#maybe my mom will remember to help me start therapy again

[justablah56]

I want to go home

[scarletlizzard]

Part 2: Remembering

Sessions Series

Pairing: psychiatrist Wanda x female reader

Tags Minors DNI: therapy, paranoia, mentions of mental illness, stalker, little cigarettes and drinking at the end

Masterlist

Current Fall 2018

"How did you sleep?" Wanda asks as she sits in front of you. You shrug, putting your hands in the pocket of your hoodie.

"Not too great. I uh, I sometimes have these dreams. Nightmares really, about that night." You swallow hard and look at the breathtaking woman in front of you. Even casual, in a yellow sweater and jeans, she would always be the most beautiful woman in the room. You blush at your own thoughts.

"You said you don't remember everything about that night?" She asks, you nod. "I believe you're blocking it out, mentally. Suppressing a trauma so hard you can't get yourself to open back up about it."

"So you believe me?"

"Of course, I believe you." Her tone is wavering.

"Every time I have one of these dreams, it reveals little pieces to me," you lean forward. "Maybe I can remember who it was, or more about them."

"But they were wearing a mask?" Wanda asks, making a note. You nod.

"They spoke to me, though.. I'm not sure. Sometimes they feel so close," you sigh, shaking your head. Wanda is still writing.

"And what did your shadow say to you?"

"They told me to run."

Wanda is silent for a moment, her eyes searching yours for something. Did she really believe you? When she had a list of your mental disorders and police forms at her fingertips?

"When your shadow told you to run," She stands and looks to the fire that was burning behind her in the fireplace. Her hands held behind her back. "What did you feel in the moment? What was your first thought?"

"I-I didn't know what to feel. Panic? Fear?" Your cheeks heat up, as you think back to the haunting voice. You were almost too embarrassed to speak. "But after, after the fear sunk in it felt.. exhilarating."

Wanda smiles at the fire, her back still to you. "So in your fear you felt, excitement. For what, why?" She asks thoughtfully, and you're thankful she still had her back to you.

You had thought about this a long time, every day. Why? "My life is the same, every day. The routines, the job, the same bottle of wine. Everything. You know I used to paint?" You ask Wanda. She turns to look at you.

"Really?" She asks with a smile, sitting back down.

"I had some work in an art gallery actually, in the city. Back when I felt.. more alive," you sigh again, looking into her emerald eyes.

"What made you stop?"

"My mom got sick, I had to take care of her. Then she died and I moved here and.. things were never the same."

"Your OCD intensified, essentially trapping yourself in your daily routines."

"That's how it feels, yes," you reply with a nod. Wanda reaches her hand out to rest on your knee. Your skin ignites under her touch.

"We'll bring you back," Wandas words are sure, you find yourself resting your hand on top of hers.

***

Summer 2017

You ran throughout your house, footsteps following close behind you. Before you can close the door to your bedroom, a strong hand reaches out, hitting the wood hard and swinging it wide open. You fall to the ground, heart racing, chest moving rapidly as you crawl backwards. Your shadow steps closer, taking 4 heavy steps towards you.

Another head tilt down at you, examining you. Behind the mask, under the hood, red strands of hair peak out.

***

Current Fall 2018

You stared at the brunette in front of you, a playful glint in her eye. "What?" She asks, leaning forward.

It had been a couple of weeks since your sessions with Wanda had started. Your anxiety had taken a backseat, and the compulsive thoughts in your head were easing. The two of you had even been flirting back and forth even, lingering stares and touches.

Wanda knew it was unprofessional. You knew it wasn't right. But neither of you couldn't help it. Each time she touched you, you felt your skin ignite. Each crooked smile ran up your spine with a shiver of pleasure. You look at her hands and count 4 rings between the two of them.

"Nothing, I really shouldn't say," you chuckle to yourself and sit back against the couch. Wanda grins, twirling one of the rings on her finger.

"No point in being shy now, Y/N. We practically know each others whole lives at this point," She says casually and mirrors you, leaning back in her chair. You think about her words.

"Actually, I don't know much about you, Wanda. I mean, I know some details, but you seem to have the upper hand."

She chuckles and lifts out a hand as if offering to you, "Ask away."

"Where are you from? I notice on some of your words, there's an accent." There's a blush on your face as you think of the way she says your name, her tongue sharp.

"Ah, you caught that, huh? I was born in Sokovia. I've lived here most of my life, though, the American accent kind of snuck in," Wanda thinks fondly of her home, it makes you smile.

"Do you visit often?"

"Not as much as I'd like. Last year, I had to go home for quite a while to help out my brother, Pietro. He got himself into some trouble," Wanda sighs and shakes her head. "We're twins," she smiles.

"Twins! Wow, I'd love to see a picture of the two of you sometime." You think of Wanda being a twin, not being able to imagine he was anything like her. She nods and crosses her legs.

"I'll see if I can find one for your next session," She says with a smile. You nod and smile back politelty.

"What did you do before all this?" You ask her and point to the room around you.

"I lived in the city for a while, actually. But I found something more... worthwhile here." Wanda grins, goosebumps on your arm arise.

There's a comfortable silence, and the fire behind her crackles softly.

"Tell me more about your art," Wanda says, a glimmer in her eye and a warm smile on her face.

"I wasn't good, by any means. But I wasn't bad. I was creative, if anything," you laugh as you think back to your paintings. "There is one hung still, I think, at the gallery I told you about. It's my favorite one. My last one."

"What was it?"

You find yourself laughing hysterically as you think of the painting, leaving Wanda confused. She leans forward to rest a hand on your knee.

You start to sob at her touch.

You think of the large painting that hangs in a gallery. People passing by not realizing it would foreshadow your own current state.

"It's of a beautiful woman.." You speak between cries.

"A woman running from her own shadow."

***

Summer 2017

"What do you want from me? Just leave me alone!" You shout at the figure standing above you, watching as they shake their head.

The shadow kneels down, a gloved hand reaching up to brush their thumb across your lips. Their eyes are hidden behind the white faceless mask, yet you can feel their gaze burning into you.

A spark of adrenaline and excitement fill your own.

"Game on," your shadow says.

***

Current Winter 2018

You awoke quickly in sweat covered sheets, thunder rumbling from outside. You rub your groggy eyes and reach for the nightstand to flick on the lamp. Your hand reaches for the notebook and pen you kept for this reason, and you began writing down your dream.

They were happening more frequently now. The details are becoming clearer each time. You had never felt so close. You were closing in on your shadow.

Yet, everything felt wrong. There was something you were missing. You read and re read the journal the rest of the night.

"How are things going with Wanda?" Natasha asks over lunch. She had invited you out today, hoping to hear some good news.

"Pretty great, actually," you smile at her, not telling her that you were still chasing your shadow. "I've actually started painting again." You look outside the window of the Cafe, seeing snow begin to fall.

"Have you really?" Natasha says in disbelief, but a smile on her face. "I knew this would be good for you! Almost two months and look at the progress you've made.." She beams at you, a guilty feeling rising inside of you.

"I'm having my Christmas party early this year, I'm going to spend actual Christmas at Yelenas this year. You'll be able to come, right?"

"Of course, I wouldn't miss it," you smile, counting 4 snowflakes land on the window.

As you walk home from lunch, the snow beneath your feet crunches with every step. You wrap your arms around yourself, wishing you had worn a warmer jacket, when suddenly you're aware of another set of steps from behind you.

You freeze, standing still. You inhale deeply, then exhale, and slowly turn around... to nothing. Empty air besides the light snow that stuck to the ground below.

Your hand reaches for your phone, dialing Wandas number. "Hello?" She answers on the 4th ring.

"Wanda.. can I come see you?"

"Do you need me to meet you somewhere?"

You look around, still seeing no one.

"No, I'll come to you."

You finish the walk home and grab your notebook and a warmer jacket before driving over to Wandas. When you get there, she's standing on the porch waving to you.

"Y/N, is everything okay?" She asks worridly, putting her arm around you and leading you into the warmth of her home. Wanda gets a fire going and watches as you sit on the floor in front of it. Instead of questioning it, she sits next to you, her warm body pressed next to you.

"What if it isn't real?" You finally admit, staring into the red and orange flames.

"What if what isn't real?" Wanda asks, looking at the notebook you clutched to your chest.

"My shadow," you whisper, feeling Wandas hand on your back. "You told me you believed me.. what do you believe?"

There is a silence between the two of you while Wanda sighs. She knew you would eventually ask this question.

"I believe that the mind is an extremely powerful thing. It's capable of persuasion and delusions. It can hide the truth from you.." she trails off, tears fall from your eyes.

She didn't believe your shadow was real.

"You believe... that I believe it's real. Right?" You ask and turn to her. Wanda nods slowly.

All this time spent chasing and running, you were tired. How many innocent people would have to get hurt before you gave up? How many more lies would you have to tell yourself and others?

You held out the notebook to Wanda. Her fingers brush against yours as she takes it from you and opens it up.

"My dreams, of a faceless shadow. That's all it is anymore. I'm done chasing it."

The rest of November passes quickly into December. You were back to your routine, ignoring the paranoid delusions of your mind. You continued your sessions with Wanda, trying to figure out why you had imagined up this person. You took medication. You still locked all the doors and windows. You painted. You dreamed.

***

Summer 2017

When the words came out of your shadows' mouth, you lift your leg, kicking them hard in the stomach and onto their back. You're able to run past them into the hallway, but you're quickly knocked down. Your shadow climbs on top of you, pinning your hands to the floor and straddling your stomach.

The two of you breathe heavily, adrenaline coursing your veins. "Such a pretty little mouse.." The shadow whispers.

***

Winter 2018

The party has long started by the time you walk in, a bottle of rum in your hand. The house is filled with familiar and unfamiliar faces. People in ugly Christmas sweaters, some in just red or green. You look for Natasha and wish her a Happy Christmas, along with a hug.

"I brought rum," you smile, holding up the bottle.

"Yes! Ugh, you know this is my favorite thank you," she laughs and hugs you again, clearly has already had a few. You decide to catch up with her, taking a few shots and pouring a cup of rum. After a while, the cup is empty, and you find yourself sweating in the heated house, filled with warm bodies.

"I'm gonna step outside," you say to Natasha, who is all but preoccupied with the girl in her lap.

You step out front, sighing in relief as the frigid air hits your skin.

"Alright, there?" A voice sounds, you turn to see Wanda standing in the driveway, leaning against her car. "Nasty habit, I know. I usually only smoke when I drink." She holds up the cigarette, letting out a puff of smoke.

You walk over, soaking in her appearance. "I'm alright.. alcohol goes straight to my head," You chuckle and stand in front of her. The alcohol also boldening you to reach out and take the cigarette from her, putting it between your lips. Wanda watches with playful eyes, putting a hand in her pocket. You take a slow drag, blowing into the air between you and handing it back to her.

Wanda wets her lips, shaking her head as she takes it back from you. "You're something else, you know that?" She says in a husky voice. You can smell a hint of vodka and mint coming from her as she leans closer. Your hands rest on her chest, tugging on her jacket. A familiar excitement swells in your chest.

The cigarette is tossed into the wet snow, her hands moving to wrap around your lower back. "I'm probably crazy," you whisper to her, a smirk on your face. Wanda chuckles and leans closer.

"I can deal with crazy," She whispers back, taking your bottom lip in between her teeth. Your blood runs hot, and you let out a small moan at the feeling. Wanda wastes no time connecting her lips to yours, both of you in familiar territory as your tongues sloppily twist together. Her grip is stronger than you remember as she pulls you against her chest.

"Your place?" You mumble into the kiss, not wanting to fully part. Wands hums and continues to kiss you. You feel her lips pull up into another crooked smile.

"Let's go," Wanda says after she finally pulls herself away from your lips, her green eyes darker than you had ever seen them before.

Goosebumps cover your skin. Everything in your body tells you to run. The feeling of your shadow was looming over the two of you.

You look to the house, then to the gorgeous brunette in front of you. There was no doubt in your mind that you would be going home with her.

[lullabyalikpoptarot]

Choi Yeonjun Perspective Reading

Disclaimer: No facts, all allegations here, just my interpretation of the cards and energy. This boy has to be the most fascinating idol I have done so far.

Okay, now time to finally get to his perspective reading. His was one of the first I was supposed to do, but got sidetracked by other idols. Now, his last couple of readings has made me highly interested in what I can get here. I am lowkey nervous about what I will get. So, the song that came to me was Glamorous by Fergie. This song selection makes sense from the energy he has been giving me. He seems to love the fame and money. The lifestyles of the rich and famous, that is a song too right, but yeah. He is a Venus Leo, so that does make sense. Okay, we are going into the Dark Mirror first. Here we go.

Alright, this is a confusing spread. He isn't easy to open up and communicate. I had to sit with these cards for a bit and still a bit confused. Well, we start with the artificial heart, umm not a great card to start with, like starting with that card isn't great. He is a bit cold and detached, a bit fake may I say. This energy can come from someone who has been victimized, but he isn't showing me that energy in this spread yet.

The Calling the Storm card is quite interesting. It is like he brings chaos to him, or he welcomes it. I just see that card and hear, bring it, that is what I hear when I look at that card. Once again, the one card has blind folds, it is like he deludes himself or blinds himself, maybe shields himself from things. But also he is numb to sh**. Like none of this phases him. It seems he wants to forget his past self, but he does cling to it and there is a sense of him wanting to protect and comfort the person he was in the past. I am getting whoever he was in the past he isn't that person anymore. Now, that can be said about a lot of people, but there is some significant baggage he has of the past.

Ugh, I wish I didn't pull the last card, omg, this sucks. So, I got the Alone in the World card and the person on the card is naked and vulnerable. He could have been put in compromising positions. So, I am being pulled back to Jungwon's reading, he had this card in reversed and I remember saying, he wouldn't be susceptible to shady stuff, because he is well connected and protected. I don't feel Yeonjun has anyone to protect him, like him, which is why he was put in those situations.

I know he seems close with his Mom, but if he had a good support system. I wouldn't be seeing this card, just saying, no facts. The card on the deck has the number 6, which reminds me of the 6 of Wands, which is success and recognition. To get that recognition. You got to do some things. If you know what I am hinting at. I wish I didn't keep getting these sexualized messages, but whatever I can't get anything else with that card. Alright, he needs the conscious healing deck now.

So, he got two cards that state, decomposing shame and reclaim the power of your body. This gives me he needs to take his power and his body back. I can see shame for what has been done to him or what he has done. They may be asking him to use dancing as a form of therapy, oooh interesting message, that would be cool for him. I think using dancing could help him heal in some sense. There is also some disconnection with him, so he may need to realign himself as well. I am getting, his body is a temple, respect it.

I am also getting. I think I got this for Jungkook's reading. That he should go back packing and go for a hike to clear his mind. I am also getting he should do some breathing work. To take time for himself to just breath. This could be hard for him though. If you have trauma. It is hard to just step back and sit with your thoughts, I get it. Just channeling the messages.

Once again in this spread, they are stressing for him to go out in nature, this can help silence his mind, or just bring some sort of peace to him in some way. I think the quiet, stillness of nature can really help heal him, the sounds, the smells, it will help bring him back to reality and what is truly important. I am also getting he shouldn't fight what may have happened, but to accept what has happened, it may be hard, but it is the only way he can find peace.

There are memories of the past that haunts him, but there is also lessons he can learn from it. I am getting, to not let these patterns repeat, but it is like it sticks with him. So, I got the message imprinting, had to google that sh**. I am guessing this means that he has emulated an older figure's habits during a critical period of his life that could affect his behavior today. It gives me well they do it, so then it is okay I do it, or I should accept this behavior, because they do it. I feel there is fear of these people. Fear of letting it out, lots of shame. But his guides are saying, he has to work on building his confidence, but I feel the company will find ways to break that sh** down, so good luck to him to have the ability to gain confidence after what he may have allegedly been through. Okay, now ending this with Tarot.

Okay, so with the High Priestess. He tries to keep all this crap hidden. He is private on a physical level, because girl, got the information energetically. But I get it, I know he has secrets, but I don't know the specifics, so he is going to keep that hidden. But this is showing me there are a lot of hidden secrets. I hear secrets he will take to the grave. With the 8 of Pentacles and Capricorn energy. He is about that work. I also am getting he didn't deal with all that bs to not get where he wants to go as well. I also see him drowning himself in work, so he doesn't have to face things.

Also, he can be extremely loyal to people, even the shady company, and even if he dealt with some sort of abuse, he will still be loyal, because they gave him an opportunity. He gives me such Usher vibes, not sure what you think of him, but he comes off as an enabler. Yes, they may have dealt with abuse, but at some point. You got to stop the cycle, but once again, he seems paralyzed by fear, same vibe I get from Usher as well. They fear these people too much to do anything about it. Like on one end, he is enabling this sh**, on the other he is scared af.

Damn man, this may have been the most interesting reading for me so far. Dude is a complex person with lots of inner struggles. His life seems complicated. On one end he can come off as a bad person, but on the other end he got caught up in shady stuff, hard to break away from that when you lack a strong support system. This reminds me of Usher's situation to. Hard not to get coerced when you have a crappy support system around you.

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 66 (Going to Therapy)

Heather and Conrad scheduled their first appointment with Dr. Supriya Delgato two weekends later, when Ash was again back in the city with the Landgraabs. The almost-four-year-old was none the wiser to what they'd just gone through, with Heather's resilience leading their way through the fog.

They arrived together to St. Sims Hospital on Friday evening. Licensed to deal with family relationships, Dr. Delgato greeted them with a warm smile. "Welcome," she said. "I want to start by saying it's brave to be here, to be willing to have these kinds of discussions."

"Thank you, Dr. Delgato. And my mother said to say hello."

"You know our therapist?"

Heather shrugged. "She met my mother years ago and her son Pierce is friends with my sister, Hazel, but I really only know the Delgatos through the clinic."

(Pierce Delgato is also married to Carlton Bell, a younger brother of Heather's brother-in-law, Kris, Holly's husband.)

"Small towns are like that, Mr. Gordon. I assure you I'm an impartial participant in your healing journey."

"I feel like I'm on the other side of the table in the interrogation room at the station," he admitted.

"I don't want either of you to feel like this is an interrogation. We're just having a conversation, trying to unlock things that maybe you've been unable to say to yourself. Why don't you start by telling me how you two met."

"I came out to interview her about a case at my last precinct," said Conrad with a half smile. "A month or so after the investigation ended we ran into each other again."

"He scheduled a vet appointment at my clinic four hours out of the way," she cut in. "My sister pushed us together, gratefully. I was afraid I wasn't ready after my last relationship with my son's father."

"What made you sure you were ready for a full commitment?"

"Conrad did." Heather smiled. "He makes me feel safe, and he centers me when I'm spiraling. My son had an accident not long ago, and I don't know how either of us would have gotten through it without him. I have to stop myself from thinking he's a better father to my son than his own father because it's not fair to Malcolm to have to live up to the man he is. Before Conrad, my romantic history is...it's not great."

"It's not that bad," said Conrad. "So you dated Malcolm Landgraab and pined for your best friend."

"I almost slept with Everett when I found out I was pregnant with Ash," she admitted. "And when I was in high school I was so sad he wouldn't choose me I flirted with his father!"

"Sometimes when we're young we can't control our emotions, and we don't yet know how we feel about ourselves or the world," said Dr. Delgato. "Have you ever talked with a therapist before, Heather?"

She shook her head. "I meant to, but I'm always busy, and my family and I are so close. My brother, River, can always be counted on to tell me what I need to hear."

Conrad had never heard either story from her past before, but neither could change how he saw her. "Your brother says you think you're broken, but I've never seen that."

"What do you see, Conrad?" asked Dr. Delgato.

"I see an amazing mother who runs her own business and loves with her whole heart, so when she gets hurt, she puts walls up."

"But you helped me tear them down."

"And what about you, Conrad? When you're hurting, how do you respond?"

He nodded. "I put walls up."

"And your fears of fatherhood stem from the deaths of your parents?"

"My mom, mostly. She died when I was fifteen, but she was sick for almost five years before that."

"He worries something could happen to him and his child would have to grieve him," said Heather. "I don't know how to talk to him about it because I can't think about losing him, either."

"I felt cheated for time," he admitted. "Before I got my anger under control, I would find it so easy to get mad at her for leaving me, then mad at the world again when I remembered how much she didn't want to die. The thought of my kid ever going through what I went through scares me more than dying."

"It's interesting you've forged such strong bonds with Heather and her son despite this fear. Surely both would be just as devastated as your own child if they lost you."

Heather nodded emphatically. "We would be," she agreed. "Ash sees his father one or two weekends a month in San Myshuno. Sometimes Conrad's with him more than I am, if I work late. His name's on school records so he can pick him up from daycare. He knows how to get him to sleep when he wants to stay up late with us, and he makes his favourite spaghetti with tomato sauce exactly how he likes it."

"I love every minute I spend with Ash," he said, a proud smile spreading across his lips. "He's smart as hell. Mastered every game on his Wabbit Tablet already, and he's so good with Gord and the cats. Sometimes it does feel like I'm basically a father to him, but I don't make decisions about his life. It's not my place, and I would never take that responsibility from his parents. Ash and Heather both have so many people around them. My family was just my parents and me, but Heather's family is huge, and Ash has his father's family, too. If anything happened to me, they'd never be as alone as I felt."

"We are your family, Conrad. Me, Ash, and my family, too. River loves you like the brother he never had, especially after your advice to read The Giving Tree worked getting Michael to sleep."

"It wasn't advice, it was an idea. I liked the story, Ash liked the story, it sorta felt like an easy thing to try."

(They went to therapy feeling very flirty because they kissed right before I set this up, and unflirty Heather autonomously blew him that kiss.)

"Conrad, correct me if I'm wrong, but say, hypothetically, you couldn't see Ash anymore," suggested Dr. Delgato. "How would you feel?"

"Devastated."

"There's no shame in feeling like you're not ready to be a parent, but do you think your desire to form family attachments and your fear of having children might contradict each other? Maybe it's an old idea you've held on to because it's comforting when things are consistent, especially when you went through so much upheaval when your mother was sick. But you can't stop other people's grief. If you really think about what you want, is it to limit the number of loved ones who would miss you, or are you afraid to admit you want the family you felt was robbed from you, knowing everything you know about how devastating losing family can be?"

Conrad considered the question. "You are good, Dr. Delgato. When Heather told me she was pregnant, I wasn't sure I was ready, but when we lost the baby...I want a family with Heather, but I don't want to spend every day of my kid's life hung up on the worst case scenario. I know how this sounds, but Heather's mind jumped through a flaming blue hoop to talk to the dead about ambrosia without a single fear, and I don't know how she does it. My mother was a high school guidance counselor before she got sick, and the dead mentors..."

"Conrad, I didn't see her," Heather promised. "We don't even know if we'll need to travel again, but I could go-"

"No. I want to face everything I haven't let myself deal with," he said. "I want to do this for us, and for our family. It's just a lot for me after keeping it all to myself for so long."

Dr. Delgato smiled warmly. "Sounds to me like you took the Ambrosia Society up on their challenge! And you're doing it together, how fantastic. My daughter Evie looked into it." The doctor seemed struck by a sudden idea. "Have you summoned the Grim Reaper as part of the challenge yet?"

They shook their heads. "It seems wrong when Ash is home," said Heather. "We're doing it for him, but we don't want to scare him. And Conrad...the whole thing has to do with death. I understand why it scares him so much."

"I think you should consider talking to Grim about death. He certainly knows the subject. Both of you should summon him and keep working together on the challenge. If you like, we could schedule another appointment in a month or two if you still need someone to talk to, but you two are one of the strongest couples I've talked to in a while. You went through a terrible thing together, but it's obvious you find strength in each other. Hold on to that and I think you'll get through this."

They thanked Dr. Delgato, and Heather looked at Conrad nervously when they walked in the door. "Ash doesn't get home until Sunday and our Spooky Day party is tomorrow night - should we summon Grim tonight, maybe?"

Conrad didn't want to disappoint her, but he still wasn't ready. "Maybe tomorrow morning, before we get set up for the party," he bargained. She nodded.

"Tomorrow morning."

Though he felt as though he'd made an important realization with Dr. Delgato, Conrad was still too cautious to rush into facing death. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

NOTE: Would a real counselor advise you to talk to the dead? Not like this! But The Sims is surreal and I technically turned the ambrosia quest into a team activity/bonding experience, so it made sense to me that she'd be like "This is great, go further, be a team!"

[kissorkill16]

Mary: A Hello Neighbor Fanfic

By JJ

Summary: Mary Inky moves in with her uncle, Theodore Peterson. At first, she doesn't really mind, but that's because she doesn't realize the monster her uncle is underneath that "lonely old widow" facade.

(P.S., for @inky-mary414 , I was inspired by her OC.)

My first day in Raven Brooks

When my mom told me that I was going to be staying with Uncle Ted for a while until she gets out of therapy, my heart could've stopped beating at that moment.

It's not that I didn't like Uncle Ted, and it's not that my mom doesn't trust him, it's just that we haven't seen each other in a while. The last time I ever saw him was when he and my mom had a huge argument, and he kicked us out of the house without thinking twice.

So to hear that I would be staying with him, I just didn't know how to process it.

"It would be a great way for you two to catch up.", she said.

She wasn't wrong. We haven't seen each other in a while, so I thought that maybe this stay would be a great way for me and my uncle to catch up after so much lost time.

But how she managed to convince him after years since that argument, it will forever remain a mystery to me.

She parked at the front of his house, and it could've been my imagination, but I could've sworn that I saw a kid climb out of his chimney.

Then he slid down the drain pipe and hopped into the bushes next door.

I didn't know if my mom saw it too, or if Uncle Ted saw it from inside the house somewhere, but I didn't even have time to ask Mom before she just got out of the car and went to the back trunk.

I got out too, since she was carrying my bags, and I thought I'd help her since I don't have anything better to do.

When she got to the front door, I stood behind her, a couple of suitcases in my hands, she knocked on the door.

No one came to answer.

She knocked again. Still nothing.

When she was about to knock for a third time, the door opened slightly, then all the way.

I forgot how tall and how muscular Uncle Ted was, and I had also forgotten how scary he was. Maybe that was just me.

"Teddy, so nice to see you!", said my mom. "Anyway, here's Mary, you probably don't remember her after so long, but here she is."

Mom grabbed my shoulders and pushed me in front of her, and I stared at Uncle Ted in fear. He just looked down at me with those weird, intimidating, dull green eyes that I swear could see straight through me.

I bet he can see what I had for breakfast today. Not for long though, because I'm about to lose it.

Mom bent down and gave me a kiss on my forehead before waving me goodbye. "Bye, sweetie. Be a good girl for your Uncle Ted, and call me if you two need anything.", she said. Then she turned on her heel and went back to the car, and I waved her goodbye as she drove off.

Uncle Ted closed the door. I looked at him again, and I didn't feel as intimidated as I did the first time I looked up at him.

"I need to go to the store. You'll be okay by yourself, right?", he asked.

My eyes widened. So he could talk. Mom told me that he became a selective mute after Aunt Diane died and Aaron and Mya went missing. I wouldn't blame him if he couldn't talk, when you lose someone you love, you pretty much lose your will to live.

But I nodded, and he went to the kitchen to the kitchen and got the car keys.

After he left, I decided to just take my bags to the living room.

I couldn't believe what a mess it was in this house. Everything was all over the damn place, things scattered all over the floor.

Seriously, was Uncle Ted so depressed he couldn't clean up after himself anymore?

With nothing else to do, I couldn't unpack since I didn't know whose room I'd be staying in, I thought I should clean up a bit.

I started with the living room. Picking up all of the things that were on the floor, sweeping up anything broken and throwing it away, and fixing any crooked pictures on the wall.

Then I moved onto the kitchen, then the hallway, and then I wondered if it was as messy upstairs as it was downstairs.

I wish I hadn't wondered that.

But anyway, I swept the entire upstairs hallway. But as I tried to go into Uncle Ted's office or his bedroom, I noticed that they were locked shut.

I'm not one to judge people for doing the most weirdest things, but this was so weird.

Almost every single one of the upstairs rooms were locked.

And that's not even the weirdest thing. When I went to check the bathroom, the bathtub was filled with some type of gunk. I didn't dare touch whatever the hell that was.

I was lost in thought as I was putting all of the stuff back, then the front door opened again. I jumped, then I saw that it was just Uncle Ted.

He looked at me.

I noticed that I was still holding the broom.

"I decided to clean up a bit.", I said. I didn't know why I was explaining myself, but I guess I just wanted to get his intimidating stare off of me.

He didn't say anything, he just walked over to me and took the broom. Then he patted my head.

"Thank you, Mary.", he said.

He sat the broom down next to a cabinet in the hallway, then went to the living room and took my bags.

"You'll be sleeping in Aaron's room tonight.", he said. I nodded. Then I remembered something.

"Oh, Uncle Ted. There's actually something I need to know about that.", I said. "Almost all of the upstairs rooms are locked. I don't know if that was on purpose or on accident or something, but -"

"I'll take care of it."

He continued to walk upstairs and take my bags to Aaron's room.

We didn't talk to each other for the rest of the day. I just stayed in Aaron's room while he did whatever, I kept myself busy by reading some of the books I had brought with me.

I read books while I wait for my phone to charge.

At dinner, I noticed that he took a plate full of food to the basement. Why would he do that? Did he have something down there that I didn't know about?

Was it a pet? Because at least having a pet would make this stay a little less awkward.

"Uncle Ted.", I said to him as he walked back into the kitchen, "Why did you take food down there?"

"Where?", he asked.

Oh. He was playing dumb. For sure, he was playing dumb.

"The basement. Why were you taking food to the basement?", I asked.

He didn't answer. He just looked at me, and that stare was beginning to make me feel uncomfortable. He put his plate in the sink, "Don't worry about it, Mary.", he said.

Then he left the kitchen.

I washed my own plate, then I went back to Aaron's room.

That night, I laid awake in bed, thinking about my uncle. What was he hiding? Because as far as I know, he's got more secrets than locks. He proved that to me when he took an entire plate of food to the basement.

I got up, sick of the insomnia and decided I just needed to tire myself out. Then I noticed a light from across the street.

I looked out my window to see a girl through her window, and she looked rather down.

Why was she so sad?

I decided I needed to cheer her up.

I turned on my phone's flashlight and waved it around a little at her, trying to get her to notice it. When she saw the light, she looked across the street at me, and I waved at her.

She looked nervous, but she waved back.

I gave her a little dorky thumbs up, and nodded at her. I was trying to signal her "You good?", just to check on her.

She gave me a thumbs up back.

Then she smiled at me.

I smiled back at her.

I gestured another wave at her, signaling to her "Come over tomorrow?"

She nodded again.

Then she closed her curtains.

I laid back on my bed and decided I'd just play on my phone until I felt sleepy.

I felt happy that night as I played myself to sleep. Not even one day in Raven Brooks, and I'm already making friends.

I just couldn't wait to meet her for real.

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷

129 for 🦷!

---

 He lets Chris talk. 

“I thought you were, like… I thought that me being born was what made you weird.” Chris explains. 

Oh. Oh, fuck.

Eddie shakes his head vigorously, but does not interrupt. 

“Like, maybe… Like, maybe if I hadn’t you and mom would be fine, and she’d be alive, and… And you wouldn’t have to do stupid things like cheat on Marisol with her clone.”

“Christopher…” Eddie starts, but his throat is too tight. No. No, none of that is right at all. 

“But then…” Christopher takes a deep breath. “But then my mouth hurt and they told me that it was stress and going to church would fix it, but I need surgery.”

Eddie feels frozen. He feels terrified. This feels wrong. He doesn’t want to hear that they made Chris feel even a fraction of the way he felt, growing up. He thinks he will shatter like glass. How could he have fucked up so badly that Chris ended up in the exact worst place for him to be?

“And,” Chris continues. “And… And when I wanted to actually talk to them about why I was upset, Grandma… She kept saying no wonder I was so unhappy, because Mom ‘did such a number’ on both of us.” 

“No,” Eddie shakes his head again. “No, no, no.”

“So…” Chris sighs. “So I was mad at you. And I was mad at Mom. And I was really mad at me.”:

Eddie could puke.

“And it was like they were trying to make it worse,” Chris says quietly. 

“Make it worse?” Eddie asks.

Chris nods. “Like they didn’t want me to feel better. They wanted me to be mad at you and Mom. But being mad at you just made me more mad at me, because…”

Because he thinks he screwed up Eddie’s life.

Fuck.

“Could they have done that to you too, Dad?” Chris asks nervously.

“Do what, buddy?” Eddie asks. 

“Made you feel worse and worse instead of trying to help you feel better,” Chris says. 

Eddie swallows, throat aching with unexpressed emotion. He’s talked a lot about it in therapy, actually. The ways they did that to him. Not just showing up on his doorstep during one of the worst moment of his life, telling him needed help, taking his son, and offering him no help at all. No. It started long, long before then.

Maybe it started before he even remembers, but he can certainly say it started at least with this. Telling him he was too close with his male friends, that he needed to grow up and think about how it looked, or girls would never be interested; and then they couldn’t stand the girl who was interested. That she wasn’t good enough for him, but that sleeping with her ruined her and what was he thinking? That he needed to man up, do right by her, marry her and enlist, and don’t worry, they’ll help take care of the baby, only to use his absence as an excuse for why they should take custody of Christopher, to call him a stranger in his son’s life. On and on and on. The war messed him up and they didn’t like how he had changed; he needed to get his act together to provide for his son. He needed a solid career plan; no, not that one. A boy needs a mother; why would he ever consider forgiving her? 

It never ended. Eddie could never win. The constant stream of expectations and criticism had crushed him since long before Shannon and Christopher. Maybe part of why Eddie loved being a father far more than he had ever liked being a son or a husband, was that Christopher’s needs were so clear, and his love came so easily. For so long, Eddie understood the rules. 

He’s not sure he does anymore. But god knows he’s trying. 

Eddie realizes it’s been close to a minute since Christopher asked his question. He needs to respond. 

“Uh, yeah,” he admits finally. “Yes. There was… A lot of that. They did that to me and to your mom.”

“And Mom?” Chris asks.

Eddie nods. “She relied on them a lot when I was in Afghanistan. They… Well, your grandma especially… They weren’t always kind to her.”

“Or you?” Chris asks.

“Or me,” Eddie admits. “But listen, Chris… Maybe that really did have a big effect on me. Well, not maybe. I know it did. But it was still my responsibility to address it sooner, so it didn’t hurt you, too. And it did. And I’m very sorry.”

“I forgive you,” Chris says. “I don’t think I understood, before I spent that much time with them.” 

Eddie’s chest almost caves in from the force of his relief. 

But it’s not that easy. It could be that easy. To lean into the narrative that his parents are the source of all his problems. To take Christopher’s out, and lay all the blame on them. He’s mad at them right now, rightfully so. It’d be easy. But that’s exactly what they’d do. And while he has a lot to be guilty for, responding to situations like them is not one of them. 

“A lot of it was still just me, though,” Eddie says. “Okay? You have to know that. I did fuck up, Chris. It’s not anyone’s fault but mine. Especially never yours.” 

Chris sighs a little. “Yeah, I know.” 

“And, uh, if you want to talk about that, we can,” Eddie offers. “Because I think we should. At some point.”

Chris twists his mouth. “Maybe later?”

“Okay,” Eddie relents. “Whenever you’re ready.”

He tries not to seem disappointed. It’s not that he’s eager to talk about Kim or Marisol or… Or the other thing he’s been sitting on. He just wants it out in the open, so it’s not sitting like a bomb between them. 

“But Dad?” 

“Yeah?” Eddie asks. 

[thecircularsystem]

You said you didn't experience stress or the other word with your diagnosis

Are you genuinely saying you don't experience stress with derealization or depersonalisation or dissociation?? I guess not everyone experiences it like me but you don't get distressed when your brain tries to convince you that you're not real? Do you experience denial? Doesn't that stress you out?

I'm sure that it's possible to live without stress but like, really?

Genuinely asking just shocked at the idea

Transcribed continuation of ask: To be clear I’m saying the cons of the dissociation and the other stuff don’t outweigh the pros of being a system? Like get there eventually sure I’d much prefer to get there eventually but idk from the offset? /End ID

Hey, thanks for the asks. I like discussing this a lot, as someone who experiences very little distress anymore over my system symptoms (lol). Fair warning, this post gets into a lot of trauma stuff. TW for descriptions of abuse and a bit of ideation discussion!

Here’s the kicker: I really don’t experience many symptoms anymore.

By the time I got diagnosed, I didn’t experience those nearly as much. I used to go into what I called dissociative fugue — stare at a wall time — for hours, and that was distressing. But that is far, far in my past now. I can distinctly remember the last time it happened, which was over 2 years ago at this point. I can’t tell you the last time I lost track of the fact that I’m a real, living, breathing person. That was when I had just started therapy, and since then, I don’t… feel it anymore. It’s not part of my experience.

When I first realized, “something weird is happening in my head,” I was definitely distressed… for about 5 minutes. Then my friend (abusive) told me she experienced the same exact thing, and so I was normal. I found… a lot of joy from my system after that. I convinced myself that my “characters” in my head were made up to take care of different stressful parts of my life, and I assumed everyone was sort of like this. Like, Wade did home life and Sierra did school life. Isn’t that what my Mom described, “being a different person at work than at home”?

So I didn’t experience distress over my symptoms. And, well, at the same time, I did. I lost time constantly, but I didn’t realize it was my system. I thought I was just an idiot. I was significantly depressed, but I figured that was… yknow. Depression. Not Trauma(tm) whispering in my brain. But that was it, and the thing is, I usually... forgot I had felt bad in the first place. After all, I was only depressed when Wade was out; Sierra was at school and she felt fine. So really, I was only depressed when I was at home, and even then, it only happened now and then, and was I really depressed? Naaaah.

It was like that for a long time. And then, we split our persecutor, and the Two Years of Blackout Memory happened, and then boy howdy were we distressed and dysfunctional. But again, I don't remember most of college -- I don't remember that distress and dysfunction. I remember it happened, and my fiance could definitely tell some stories (maybe @circulars-singlet has stuff they could say on this matter), but for the most part, I don't feel it anymore.

When I got my diagnosis, it was after moving out from my parents house. I'd been gone for about a half a year and living with my partner, who really helped me overcome a lot of my problems. They're the one who helped me the most, forcing me to get a therapist. Three weeks later, I'm diagnosed and getting weekly therapy.

And now, with three years under my belt... I don't know, like...

When I start to doubt I'm real, I roll my eyes and hug myself. I flick my nose. "If I'm not real, take that, asshole." When I start to dissociate, I have my partner there to help me come back relatively quickly, or I can ground myself fairly readily. It doesn't distress me because it's so normal now. Genuinely, my autism distresses me far more, I get so in my head about it.

The cons of my systemhood absolutely do not outweigh the pros. I am alive today because of these chucklefucks in my head. I am alive today because I have the ability to forget it all. I am alive today because I did not feel like it was happening to me.

And now I can recognize it was me, and I can breathe and acknowledge I'm safe. I can recognize I'm real, and that's okay. I can communicate readily with all my parts, and we function together as well as we can. When I do get distressed, we can handle it, and it happens so rarely due to DID things that I don't really find my DID to be distressing.

Instead, I get 14 other people helping me each day, which nobody else gets the benefit of in my life. Score! And hey, the amnesia means I get to relive some of my favorite things that I never knew were favorites. The dissociation means I can just... ignore bad stuff.

There's definitely worry. I won't pretend that EVERY OUNCE of distress is gone, and lord knows I am dysfunctional as hell. But...

It's still an incredibly good life, and I owe that life to my DID. It's not a disorder, dragging me down. It's a disorder built from necessity and survival. And I couldn't be more thrilled that I was strong enough to survive that.

Does that make sense?

[eddiegettingshot]

okay. mourning s1-s4 tim minear anon here. just finished my season 3 rewatch and ohhhhh boy oh boy. honestly I could write so much about that finale alone because s6 and s7 have made me forget what a good finale can be (athough I will say that the s3 finale has me thinking a wholeeee bunch of insane things about the s7 finale like buddie things and how the writing choices are were insane (complementary) that I will not elaborate on here because Im already rambling too much about how good s3 is). but genuinely all the character arcs were SO GOOD this season its insane. athena (hate the copaganda here but the general emotional journey with athena and athena/may): establishing what being a cop means to her -> showing that not even the murder of her fiance could sway her from policing and finally arresting the man that did it -> experiencing something traumatic first hand that makes her question her ability to do the job again. and then may: hating what her mom does, going as far as to write her college essay about it, then insisting on taking the pictures with her mom for prom despite her injuries from policing/not being ashamed of her. and also appreciating it to the point of also wanting to help people but as an acab truther pursuing a different way of doing it (911 operator. also imagine they made may a cop thank god that didnt happen lmao). michaels feeling of loneliness and isolation leading up to his diagnosis, then ending the season by meeting his endgame and knowing he gets to live. buck starting the season being insecure about losing his place with the 118 and being the person left behind again and ending the season confronting the last person who left him + feeling secure in his relationships with the 118. bobby's refusal to let buck do anything at the beginning of the season due to his injury + general recklessness vs doing buck's suggested rescue to save both victims. both the henren IVF/fostering arc AND the hen arc were great and thank god because the henren of it all was seriously lacking before this season. but hitting the girl with the ambulance -> reconnecting with her first rescue -> introducing her issues with Drs and their ability to listen and help patients to their full ability -> pursuing med school SO GOOD. and remember when madney used to get character arcs UGHH soooo good. developing chim + his mom/albert/his dad more. having maddie actually confront what happened with doug via therapy (btw maddie stalker plot good example of how to do an insane storyline well!!). this leading into the love confession and also the conclusion/start to the pregnancy arc they set up in !!! episode 1 !!! them not just dropping the josh arc completely after the heist trauma he suffered and seeing it through to a satisfying conclusion. and like I do have one nitpick in hindsight like the eddie arc was so good up until he got caught in the fighting ring and he cried about the divorce and then it was just never brought up again in favour of doing the mini chris stories in 3x10/3x12/3x15. like you literally had a chance to address and conclude eddie's mourning shannon arc in eddie begins or the episodes surrounding that and just didnt LMAO idk maybe they had plans and it got scrapped for the buck/red/abby arc because connie agreed to come back because really it was the only thing that did not feel concluded relative to literally every other character arc this season. anyways where is this tim. TIM WAKE UP!!! come back and give your characters arcs!!! one thing that is super obvious from rewatching the early seasons is there is still SO MUCH interesting stuff to explore with these characters!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I am begging please give eddie a story with a satisfactory conclusion please give maddie and chim stories please stop torturing hen and karen via fostering/adoption please conclude a buck plot in satisfactory fashion please have bobby and athena explore his past properly please make ravi a main

ohhhh my god THIS MADE ME MOURN S3 TOO 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 what the fuck COME BACK TIM 😭😭😭😭😭 i want him BACK 😭😭😭😭😭

[ang3xxx]

vent rant. tw 3d & $h

I've struggled with food and my weight for so long I can't even pin point when it started, but if I had to I would say around 9 years old. I've never been overweight, but I was always a chubby kid. I was called fat more than once in my childhood, more often than not by my own family, and that's probably what fucked my brain up tbh. I now know what binge eating is, but I only found out about that word maybe a year ago, and before that I was endlessly confused as to wtf was happening to me, why I couldn't stop stuffing my face with food until I felt sick and so bad I would start $h-ing at a really young age. I've hated myself for as long as I can remember, I've always felt unworthy and horrible and mean and ugly. I guess binging is in itself a form of $h, but as a kid I just thought I really liked food, but also it was my worst enemy.

Recently (about a year ago) it transformed into a weird back and forth between phases of extreme binge-eating and pretty bad starving. For example, this July I lost 5 kilos and I gained it all back in October, then I lost it again in November and gained it all back during the holydays. Now, I'm at the highest weight I've ever been, and I'm doing the worst I've ever been. I keep binging and binging and crying and it feels like it never stops. I try and I try but I feel like absolute shit and it just makes me binge even more. It's a vicious circle of binging -> feeling like shit -> binging because I feel like shit -> feeling even more like shit -> repeat and repeat until I get sick and not able to do anything other than curling up in a ball in my bed and crying because my stomach hurts and I can't bear to be me anymore. And then repeat.

I don't know whether or not I have an actual mental disorder, maybe depression or ed, but it sure as hell feels like it. I'm tired all the time and I literally don't wanna do anything, ever. The things I used to love doing the most now just seem like chores, the only thing I actually have energy for is being on my phone/computer, sleeping and eating. Sometimes I have random spouts of motivation and I start planning how to turn my life around, but it always fades off a few hours later. I can barely drag myself out of bed to go to school in the morning and I cry in average twice a day. I don't know what to do with myself anymore, I'm in a pit of self-hatred that feels impossible to escape. I'm incapable of functioning like a normal fucking human being and I'm so angry at myself for it. How did I let it get this bad?

I want to ask for help but at the same time I don't. I have tried in the past to talk to my dad and step-mom, but I've never really talked in-depth about my food addiction to anyone. I basically told them "I feel like shit all the time, what is wrong with me?" and they said "have you tried sleeping more early? also no we're not going to put you in therapy<3" whilst I was crying hysterically. I really, really want to recover from whatever the fuck I'm going through, but mostly I want to know wtf is wrong with me, but admitting all of that ^ to someone irl is so fucking difficult. I tried a few times, but I can never get the words out, it's just so fucking embarrassing. Telling everyone that I'm ok is so much easier. I don't know what to do. I just want someone to help me without me having to tell them about any of this. I just want to dig a hole and bury myself alive sometimes. I just hate myself so fucking much.

[angelsanarchy]

Glass Houses: Jack Thurlow x Y/N Series CH 18 -> CH 19

Tagging:@roryculkinluvr@thatsthewrongwallcraig@icarus-star@cc-luvr@madamemaximoff06@shady-the-simp@quicksilversg1rl@s-0lar@kristennero-wallacewellsver@ophelialaufey@mayathepsychic1999@x-prettyboy-x@rorylover71@auggiethecreator

TW: Mentions of molestation, SA, pedophilia

Jack couldn't shake the feeling he had when he got home. It wasn't a bad feeling but more of a curious feeling. Had his parents really talked about him the way Mrs. Fletcher had described? I wasn't like he kept in touch with them like that. He would call for holidays but he rarely visited. He never really felt like going back made much sense because of how independent they seemed. Once he left, it was like they had just started living again. He walked out of the kitchen with a mug of tea that Dr. Carty recommended to calm his nerves at night and sat it next to the piano.

He sat down on the bench and grazed his fingers over the keys, not applying enough pressure for sound. He remembered what it felt like hearing his father play the keys while his mother played her violin in the early evening hours during the weekends. It was hard to think about his childhood now that he knew the truth about his brother and what happened to him. It was hard to think about the things he had blocked out from being a kid that his father only brought to light in his own death.

His fingers started playing the keys without thinking and he almost felt hypnotized by the sound.

"Pick up your tempo Jack. You know this song isn't meant to sound depressing." His mother's voice crept into his head making his fingers stumble. He shook his head trying to clear her from his consciousness. She was the last one he wanted poking around in his brain. The more he played, the better it sounded. He didn't hear the door open but when the floorboard creaked, he looked over to see Y/n standing in the living room behind him.

"Sorry it was so pretty, I didn't want to interrupt." Y/n explained.

"It's fine." He gave her a soft smile and waved her closer. She sat down next to him on the bench and watched him continue to play.

"I just wanted to thank you for coming by and talking to my mom. You were all she could talk about until she went to sleep." Y/n smiled at him.

"Hopefully that's a good thing." Jack smirked.

"Oh it's a nice change from her trying to set me up with literally anyone that comes to the front door." Jack couldn't help but laugh at the thought of the very homosexual mailman being pressured to ask out Y/n by her well-meaning mother.

"I just hope she didn't say anything to upset you. I know we really haven't talked much about your parents but she did mention it was an accident." Y/n didn't give her condolences but she did put her hand on his leg which gave him comfort.

"Y-yeah. They were going on some sort of trip. They did that a lot. The accident report says something must have run out in the road to cause the wreck. I was pretty close with my dad, not so much my mom." Jack explained and watched Y/n's hand rub comforting circles into his leg.

"I kind of had a mental break when I came home last year to deal with it all. They said it was a fit of hysteria. Seeing hallucinations of my dead mother, I thought maybe she was the reason for all of the bad shit in my life and tried to murder her ghost. It was a real show." He tried to laugh it off and Y/n turned her body towards him. He let his hands fall to the tops of his jeans and she stroked his hand carefully.

"Apparently my father had a lot of demons he didn't feel like he wanted to share with me until after his death. Also explained a lot of my mother's resentment towards me too. A part of me wishes I never found any of it but I guess if I was going to find out I was molested by a neighbor and his brood of pedo friends, he didn't want to be the one to have to sit with me in therapy." Jack had never verbalized anything about his sexual assaults to anyone. Dr. Carty could barely get him to acknowledge that it was real when they first started doing sessions together but it made the local news so there was facts backing up what he tried to chalk up to delusions.

Jack waited for Y/n to stumble over herself apologizing or to pull away from him in disgust but she didn't. She couldn't to stroke his hand until he glanced over towards her, trying to meet her eyes.

"Linda is actually my adoptive mom. She was my case worker before she adopted me but my birth father would molest me until I was about nine. One of my babysitters actually called the police when she noticed all the bruising in places no child should have any. I got super lucky with her. She treated me like I was her own, never pushed or prodded when it came to treatment. I even still attend a lot of those sexual assault survivor groups." Y/n opened up to him and he hadn't noticed he had flipped his hand over to hold her hand while she spoke about her childhood trauma.

"I had no idea about that shit happening until I came back here. I still can't really remember it." Jack squinted like he was searching his brain.

"Sometimes its better not to search too hard for those memories. Our brains tries to protect us from shit we don't need to drag to the surface because it didn't make us who we are." Y/n gave his hand a squeeze and he finally met her gaze.

"And if you decide you want to try to figure it out, you aren't alone." Jack couldn't understand how freely she spoke about things that were so life altering with him. They've only been friends a few months and he barely wanted to talk to Shanda about it when he found out.

"How are you so...open about all this shit? I mean your mental health shit and your trauma? I'm still in the stage where I feel like a piece of shit psychopath every other day." Jack felt her grip tighten on his hand.

"There is freedom in knowing that bad shit has happened to you but it's not you. I wasn't always this well adjusted." She added with a laugh bringing his hand to her mouth and kissing the top of it.

"You're smart, Jack. You're capable of being free from the the things that happened to you. We all have bad shit but how we move through life is up to you." Y/n tucked his hair behind his ear and he leaned into her hand.

"Have I told you that you're probably the best thing I've discovered since coming back home?" Jack smile softly and Y/n rubbed his cheek.

"No but a girl doesn't hate compliments." She returned the smile. She didn't stay too much longer after their conversation because she said she had to work but Jack didn't feel overwhelmed when she left.

Typically when talking about the wounds in his life he felt like he would instantly retreat within himself and need to call Dr. Carty but not tonight.

Tonight, all he wanted to think about was the next time he would get to see Y/n. Talk to her. Be in her presence. Touch her. He just wanted something in his life that made him feel good and she was quickly becoming that for him.

[traumagenic-positivity]

Vent, you can delete this if it's too much.

Tw/cw: emotional neglect, I don't know what else to tw/cw with sorry.

I kind of hate my mom, she disgusts me and I don't know why.

Before I was fine with it, we were close (nothing sexual or anything) and did everything together and now, she disgusts me, I can't do that same things I could do before, I can't talk to her about anything. She touches me, like taps me) and it makes my skin crawl, I really want to know why. I feel like a horrible person for feeling this way. I don't know if it's because we are constantly worrying about upsetting her and it stresses us out or some sort of victim complex (nothing wrong with them) but sometimes I would be so sure about stuff when it comes to her, like emotional neglect, and stuff then she would start talking about something and I would feel bad about thinking about it. She probably didn't do it intentionally right? No probably not. She doesn't even know about what I think so.

The other day we were getting ready for bed then she started talking about how we weren't doing what we said we would do, we barely remember what two days ago was, and we are supposed to remember something from months ago? Maybe I'm reading to much into it, but I'm not so sure anymore. She doesn't know about our amnesia or anything, I feel like we can't tell her, afraid she'll assume the wrong thing. But I really need help I believe. I would have to wait for a bit to get therapy.

Sorry for the vent, again you can delete it it's to much.

no, no, I get this so much, nonnie!! in our experience, we've also had issues with this kind of thing!

and we all need spaces to vent and get our feelings out <3

[six-white-venus]

if you ever see him, there is just one thing you would like to ask him:

how do i forgive?

because you've been trying, lord knows you have. it's been a year. he never loved you. it's as easy as that. why can't it be as easy as that?

you recently came across a letter you wrote him after he left, one where you're begging him to come back. you tore the paper copy into shreds a long time ago, but this one must have escaped your notice. you remember his response to the message. a thumbs-up emoji.

"whose name will i call, a thousand times over?" it said, "who will I call my love, my love, my love- exasperated, scandalised, laughing? who will I call?"

it's been a year and you know the answer to that question, more or less. no one. you will call no one. you will sit and stare at the paint peeling off your wall, that ugly, powdery blue that has started making your skin crawl. you will sit on the cold kitchen floor till your mom pulls you to your feet and brings you tea. you will call no one. you will make yourself forget.

except, it's not that easy.

he pops up in every mundane aspect of your life. the other day you found a keychain you bought him a month before his birthday, a month before he left you. you give it to someone else because why waste money? it's not like he lives in it.

(but he does, he does, he does.)

he is dating someone you used to know. you don't care. you want to throw up. you just want to ask: how do I forget?

a friend recently asked you, "do you think you had a savior complex, when it came to him?" you said you didn't, but maybe that's not the whole truth. maybe you did have some sort of twisted need to save him in every single way possible just so that he'll love you.

i would help you stitch yourself up. i swear i won't scream when you gut me like a fish. i will feed you soup and keep you warm. i won't sob when you knock my portion to the floor. you bleed. i do, too. no, you're right. i don't bleed as you do. I'll never understand. i am so sorry. i love you. do you love me?

after a week, you receive two texts:

lol kys ily <3

you are so happy you could sob.

he does none of this now, apparently. he smiles instead of smirking. he cradles things. he tends to wounds. he calls her baby. he says, "I love you so much." the whole thing, all spelled out. how crazy is that?

and you just want to ask: how do I stop caring?

he always held you between his teeth. there was nothing gentle about it. the bite marks on the back of your neck still hurt and you could swear it still bleeds. your mom says you're imagining it. you must be.

but here's the thing! you have people who hold you in their arms now. they are so gentle, so careful with you. you didn't cry, not once, under the clutch of his canines but now in their arms, all you do is cry. it's so strange. and you really are happy. it's so much better than what it used to be. you wake up and he's not the first thing you think of, not anymore. you dream that he apologises to you (you forgive him every single time). you go to therapy. you don't remember the last time you cried over him. you are loved, but not by him. you never were.

it doesn't matter, because you know what love feels like now. it is popcorn and nacho cheddar cheese seasoning and mutton curry. it tastes like tea and chips in an orange package and instant noodles you made with your best friend the day before she left for college. you know love now. you know happiness.

but in moments like these, you can't stop yourself from thinking that if you see him again, you would like to ask him one last thing:

how do you stop missing being held between one's teeth?

[urfavoritedcwhore]

the russian boy//part two

warnings: alcohol usage, underage drinking, marijuana usage, and swearing

not proof read!

part two: boris’s house

after about twenty minutes of driving and answering boris's questions about new orleans, we finally turn into his driveway. i look up and notice i can see my own house, just two doors down from his. damn he does live close to me. i suddenly remember that i have to give my mom our car keys so she can go...do whatever, i honestly don't wanna know what she does during the night. "can you actually pull into that driveway,", i say pointing to my house, "it's mine and i need to give the car keys to my mom.". boris nods and backs out of his driveway, and parks into mine. "i'll just be a second.", i say grabbing the keys out of the ignition, "won't your mom be mad you skip last period new girl?", boris says looking suspiciously at me. how can i explain this to him without sounding like a whiny, trauma dumping, little kid. i'll make a joke out of it, easy and simple. "she's probably just waking up, she was pretty trashed the last..well few nights.", i say with a huge smile and small chuckle. to my suprise, he laughs at this. "ha! sounds like my dad and your mom have a lot in common, eh?", he says opening his car door, before walking around to open mine. thank God he didn't do some, "oh i'm so sorry your life is like that", speech. i laugh back, "maybe, does your dad go through a bottle of tito's every night?", i say still giggling. this makes him let out a sharp quick laugh, "HA! try two! he gets so drunk he cannot use feet!", he says holding up two fingers on his hand, then pointing to his feet. "shit yeah! my mom had to see a doctor once cause she had some weird nerve things going on in her feet from drinking.", i say thinking back to the time my mom had to go to physical therapy for a month just to learn how to use her feet again. "yes yes! my dad too. it was honestly little funny.", he says with a smirk. alright this boy is just trying to be sexy with the broken english and the accent. i don't know why but it's so fucking attractive. he holds out his hand to me, and i take it jumping out of the car. "i'll be back in like 2 minutes!", i say jogging towards my front door. i open my door and see my mom still sleeping on the couch. i go over to her and gently nudge her awake. "mom.", i whisper as she opens her eyes. i jingle the keys at her, "i'm home, the trucks all yours.", i toss the keys onto the coffee table by the couch. "thank you sweetie, was school okay?", she says in a raspy voice, rubbing her eyes and yawning. "yea yea, it was fine. i'm gonna go hangout with some kids i met, they live just down the street.", i say still whispering , so that i dont hurt her head from the killer hangover im sure she has. "ok hon, well last night i called around, and i found a job waitressing at a restaurant on the strip. im supposed to go in at 6pm for my first shift, so i should go take a shower and wake up.", she says sitting up and trying to cover the vodka bottle on the floor with a blanket, "i'll probably be gone all night, those restaurants on the strip are open 24 hours and i want the longest shift i can take, to start making some more money." i feel proud of her. im glad she found a job so fast, maybe it'll help since she won't have as much free time to drink. "good shit mom, i'm proud of you, i'll figure something out for dinner, i think we still have those microwave mac and cheeses in one of these box's.", i say hugging her and examining the boxes on the floor. she smiles at me and looks at the boxes on the ground, "we can start unpacking these boxes this weekend, ok? now go hangout with your friends lucy bug," she sniffs me as we both break away from the hug, "and don't smoke in this house ok? you smell like snoop dogg's bed room.", she's says giving me a quick smile. "i won't mom, love you!", i say turning away and walking towards the door. "love you too hon!", she calls out back to me as she walks begins walking upstairs to get in the shower. i open the front door and see boris leaning against my car smoking a cigarette.

i walk up to him and hold my fingers out as he passes it to me. i take a long drag and exhale then give it back to him. "let's go.", he says smiling and waving at me to follow as he begins walking to his house. i follow him and realize his car still isn't in his driveway.

"where's theo?", i ask as we approach his front door. "hmm, probably getting popchyk.", he says struggling to get his door open, it looks like it's been slammed too many times, and has started to jam on the door frame. what in the fuck is a "popchyk". is it like...you know what, i'm stumped, i have idea as to what that could be. i decide to voice my thoughts. "sorry but what is a "popchyk"?", i say with genuine confusion as he finally gets the door to open and leads me inside. "it is like..eh how you say,...dog? yes, it is dog.", he says, his face twisting as he tried to find the word. what kind of name is that. nevermind, im not about to question the dogs name. he takes my book bag as i walk into his house, and tosses it on the ground, before doing the same to his. his house looks bare, almost as bare as mine is. honestly his house layout looks really similar to mine, i guess this is the kind of neighborhood where the houses look just as alike on the inside as they do on the outside. he makes his way over to the fridge and opens it to expose empty shelves. well, almost empty. there's a pack of beers, two large bottles of Smirnoff vodka, and a few to-go chinese food containers. "beer or vodka new girl?", he says grabbing a beer for himself. i honestly want the vodka, but if he's drinking a beer, i will too i guess. "beers fine, thanks.", i say holding my hand out. he opens the beer bottle with his teeth, spits out the cap, and hands it to me. "impressive.", i say noding my head and looking at my open beer. "it's easy when you know how to do without chipping teeth.", he says smiling, as he takes a sip of his beer, his eyes never leaving me.

i take a sip of my beer, and jump when i hear the door slamming open letting a high pitched bark ring through the house. "go popchyk! go see your daddy!", i hear theo say call from the entrance room laughing. boris gets on his knees and in comes fly a small white dog through the kitchen directly to boris. this dog is fugly. he looks like maybe he's a maltase, but his fur is so dirty and knotted that he looks more like a tumble weed that blew in from the yard. boris scoops him up in the arm that his beer is not in, as the dog lays kisses on his cheek. "ohhh who is a good popchyk? you are good popchyk! new girl, come meet him!", boris says as he puts down his beer and rubs his head. i walk towards boris and hold out my hand for "popchyk"(still confused about that name btw) to smell. now that im closer to this dog, he's kinda cute. he's not cute in like a, "aww that puppy is so beautiful!", kind of way but more in a, "that dog is so ugly it's cute.", kind of way. popchyk smells my hand and lets me scratch his head, "he's so cute!", i say after popchyk barks at me to signal he wants more scratch's. boris laughs, "no no, popchyk is ugly, i will admit this, but he has personality! not a lot of dogs have good personality,eh?", boris says nodding at me and picking his beer back up. i laugh, "ok he's definitely not the cutest dog, but he's so funny looking that he's cute you know?",i say turning my head to the side inspecting the dog. "exactly! don't say in front of potter though, he thinks popchyk is cutest dog ever.", boris says smiling and lowering his voice as theo approaches the kitchen. i smile and make a "my lips are sealed" motion. theo reaches the kitchen and looks at our drinks, "fuck no, we're drinking heavy tonight, that physics test kicked my ass.", he says opening the fridge and pulling out a bottle of the vodka. he walks right by us and starts going up the stairs. he stops on the third step and looks back at us, "are you two coming?", he says waving the bottle at us. boris and i look at each other, put our beers down, and follow theo. we all end up on the floor of what i assume to be boris's room. his wall has a russian flag on the wall, and white Christmas lights strung all across his room. honestly my first day in Las Vegas really isn't so bad at all, these kids are pretty cool. we take turns passing the bottle around, giggling, and getting decently drunk. boris interrupts theo's drunken rambling, "i'm hungry", he says falling to his back. theo gasps, "bor food sounds so good right now.", he says laying a hand on boris's stomach and looking at him like boris is the smartest person on the planet.

we're all definitely too drunk to drive anywhere for food, and from the looks of boris's fridge the only thing he has is week old white rice. i get up and wobble for a second before i gain my balance, "i have mac and cheese!", i say slurring and holding up my index finger. the boys both shoot up so quick to their feet they almost fall backwards, which causes all of us to let out a long hysterical laugh. "follow me!", i slur, too drunk to care that i took both of their hands in mine. "popchyk come-on!", i call out to the dog who had been laying on boris's bed, he gets up and follows us down the stairs. i check to make sure the truck isn't in my driveway still, and i lead them over to my house. we stumble the whole way over drunkenly laughing, and falling more than a few times. we finally managed to make it inside the house, popchyk still following us. i take them to the living room, which is basically in the same room as my kitchen(there's no wall separating the two rooms) , and sit them down on the couch. i start digging through boxes until i find a box of mac and cheese. bingo. i'm about to close the box back up, when i see my purse that i had somehow forgotten about. i pick it up and look inside, hoping to find some loose money, but instead i find my weed pen almost completely full. i turn my head sideways. how did i forget about this? i must've just been so damn busy with the move it slipped my mind. i grab the pen out of my purse and run towards the boys. i stop in front of the couch as they sit laughing about something. they notice me standing there and look up at me, "lookey what i foundddd", i say holding up the mac and cheese in one hand and my pen in the other. "YES", theo says jumping up from the couch, as boris looks excitedly at the items in my hand. i take a hit from my pen and toss it to the boys. i start walking towards the kitchen as i hear them both laughing and coughing violently. i make the mac and cheese, at one point hearing boris say , "new girl has good weed.", which makes me giggle. when im done making the food i go to get bowls, only to realize the only silverware we have unpacked is a box of plastic spoons and knives. i laugh as i pick up the pot of mac and cheese and three spoons and walk towards the couch, "alright boys, we haven't unpacked any of the plates or bowls yet, so it looks like we're dinning family style tonight.", i say plopping down on the floor. the boys get off the couch, boris sits down next to me, and theo sits across from us. i put the pot of mac and cheese in the middle and hand them their spoons. we all sit silently stuffing our faces with the food. from what i can tell none of us have eaten today.

after we finish our food, i feel like im starting to sober up. i grab the pot from the floor and place it into the sink, before checking my phone and realizing its already 10pm. how has the time gone by so quick? we must have been in boris’s room drinking for longer than i thought we were. i head back into the living room and sit back down next to boris. “you wanna to swim?”, says theo looking at boris. boris looks at me, “if new girl comes with.”, he says smirking at me. “i don’t know, im not a good swimmer at all, and i have no idea which box my swimsuits are in.”, i say trying to think of something else we can do. “just wear bra and underwear, eh?”, boris says looking confused. i lift one eyebrow at him curiously. “not anything weird, is like…what’s the word…bikini, yes? potter and i unusually go in our underwear.”, i look at him and laugh, “that may fix the swimsuit problem, but definitely not the “i can’t swim” problem.”, i say nugding him playfully with my elbow. “i can make sure you don’t drown, i can carry you in deep end.”, he says shrugging. now i know water makes everyone lighter than they are, but im a chubby girl. i wouldn’t say im extremely big, but im definitely not a skinny girl. and this boy, this boy is so damn scrawny. don’t get me wrong, he’s sexy as fuck, but he looks like he would fall over if the wind blew strong enough. i sit and consider his offer for a moment, before he stands up and grabs my hand, “it will be fun, promise.”, he says pulling me up and motioning for theo to stand up. “let’s go, we’ll use my pool.”, boris says leading me out the door. shit ok i guess we’re doing this. “i’m definitely gonna need another drink before i get in that pool.”, theo says as he catches up with us. “i second that.”, i say looking at theo as boris walks up to his driveway, my hand still in his. theo stops for a second, “shit.”, he says before turning to jog back to my house. “what’s he doing?”, i ask boris, but before he can answer we both see theo jogging back out of my house, popchyk in hand. boris and i laugh at the sight of theo out of breath and popchyks ears bouncing up and down as theo carries him. we wait for theo at the door, and go inside when he catches up with us. “i’ll go get drink.”, boris says walking upstairs to his bedroom. theo looks at me, “i promise he’s not trying to be a perv, the first time i met him he made me strip to my tighty Whiteys to go swim. he just really likes the water, i don’t know why.”, theo says beginning to take off his shirt. boris comes back down stairs and waves the bottle at theo and me, “who wants first?”, he says looking at us. i grab the bottle out of his hands and take about 3 shots out of it. as my throat burns and my eyes tear, i hand the bottle to theo, who’s looking at me with large eyes. “ok new girl, you can handle your liquor!”, theo says taking the bottle. like mother like daughter i guess. before i pussy out, i take off my shirt and kick off my leggings. the boys look at me for a split second with awe before removing their clothes, leaving only their boxers. “lets go”, theo says grabbing me by my hand. i grab boris’s hand so that we’re all connected in a drunken line, running towards the open back door. boris, who grabbed the vodka back from theo after theo took his few shots, is chugging it like its water. we make it outside and theo disconnects from my hand, and jumps into the pool, leaving me a boris and me still holding hands. boris looks over at me, “you want?”, he says shaking the vodka bottle. i nod and hold out my free hand for it. “open”, he says using his index finger on his free hand to tap my lips, without thinking, i open my mouth and feel vodka running down my throat. he stops pouring for a second, but continues to when i make a “more” gesture with my hand. when he’s done i look up at him, my cheeks burning red. is it from the alcohol or how fucking sexy that was.

i honestly think a little bit of both. he smiles at me and rubs the vodka running down my chin with his thumb, before licking it so nonchalantly that im not even sure he knows the moves he’s making right now. if i was a betting girl, i’d bet he knows exactly what he’s doing right now. and trust me when i say, two can play that game…

end of part 2, part 3 coming soon!

[catamano]

11:24am - Charlotte

Stop, Charlotte. It’s not personal. Emmett's voice has been ringing in my head since our conversation earlier. Charlotte. I hate it when he calls me that. I hear it at least fifteen times a day, but never from him. Charlotte. I can’t remember the last time he said it. With everything going on right now, it feels stupid to be bothered by this. 

Liam and I are supposed to leave soon, I’m not sure why he’s not downstairs yet. Out of all of my kids, he’s the one who is always on time. Maybe I should go check on him. Take a step back, Charlotte. There’s Emmett’s voice again. I’ll give him ten minutes. 

My phone vibrates on the table and I see a text from Beth. Does Tuesday at 12 work for you? I immediately respond yes and apologize again for texting her on a weekend. There’s a sinking feeling in my chest. I’m anxious about starting therapy again. I saw Beth for two years after the twins were born, and again when I quit working to open the store. It’s been a few years since then. She’s good. She knows me. She’ll be able to help me through this. I sigh. That doesn’t make it any easier. 

“Is that my old dress?” Georgia. She sounds like she’s in a better mood.

“Probably,” my younger daughter responds. I hear both of them start to make their way down the stairs. The girls are ready but Liam isn’t? That’s odd. They’re not leaving for at least another hour.

“How many of my old things do you have?”

“I don’t know. A lot.” True. I’d say more than half of her closet used to be Georgia’s. Whenever I offer to buy her new things, she usually turns me down. She prefers the hand-me-downs. It’s sweet. Lucy is her sister’s biggest fan, though I don’t think she’d ever say it out loud. She prefers to tease her instead.

They’re both at the bottom of the stairs now. Georgia pats her sister’s head. “How do the braids feel?” she asks. Neither one of them notice me sitting here.

“Good. Not as good as Mom, but good.” She grins. Lucy is always particular about her hair. A few months ago, all she wanted were pigtails. Now, she’s switched to braids. I wonder what her next thing will be.

Lucy turns and sees me right away. “Oh, hey Mom!” she greets, skipping towards me.

“Hi, love, I like your braids,” I say. I glance up at Georgia, she’s not looking at either one of us. I won’t comment on it.

“Georgia did them!” She sounds proud. I feel myself start to smile. I don’t think Georgia realizes how much Lucy adores her.

“Nice work.” I look over at Georgia again, she’s still looking away.

“Thanks,” she says flatly. Her gaze doesn’t change. At least she doesn’t seem to be upset with Lucy. Only me.

It’s not personal, Charlotte. 

“Why are you guys being weird?” Lucy looks at me, and then at Georgia. I don’t have an answer to this question. Not a good one, at least.

“We’re not,” Georgia answers for me. Lucy looks unamused, clearly not satisfied by that answer.

“Yes you are, you guys are being so weird.” Lucy has never been good at backing down. I need to stop this before it turns into something bigger.

“Lucy, enough,” I say sharply.

“But—”

“Enough.” She doesn’t say anything after that. I’ll have to have some sort of talk with her later. I know she’ll ask again if I don’t.

I stand up, eye level with Georgia. She’s staring at me now. She looks distant. And sad. It breaks my heart. I’d give anything to take her in my arms, but I’m not sure it would solve anything at the moment. 

She’s not you, Charlotte. 

Right. She needs space. I have to let her figure it out, no matter how much it tears at me. I’m here. She knows it. Hopefully that’s enough for now.

[pernesophe]

Therapy

by Persephone

“You’re so self aware!” my third therapist says to me before ghosting me.

Thanks, but I didn’t even finish a third of my trauma in this 50 minute session.

I actually only got through my childhood trauma - thank you again for not taking the family chart I so carefully drew out to help you keep track of my family dynamics which led to the trauma. 

If you took me seriously from the start, then you wouldn’t be staring at me with such an overwhelmed look on your face. You are the professional here, right?

I still have middle and high school, my assault at 16, my best friend moving away a year later and my friend group falling apart as a result - hello loneliness, my old friend - to get through. 

Oh yeah, and for whatever reason my assault seemed to jumpstart my parent’s divorce - so much for staying together “for the kids” - my siblings got them through graduation at the very least. Just not me.

Oh, and that divorce by the by? Nobody told me that we were moving - I just came home from school one day to all of my things packed up and my mom directed me to take apart their 4 post bed. The renters showed up an hour later - I had no idea what was going on. I cried, and nobody in my family comforted me - only the strangers across the driveway who were moving into my home said “it’ll be okay.”

What would? I had no idea where I was going until my mom dropped me off at my dad’s house with his girlfriend and her son - hello blended family. Goodbye nuclear family as my mom drove the hour and a half to my grandma’s house with my brother and sister to live there.

I, of course, threw myself into school, work and friends. I dated three brothers in a row and nobody had the sense to come say, “Hey are you doing okay?” but the boys’ mom did ask me to get her eldest son a therapist when I was 17 and he was 23, so at least someone was looking out for somebody, I guess.

Oh where was I again? Right, blended family. Good, at first - they really tried - but I slept on the couch for the first month because my room was filled with boxes and I didn’t have a bed yet. Maybe that’s why I still sleep on the couch today? 

That’s also when my dad started treating me like my sister - like I was rebelling against everything, when still, months after that fact no one explained to me what the fuck was going on. I was expected to jump in line - just be normal.

So, because every adult around me wanted to act childish while I was hauling schoolwork out the ass and working like crazy - I moved in with my boyfriend in the city at 18 secretly without telling my dad - my mom and sister had to tell him at work one day. 

That’s correct - the 23 year old who I did not find a therapist for. 

My dad and I still aren’t the same all these years later. We’re kind and polite to each other - we love each other - but we just don’t talk about what happened. I felt really angry at first, but now I just feel guilty about it all of the time, so we only talk every few months now.

It was a whirlwind from there - my memory is real shit for these next few years to be honest - I remember IB exams, working, running wild with friends, so many drugs, and then graduation followed by the start of fall semester at VCU.

For everything I had kept running for so long - it was just a facade - because I crashed and burned after that, hard. I don’t remember how it happened, from living at my boyfriend’s, and then breaking up and still hanging with his group of friends, to that casual relationship with DC that was so toxic. I spent one, maybe two thanksgivings with DC and his family - all kind people, but a little broken, like all of us. Before I started dating the third brother - love was something I so desperately wanted to attain - I ended it with DC who said he was going to tell me he loved me. I told him I didn’t feel the same way, and then the middle brother told me he didn’t love me back - a little ironic wouldn’t you agree? But it only took a week for him to tell me that he actually did love me. Boys, amiright? 

At that time his mom kicked him out, DC didn’t want anything to do with me, and I still couldn’t be around my family - so we lived in between my car and his brother’s for a summer. When the cold months hit I swallowed my pride and asked my mom if we could move in with her, and she said yes. Even though I never used the word “homeless” my mom made sure to drill in the fact that I chose to do that. Of course I did, but at the same time, when home isn’t safe enough to want to return to - is it really a home? 

Anyway, back to the point, we dated for two years - the whole time he asked me ‘why are we even dating’ whenever we would fight - before I ever broke up with him. I ended it after I cheated on him with one of my best friend’s roommates when I went to visit her, and still the only explanation for why I cheated is because I just wanted to feel wanted. 

I never told the middle brother - it seemed like it would just add insult to injury. Of course, when I did finally end it, he asked me why, and all I could say was ‘I’m not really sure why we’re even dating’. He was heartbroken that I said that, but my heart had already been broken and decayed for a long time by then.

Finally - finally - I was free of all of that mess. My family seemed healthier now - both my mom and sister were in therapy and making real changes in their lives. I started to feel safer. I thought I’d take a break from dating, until I met my current partner.

Life and exuberance incarnate walked into my life at 5'4 and a hundred-something pounds - I have never clicked, nor do I think I’ll ever click with someone like I have with him. 

The only unfortunate piece is the tension among his friend group when I entered. I think it was run of the mill, and I think I perceived it to be worse than it was, but it was enough to trigger all of my previous baggage. I am glad that I stuck through the discomfort for where I am now and the fact that he is still very much in my life, but it was difficult. 

I think for many in that house, it felt like walking on eggshells - which I was used to with my upbringing - but the main difference is that I knew my family dynamics but I didn’t know his friends’. Add in the perceived tension and the fear of abandonment from ‘messing this up’ and I suddenly became the most anxious version of myself. 

For me, everything was so intense. I thought so excruciatingly long and hard about my breathing, how much I was blinking, eye contact - too much or too little, my facial expression, how I held my body, how I sat in a chair, if standing by this wall or in this corner or sitting in this seat was okay, or if I was opening myself up to ridicule by doing the wrong thing. Because I was new I didn’t want to ask what was wrong or right and be deemed weird, and unfortunately nobody was just telling me if I did something wrong or if it was connected to something else entirely. 

In that year and a half I became the least authentic version of myself, because I so badly wanted this relationship, and at the same time I think I desperately wanted to feel accepted. 

I think underneath it all I understood that this was a me issue in a lot of ways. Still, it was hard and I was triggered and got my feelings hurt a lot. When everyone coupled up and moved into their own homes - they kept hanging out, but I just stopped going and I made a lot of excuses for why when my partner and his friends told me that I was wanted. That I was missed. That people did crave my presence. Really, I think in my heart of hearts I knew I just wasn’t ready. I tried for so long to just be, but I never felt comfortable being. I needed to take the time to figure that out without anyone else. I needed to make myself really believe what they were saying before I reintegrated. 

Reintroducing: loneliness. 

It was different this time though, because I kept seeing everyone else around me doing well and having fun, but for some reason I was being left behind. Every person I talked to just said “it’s hard for everyone, just keep your chin up,” and while I understand everyone struggles - I still couldn’t piece together why I am. Why everyone else around me can hold down a job, and pay their bills, and keep up with friends and family, and also do things they enjoy. I didn’t understand how my coworkers stayed in the same position or company for 10+ years without completely burning out. I didn’t understand why I could get hired anywhere and be deemed a phenomenal employee and be given more and more responsibility, just for me to fizzle out a year in and throw up my hands saying “I can’t do this anymore!” 

I started to wonder if I was broken, but this time, as I said before, was different. Instead of chastising myself and saying ‘you need to do better’ - I sat down with myself and really started asking myself ‘what’s going on with us’, ‘where are we struggling’, ‘what coping skills do we have right now that we can use for this’, ‘in what areas do we have no coping skills’. I started looking into a slew of mental health disorders and started researching symptoms and searching for an answer. As it turns out, I’m autistic.

It took me years of researching on my own to get there - I cross examined the list of symptoms and feelings I had drawn up for myself versus the list of disorders I was looking into. Narrowing it down wasn’t hard, but when you get down to BPD or autistic, unfortunately the general stereotype around autism kind of pushed me towards looking at BPD (which isn’t out of the ordinary). The most obvious evidence why it wasn’t BPD is because I can control my emotions and haven’t been hospitalized. Which led me to looking into autism. 

By the way, if someone is going through this and you are deemed safe enough for them to explain it to (especially if they’ve already self-diagnosed), please don’t tell them that they obviously don’t have BPD. It’s not helpful, or even necessary, when the autistic person has already done every piece of leg work by themselves, and was literally so far in the trenches they were basically touring hell through their self-diagnosis process - they are already so completely aware that they don’t have BPD. Just listen to all of the work they had to do on their own to create a singular foundation to navigate their life as they are. That is what is helpful.

This poem was written by me and belongs to me - please don't share or repost it.

SP's Poem Collection

[stickypiratevoid]

Why Writing Marinette Is So Hard For Me (and maybe you will relate)

I'd talked with my friend about MLB characters, particulary miss Mari Sue Bread-Maker here. Even though I cast aside my salty behaviour to her and trying to see her as a plastic doll figure to write as a character, I still can put a finger on her base personality. But I'm drawing blanks here. It's because when I look at her throughout the seasons, the writers always trying to stick cool things to her, never actually developing her base that would make a decent start in writing. It's like they got a bulletin board of her with some of her base personaliry being overwhelmed and stacked brim full with sticky notes of "cool", "quirky", and "not like the other girls" things because she is sooo amazing she needs to be good at everything except being near Adrien, teehee~

All I can think of is something her stans would call "personality" (which is quite questionable if you really want to meet that kind of person in real life) on this list :

Clumsy: This one is not a personality but a motoric problem and needed to get treated asap before you are flying down the stairs. Where's all the bruises she got if she falls for the nth time that day? Girl's skin are thinner than boys.

"Loving" Adrien: Again, not a personality but a problem that needs to be treated asap before she got jail time. That fireman is insane to help a teenager becoming a criminal early in her life. Don't tell me that's how he approaches his wife...

"Overly Planning": Thrice of again, go to therapy asap. We only see her doing this to Adrien, not even her mom got a ready gift for the next 20 years. You might say that it's different kind of "love" but nah. If she is a real planner, she would swipe out a gift for her mom asap from under her desk. If you follow with her having ALL of her classmates schedules, she would be burning through her textiles to get them presents for their birthday for at least another 2-3 years.

I asked again to another friend of mine who usually write ideas and AUs. He said that even though Mari Sue's talents are admirable in handiwork, it even got corroded when the seasons stretched out. It only got passing mention of a few minutes screentime of certain episodes, but there's nothing that can ties her "passion" to her personality. She doesn't examine the texture of textiles, saying that it feels appropriate for [project] (eye for details); she doesn't take notes or inspirations from a painting, feelings, or stories ; heck, she doesn't even carry her needle and threads everywhere she goes in case of something; not even excitedly rambling about fashion like freaking Alya rambling about her scoop of journalism. The little details is to build importance of her passion, and it shows that the writers just don't care.

No wonder all I can think of when thought of her is her creepy, stalkerish, obsessive, and control freak tendencies because it's what apparently stay coherent throughout the seasons.

Seriously. All I can do is making an entire whole new personalities for her and I don't freaking wanna do that because I want to go straight to writing with a decent base. I would lose my drive to write just to remember to separate Mari Sue canon self and what personality I think would fit in.