPA-Axis. 

Higher amounts of stress produce more cortisol.

If cortisol levels are constantly produced and pumped out (with little to no recovery or rest from the stress), then the HPA-Axis gets pooped out!  

And we are right back to square one: Imbalance and inflammation (think: mood swings, sugar cravings, racing thoughts, disrupted gut flora leading to disrupted serotonin in the brain, increased or decreased respiration rate, elevated blood pressure, etc.).

Without the ability to regulate stress (normally), your body and mind naturally become more sensitive and fragile to respond to even little stressors (like a loud noise, the lack of control, a comment someone said, the effects caffeine, etc.). 

Again: stress is more than just a mental battle, it is also a physical battle.

How do I know if I have HPA Axis Dysfunction?

It’s not always easy to “see” or diagnose—especially if your “subpar (stressed out) norm” has become your norm.

Common signs of an out-of-whack HPA-Axis include:

Anxiety—that doesn’t go away

Panic attacks

Feeling wired and tired at night

“Waking up” when you workout—and needing the highs of workouts to keep going

Plateaus in training, “gains” and physical goals

Muscle weakness or wasting

High or low blood pressure

Suppressed respiration (needing “more air” during training)

Subpar performance “Crazy fast” metabolism or super slow metabolism

Telling your body to “work harder” or “push more”—with difficulty implementing it

Digestion difficulties (bloating, gas, IBS, constipation)

Suppressed appetite

Hormone imbalances (low testosterone, loss of period, infertility)

Hypoglycemia (low blood sugar)

Unable to go long between meals without getting a headache/shakey

Dependence on coffee, sugar or artificial sweeteners

Never feeling 100% rested

Apathy and/or burnout

Feeling emotionally “flat”

Falling asleep if you sit anywhere for too long

Insomnia

Weepy for now reason

Inability to lose weight

Mood swings

Fatigue

Anxiety or Depression

Autoimmune conditions

Food intolerances

Headaches

High blood pressure

Low or high heart rate

Feeling dizzy when standing up

Inability to concentrate/focus or memory loss

Lyme disease

Catching colds, flus or illnesses easily

Not “feeling like yourself”

Skin breakouts or acne 

Feeling burned out or unable to do your usual basic “to dos”

Inability to tolerate exercise like you once did

Random allergies

“Diabetes” 

Thyroid issues/hypothyroidism

Unwanted weight loss and inability to gain weight

Feeling “wired and tired”

Shortness of breath

Hormone imbalances 

Apathy about my work

IBS

Poor workout performance

Electrolyte imbalances

  If any of these factors are ongoing (lasting more than 7 days), then it may be worth at least exploring if you could benefit from “resetting” your HPA-Axis (i.e. targeting stress).

What to Do About It

Address stress—the elephant in the room.

Not just mentally, but physically. 

Remember: While talking about your anxiety and counseling with someone around your anxiety can be two HUGE PIECES of the anxiety puzzle, if your physical well-being goes unaddressed (targeting stress reduction and improving gut health), then you are only treating half the “problem.”

How to do it? 

Here are some basics to start:

1. Assess Your Own Stress.

What are the top stressors in your life right now, and what stressors have you dealt with in your past? Surgeries? Medications? Light exposure? A job you hate? Food intolerances? Gut issues? Make a list of both psychological and physiological factors that may be contributing to your current state of stress.

2. Test Don’t Guess.

Many people read about “adrenal fatigue” or HPA Axis Dysfunction on Google and immediately turn to self-treating—buying supplements and tea labeled “adrenal support” at Whole Foods, downloading the Headspace meditation app, and diffusing lavender in the air. However, without understanding a full picture of the cortisol imbalance in your body (if at all), you may be under treating or over treating. For instance, your cortisol may be high or low, melatonin may be suppressed or perfectly normal, estrogen may be nonexistent or extremely elevated.

In addition, cortisol imbalance may be triggered by the gut, the hypothalamus or your thyroid, or a mix of all three. The problem is, if you treat your “issue” inappropriately you risk not getting to the “root” or potentially making the problem worse. A comprehensive saliva/urine test like the DUTCH test can help you get a clearer picture of your unique cortisol story. Consider working with a functional medicine practitioner to navigate test results, as well as address any other underlying health imbalances contributing to your condition.

3. Eat a Nutrient Dense Diet

Balance your meals with protein, healthy fats and moderate carbs. No extremes. 

Protein, particularly in the morning, has a balancing effect on blood sugar. 

Avoid foods with fillers, sweeteners and unknown ingredients.

For a time, avoid caffeine and alcohol. 

Prioritize clean filtered water (Tip: Add a pinch of sea salt to 12 to 16 ounces of water in the morning. Sea salt is a natural electrolyte to balance sodium levels). 

Also don’t neglect mindful eating (chewing your food well, slowing down at meal times, not eating on the go or while watching TV, etc.). Mindfulness is a game changing practice your body appreciates.Reset Your Circadian Rhythms

Eliminate blue light exposure at night (blue-blocking glasses, nightshift apps on your phone),

Get back to nature (aim for 30-60 minutes at least of fresh air)

Eat at regular intervals

4. Catch Enough Zzzz’s

Sleep at regular times (keep a schedule). Speaking of sleep is essential to just about every type of “wellness” protocol, but it is particularly essential for HPA Axis Dysfunction recovery. Prioritize 7 to 9 hours each night.

5. Move Your Body

Overtraining is a common cause of HPA Axis Dysfunction. Common signs of overtraining include difficulty recovering from workouts, increased gut issues or loss of appetite, a plateau or decrease in performance, increased body fat despite regular exercise and “eating clean,” poor sleep, restlessness, anxiety, fatigue, muscle or joint pain, suppressed immune system, and low mood.

The best exercise? In the immediate recovery period, opt for lower intensity exercise such as walking, cycling (not cranking up the notch on your spin bike), strength training, swimming, or yoga over high-intensity activities like CrossFit WODs, Orange Theory workouts or straight-up cardio training. Just Say No.

What’s filling your life and what’s draining you? Take a thoughtful inventory of what’s crowding your space. Cut out the things on your plate that are weighing you down.

6. Relax

As cheesy or overrated as it sounds, take time out to settle your mind and integrate mindful activities through mental and physical (intentional) relaxation.

Consider these:

Prayer

Journaling

Meditation (Try Muse, or Headspace)

Biofeedback/Heart Math

Yogi Breathing 

Yoga 

Tai Chi

  These are just a few ways people actively seek to “relax” more. Although it will probably be “awkward” at first, by starting small and prioritizing relaxation (even 5 minutes in the morning) make a difference.

7. Supplement Smart

A big mistake people make is taking random supplements that can actually make your adrenal fatigue worse, not better, if not careful. As mentioned, testing and not guessing helps prevent over-treating or under-treating with supplements. However, there are some natural and gentle supports for HPA Axis Dysfunction that can work for many people as your figuring out your unique picture including:

Liposomal Curcumin + Boswellia AKBA  

Lavender & Peppermint essential oils

Adrenal Calm Cream by Apex Energetics 

HPA Axis  

The post The Most Comprehensive HPA Axis Dysfunction Guide appeared first on Meet Dr. Lauryn.

Source/Repost=> https://drlauryn.com/hormones-metabolism/hpa-axis-dysfunction-guide/ ** Dr. Lauryn Lax __Nutrition. Therapy. Functional Medicine ** https://drlauryn.com/

[nightsongalchemy]

Nothing could have prepared me for this… Nothing could’ve prepared for me for the amount of trauma and fighting I would have had to endure over the past three years of my life fighting chronic illness and conditions. Although there have been so many happy memories since my health crisis in June of 2017, the amount of tears I’ve cried could easily fill an ocean.

I’ve seen between thirty and forty doctors over the past three years. One doctor diagnosed Lyme, another diagnosed Fibromyalgia, another said Intestinal Permeability Syndrome, yet another said Gittleman’s Syndrome, a few had different diagnoses, but most either had absolutely no idea what was going on. One said it was genetics so I would be stuck this way for the rest of my life. Another conventional doctor even told me it was all idiopathic! I was shamed by three different doctors when I wanted to get the #MirenaIUD removed which was directly related to all of the problems I was having. It took my own perseverance, research, and self diagnosing with the help of Anthony William’s, the Medical Medium, information to take on the chaos that was my health.

Summer of 2017 my body went into a health crisis. Since then, my days have been spent surviving the fallout of an extremely aggressive late-stage Epstein-Barr Virus, heavy metal toxicity, low-grade streptococcus, and a severe reaction to the Mirena IUD. My immune system was broken, hormones imbalanced, and my body was starved of glucose due to a doctor prescribed ketogenic diet.

My symptoms included seizures, dementia, memory loss, chronic brain fog, compromised immune system, muscle weakness and numbness, chronic fatigue, nerve spasms/twitching, cramps through hands and feet, confusion, hallucinations, disorientation, mood swings, diminished cognitive function, inability to think or accomplish simple tasks, irrational thoughts and personality changes, crying spells, severe depression, anxiety, panic attacks, dizziness, vertigo, slurred speech and stuttering, migraines, inner ear pain, tinnitus, heart palpitations, TMJ, nausea, chronic pain all over, un-healing arm/hand tendon injuries, un-healing knee injuries, un-healing pinched/injured nerves, hair loss, acne, rosacea, sensitivity to light, disordered eating, loss of perception of passing time, extremely painful periods (endometriosis), PMS, constantly getting the cold/flu/sinus infections, systemic allergy attacks, digestive disorders, constant bloating, constant belching, intestinal cramps/spasms, low hydrophilic acid, eye floaters, light and sound sensitivity, weight gain, insatiable hunger, sluggish liver, food and chemical sensitivities, night terrors, and edema. Then, after a couple years being beaten down and fighting - PTSD.

Good news is that a lot of these symptoms have disappeared, bad news is I still fight most of these symptoms every day just to a much lesser degree. It’s been a long road and a roller coaster since I started the Medical Medium protocols August of 2017 wherein the symptoms would constantly take three steps forward and two steps back. Enduring the symptoms, detoxing, and the viral flare-ups have been beyond a traumatizing nightmare. Traveling long distances as a passenger in a car is a ride of vertigo and vestibular seizures. Pain in general, pain from old endometriosis surgeries gone wrong that never healed properly, repetitive injury pain, and too much stress often trigger seizures as well. I have good days and I have bad days. Some days I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck. If you see me and I look fine, I’m most likely doing everything in my power to hide the pain, suffering, and trauma.

However, the most disheartening trauma that has come of all of this - after almost three years of fighting and working through the pain from the tendinosis in both arms, pinched nerve in the left elbow, and the injured thumb tendon/joint on my right hand - I have been forced to stop tattooing, drawing, painting, playing the harp, and most computer work entirely until I heal the injuries. Most of my correspondences, including this one, are talk to text. I can’t spend a lot of time in front of a keyboard and I can barely hold a pencil. This has been devastating. This whole update has taken weeks to fully write out with my limited abilities.

Working consistently with an occupational/physical therapist for the past four months, I’m refusing to give up. Even as I write this, I feel fire and positivity running through my veins. With a smile on my face I will rise from the ashes, and I will continue to work as hard as I can through diet, supplements, gentle exercise, heat/ice, stretches, acupuncture, chiropractic, and massage until my injuries are fully healed and my health is fully restored. I will continue to be the artist and musician I was always meant to be. It all comes down to a matter… of time.

Until then, my tattoo and illustration books need to remain closed until the tendon injuries heal. I’m so very sorry to all of you beautiful clients waiting to get your tattoos started or finished. It breaks my heart everyday. I’m sorry to all of you who are waiting patiently for your illustration commissions as well. I’m so very sorry for all of this. For those of you who still have appointments scheduled, I’m still playing it day by day until I’m cleared by my physical therapist, so I’ll continue to be in touch about rescheduling. Martin Velez Human, the tattoo artist I’ve been working with at Gypsy Moon Custom Tattoo, has been a God sent while my injuries have been healing! If you’re looking to get a tattoo in the near future, please send me a message and I’ll set you up with a consultation with him.

By the grace of God, I’m still continuing to make music with my band, Sweet Maple Singers. Although for the time being I cannot play the harp, I will keep singing my heart out. I’ve taken this time to receive vocal training and work hard with my beautiful fiancé and bandmate, Robbie Mann, to strengthen our vocal performance, harmonies, and arrangements to give all of you the best show we can. Being able to sing and make music with him and Ryan Cramer the past few weeks has given me new hope and the drive to keep on fighting for my life. I honestly don’t know what I would do without you two.

Thank you to all my incredible friends, family, clientele and future clients for all of your unwavering patience, understanding, support, and love. I don’t know what I did to be so blessed. If you can spare a little prayer for speedy healing and recovery it would mean the world to me. For those of you suffering with chronic symptoms or conditions - please don’t give up and know you’re not alone. Take it one day at a time, have compassion for yourselves, and know you will heal. I love all of you so much, and may your day be blessed with enchantment and magick!

Love your elven bard,
Jasper✨🧝🏻‍♀️🌙✨

#keepsmiling #nevergiveup #risingfromtheashes #medicalmedium #medicalmediumprotocols #healingchronicillness #healthwarrior
(at Gypsy Moon Custom Tattoo) https://www.instagram.com/p/B8rXcZOHPY1/?igshid=14v8krjy6zhxi

[skittidyne]

this is for @kaiyouchan and i won’t explain why

Kenma couldn’t really be called ‘awake’ just yet. The morning is still grey and drab, full of fog and dew, like the day is still in the same semi-conscious state the little witch is in. 

Tetsurou has a lot of fondness for the quiet parts of the morning. There’s a ritual to it all, full of softness and silence, all of it drenched in familiarity. He’s never been able to replicate this kind of feeling with either of the tengu, not like this, not in the cottony parts of the morning, but that’s alright. Tetsurou hoards these mornings like precious gems. 

Kenma gets out of bed usually on his own (usually spurred on by Midna), but that’s about as much as he’ll do without further provocation. Tetsurou likes to think that the cat is on his side; she’s already been fed by the time she drags Kenma out of bed, so there’s no real reason except to get him upright and out in the kitchen. 

Tetsurou slides a bowl of fruit loops across the table as Kenma sits down. His eyes are still scrunched shut, nose a bit scrunched too, like the entire idea of consciousness still offends his dreaming mind. Kenma pours milk into his cereal with magic so he doesn’t have to move more than he must. It’s always best to give him a bit of sugar in the mornings, to help kickstart the waking process, Tetsurou has found. Cereal works as well as pancakes, if a little less fun to prepare. 

Tetsurou sets his chin in his hands and happily watches Kenma try to feed himself. He himself isn’t hungry yet; he usually doesn’t eat until whenever lunch is, as much as that varies; Tetsurou has his own routines, and he prefers them that way, despite Keiji’s occasional nagging. 

Kenma isn’t much more conscious by the time he’s worked through most of his breakfast. Tetsurou can only see a sliver of eye peer up at him, like he’s checking to make sure he’s present, before Kenma turns away again. His hair hasn’t quite grown out again, but it’s long enough to hide his eyes when he wants. 

(Not right now, though. It’s still unruly from bed - and the night before - and Kenma hasn’t bothered to brush it yet. For everyone who says Tetsurou’s hair is a mess, he’d like to point them to Kenma some time.) 

Kenma curls up on the couch, using Tetsurou as a pillow, and they both check the news and cat apps and email on Kenma’s phone. Tetsurou feeds the Neko Atsume cats for him, Kenma scrolls through news sites and taps out the accurate ones, and Kenma has dozed off again by the time Tetsurou is invested in a feel-good story about big cat cubs in an overseas zoo. The grey of the morning has turned to silver, then to bright pink and blue as the sun is well up over the horizon, but neither stir just yet. There’s no need yet. 

Midna, yet again, is the one to decide Kenma’s schedule. She jumps down onto his stomach from the back of the couch with little remorse, making him oof and hiss in pain. She meows directly in his face. 

“I think she says it’s morning time,” Tetsurou says quietly, not wanting to break the morning’s peace. 

“She kept me up last night,” Kenma petulantly replies, “so I’m still tired. Brat.” 

Midna meows again, then headbutts him, purring loudly. Tetsurou can’t help but chuckle. “It’s not her fault it stormed.” 

“How did I end up with two babies about loud noises?” 

“Hey, I’m good with thunder!” 

“You’re both still bad with fireworks and gunshots.” 

Tetsurou hums and doesn’t reply; Kenma certainly doesn’t push the issue. He’s never judged Tetsurou for that kind of thing, but neither will he shy from the topic, and it comes up from time to time without warning, like now. He doesn’t like to think about it. 

“Sorry,” Kenma murmurs. From this angle, Tetsurou can’t see his eyes, but his mouth has a hint of a frown in the corners. 

“You’re fine, you’re just cranky because your sleep was interrupted by a ball of fur and claws. Do I need to dress you too?” he coos. Kenma’s mouth immediately twists down into a scowl, but as he shifts around so he can glare up at Tetsurou, he knows the heavy bit has passed. 

They may be into the talking portion of the morning, but it’s still soft at the edges. 

They continue through their routine - Tetsurou does, Kenma goes along like a limp noodle. Speech doesn’t always equal ready for the day, and since there isn’t much on the plate for today, Tetsurou lets it slide. He kind of wishes his lazy days corresponded to Kenma’s, though. It’d be nice to lay around in bed and cuddle for an extra few hours, groggy and warm and extra affectionate. 

Eventually, Tetsurou drags Kenma into something close to clothing. He still doesn’t really see the difference between sweatpants and pajama pants, but he trusts Kenma’s preference, and he himself likes wearing soft pants out and about, too. They haven’t been able to find a size that perfectly fits both his hips and his long legs, but they’re trying, and Tetsurou doesn’t matter the exposed ankles when it’s warm out. 

It’s well past noon when they manage to leave. Kenma has pulled on that ridiculous hoodie with the pouch on the front that Tadashi had gotten him (as a joke, Tetsurou thinks, but he’d also given one to Suga, so maybe not) and Midna eagerly clambers in. It’s not as kangaroo-ish as Kei claims, but it’s still an overwhelmingly adorable sight. Kenma’s phone is full of pictures like this. 

(Midna goes along with it because she doesn’t have to wear her harness if she stays in the pocket. Tetsurou doesn’t understand the connection between witch and familiar, but it results in a spectacularly well-trained animal, he’ll give them that.) 

They walk instead of taking a broom or trying to squish onto the train. This way takes them through the shopping district, so while Tetsurou doesn’t know what’s on the list of today’s errands, he can guess. He window shops as they make their way toward the bookstore. 

Tetsurou considers it a bad omen when they find the part timers standing outside the store. 

Tadashi isn’t on shift, apparently, but Kei is, and his mood doesn’t seem to approve when he spots them. Not that that’s all that surprising or indicative of what’s going on inside, since that’s his default expression (disdain), but the others are worrisome. “Is Tadashi not here today?” Kenma asks as soon as they’re near enough. Midna pops her head out of the top of the pocket and the tall redheaded guy - Tetsurou thinks his name is Inuoka, or something, all he knows is that he’s the guy Tadashi accidentally turned into a werewolf - coos at her. She lays her ears flat and glares at him. 

“He caught something, I guess?” the werewolf guy volunteers after a cheery little wave. “Tsukki’s filling in for him!” 

“Don’t call me that.” 

“I borrowed a book from Sugawara from him. Can you return it?” Kenma asks. 

“Ah, Sugawara is actually...” Werepuppy makes a complicated hand gesture, seeming embarrassed, and Kei’s mood doesn’t improve, either. 

“What trouble has he started now?” Tetsurou asks with a dramatic sigh. Kenma inclines his head toward the store, and Tetsurou steps around him to investigate in his stead. 

Inside, he is surprised to see Suga here again. But more surprising than that is that that his beau is nowhere to be found. Yukie glances over to him, three sticks of pocky stuck in her mouth, and otherwise dismisses him. “Kuroo!” Suga calls as soon as he spots him, meaning Tetsurou can’t just back out of the store again. “Alright, you’re a neutral enough party. Settle something for us!” 

Yukie slurps down the pocky like they’re noodles. He doesn’t want to know how. “He’s not exactly a neutral party,” she points out. 

“We can’t use your coworkers, they’re too biased.” 

“What about the little witch who summoned him? He doesn’t like you.” 

“Now you’re just being rude,” Suga pouts. With a gesture and a running leap, he clambers up onto one of the bookshelves, peering over into the next aisle over. 

Something breathes a jet of fire back at him. 

“What the hell are you two up to in here?” Tetsurou groans. 

Yukie swipes the pomegranate smoothie off of the countertop and slurps it loudly as she sidles around to stand at his side. Suga spares them both a particularly dirty look. “So, there’s like, a thing here, and Koushi thinks he gets rights to it? Even though it’s not his store and it’s my job to eat trespassing creatures.” 

“Iwaizumi told me that Tooru told him that Kyoutani is missing a wrymling from his clinic. I’m not about to let her eat someone’s pet!” 

“That’s quite the chain of events,” Tetsurou remarks. 

“Also, it’s totally not a wyrmling,” Yukie adds with another slurp. 

“I think I know a wyrmling when I see one.” 

“It’s some kind of feral salamander.” 

“It’s definitely a wyrmling!” 

“It doesn’t have wings.” 

“You can see the wing joints, it’s just missing them right now. I think I know what amputated wings look like,” Suga exclaims, exasperated, and peeks down into the aisle again. More fire. 

“So you want me to guess at what this thing is?” Tetsurou asks, definitely not here for this kind of bickering. 

“No, you need to decide who gets it! Do you want me to return this to some poor soul who lost their pet?” Suga demands. 

“It’s setting the store on fire,” Yukie retorts. She finishes the smoothie with one last, extra loud slurp. (Tetsurou kind of wonders if hunger spirits are immune to things like brain freeze.) “Daichi would be ma-aa-ad,” she sings, taunting. 

Suga gives her a baleful, kicked puppy look. 

“Let’s see what this thing is,” Tetsurou breaks in, and he and Yukie sidle around bookshelves until he sees a squat, fat little reptile thing sitting in the middle of the aisle, happily gnawing on a selection of burnt romance novels. 

Tetsurou has never seen a salamander before, and he’d only seen a wyrmling once, years ago. 

“No clue, guys.” 

Both Suga and Yukie groan. 

“But I can help you catch it. I feel kinda bad for the books,” he adds. 

It takes an ingenious (read: ridiculous) mixture of sleep soot (who knew that shit was flammable?), levitation, another smoothie, Suga’s coat, and Yukie’s stockings to tie it off before the thing is angrily swaddled and definitely doused. It squirms and squeaks wetly, looking particularly sorry for itself, if such mystery creatures are capable of that kind of thing. 

And, because he’s good-hearted but stupid, Tetsurou stashes the thing under one arm and announced, “Alright, I’ll be taking this, then!” 

“Huh?” 

“We have to stop by the clinic later for Midna, so I can see if this little thing is the missing pet.” 

“You just want to eat it yourself,” Yukie accuses with narrowed eyes. Even Suga looks like he agrees. 

“That’s rude. I would never eat something that has the possibility of burning me from the inside-out.” If it’s not the pet, though, he thinks he may give it to Kei. He may have mellowed out on the spiritual diet front, but Tetsurou still feels the need to feed him whenever they see each other. 

Not that they need to know he’s sniping this for such a reason. 

“I’ll be calling Tooru later to check on that,” Suga says, relenting with a scowl. 

“You do that. Oh - but Kenma has a book to return to you. We borrowed it from Tadashi awhile back.” 

Suga trails him out of the store, to Yukie’s irritation. The part timers take in their sooty appearances and the angry reptile under Tetsurou’s arm, but none of them comment; with a shooing motion, they scurry back into the store to hopefully fix things before a less lax manager comes in to see the mess. 

Kenma’s eyes fix onto the mystery creature. To Tetsurou’s disappointment, he doesn’t immediately identify it, or even comment on it. Instead, he holds out a battered old notebook in Suga’s direction. 

“That little shit! I didn’t even know he had this!” Suga exclaims, affronted, and clutches at the notebook like he’s being reunited with something particularly valuable. It hadn’t even been that useful of a book. Kenma doesn’t comment, so neither does Tetsurou, though he does shift the angry little creature away from Kenma and Midna, just in case it decides to start spitting fire again. 

After Suga leaves, and Kenma drags Tetsurou away from the bookstore before more can happen, Kenma quietly says, “You get into trouble a lot.” 

“Nah, this is just another regular day.” 

“Not really.” 

“Sleepy morning, extra cuddles, running errands with a cat and running into magical mayhem? Yeah, it’s a normal day.” 

“We have other, more normal days.” 

“Do not.” 

“Do too.” 

Tetsurou grins, and tries not to laugh at Kenma’s face when he realizes they’ve lapsed into another one of their little arguments. He always does the scrunchy nose thing when he does. “We can try again tomorrow for a ‘normal’ day, whatever that means.” 

“...Kay,” Kenma sighs, and reaches over to grab Tetsurou’s free hand. “Tomorrow, then.” 

[ecotone99]

[RF] A Man Named Poppa

“I felt my heart slowly sinking into my chest. I definitely did not want to be here, yet my forced indifference to it all was overwhelming. I closed my eyes tightly, with the hopes that when I opened them I would be out this hellhole. 1 mississippi, 2 mississippi, 3 mississippi, 4— I hardly got to four before I was startled by the front door slamming shut. Or perhaps, what I assumed was the front door. I didn’t know where I was. Or who I was? No, I know. I’m Jenny Marie. I’m 13 years old. I’ve been here for 4 years. I think. That isn’t right.. Fuck! My name is Jenny Marie and I’m 17 years old because I have been here for 4 years now. An odd sense of calm washed over me. I think that was right. Another slam startled me out of thought. The second slam is the door to this place. I think. I opened my eyes and waited for them to adjust to the faint candlelight, coming from the furthest corner of the room. This was a pitiful place to be. I took note of my surroundings. When I get out of this place, they will know exactly what I saw. No windows. One door, dark brown. Three locks. Located on the opposite wall to me. Left. One chair, wooden. Painted a pale yellow colour. First corner. Metal bucket. Shit bucket. Second corner. Clean linen scented candle. This month’s candle. Third corner. Fourth corner? Me, across from the door, chained. “Mi amor?” I heard his call clearly, but it took time to register. “Love?” His presence in the doorway caught my immediate attention. I responded with a soft smile. “You may speak.” I hated when he spoke that way to me. A low growl spit out bitterly from his large frame. He wasn’t the nicest of men, but he loved me. I had to keep reminding myself that. He loves me, he really does. “How are you? Was work rough?” I never let my smile falter, never let my voice rise.. I knew better than that. I was learning. His smile left him with the same quickness as it had appeared. He furrowed his salt and pepper coloured brow, and touched his stubbly chin in an almost pondering response. I hadn’t had a moment to think before I felt heat across my face. I hated his hands, roughly calouseed, oversized. Why do his hands smell like fish? He didn’t like my response. “You’re a fucking idiot!” He angrily screeched across the room. A few droplets of spit fell on my face as the rampage continued. “I ought to have you skinned alive! Useless! Waste of space! Fucking whore!” He took a quick breath. “ WE have been over your lines how many goddamn times?! And you say to me, was work hard?! WAS IT FUCKING HARD!?! HOW MANY GODDAMN TIMES?! IDIOT, USELESS, USELESS TRAMP!!” The veins in his neck bulged to their full extent, threatening to burst. His fair skin turned to a bright red as he tore into me. He picked up and launched across at me the only thing in the room with real weight.

I’m going to be honest with you. I don’t remember anything after. But Poppa says he threw it too hard. Poppa says I bled badly from my head, and I scared him. Poppa said that’s why I woke up with stitches in my head. If misbehaving is what would have got me out the room, I would have misbehaved years ago. Poppa said I’ll pay for my mistakes later. But I didn’t care.

It took awhile for my eyes to adjust. I can’t remember the last time I saw daylight. The fluorescent hospital bulbs were a good enough for me substitution for me. I’d like to say that I saw a nurse or a doctor and told them my name, where I was from, what I had been doing missing. But my broken in commands took over. I nodded yes and no when Poppa said so, never deviating from our story. Poppa had an explanation for everything. “She was running around the house again. You know how kids are. Yeah, I know she’s a bit old for all this, but she’s a little slow if you know what I mean.” His charming demeanor filled the holes of doubt. “Yes, it’s just us. Mother left when she was just 6 months, never been right since. Thank you darlin’. Yes, it mighty hard, but what can I say? I love her.” The conversation formed into a thick fog as I dissociated my chance away. Maybe Poppa was right, I’m fucking stupid.

Just as seamlessly I went from my room to the hospital, I was right back again. Was Poppa drugging me? I was chained to the wall, dying of hunger, and awaiting his instructions. “You know, that was quite the fucking stunt you pulled earlier. Passing out on me and shit. You’re damned lucky you’re my favorite.” Poppa paced the small room, half muttering to himself, half scolding me. “I swear to God, if I lose another one of yous I’ll end this shit here and now.” Another one? His ramblings caught my attention and instilled panic within me. There are others? How many? What number am I? I’m going to die here. I know it. Is Poppa a serial killer? A rapist? Maybe not a rapist, he’s never laid a hand on me. At least not yet. Is this my fate? “Are you listening to me you stupid bitch? Don’t make me fix you for good this time.” Yet again, even my internal paradise was limited to his time frame. An unfamiliar “ding” filled the room. “Fuck does she want now?” Poppa replied while withdrawing a phone from the inner pocket of his grey will coat. He has a phone? The “ding”, now multiple back to back, echoed throughout the small room. I watched carefully Poppa carefully as his expression twisted into something I hadn’t seen before. He looked from his phone to me, and reread whatever messages he had just received. Nothing deterred him from a punishment beating. Something had to be wrong. After his second glance at me, I recognized the expression to be one of fear. Poppa hastily shoved the phone back into his invisible pocket, and began looking around the room frantically. What is there to see? Poppa visits everyday. What is he looking for? This room is the size of a queen sized bed. What is going on? He abruptly stopped, and turned to me to speak, giving an unconvincing smile. “Poppa has to go now.” He only ever used those eyes and that tone when something was wrong. First we lost heat, then he forgot my birthday, now this. “Don’t you ever forget about Poppa, and don’t ever forget, Poppa loves you. With a new found urgency, Poppa kissed me on the cheek and ran out the room, leaving the locks unlocked.

Poppa was gone for three days. On the first day, I counted the cars passing our home until sundown. I thought about eating the bread I was given, but I decided against it. I didn’t know how long I was gonna be alone. Regardless, I was happy that I was alone, even for a day. Why do the days feel so long? On the second day, I let my mind get the best of me. I thought of my friends, my family, and my real home. I remember when my little sister was born. My mom wasn’t planning on another, so we called her “Our little surprise”. I was jealous at first because she was born right before Christmas. But after she got here, I was proud to be a big sister. Mom let me name her Ruby. I heard sirens in the distance. My chest tightened against erratic beats, a fight between my rib cage and my heart. For a split second, I felt freedom, just two doors away. The sirens were right at the door, I knew it. I could practically feel it! I don’t know who shut my door when the Police came, but it wasn’t Poppa. A middle aged feminine voice spoke. “Hello Officers, is everything okay?” I only heard mumbles for the Officer’s response. “A disturbance? Why, I’d have to say you have the wrong house young man.” A lighthearted chuckle. “Would y’all like anything to drink? It’s plenty hot outside this afternoon.” Another mumble, higher pitched. Their steps within the the house stung against my ears. I had a rock stuck in my throat. All I could do was silently sob my second chance away. Why couldn’t I move? Why couldn’t I let any breaths escape me? How long had Poppa been gone? Poppa said that when the light form under the door went from left to right three times, that was one day. On the third day, the Officer returned, but not for me. The faintly recognizable voice woke me out of my sleep. I felt so weak. If each left/right is a day, Poppa would have been gone for 9 days. My body feels 9. I had no hope left. That Officers voice though. I don’t know what about it, but it made my brain snap against my head. That isn’t Poppa voice, stop it. I’m so stupid. Poppa needs to come back. Any old man isn’t my Poppa! In the days after, I had only enough strength to only watch the left/rights the first four times. I thought I was meant to die. In my solitude, I would’ve begged Poppa to come and beat me.

What happened next came in flashes. At least, that is how I remember it. “MERRICK COUNTY POLICE, WE HAVE WARRANT, OPEN UP.” Flash. Someone unlocked my ankle chains. It hurt. The rust had begun to fuse to my dampened skin. Flash. “We don’t have shit, get out my house and get the fuck off me!” Flash. Light blinded my eyes as someone dragged me by the hair out of the room. I counted the doorways as they hit my back. One. Two. The smell of freshly cut grass. Flash. Whispers. “Why do you keep this one seperate?” “Fuck off man.” Poppa? Flash. “Put your hands behind your head, get on your knees, legs crossed, NOW!” “Fuck this.” “Drop her!” Flash. Bang. Bang. My ears rang, stung with the proximity of the bullets. Flash. I felt my head hit the dirt. Hard. I didn’t have the strength to pull myself up. I laid there, practically lifeless. Flash. “Is she dead? Why did they bring this one out?” “Hey, Boss, they sliced the other ones up. Cancel the medic?” “Holy shit, I think we got a live one.” “MEDIC!!” Flash. Why is it so bright still? Am I moving? A car? “Stay with us sweetie, you’re a fighter.” My head hurts. Flash.

When I awoke in a hospital bed, I fully expected Poppa to be next to me, his grin a yellow contrast to the burning fluorescents. When I noticed that the man in the chair next to me wasn’t Poppa, and that there was a strange woman beside, I respectfully lost my shit. “GET THE GODDAMN FUCK AWAY FROM ME.” I screamed across the room, ripping the IV out my arm. “WHAT IS ALL THIS?! WHO ARE YOU!??! WHERE IS POPPA?” I sprinted, sobbing, through the large clear doors of my room, hollering my head off like a kid parentless in an amusement park. I made it about two rooms down before a team of male nurses caught and sedated me.” I paused. I didn’t want to read from the passages anymore. I hated this part. It made me regret writing the autobiography altogether. I took a need breath and counted to myself, hoping to stop my dissociation on live television. One mississippi, Two mississippi, Three mississippi. The TV show host, with an irritatingly sunny disposition, thought it a good idea to interrupt my coping skill to “cheer me up”. Dr.Lockheart always said “A regular person doesn’t know coping from needing reassurance. Be patient, especially if you’re going to go through with publishing this book.” “You know darlin’, we’ve gone through quite a bit already. If you want we can make this a three week special?” “Thank you, if we can.” I got up from my seat and left the book in the lounge chair. I walked right out and kept walking until I reached home. It was a long walk, but I need to breathe. 32 city blocks would give me that and then some. It was hard enough telling the police my story from the hospital bed that day. It was burden enough to know he slaughtered the other 13 girls he had and kept me to run with. It painful enough to put my daily accounts in writing for the nation to make a spectacle of. But this? I no longer wanted any part of it. Three week special my ass, they already have more than they need to dramatize my trauma. I halted my hurried pace to catch my breath. I hadn’t realized how fast I was going. One mississippi, Two mississippi, Three mississippi.

I had been telling my story for about 2 years now. I have all the facts, Dr. Lockheart says it’ll make this process easier, but half the time I wish I was still oblivious and chained down. I was kidnapped on May 7, 2011. I was 12 years old. I was at the park with my nanny, and she found a call to her fiance more important than me. I was held captive by a man and his friend named Jonah Smith. He held me for 7 years. In the same time frame, held 15 other girls from across the country. We were held in his mother’s house in a sunny suburb on Long Island. His mother suffered from Alzeheimers and couldn't decipher our screams from the evening news. She committed sucicide in her sane moments before the trial. His brother died on the lawn of my freedom date in police crossfire. Over those 7 years, he starved, abused and raped every single girl except me. Don’t ask me why, but I was his favorite. I was the only girl to make it out alive. I was the eldest. I wasn’t the luckiest. I’ve since been to fuckloads of therapy. And honestly, I wish I wasn’t saved that day. I wish I were killed like the others, or not picked in the first place. I wish I had died of malnourishment like the youngest girl. I wish his beating would have kicked in a rib that punctured a major organ. Don’t get me wrong. I know that nothing that happened was my fault. But I do know what is, and it’s beginning to creep up on me. I don’t know if I can live with myself. You don’t understand. There was so much pressure to put a face to the monster. The authorities didn’t question what I said, they just wanted an answer, a face to the crime. The warrant that day wasn’t for the man, but Jonah.

I don’t know the man who they took away once the trial was over. I hope one day he can forgive me. I had to say something, give them something but the truth. For the truth is, even after 7 years.. I don’t remember what Poppa looked like.

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[clarencebfaber]

The Most Comprehensive HPA Axis Dysfunction Guide

HPA Axis Dysfunction affects many people and having the right treatment could help them live fuller lives.

Stress is “normal.”

…So is feeling imbalanced. At least for approximately 3 in 4 Americans who will experience “adrenal fatigue” in their lifetime, according to Dr. James Wilson, author of Adrenal Fatigue: the 21st Century Stress Syndrome (2001). 

Stress: Mental & Physical

Most people think of stress as psychological and emotional stress.

Technically, however, stress is defined as:

 “Any event in which environmental demands, internal demands, or both, strain or exceed the adaptive resources of an individual.”

(In other words: Stress is a demand on our mental or physical body that we can’t handle well). 

Stress (both mental and physical) is the “elephant in the room,” that sets the stage for all sorts of disease and health problems we experience in our lifetime. 

Common Stress

You and I encounter hundreds—if not thousands—of stressors in our daily lives, some that happen in the blink of an eye, and others that linger for years.

Common daily stressors include:

Gut-irritating foods, like chocolate-glazed donuts, beans or even difficult-to-digest raw broccoli in your gut

Getting stuck in rush-hour traffic

An e-mail exchange where the person’s tone on the other end seems tense

A spat with your significant other

Negative news headlines on our notifications throughout the day

Running late

Drinking 2-3 cups of coffee to tide you over after 4 hours of sleep

A 3 pm sugar binge when a sugar crash strikes

Accidentally overeating or feeling really hungry before a meal

Pushing ourselves hard in an intense workout

Feeling the crunch of a tight deadline at work

Lack of sleep one night

Saying “yes” when you really wanted to say “no”

Getting over-heated in the sun

Generally, daily, or “acute” (short-term) stressors are things we quickly adapt to—

If you get hot for instance, you naturally seek to cool your body off with some AC. If you ate too much, you may not feel like eating as much the next meal; or if your body is ‘stressed’ with hunger, you typically eat something to ‘adapt’ and calm the stress.If you didn’t get much sleep last night, you may try to find time to take a nap, or to get to bed extra early tonight.

With short term stress, your body and mind is innately wired to learn how to deal with the stress.

However, when stress lingers and remains (with little to no relief in sight)…

Houston, we have a problem!

Some examples of chronic—lingering—stress may include:

A rocky or strained relationship with a significant other, business partner or best friend

Financial pressures

An autoimmune condition—that won’t go away

Years of eating a processed food diet or disordered eating habits

Daily (constant) demands of a boss we can never please or a job we hate

Trying to do everything—and not being able to do any one thing really well

Not eating enough (every day), dieting or restriction

Drinking 2 to 3 cups of coffee (every day)

Burning a candle at both ends—every day

Sleeping 5-6 hours most nights

Staring at screens fo 8-10 hours per day

Overtraining (Chronic cardio with little to no rest for recovery)

Overwork and little to no play

Staring at computer screens while hunched over—every day

 Try as we may to adapt, relief doesn’t come, and if chronic stress persists, things go awry BOTH physically and mentally.

Hello SUPER STRESS!!!

Technically we call this “HPA Axis Dysfunction.”

HPA Axis Dysfunction 101

HPA Axis Dysfunction is another word for what’s come known as “adrenal fatigue” or “poor stress management” in laymen’s terms. Mental and physical stress triggers the hypothalamus in your brain to activate two distinct pathways of the stress response:

1.) The “Fight or Flight” System (“Sympathetic Medullary System”): the system the responds IMMEDIATELY to stress, like increasing your heart rate, blood pressure, alertness, and metabolic rate; and,

2.) Your HPA-Axis (Hypothalamic Pituitary Adrenal Axis): the “mothership” of all things stress related in your body.

HPA Axis Anatomy

The HPA-Axis involves three key parts of your brain and body: 

Hypothalmus. The region in your brain that controls the “automatic” (autonomic) functions like: metabolism, body temperature, thirst, hunger, sleep and emotional activity.

Pituitary. A “hormone regulating” gland, in your forehead, that helps your body feel, helps you manage stress, and stimulates growth, hormone balance, reproduction, and lactation.

Adrenal Glands. Two pea-sized endocrine (hormone) glands that produce a variety of hormones including adrenaline, aldosterone and cortisol (your stress hormone)

If your HPA-Axis takes a hit from LOTS of stress or chronic (ongoing) stress, then it leads to “HPA Axis Dysfunction,” resulting in an assortment of side effects, including:

Inflammation

Blood sugar imbalances

Most all disease: Cancer, diabetes, heart disease, etc.

Mood imbalances, like depression

psoriasis or eczema;

IBS, bloating, or other digestive symptoms

Brain fog 

Hormone imbalances

Infertility

ADD/ADHD

And (you guessed it) chronic—ongoing anxiety—that anxiety you seemingly can’t control, no matter how hard you try to think about controlling it. 

 “HPA Axis Dysfunction” is simply another way of saying, “chronic” stress.” Chronic stress is the root of all imbalance in the body. 

And tying back to our gut-brain-body connection, chronic stress often stems back to the gut. It’s all intertwined!

HPA-Dysfunction vs. Stress

But don’t we all experience stress in our lives? Shouldn’t we just be able to deal with it?

What’s the difference in every day stress vs. “HPA Axis Dysfunction?”

Good questions!

True, our bodies DO deal with A LOT when it comes to stress; and your body (and brain) can take A LOT (“bring it on!”). But when stress goes overboard, or lasts for a long time (without proper recovery) our body can only handle so much.

Example: the Poptarts and Cheetohs I ate daily as a kid, and artificial sweeteners and additive-filled protein powders I ate for years in college and young adulthood. 

The result from these chronic stressors in my life? Frequent bloating, constipation, bacterial overgrowth, and the anxiety I battled in my teens and young 20’s. My body was not designed and wired to eat Silicon Dioxide, aspartame, corn solids or high-fructose corn syrup.

Gone are the days of our ancestors who lived in the natural (toxin-free) environment, ate nutrient-rich foods, and spent their days in accordance to the rhythms of the sun. Eventually my repetitive poor quality foods led to poor gut health, which then led to stress and a variety of symptoms. 

Consider the variety of stress your own body encounters on a daily basis:

Working a job you don’t love, staring at a screen for 8-hours and staying stuck in your cubicle;

Barely getting 6-hours of sleep

Running off 2 to 3 cups of coffee every day

Eating ketchup, pasta sauce, yogurt and deli meat—laden with hidden sugar

Forgetting to eat, or subsisting off of chicken and broccoli—not eating enough

CrossFitting, spinning or running miles upon miles 5 to 6 days per week with little attentio to your recovery 

If this becomes your “norm,” that HPA-Axis of yours also takes a hit. And when your HPA-Axis takes a hit, a “normal stress” response no longer remains.

Cortisol Conundrum

Speaking of “normal stress, “ever heard of the hormone cortisol?

Cortisol is your “stress hormone” that helps you deal with “normal stress.” In the good ol days, it helped humans run really fast from bears chasing them in the woods; and it helped you “suck it up” when the mean girls left you out at the lunch table in middle school. 

Cortisol is directly produced and regulated by the HPA-Axis. 

Higher amounts of stress produce more cortisol.

If cortisol levels are constantly produced and pumped out (with little to no recovery or rest from the stress), then the HPA-Axis gets pooped out!  

And we are right back to square one: Imbalance and inflammation (think: mood swings, sugar cravings, racing thoughts, disrupted gut flora leading to disrupted serotonin in the brain, increased or decreased respiration rate, elevated blood pressure, etc.).

Without the ability to regulate stress (normally), your body and mind naturally become more sensitive and fragile to respond to even little stressors (like a loud noise, the lack of control, a comment someone said, the effects caffeine, etc.). 

Again: stress is more than just a mental battle, it is also a physical battle.

How do I know if I have HPA Axis Dysfunction?

It’s not always easy to “see” or diagnose—especially if your “subpar (stressed out) norm” has become your norm.

Common signs of an out-of-whack HPA-Axis include:

Anxiety—that doesn’t go away

Panic attacks

Feeling wired and tired at night

“Waking up” when you workout—and needing the highs of workouts to keep going

Plateaus in training, “gains” and physical goals

Muscle weakness or wasting

High or low blood pressure

Suppressed respiration (needing “more air” during training)

Subpar performance “Crazy fast” metabolism or super slow metabolism

Telling your body to “work harder” or “push more”—with difficulty implementing it

Digestion difficulties (bloating, gas, IBS, constipation)

Suppressed appetite

Hormone imbalances (low testosterone, loss of period, infertility)

Hypoglycemia (low blood sugar)

Unable to go long between meals without getting a headache/shakey

Dependence on coffee, sugar or artificial sweeteners

Never feeling 100% rested

Apathy and/or burnout

Feeling emotionally “flat”

Falling asleep if you sit anywhere for too long

Insomnia

Weepy for now reason

Inability to lose weight

Mood swings

Fatigue

Anxiety or Depression

Autoimmune conditions

Food intolerances

Headaches

High blood pressure

Low or high heart rate

Feeling dizzy when standing up

Inability to concentrate/focus or memory loss

Lyme disease

Catching colds, flus or illnesses easily

Not “feeling like yourself”

Skin breakouts or acne 

Feeling burned out or unable to do your usual basic “to dos”

Inability to tolerate exercise like you once did

Random allergies

“Diabetes” 

Thyroid issues/hypothyroidism

Unwanted weight loss and inability to gain weight

Feeling “wired and tired”

Shortness of breath

Hormone imbalances 

Apathy about my work

IBS

Poor workout performance

Electrolyte imbalances

 If any of these factors are ongoing (lasting more than 7 days), then it may be worth at least exploring if you could benefit from “resetting” your HPA-Axis (i.e. targeting stress).

What to Do About It

Address stress—the elephant in the room.

Not just mentally, but physically. 

Remember: While talking about your anxiety and counseling with someone around your anxiety can be two HUGE PIECES of the anxiety puzzle, if your physical well-being goes unaddressed (targeting stress reduction and improving gut health), then you are only treating half the “problem.”

How to do it? 

Here are some basics to start:

1. Assess Your Own Stress.

What are the top stressors in your life right now, and what stressors have you dealt with in your past? Surgeries? Medications? Light exposure? A job you hate? Food intolerances? Gut issues? Make a list of both psychological and physiological factors that may be contributing to your current state of stress.

2. Test Don’t Guess.

Many people read about “adrenal fatigue” or HPA Axis Dysfunction on Google and immediately turn to self-treating—buying supplements and tea labeled “adrenal support” at Whole Foods, downloading the Headspace meditation app, and diffusing lavender in the air. However, without understanding a full picture of the cortisol imbalance in your body (if at all), you may be under treating or over treating. For instance, your cortisol may be high or low, melatonin may be suppressed or perfectly normal, estrogen may be nonexistent or extremely elevated.

In addition, cortisol imbalance may be triggered by the gut, the hypothalamus or your thyroid, or a mix of all three. The problem is, if you treat your “issue” inappropriately you risk not getting to the “root” or potentially making the problem worse. A comprehensive saliva/urine test like the DUTCH test can help you get a clearer picture of your unique cortisol story. Consider working with a functional medicine practitioner to navigate test results, as well as address any other underlying health imbalances contributing to your condition.

3. Eat a Nutrient Dense Diet

Balance your meals with protein, healthy fats and moderate carbs. No extremes. 

Protein, particularly in the morning, has a balancing effect on blood sugar. 

Avoid foods with fillers, sweeteners and unknown ingredients.

For a time, avoid caffeine and alcohol. 

Prioritize clean filtered water (Tip: Add a pinch of sea salt to 12 to 16 ounces of water in the morning. Sea salt is a natural electrolyte to balance sodium levels). 

Also don’t neglect mindful eating (chewing your food well, slowing down at meal times, not eating on the go or while watching TV, etc.). Mindfulness is a game changing practice your body appreciates.Reset Your Circadian Rhythms

Eliminate blue light exposure at night (blue-blocking glasses, nightshift apps on your phone),

Get back to nature (aim for 30-60 minutes at least of fresh air)

Eat at regular intervals

4. Catch Enough Zzzz’s

Sleep at regular times (keep a schedule). Speaking of sleep is essential to just about every type of “wellness” protocol, but it is particularly essential for HPA Axis Dysfunction recovery. Prioritize 7 to 9 hours each night.

5. Move Your Body

Overtraining is a common cause of HPA Axis Dysfunction. Common signs of overtraining include difficulty recovering from workouts, increased gut issues or loss of appetite, a plateau or decrease in performance, increased body fat despite regular exercise and “eating clean,” poor sleep, restlessness, anxiety, fatigue, muscle or joint pain, suppressed immune system, and low mood.

The best exercise? In the immediate recovery period, opt for lower intensity exercise such as walking, cycling (not cranking up the notch on your spin bike), strength training, swimming, or yoga over high-intensity activities like CrossFit WODs, Orange Theory workouts or straight-up cardio training. Just Say No.

What’s filling your life and what’s draining you? Take a thoughtful inventory of what’s crowding your space. Cut out the things on your plate that are weighing you down.

6. Relax

As cheesy or overrated as it sounds, take time out to settle your mind and integrate mindful activities through mental and physical (intentional) relaxation.

Consider these:

Prayer

Journaling

Meditation (Try Muse, or Headspace)

Biofeedback/Heart Math

Yogi Breathing 

Yoga 

Tai Chi

 These are just a few ways people actively seek to “relax” more. Although it will probably be “awkward” at first, by starting small and prioritizing relaxation (even 5 minutes in the morning) make a difference.

7. Supplement Smart

A big mistake people make is taking random supplements that can actually make your adrenal fatigue worse, not better, if not careful. As mentioned, testing and not guessing helps prevent over-treating or under-treating with supplements. However, there are some natural and gentle supports for HPA Axis Dysfunction that can work for many people as your figuring out your unique picture including:

Liposomal Curcumin + Boswellia AKBA  

Lavender & Peppermint essential oils

Adrenal Calm Cream by Apex Energetics 

HPA Axis  

The post The Most Comprehensive HPA Axis Dysfunction Guide appeared first on Meet Dr. Lauryn.

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