#moodswings are killing me i fucking hate this

[t3mprr]

"my heart is aching because he didn't text me" ok and you're not the one who is scared and wants to cut themselves and doesn't wanna be themself anymore and doesn't know how to love somebody

[icharchivist]

I've been thinking about Belial getting a bunch of clones and throwing a huge clone orgy all night now

Not for unsavory reasons

On one hand, a bunch of willing participants, so of course he'd be up for it. They can experiment or just stick with classics that they know they like. But due to his self loathing, he can also be extra rough with his clones and potentially even attempt a suicide by proxy. I'm not saying it's healthy, but it's certainly a thought that would cross his mind

So it would be messy in several senses

Now you might want to argue that we figured Belial really craves love and affection and would prefer that to messy BDSM business and sure, technically that might be true

But the aforementioned self loathing would get in the way of that. He doesn't wanna be tender to someone who looks like the guy at the core of so many of his problems, himself, he doesn't think he deserves someone being nice to him and even then he probably doesn't want to admit to himself that deep down he just wants to cuddle sometimes

So fuck and kill it is

the massive moodswing from the latest few asks (about contemplation with loss and grief) to this one about the clone orgies has given me the biggest of whiplash hold on a second

But yknow what, you're right. When i got the clone ask i did consider mentioning that Belial would have considered the "i wouldn't fuck them because my self loathing is THAT big" option, but ultimately Belial would fuck his own clone BECAUSE he hates himself so much. There's a degree in which he could be punishing himself with sex after all, so he might as well do it even more with his clones.

Like he could have a good time, he could give himself some love, but he could also end up hating himself even more because how pathetic it is that he is so unable to have the love of his life that the only situation he is left is is trying to content with his own love? and he can't even fulfill his own needs in term of love, so doesn't it add on how he can't even fulfill the needs of the person he loves?

it would make everything even more agravating, so in the end he'd mostly be hatefucking his clones because he doesn't deserve the affection and kindness, and neither do all of those clones.

And Belial is a pro at destroying himself first before allowing himself some happiness, so he might as well extend it to his clones.

so of course he's pro fucking his clones. But he's never been one to associate fucking with love, so of course he ends up still killing them. that's on brand.

[sionnaigh]

I try to make friends and I give them pieces of me and then I have to let them go one way or another and then they take those pieces with them and I'm starting to feel like this empty shell of flesh and unorganized thoughts.

I try to talk and I hurt the people around me. I reach out with claws instead of hands and everything and everyone starts bleeding. I open up and look for warmth but I turn others cold. Quite literally because I put him in fight or flight and he started shaking and his hands were freezing. And we both stay soft but this house is turning into a crime scene.

I try to meet up with friends and I can barely smile or make jokes anymore and I don't have the energy to think about shit to talk about. And I'm happy when they just want to sit with me and watch Netflix because I literally have nothing left. No personality. No joy. A collection of swear words and gaping wounds.

One of them said 'idk how we always end up talking about mental health' and I wanted to explain how it's all I can think about so it's my fault but instead I start vomiting words and feelings and when I throw out how I Google how to kill myself they get worried and give me that look. Pity.

And then other times I really want the word vomit to come out but instead my thoughts turn into static and my whole body burns and I want to scream scream SCREAM and ask for help but I know that if I do I might turn another person's hands cold.

'I'm not mad but I'm having bad thoughts so I need to leave for a minute' are the worst words to hear after you finally get a comprehendible sentence out. They think they can help me but every time I open my mouth, bullets seem to come out instead of letters.

I have to let them go when they hate me. I have to let them go when they love me. I have to let them go when I say nothing and when I say everything. I have to let them go when I only tell them half of the story. I have to let them go when I am filled with joy and when I am filled with sadness.

Now friends come by and I don't know how to behave. I don't know how to keep more distance, I don't know how to be closer. Neither have worked.

His hands were freezing and there were still words on my lips that needed to be spoken. He was shaking but I was still crying. And while I still needed him, I had to let him go. You wanted to know my pain and I have so much more to share and I gave you a teeny tiny look and your hands were freezing and you were shaking.

So I'll stop crying again. I'll start pretending again. Baby, I'm fine, it's just a moodswing. I swear it's not that bad. No, I'm not going to kill myself. No, you didn't do anything wrong, I'm sorry. No I'm not leaving you, promise. Yes I love you. Of course I do. I know you're sorry, you're just anxious, like me. We'll handle this, see, I'm fine.

But this pain is still scratching the back of my eyes and deep within my chest it still burns. My head still feels like I banged it against the wall. My throat still fucking swells. My jaw still locks. My toes still cramp. My stomach still turns. I still want to scream until my vocal cords snap.

The highs get higher and the lows get lower and I can't help but wonder if the high will be too high and I'll OD somewhere in a ditch or if the low will be too low and I'll hit a tree at 150km/h.

You'd think I'd have changed by now. But I still turn hands cold and make grown men cry.

[tealfruit]

yknow hot take maybe we should talk more about getting abusive people professional help for their issues rather than them just being outright shunned by literally everyone

[strahdapologist]

@churchyardgrim replied:

holy shit this sounds so wild 👀 👀 if you don’t mind infodumping, i’d love to hear more about the Azalin Rex and Lyssa von Zarovich plotline, bc i hardly ever see ppl use Lyssa in CoS and i’m so intrigued O:

;u; honestly they’re both underutilized and such interesting characters esp if you want to drag out the campaign beyond the adventure module. as a long term plan i want azalin to be a final big bad since a lich is just such an iconic villain. this is ofc after they deal with the dark powers in barovia and my amber temple replacement but i’m getting ahead of myself also to my players AVERT YOUR EYES.

a lot of this began with me needing ways to spice things up since the players were more inclined to be strahd’s friend in an attempt to break the curse rather than his enemy. as a tatyana reincarnation was among them, strahd was also less bloodthirsty as a result. i really want to play purely evil strahd one day, but strahd as a sort of frenemy of the party has been really hilarious not gonna lie. it also made losing tatyana sadder in the last session lmao anyway

all about azalin

it started as a running gag about azalin stealing strahd’s marble since the characters were like strahd why do you live in the dirt and i was like fuck it. azalin i guess

but that evolved into the idea of azalin actually resurrected our reborn character radu (and alek reincarnation) since that was left up to the dm to decide for the player. that snowballed into azalin pulling multiple strings behind the scenes because something that stood out to me in i, strahd: the war against azalin is just how much that lich hates strahd and wants barovia.

in my game now, azalin thinks strahd is unfit to rule because of his emotional attachment to tatyana. unable to expand his own magical prowess, azalin seeks power by taking over surrounding domains.

as he cannot leave darkon, he has been using sending spells/astral projection to set his plan in barovia in motion. over strahd’s depression nap, azalin was able to not only resurrect alek, but also recruit some allies within ravenloft who were unhappy with strahd’s moodswings.

he also rescued lyssa von zarovich from her medical coma, knowing she would be an ally he could count on.

he anticipated alek to be much more antagonistic against strahd, and was disappointed when radu eventually tried to become strahd’s best friend, so he decided to target tatyana instead to hurt strahd and push him back into his depression and allow azalin to plant his own puppets in ravenloft

with tatyana’s death, he has successfully taken over ravenloft via zoom essentially

everything lyssa von zarovich

according to the lore, lyssa is a talented necrologist and inventor of the vampiric mindflayer, so i brought mindflayer variants into barovia.

it was connected to a player’s backstory, who found out the reason his old gang turned on itself and killed many of its own was in exchange for psionic abilities, granted to them thanks to lyssa von zarovich who was able to induce a state of semi-ceremorphosis.

baldur’s gate 3 helped in terms of ideas in this regard lol but the deathlock bandits as they are now called are a part of lyssa’s growing army of mindflayer mutants and vampiric mindflayers which she has been making in the furthest regions of barovia, just outside of strahd’s reach

another player character’s yaya was nearly turned into a mindflayer, but van richten was able to stop the process.

lyssa is currently azalin’s proposed new ruler of barovia alongside some of strahd’s court (consorts in the original adventure) which has chosen to betray him

my plan is for lyssa to be the big boss at the end of a vicious dungeon crawl through the crypts of ravenloft as the gang needs to retake the castle and i am EXCITED to run this next section of the campaign

[imagine-something-fun]

here goes nothing ig...

So idk whos going to read this and my English is fucked so if youre gonna read this goodluck. BuT!!

Hi, how are you? ig that we havent seen eachother in a while and since then alot has changed. Now that i think about it i rlly wouldnt know what exactly, ive been so inactive on here that it seems like 4 years ago since i last posted. The reason i am posting this today is because i saw old chats on here and i read them and i got so miserable. Im not that person i was when i used this media platform and i shall never be again, and that scares the living hell out of me.

I saw all those chats eventually die off and the thing was, i dont think i even noticed, maybe not even cared. i was rlly weird but in that way also rlly strong. Maybe its just the one too many stabbies in the back or the 1 time too many that i felt excluded but idk if im still that strong.

Yes, I was a bitch. Do i regret it? to a certain level. but i now understand why i was the way i was and sometimes i still wanna be like that.

All i ever wanted was love and acceptance, once i didnt even feel happy in my own skin anymore i started to freak out. Lash out inside is fine with me, destroy your liver who cares? You can do with a few braincells less. Well i could until i couldnt. and then i got mad at everyone around me.

Im not going to say that i shouldnt have gotten so mad, but i will say that i shouldnt have gotten so sad. It wasnt necessarily directed to you but it did hurt so much and everything became too much and then i had enough.

Enough of everyone who judged me and enough of the people i called friends. But to them i will say, even tho you will never read this and maybe its better that way, im sorry i cared so much and im sorry it wasnt meant to be, but the only one i should say sorry to well that person, she is me. (hihi i rhyme)

Yk, the only thing i ever asked for was acceptance and thats the one thing i never got. ive been my share of bitchy and mean and stupid and dumb tho, i wouldnt have wanted to hang out with me either, atleast something we agreed on. But hating myself and hearing it from the only person you wanted understanding from, well that sUcks. But now i think abt it im even a little bit thankful.

Yes you were all so harsh in your own way and i tried so hard to fit in, but i tried too much and if everything wouldnt have gone the way it went, and if i never dug myself so deep i never wouldve gotten myself out of there. Out of the brainkillers, moodswings but most importantly, out of that band.

It was the one thing i loved most, and the only thing that killed me inside. Im going to admit i am insecure, not abt my body or face or hair or any of that. Im insecure about belonging. Do i fit in? and i didnt and i told myself i did. In just a few months i started hating what i loved most.

And if i hadnt been so down i wouldnt have ever seen how much i actually love him. And if i hadnt seen that and never figured i can live my life the way i want to, i wouldve never quit that band and wouldve stayed with those people alot longer.

if the odds are against me and you actually do read this on my very open social media page i dont blame you, maybe just get really embarrassed. but ill just let you know i never replaced you, once i realised i couldnt live my life with you in it, i never wanted to know anyone that even resembled you. and that thought gave me more peace of mind then any of the past 2 years ever gave me.

yes this is a very big rant about how i struggle with change and yes i know ill cringe about it in a few weeks months years whatever, but i do this for me, read it or dont. but if you did and youre reading this right now, whoever you are, i wanna ask you.

Are you happy?

because i wasnt, even when i thought i was, and maybe i just wanna give you my word of advice but dont go looking for something youll never find. itll save you alot of time and energy and trust me, youll need it.

so i think i finished up here. thank you for reading this although you really didnt have to.

Goodnight,

Jackie

[darkling-er]

7 years ( Joseph Seed x Female Deputy ) | Part 1 

Summary: The Deputy and the Father has to spend their days in Dutch’s bunker, for who knows how long. Brook only wants to have her own grief and guilt in peace, but Joseph is not helping with his insane ramblings about the Voice. Aka how the deputy and Joseph will either end up killing or smashing each other.

Pairings: Joseph Seed/Fem!Deputy, Joseph Seed/OC

Warnings: mild language, violence, manipulation, use of drugs ( Bliss ), dubcon!!,  smut, slow burn, mentioned suicide attempts, basically a lot of triggers

Word Counter: 2907

Parts Masterpost

I can’t recall how long I’ve been sitting here, chained to the bedframe. It could have been a couple of hours, maybe days. I’ve been in and out of consciousness, since the first time I woke up in Dutch’s bunker. Since then his body has been dragged out, looking at the dark marks that  colored the cement floor.

That first time I woke up I was the most confused, as I did not recall how I got there or what happened prior to it. Blissfully unaware of the events that took outside.. at least for a second. Until I looked around to find my mentor and my friend since the beginning of the so called Holy War between the Seeds and the Resistance, now laid on the ground and however I wanted to think he was just unconscious, his chest didn’t rise or fall. He was dead.

What happened after, what ramblings did Joseph Seed, my “savior” said to me didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore. I was fueled with rage at first and shouted at him, though later I couldn’t say exactly what I said to him. He left me then, with that rightous smirk on his face, and I let myself cry back to sleep.

As it happened I slept a lot. And now, after who knows how much time I can’t sleep anymore. Though I wish I could go back to the lands of dreams, I’m afraid my body won’t let me anymore.

So I sit here, watching the formed bruises around my wrists, thanks to the handcuffs. My own handcuffs, if I recall rightly. He probably took it from me, just like he took everything else that I could hurt him - or myself- with. Possibly locked it to the armory, that Dutch kept locked.

My stomach growls at me, breaking the silence and my own thoughts. Not for the first time either, I didn’t eat since we got here. But I didn’t shout out for him, my pride wouldn’t let me. I would rather die before asking Joseph fucking Seed to give me something to eat.

I scoff to myself as I let go my hands to fall to the floor. Of course Dutch kept the beds nailed to the floor for some reason. And no matter how long I try I know these won’t let me go, until someone with the key opens them. I lay my head against the cold metal, closing my eyes, praying to God that this is just a bad nightmare.

And at that moment, God making fun of my silent prayers probably, the man himself comes into the room. I didn’t hear him coming, because of course he has to move so silently between the rooms. Or maybe because he’s not wearing any shoes for some reason, I think as I open my eyes and sligthly turn me head towards him, looking at his feet approaching me.

“I see you’re finally awake. Good.” He says, his voice harsh to my ears after so much silence.

I don’t have to look at his face to know, that he’s own eyes are looking at me. I can feel the intensity of it, like before, whenever I had to look at him and hear him out. Always drugged out or deprived of food.

After a moment, when I don’t say anything to him he sighs, disappointed.

“It’s been four days Deputy. You need to eat something.”

I want to spit back that I don’t need anything from him, but my own body fails me as my stomach growls again at the mention of food. He crouches next to me, so there’s no way I can turn away from him and now I can see the bowl in his hands. It smells good as well, and I hate myself for almost ending up crying when I see the food. It’s just some rice and some kind of meat... Meat...

Because of the bad memories I look him in the eyes. His face is full of bruises, but it’s a bit better since I last saw him. Although he’s not wearing his glasses, which probably got destroyed outside. What I hate in him the most that he looks so calm, so friendly even. When he should look at me like I’m the cause of this whole situation, like he said before, a Snake in the Garden.

But I don’t actually care about him as I open my mouth to ask him the important question, eyeing him and the food.

“Where is Dutch?” I ask, my voice hoarse from not speaking or drinking and it causes me to cough a little, before asking again a bit more angrier, seeing his confused face. “What the fuck did you do with him?!”

Finally he knows what I’m asking as the confusion turns into slight amusement, a smile lingering on his lips.

“This is just some chicken, my child.”

He fucking dares to even laugh a little and I kick out at him, which ends up with my leg moving a bit up and down, before falling back again in place, not even close to damaging the man. I’m weak, my body is failing me when I would need my strenght my most, but I’m trying to stay strong, still fighting against him with my words.

“I don’t need shit from you...” I say, and as to strenghten my words I turn my head back towards the bedframe.

It’s silence again, and I can still feel his gaze at me, when he moves. I think that he’ll leave me alone, maybe to finally let me die in peace, but I don’t expect his hand grabbing my hair and yanking me to face him again.

I yelp in surprise and fear, as I look at his wild eyes, no kindness left behind on his face. He snarls at me, but his voice is still, not shouting. I try to break out of his grip, but with my hands cuffed down I can’t do anything.

“I sacrificed everything to be here and the Voice told me, I need to keep you alive. So I won’t let your pride be in the way of His plan.” He says before grabbing my jaw and slamming it to the wall forcefully.

I shout out in pain, before going limp, not squirming anymore. And as if nothing happened, he lets go of my head and grabs the fork that he brought with the bowl, he puts some chicken and rice on it and waits as he holds it out for me to eat.

Still taken back from his outburst, I fight back the tears that well up in my eyes and I eye him and the fork. I still can’t make myself to move or to give him the satisfaction by eating. I know it’s my own downfall, that he could hurt me even worse, than just seconds ago, or he could leave me here without food, letting me die slowly. I want that, but at the same time, I know I can’t let that happen. Not with the chances of others being out there. Because I have a family, and if there’s even just a sligh chance of them being alive, I want to see them again.

Joseph sighs again, letting the fork fall back to the bowl. He looks away from me, then down at his hands. Eyeing the marks on them. At one his sin, Wrath, the other the tattoo of his wife. Then he looks back at me, his face no longer showing any sings of his sudden anger from before, and replaced with calmness again.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I know you need some time to get used to this new situation... As I do as well.” He looks away again, like he’s ashamed of his acts. “But until then we have to survive, and for that I need you to eat.”

I can’t help thinking that this man is insane and his moodswings will probably kill me any day now, but I hear him out and I know he’s right. Another growl leaves my stomach and that convinces me in the end, putting my pride aside as I say.

“What happened to Dutch?” My voice is a lot calmer, though there’s still suspicion in it. Joseph looks back at me, and now doesn’t smile as he answers.

“I let him go.”

I quirk up at that, and hoping that somehow the old man survived I almost ask it, before Joseph corrects himself, slowly.

“I mean... I let his body go... it’s outside the bunker.”

I try not to imagine my friend’s dead body outside the metal doors, eaten by flames or wild animals, if any survived. Then I selfishly think how I don’t want to end up the same way as him.

“I see....” I answer sadly, then look at the bowl of food still in his hands. “I’ll eat.”

I watch him grabbing the bowl quicky, trying to hide his smile, but I still notice the corners of his mouth twitch upwards.

“Thank you.” He says as he lifts the fork to my lips, as if I was the one giving him the permission to eat after days without it.

---

When I finish eating - quiet sloppily, I might add, because the entire time Joseph was holding the fork, not letting my hands out of the cuffs yet - he leaves to bring the now empty bowl to the kitchen, then he returns to me with a glass full of water. I don’t fight him this time, because I’ve been feeling thirsty since the minute I woke up. When I finish gulping down the water, some drops dripping down my chin he smiles at me, glad that I finally let him take care of me, before he sits down the cup and says:

“Now, let’s get you changed.”

I look up at him with wide eyes, because it’s one thing letting someone feed you and give you a drink when you’re on the brink of death, but it’s another letting that man, an insane cultist at that change you out of your clothes.

“There’s no need for that!” I say a bit more scared than I intended to.

He looks down at me again, with sad disappointment, but hope still in his voice.

“Your clothes are contaminated enough Deputy, we have to get rid of them. You change into some new once, after we washed you from the dirt and blood.”

I shake my head, even bringing my knees up toward my chest.

“No, I don’t want to.”

I hate how I sound like a scared child, even so, because he’ll use that against me and treat me like one.

“Deputy...” He says paitently. “Now is not the time to be prude around each other. It’s not like I haven’t seen a naked woman before.”

“Yeah, is that supposed to reassure me?!” I snap back at him, trying to back away more, as he steps closer, but there’s nowhere to go when a person is tied up to a place.

“No, I guess not.” He answers, before he puts his arms on my wrists. “My intentions are clean, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Fuck you!” I answer angrily, trying to headbutt him, but he steps back before I could cause any damage.

He sighs again, watching me like I’m just a disobidient child.

“I didn’t want to do this, but you leave me no choice.”

He says, grabbing something from his pocket. I look at him angry and confused, before I could register the item in his hands. So there’s no time for me to react before the contents of a small bag hits my face. The too familiar feeling of Bliss hits me, causing me to first sneeze, then my arms and legs start to go limp.

I can still register the things around me, and I try to tell Joseph to fuck off, but it only comes out like:

“Fuuughh.... oppphhhhh.”

I can feel my hands getting free from the uncomfortable cuffs after days of being chained, but not like I could use the opportunity to try and fight him. Joseph lifts me off the ground before we pass a couple of doors. I see the familiar blue light coming from one of the rooms, with the fish tank. Something I told Dutch was cute, for a man waiting for the apocalpyse. I can almost hear his voice in the distance saying.

“Laugh all you want, but once you’re down here long enough, you would want another creature with you, rather than yourself.”

“Thaaatsss suuupid...” I say back to the memory of the old man, not realizing I’m not back there with him, talking about fish tanks, and I don’t exactly register when or how I get out of my clothes, I just know that suddenly I’m freezing in the cold air, as it reaches my naked skin. I try to hide from it, got somewhere else, but I’m greeted with a stone wall. I try to turn around, but then there’s another person blocking my way.

“We’ll finish quick, then I’ll return you to your room.” The voice of the body promises, before I’m hit with a cold blast of water. I yelp out in surprise and from slight pain as the water slides to my fresher wounds. I also try to hide myself from the person, but his hands make me return my arms on the stone wall. He guides me to turn around a bunch of times, making sure that I’m all clean, before turning off the water.

At least my head starts clean up a bit from the drug, and I look more aware at Joseph, but still drugged enough to make my words into a bunch of nonsense, but I wish he understands, that by:

“I ope youv ead enough you erve...” He knows I mean ‘I hope you had enough, you perv.’

My teeth clatter together as the cold air makes my wet skin shiver even more than before, and I try to hide my private parts from him, but at least he doesn’t look really interested in me. He rather turns around, trusting the Bliss that I can’t attack him before he turns back to me with a towel. I try to snap it out of his hand, but I end up going for nothing but air, and I almost trip down on the wet floor, but he cathes me. Joseph puts the towel around my body, trying to rub along my skin to try me, but I weakly push against him. Though it’s not enough to make him stop, he decides to at least let me do this by myself.

As I shake my head slightly, trying to clear my thoughts from the Bliss I dry myself while watching Joseph gather some clothes and hand it to me after I finished. I wait for him to turn around, but he doesn’t budge. I scoff at him, turning around, to at least try to have some privacy before quickly putting up the oversized shirt and pajama shorts. I know that during the Holy War Jess came back to the bunker for her stuff, but the fact that she left the only shorts here, that had unicorns in it just makes me want to laugh and cry at the same time.

It’s either this or wearing nothing, I think, but it’s still humiliating enough, to wear stuff that has childish symbols on it. Not like Joseph seems to care, with him still wearing nothing but his jeans. No, I correct myself when I turn back to him, looking at his jeans... rather Dutch’s pants, as it’s slightly big for him and it’s only kept on his waist by a belt.

“Do you want to go to the bathroom as well?” He asks with a calm voice.

I can’t help myself but fight back again.

“Wha? You wanna waccch et as well?” My words returning back to almost normal, making more sense than before.

He just looks me dead in the eyes, because of course I was only joking, but he seems to be taking it seriously.

---

After going to the bathroom as well, because he insisted on not taking back to my room, until I did, I felt all my dignity leave me as I set foot in my room again, as he called it. He stops me before going any further.

“I won’t chain you to the floor again, but I insist on you wearing these still.” He says, holding the cuffs out to me.

“Fuck you.” Is all I say in return, before he snaps one of the cuffs on my wrists, then the other on the bedframe, but now so I can actually lay down on the bed.

He starts to leave the room, and before I could stop myself, I call out to him, stopping him in his tracks. This question has been bugging me since I first saw the bombs fell, and him saying all this prophetic shit, it made me wonder what he thinks:

“How long will we be down here?”

He turns his head to me, no smile or kindness on his face:

“Seven years... So I would try to be complient with me quick, if I were you. That way it’ll be better for the both of us.”

----

A/N: I’m trying to get back to writing, so yeah, this sucks :’) I hope someone out there liked it at least, and thanks for reading ♥♥

tag: @onl-you

[bipolaronshuffle]

Let’s Start By Saying I Hate My Fucking Mind

So. Hi. It’s your girl here, ready to bare her heart and soul online like a teenager. 

I’m soon-to-be 21, decent-looking with a gorgeous boyfriend and life ain’t all that bad. Well, not until the episodes.

 Yes, friends, The Episodes. Periods of time my mind goes through highs and lows like a Six Flags roller-coaster. Before all else, I must warn you, there is profanity, strong views and long vents afoot. If you struggle with any sort of depressive trigger, please, for the love of God, do not read.

Anyway. As I was saying. The Episodes are certain times of certain days my mind likes to take a stroll down Manic Lane and turn left into Depressive Drive. I have Bipolar II, the one that’s considered ‘less bad’ than Bipolar I. Well, let me tell ya, I still feel pretty fucking crazy. I’m on three types of medication:

1. Risperidone 2. Lamotrigine and 3. Fluoxetine

1. Risperidone 

Risperidone is an atypical antipsychotic. It does exactly what the name says, amongst other things, and is used specifically for people with Bipolar, Schizophrenia and Autism. For those not following, it helps stabilizing your moods and help you think clearly in a pressured situation. And also not fuck out and kill your boyfriend (just kidding... or am I?)

2. Lamotrigine

This little guy is an anticonvulsant. It helps prevent seizures and stabilizes moods, reducing moodswings and helping you think clearly. It’s also used to treat people with Epilepsy, among other things.

3. Fluoxetine

Now, this bad boy is an SSRI. ‘What is an SSRI?’ you might ask. Well, in medical language, it’s a selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor. In normal English, it boosts the serotonin production in your brain to help you feel a little less depressed over your life.

 Now, being on all of these, it’s a mystery how I can still feel like absolute dogshit over the littlest thing. I mean, I’ve got three little happy pills to try and keep my mentality stable enough so I can get through university and my waitressing job without killing anyone or myself.

Too crude?

Anyway, it sucks having to live with a constant reminder that you can snap at anyone, anytime, anywhere with just a normal, mundane but wrong word or action. But it’s even worse if that anyone is mostly the people who care about you. My boyfriend is a soldier, persisting in a relationship with a girl that has her PMS on high the whole fucking month. It’s difficult to control and a pain in the ass to fix the consequences of. One thing about mental disorders - you can’t blame it all on the mental disorder. This is one thing certain people are fond of doing. 

Not me.

I hold myself and my lack of control of my emotions accountable. This is exactly why I can apologize if I had been unreasonable, and it’s unfortunately become a bit of a habit. 

“Sorry, I wasn’t able to reign in my anger. I’ll do better next time.” 

My boyfriend - let’s call him R for now (Any Warm Bodies fans out there?) - being the trooper that he is, usually reassures me that he understands when I have one of those days. Other people might not be too keen on this, though.

I have three close friends - A, K and C, who all accept me for who I am and have made it through plenty of battles by my side, and there is nothing much like the support of girls for fellow girls. K and I have Puppy & Park therapy, A and I go for drives and C is close to campus so I can pop in for a quick Vent & Coffee.

All in all, this doesn’t summarize what life is like - that you’ll get a taste of every time I feel the need to take a metaphorical dump from eating people’s shit the whole day.

Sorry for the visual.

F signing off. x

(haha, f off. Get it?)

[airventsandductape]

i hate my life and i want to die

I feel like every decision i’ve made in my life past the year 2013 has been a massive mistake and i want to go back and change everything.  I don’t want to be here, i feel like this is all a big mistake, I’m having so much trouble accepting the current situation I’m in. 

 Moving away from home, and my family because my ldr boyfriend was threatening to kill himself if i didn’t move in with him. I love him, i do but i dont want to be here and most days i dont want to live with him. he’s more like living with a friend or brother than a boyfriend.  We dont have sex, all we do is argue and fight. the thought of cheating has crossed my mind and i feel like an awful awful person because of it. But i want to has sex just once in my life and he refuses to touch me, he says ‘its too much work’ he thinks he might be a sexual but he wont talk to a therapist about it just to make sure he is or if its sexual aversion disorder, he thinks I’m being intolerant or something simply by suggesting. Before we moved in he promised all these things like how he was gonna fuck me so hard cause there would be no one around finally then we got a dog so he had another reason not to and now he’s suddenly ace. Ace people date people with sex drives all the time and they typically make compromises, my boyfriend doesn’t. He never has.. “its too much work” “i don’t enjoy it” I understand, but if you want me to be happy you have to make a compromise too because i’ve been compromising for 5 months.  I hardly ever get horny, typically sex and even masturbation gives me little ptsd attacks, so its not the sexual satisfaction I’m upset about. its that he wont even touch me or look at me the way he used to, he used to be so into it, so into me he used to put so much effort in the sexual part of our relationship even when we didn’t have sex. And now hes going and telling me he hated all of it.  That’s what was keeping me going. if we’re not gonna have sex, which im FINE WITH you still have to put effort in there cause sex is more than sex. but no, I’m selfish, apparently.

 I didn’t even want to move in with him. I wanted to stay back in Massachusetts. now I’m stuck in AZ. I honestly think i was happier living with my parents. Then again i don’t remember the last time i was happy.  I end up working most of the day, just to block out the situation i got myself stuck in. an unhappy relationship, all arguing all the time. 

its funny cause everyone thinks we have this perfect relationship, my best friend says were so cute together, its part of the reason ive stayed with him so long is because of other peoples perception on us and i would probably lose my best friend if i ever broke up with him. Ever since i’ve moved here i’ve been having these awful AWFUL moodswings and at first i thought, ‘it seems like pmdd’ cause they’re close to my period’ but now i just feel like I’m going fucking crazy, i haven’t been able to get a therapist for anything and my mental state has been declining yesterday he threatened to leave me, and didn’t wanna take his mask with him. i was from neutral calm to bawling my eyes out. I find myself disassociating most days simply cause i don’t want to be here anymore and i have trouble comprehending the situation I’m in.

I keep looking back on the pastlike the good old dys wishing i could reverse time and start over It wasnt supposed to happen like this, I get my first apartment and its because he’s threatening to kill himself. the bathroom was leaking sewage for a month the bathtub was clogged for 2 weeks  there’s only one room in this studio so we’re with eachother 24/7  unless i hang out in the closet I never wanted to move to arizona  and i wish i never did, right now its a hotbed for covid, oh boy do i wish i never moved Covid happened 

EDIT Just got a call from my mom My grandfather just died awesome

[yanderehetalia]

I just saw your reply for the Soviet Russia ask, and I was wondering if you would wright a scenario for after America's girlfriend had been brought to him? Thank you!

(that was a long ass while ago but sounds like fun)(cold war america vs russia is best america vs russia)

You’re tossed onto a hard floor, the two “kind” women you’d previously thought of as nothing more than maids snicker and slam the door behind you. You stumble to your feet and brush yourself off, frantically scanning for a way out. You’d actually prepared (somewhat) for this, as your boyfriend was more than a little paranoid about the Soviet Union. That was understandable, though, given that he was the literal flesh-and-blood representation of a country that was (more or less?) at war with the USSR. The room you were ungracefully thrown into was simple, yet the whole place had a very important and regal feel… in the worst way possible. Auras that could only be described as demonic and sinister dripped from the ceiling and oozed from the walls, coating the room in a shell of anxiety and horror. one one end were a pair of doors, on the other was a massive desk, topped with neatly stacked papers, a telephone,… and pictures of you. Now thoroughly panicked and violated, the frantic-ness of your search increased ten fold. The door you came in from was much too unsafe, god only knows what’s waiting out there for you. You look up and a vent catches your eye. Ah, a classic. You grab the arms of the large chair behind the desk and push it towards the wall.

“A-are you leaving?! Please don’t leave! He’ll kill me!” you whip around, a man now stood at the door, and he looked terrified.

“Who are you?!” you growl. The man takes a few steps back, like a startled animal.

“I am Toris, pretty much a slave of Ivan’s. I was sent to watch you. He had originally asked his sisters- the maids who captured you- to watch you. But then Natalya said she would rather die than protect the person who stole her brother’s love, which made Katya back down too and so- I’m rambling I’m sorry I should stop.” He turns slightly away from you, bowing his head and averting his eyes, obviously uncomfortable.

“Nonono, please, explain more,” your mind was racing, if you could wring enough out of him, he seemed unhappy as well so, maybe you could get him out too? “Who’s Ivan? What position does he hold? Where am I?Who ae you specifically?” You shoot, he appears a bit overwhelmed, but none the less responds with a short sigh.

“Ivan is my boss, and he holds no -official- position, you are in his home just north of Moscow. And since I know you were with America, I know you can believe me when I tell you that I am Lithuania, the country. So that would make Ivan the… You know.” He didn’t have to finish, you know exactly what he was going to say. Your heart plummets down to your stomach, and you feel like you may just throw it right back up.

“So Ivan is the USSR.” He nods solemnly, raising his head again and changing the subject.

“Do you want anything to eat? Drink, perhaps? you gently shake your head, looking him in the face, and you see a spark light. “Do you want to call America then?” His demeanor takes a surprising turn, one you would think is more fitting for a country.

“you’d help me do that?”

“Ivan’s phone is pretty much the only one in this whole damn country that isn’t tapped, so he wouldn’t know a thing. I hate Ivan as much as, hell probably even more, than you do, but if I do help you, you have to promise me something.”

“To help you get freedom?”

“Not necessarily, first of all promise me you’ll tell America I said hello, but also promise me that he’ll pound Ivan so far into the ground that the bastard will be the first man to the center of the Earth.” He finishes with a grin of shining courage, taking your hands in his. It seems to drop just as soon as it came and twists into a look of horror. “Ivan’s back.” he whispers breathlessly. He leaps away from you and back to the door. “You don’t know me, my name,you’ve never talked to me or barely even looked at me, I was just standing here the whole time, ok?” He spews, the second he finishes the door is thrown open.

“You’re dismissed.” A tall figure growls and Toris scurries out of the room like a frightened little mouse.

The man approaches you, and about three feet away from you starts circling, inspecting, his face stoic and inexpressive. He stalks back around to your front, leaning down so his piercing violet eyes burn directly into yours. And finally his face begins changing, it morphs into a… smile?

“I’ve been waiting for you, (name). Do you have any idea how painful it was to watch you prance around like an idiot with my sworn enemy? He grabs your wrists, taking one up to his mouth and placing a kiss on your knuckles. You try to pull away, and his grip immediately hardens into a bruising one. “Don’t pull away from me, darling, I won’t hurt you.” A distant smile replaces the frown he bore seconds earlier. “Unless you betray me or try to leave me.” The smile deepens to one that haunted your soul, “Or if I feel like it~” He drags you behind the desk, glancing toward the offset chair. Looking up, he spots the vent and your breath hitches. A child-like giggle resounds from his throat. “Looks like you’ve already tried to escape, naughty girl~” He kicks the chair back in front of the desk, sitting himself down and pulling you onto his lap. You squirm and try to fight his grip, but it only tightens more, you start losing feeling in the tips of your fingers.

“Don’t make me want to punish you now, it’ll only end up worse than it would be because I’ll punish you because you made me angry and then you’ll get blood on this chair which will only make me more angry which will make me punish you harder so how about you stop?” It phrased as a suggestion, but there was no room for rebuttal, he was dead serious. The slightly broken or confusing english making shivers run the length of your spine and then some. You shift uncomfortably, avoiding those knife-sharp eyes that will cut open your soul if you stare at them too long. His gaze still trained on you, he begins to speak again, his grip loosening, your fingers screaming hallelujah as fresh blood revives them.

“You’re so beautiful, do you know that? He asks, taking one hand up to grip your jaw, the other resting on your waist. He turns your head to the side, you flinch as he starts to gently kiss up your jawline, then drags his lips down onto your neck, you didn’t know what was wrong with this dude, but you weren’t sure how long you could last with these moodswings. He nips a bit and you feel betrayed by your own body as things start to -heat up- down there. Luckily for your morals, the phone rings, Ivan sighs and lets go of your jaw, picking it up and grumbling unenthused into the phone.

“Ivan.” You listen very closely, maybe there was something you could understand? A place? a name?

“YOU FUCKING BASTARD! I KNOW YOU HAVE (NAME)! GIVE HER BACK OR I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL NUKE THE LIVING SHIT OUT OF YO-”

“But will you really?” Ivan smirks, cutting Alfred off. “You know exactly what will happen then, and you couldn’t even bomb Moscow, since that’s where your precious little (name) is. Say hello (name)~) He puts the phone up to your ear and you waste no time.

“Alfie?”

“(NAME) oh my god (name) I’m so happy you’re alive. Listen, don’t let that son of a bitch touch you ok? I’m coming!” The phone is promptly ripped from your ear, Ivan now looking annoyed.

“No, you’re not, and if you try I’ll blow you to bits. Also did you not find those maids at all suspicious? I mean, I know for a fact you’re at least somewhat familiar with Natalia, so if you’re going to be that pathetically ignorant and dumb maybe I won the right to (name).” He slams the phone down and you jump, he was now pissed. One of his thick arms wraps around your shoulders, pulling you into his unexpectedly solid chest. He leans down and whispers into your ear.

“You’re going to stay with me forever, whether you want to or not, your bastard american is not coming for you. In fact, he’ll move on in a few months and forget you, deeming you a “casualty of war” But me? I’d never forget you, and I’ll always stay with you, so I expect you to do the same to me, ok? I love you, don’t you love me too?”

[corrupt-caterpillar]

So, after reading your reply I realized that I didn't explain some things as well as I probably could have. I was working off of two hours of sleep when I wrote my og reply. Now that I've had time to sleep a bit, I'm able to hopefully come up with a better, more clear response.

For starters, I just wanted to say that my list were things that I personally hated about the game. I started off my reply stating such, that I hated the game a lot, and here are the reasons why I hate it. So of course a lot of the things I said aren't going to apply for everyone, and I never said they would.

Next my incest point, as I said those who are criticizing fates for the incest are going to hate the incest featured in the other games. If someone hated on fates for incest but were fine with another FE game having incest, then that would be hypocritical of them and just plain dumb. That was my point. I hate the fact that several of the FE games have incest, there's no point for the company to put in incestuous relationships.

Now with my marriage and incest point, I was not saying that you have to marry your siblings. I didn't, I married Inigo. All I was trying to say was that it sucked that the best characters just so happened to be your siblings, so if you wanted to marry them but hate incest you're out of luck. Instead you'll have to find another non-related character that you like and settle.

With the abuse comment, was where I definitely fucked up. I couldn't exactly explain it in a way that made sense at the time, and I hope I can better explain it now. What I wanted to say and what I did say were just so fucking different, I don't know what past me was thinking, honestly. What I should've said was it makes no sense for Corrin who has been isolated (and I do find this isolation to be abuse, which I think we can both agree on) their whole life has no effect from the isolation. The only effect is that Corrin is a bit naive. I think perhaps Corrin should've had some sort of other effect from it like not trusting others easily, moodswings, or anything else to depict how they were abused. I also want to point out that I was abused (by a friend not a family member) for an entire year and I still feel the effects of it nearly a decade later. I think the fact that Corrin feels little to nothing from their abuse is hurtful because abuse does hurt. My friend isolated me from others by ruining my friendships and destroying my reputation, and it hurt a lot and still does, but Corrin has nothing? I like how in FE3H you can see the effect of war on some of the characters, like Dorothea. I don't know, maybe this is like some fucked up misery loves company type of thing and I just want to relate to Corrin by having them feel something similar to what I felt. Also the reason why I think I put nice in my og comment was because after I escaped my abuser, I became very bitter and angry. I was mean to a lot of people, so to have Corrin be totally friendly despite years of abuse didn't sit right. Again, this is just my experience and not everyone will act like this. My experience happened when I was still very young and couldn't process my emotions well.

The war comment. I get that Corrin doesn't really want to invade Hosido, but that doesn't mean that what they're doing is right. Since Hosido is killing their people in the battles, Corrin is sending in their troops, asking them to risk their lives, just for them to do nothing. If the people they fought recovered quickly, Hoshido could employ them again and now they have even more enemies fighting against them. Whether or not Corrin wants to fight, they have to realize they are in war and killing is just a part of it.

With the supports, again this is just my opinion. I found them boring and not memorable. I did find FEESOV supports to be memorable even though I only played the game once, so my memory has nothing to do with time or how many times I've played the game and more to do with if I like the supports or not, which again I did not.

For the dragon, I meant the design. It looked awful. Plus Corrin was way stronger in their normal form. I get the reason why they were a dragon though. I guess I really did need elaboration on this one.

Don't remember what mode I played on, sorry.

And to clarify with the whole Xander op thing, I didn't actually use him all that much prior to the last battle. I mainly used Leo, Corrin, and Camilla to level them up. Prior to the last level, I think Xander only leveled up 2 levels, so it wasn't like I was only training him or anything. I probably could've figured out a way to win without using the strat I did, even with the lower levels since they were the 2nd upgrade, but why go through all the trouble when you take the easy way out?

As for the black and white thing, my point stands. The only character that talked about how both sides did wrong was Xander. Xander was the only one who continuously stood by his kingdom and defended it (not in terms of battle, but in terms of saying that Nohr isn't this big horrible place that everyone says it is). Everything else in the game felt very black and white.

Hopefully that cleared some stuff up. If it didn't, then sorry. It's a million times easier for me to say my thoughts out loud than it is for me to write them. When I write them, my points usually don't sound as good or can be very unclear, so speaking them is a lot easier for me.

fuck it man. this still pisses me off. fire emblem fates had the pontential to be so great. i see the type of game it could have been. after all these years later. i don’t see it get talked about a lot like the other games do.

so many bad decisions made held it back. i don’t know if it was intelligent systems fault or nintedo’s fault. the obvious awful decision of splitting the routes into different cartridges and dlc. also having one route be harder than the other. only being able to get the “true ending” through said dlc. it’s like they took the wrong lessons from the success of awakening.

the downgrade of the character customization. awakening gave us three different builds for each gender. what the fuck was that all about. not letting us play as a tall female corrin and short male corrin. i get maybe because morgan’s build was so close to the small robin build. YET they completely went out of their way to make the short female corrin build. look very different from kana. like none of it makes any sense to me.

the future children thing made no fucking sense in fates. at least in awakening it did because they had lucina introduce us to that idea. if fates had a character equivalent to lucina then maybe it could have worked. which makes me furious because this time the future children came from the male characters. instead of the female characters in awakening. the female & mlm fanbase got done so dirty. speaking of the supports.

these supports are so fucking bad compared to awakening and three houses. hell, the rest of the series. at least in awakening the characters were talking. even though it was re-used dialogue/battle dialogue. it’s better than just reading text in fates. if you didn’t get the game in japanese. you missed out on the fan service, petting feature. that’s a good portion of the supports not being enjoyable. ALSO there not being a character portrait for when you reach the s rank. what the actual fuck where they thinking. those portraits are for more superior than the character moving like a v-tuber. i haven’t even mentioned the disgustingness of including the siblings on romantic options.

JUST BECAUSE THE CHARACTERS ARE TECHNICALLY NOT RELATED DOES NOT MEAN IT’S NOT INCEST. HOW MANY TIMES DO WE HAVE TO SAY THIS. AGAIN WHAT WERE THEY THINKING. WERE THEY NOT THINKING AT ALL. FOR A COMPANY CALLED INTELLIGENT SYSTEMS. THEY SURE DO LACK SOME.

oh my god and their attempt to add lgbt options is almost as worse. i don’t have a lot to say a out niles. since i think his supports are done well. but i do have some words about rhajat, the tharja clone. her literal name is an anagram of tharja. they were not subtle when they made those characters. what’s worse with is that rhajat is only available if you marry hayato. meaning she takes longer to get. at least with niles you don’t have to wait as long. the whole wlw community was done dirty not just with rhajat. the whole grossness of soleil’s supports. throughout her whole supports she’s shown preference for female characters. i know i shouldn’t rule out the possibility of her being bisexual. yet in her ending it mentions that she seduces young woman and only woman. SO WHY THE FUCK WAS SHE NOT THE OPTION TO BE ABLE TO ROMANCE. EXPLAIN THAT TO ME. the only way she was able to marry male corrin is to basically be drugged. that’s so fucking horrendous. how did that decision make it to the final product.

i’m so glad that fates wasn’t as successful as nintendo wanted it to be. because three houses would have been so much worse for it. i haven’t finished three houses yet but i can already see the improvement. the only thing that’s still bad is the lgbt options. we got better wlw options but at the cost of the mlm options. that’s just fetishization right there. female byleth having more same sex options then male byleth will always piss me off. at first i was put off that the students had s supports. until i saw that there were aduts and 18+ options. and that the supports don’t take place until after the timeskip.

i know this rant was massive but this was years of built up frustration. it was reignited when i started playing three house and rewatching some fates playthroughs. if you read all this thank you and sorry that it was so long.

[mana-sputachu]

Pregnancy meme, but this time with XiaoJin ♥

I forgot i had this in my askbox, waiting for a reply.Oh boy… i admit that XiaoJin is one of my otp that… don’t always inspire me fankids, lol. But i have some scenarios in my mind, one where Jin is stillthe Zaibatsu boss (just less idiod and finally back to his sanity), and anotherone where he just has a normal work after having left the Zaibatsu and theMishima shit behind him. But i’ll go with the first one, just to give them aneasier life… and because i’ll risk to stay here for HOURS.

Reaction: Jinwouldn’t believe it a first. Like, I ALWAYS USE PROTECTION, HOW DID ITHAPPENED. He would be so scared, maybe he passes out after going crazy, lol.Xiao is already so done with him.

1 month: Jin isstill scared AF and sometimes he wonder if it’s just a dream. Luckily he doesn’thave to worry about the money, so he can focus on looking for parenting books,books about babies, and maybe some advice. Too bad the only people around himaren’t exactly… the best when it comes to babies. I mean, he could ask toMarshall, but then he would remember what kind of person Forest his (and how hekeep flirting around Xiao), and… no, just no. He could ask Lei or Lars, butnone of them has kids. And then there’s Howarang that gives him unrequested(and totally nonsense) advice that Jin prefers to ignore.And don’t even think about Nina… or Kazuya.

Food cravings: Everything.EVERYTHING. Like a vacuum, Xiao will eat everything she can find near her. 

Mood swings: Xiaowould have a lot of moodswings, from being happy to cry like a baby watchingbaby animals video. But also Jin has moodswings that follows Xiao’s, andbecause he’s still scared and SURE I’LL BE WORSE THAN KAZUYA, I CAN’T BE AFATHER. They will both cry curled on the sofa.

Sonogram: “..sothat’s really a baby?” “Of course it’s a baby, what do you think it was? Akidney stone?” “Omg it’s a baby, MY BABY OMG ;___;”He’s a huge softie, under all those grumpy faces. Xiao just looks at himsmiling.

Baby kicking: Jinwould look in awe at Xiao’s belly, hands still on it, smiling like the biggoofball he is. “This baby will be a great martial artist.” Xiao nods proudly.

Water broke: Jinwould be at the Zaibatsu when Miharu or Julia (i have this hc of her and Xiaobeing friends, don’t judge me) call him saying that Xiao’s water broke. Beingthe perfectionist he his, he has already set a plan months before, like keep asuitcase with some clothes and other useful things in his office (another oneis in their apartment), the best path to the hospital so he won’t lose too muchtime, Miharu or Julia that would update him via phone. But being also a veryanxious person he would scream like a banshe while doing it. Lars would justlook at him worried that his nephew may die of anxiety before seeing hisfirstborn.

At the hospital: Everyoneis here, Hwoarang (making stupid jokes), Lei, Miharu, Julia, and Jin can hearXiao screaming like a banshee and cursing at everyone, especially at himbecause FUCK YOU THIS IS YOUR FAULT IF I’M GIVING BIRTH TO A COW, THIS IS HURTTO MUCH, JIN KAZAMA I HATE YOU FUCK YOUUUUUUUUUUUUU!!!Lars has to keep him there and reassure him that no, she will not kill you, she’sjust… nervous. Just a bit. Jin finally calms down. Punching Hwoarang in theface always help him feeling better.

Its a…: Female

Name: Jun, likeJin’s mom. Xiao chose the name without saying anything to him, as surprise. Ifit was a male, she would have chose Wang, like her grandpa.

Parents reaction:For the first time in forever, everyone would see Jin smiling and happy,keeping her baby in his arms, crying because she’s so small and OMG I DON’TWANT TO HURT HER. Xiao is tired and happy, but the poor thing would want tosleep for hours.

TY!

[jclifou]

"alt!"

THE ORIGINAL WINO

"Wellllllllll, look who’s come out to play! And here I thought Daddy Do-Me had you on such a tight leash.”

“Come for a run on the wild side, little man?”

“--Oh, for gods’ sake, Keyboard, take a fucking break. I can introduce myself, thanks. Name’s Dio. Theoinos. ‘God of tits and wine,’ to borrow that tired old phrase people keep flinging at me. I prefer to think of myself as the god of good times. Dionysus: Giver of Life-Changing Orgasms and Mixer of Excellent Drinks. It’s got a nice ring to it, right? Epithet-in-progress, at least.

“Ho-hum. What’s important for you cupcakes to know about me? Mmmm. Well. Aside from being the most devastatingly handsome and irresistibly charming member of the pantheon, I also have the distinction of being the youngest one in the family that matters. At least until Hurtmeplease--sorry, Herakles joined us up on Mount O., I had the dubious pleasure of being the youngest of the Olympians. Dionysus divine, twice-born son of Zeus, blahblahblah. I’m sure you’re all fasincated by the family history, right?The real scoop, kiddies, is never who’s fucking who on Mount O.; it’s who fucked who over. Keep that in mind, and watch who you do favors for: the Frigid Bitch is almost as good at holding a grudge as I am.

“I spent most of my time down here now. New York’s a gods-damned paradise for a guy like me. Too many people doing weird shit to draw too much unwanted attention, too many people looking for something exciting to go ignored when I feel like basking in it. There’s a theatre every other block and a party between each one; between those, the bars, and sex-starved denizens lining the streets of the City in your filthy little minds--and Keyboard here is very good at finding me lovers for the night--a guy god can lead a good life.

“I miss anything, Keyboard?”

How about your raging ego, random melancholy moodswings, and general assholishness? I feel like you only really listed your positives here. No mention of the fact that you’re always squabbling with the other Greeks, your drive to be the specialist snowflake in any given room, your hate-boner for Christianity, your belief in the inherently faulty theatrical hierarchy, the fact that you “play human” more than admit to being a god--the atrocious way in which you hide in plain fucking sight and no one catches onto it--gods that pisses me off so bad--your weird half-superioirty, half-inferiority complex, your fascination with humanity.... I mean. At least bring up some fault or weakness of yours! It won’t kill you!

“Mmmmm~, I have an oral fixation.”

How. How is that either of those things.

“It’s a weakness, isn’t it?

“Come see me sometime, cupcakes. You’ll be in for a real treat.”

[tiredbiplantlady]

I can’t diagnose myself and I’m not asking anyone else to either...

I just need to write. I haven’t much at all lately despite my motivation and planning to. 

I love my therapist. He’s amazing. He’s helped me see so much and learn so much about myself and helped me learn to VERY effectively manage my constant hypervigilance, my constant anxiety, and a big portion of my shame on a day-to-day basis. I am LIGHTYEARS beyond where I was at last year and before. I attribute so much of my ability to heal myself to his guiding me. We connect on some real af levels and I am extremely grateful to him, though I know I did the work, he was just there to help facilitate it all. 

But. He told me to stop thinking of myself as mentally ill because it isn’t productive. And no, maybe it isn’t. But something feels wrong. I know he’s all about “perception is reality” and honestly, so am I. But can I not manage my perception and create an productive and healthy realty AND consider myself mentally ill? He’s been working with me for over a year on my black-and-white thinking. I don’t think he’s like this with all of his clients, but I think with me, he sees potential in me and doesn’t want me to box myself in to “mentally ill” to use as an excuse for my everything. Like, I get it. But it still bothers me. 

A year ago, I talked about borderline personality disorder. I made a case for myself and brought up the symptoms I identified with most and described several instances of each that served as evidence to me. He just listened for over an hour as I told him everything I needed to say, and he nodded. He said he agreed with my analysis, but labels aren’t everything. I was fine with this covert agreement that wouldn’t go on my insurance. That might one day prevent me from achieving anything as a psychologist. After all, he said so, my counseling graduate program told me so, and now my psychology graduate program says so: the diagnosis isn’t as important as just treating the symptoms that cause distress. “So what if you’re somewhat borderline?” He asked me. I nodded in agreement. “It doesn’t change who you are or what you’re capable of.” 

I read about DBT. I found online workbooks. I recorded my moodswings for a few months. I was desperately trying to get better...because I’d just started to come out of the worst, THE WORST emotional period of my entire fucking life.

It was December 2015. Things had been on a downhill slope for months. It started back in June really. I began suffering anxiety again to a level beyond my average (but still very strong) anxiety. My environment served as a painful trigger for my symptoms with two manipulative, crazy-making, and alcoholic/abusive roommates. My PTSD (diagnosed) was on full-blast again. I was cautious, but not totally paranoid. Not yet. As I look back, I entered into a depressive phase for perhaps a week or two, where for a couple days it was bad enough that I couldn’t get out of my bed and stayed there isolated and unable to stop silently crying despite my other roommates trying to be comforting. I felt like self-harming. I felt hopeless. After those few days, I functioned better, but I still generally was quite depressed and unmotivated, hopeless feeling and empty. I was waking up in the middle of the night at times with nightmares and gasping, feeling as though I were being watched or someone was there. 

I would come out of it, this depression, but the anxiety remained. As the months went on, the roommate situation got worse and worse and I began to become extremely paranoid. I was almost in a frenzy at times, just absolutely certain one of the awful roommates would come back to burn down the house and us alive in it. I triple checked locked doors, I slept with lights on at times. I wanted my roommate (now boyfriend) to sleep with me just in case anything happened. I hated sleeping alone. I’d rather stay sweating horribly together in my very hot small bedroom with the door locked and the windows tightly latched than chance anything. Sometimes we slept with the door cracked. One night I woke from a nightmare while he slept soundly, and I was frozen, just paralyzed in fear because I KNEW someone was in our house (no one was aside from the usual roommates). I forced myself to slide out of bed, pull the cat in, and lock my door. The cat cried, but I didn’t care. I didn’t want to die. I tried to fall back asleep and it felt impossible. I listened to every noise, believing any small disturbance was someone nearing my room to blast through the door. Maybe with a gun. Maybe someone was lurking around outside. My heart raced constantly. Sleeping started to become impossible, echoing a similar months-long episode I’d had about the same time the year before. I just wanted to die sometimes. 

The final horrible roommate started drinking - black out drunk drinking - and calling his exes on the phone screaming gendered slurs and slamming things around in his room directly above mine. It sent me into a panic, hearing that. I’d had my trauma with plenty of alcoholics and misogynists. I was terrified of him. If I heard him come home I would always lock my door and be as quiet as possible, as though he were an abusive parent waiting to come home to beat me (even though he never hurt me). He’d started threatening my boyfriend and passing out fucked up on the couch. It made me extremely uncomfortable and my anxiety grew and grew. I became hypervigilant again, having flashbacks, using old coping mechanisms that weren’t good. One night he walked past me and slid his hand down my back, which was completely unnecessary and drawn out. I shuddered and told Kyle about it. It was hell. I’d just started grad school and everything that was happening was ruining everything. I was extremely depressed again. I burst out sobbing to my dad one day when I went home to my parent’s house because it was too hard to live in that house anymore. I was effectively retraumatized. I’d stumbled upon the term “transient paranoid ideation” and how having been traumatized once, you can start to become hypervigilant and almost have “flashback” like pop ups to events that never happened to you. Like maybe you were raped by someone, but start to have similar feelings and fears and obsessive thoughts about someone setting your house on fire. It transfers over to “what if”. That lead me to BPD, but I didn’t think a lot about it. 

In October, It was too much. This guy started threatening to beat the shit out of him, hurt him, talked about being a drug lord and connections to people and he touched me. We got a restraining order and kicked him out. I still couldn’t sleep. The week after we did it, Kyle and I drove every single day an hour up to school and an hour back to stay at my mom’s because I felt I was in danger and I couldn’t stand being away from Kyle not knowing if something horrible might happen to him. We bonded over this traumatic incident. While all this was happening I told him I didn’t want to do relationships anymore. I just wanted to be with him, that’s it, no more of this rewording things and pretending like we hadn’t actually been together for months. The reality was that we’d essentially gotten back together in 2014 and denied it, mostly me, for over a year. I was terrified and realized I was terrified of losing him. 

I told him I couldn’t stand to live there anymore. We went back and forth for a while about what to do and eventually decided to just pay off the landlord and move into a new apartment, just us. I thought it would solve everything. But even after we moved, I was still devastated from everything that’d happened. I coped alright for a month maybe, but in November, I stopped caring about my life and my future. I felt nothing and I wasted every day. I couldn’t get out of bed. I stayed there from sun up til sun down when I went to night class 2 days a week. I was miserable and it was a struggle to force myself to get out of bed even 2 days a week for school. I had nothing to say. I had no personality. I was empty and hollow and I had nothing to give. 

I started to feel absolutely insane. I was DESPERATE for affection and attention. I wanted to kill myself not getting it. I wanted to cut and binge eat and sleep until it would all just go away. I couldn’t get out of bed and I would spend hours doing nothing with intervals of random crying I didn’t understand. Other times I’d cry with a cause. I just hurt and I felt hopeless. It wasn’t so much that I hurt actually. I was empty and didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t look into the future and see anything for myself. It was just dark and empty. I felt useless, stupid, boring, unlovable, ashamed, disgusting. I was passive aggressive and had horrible problems communicating. I wanted my mind read. I wanted people to WANT what I wanted. I didn’t want to have to ask, I just wanted someone who wanted the same thing as me. I became horribly frustrated and withdrawn and my relationship suffered terribly. 

I started having furious mood swings that were mostly deep depression, followed by numbness, followed by anger, followed by somewhat normal, but still depressed around and around. Mostly I was depressed for weeks upon weeks. I fought constantly, I was frustrated and without words. I needed and had no idea how to articulate it. I felt like I was speaking a language no one around me understood and it was fucking pointless, hopeless. I still had nightmares and could barely sleep. Every little noise my neighbors made caused me to go on compulsive listening sprees where I sat with my ear to the wall trying to figure out what was going on because I wouldn’t settle or be okay until I did. My anxiety wouldn’t let me not do this. I was scrambling for anything to make it better. My relationship felt like it was falling apart and I felt insane every single day. He didn’t know what was wrong or how to help me and all I did was make things hard for him. I felt unlovable and made myself that way. I was terrified of abandonment and one big fight in the middle of winter gave me the impulse to drive away and sit in the WalMart parking lot fantasizing about going inside to buy all the things I needed to cut myself again. It would be so easy. I thought about killing myself, but didn’t really mean it. Part of me thought I’d be better off dead. That everyone around me would be better off if I was dead. The things said to me that night are still there and I feel shame and anger and terrible sadness. I still feel apologetic, while another part of me is enraged. Most of me knows it doesn’t matter anymore. I felt no good to anyone. I felt like a burden and vampire who couldn’t stop sucking the life out of anyone I loved .And I didn’t love anyone anymore but him. I had no friends. I isolated myself. He was my Favorite Person and other people didn’t matter. I hate myself for the manipulative things I’ve done, and the part of me that blames things on other people has enough to say of her own. Maybe the truth is somewhere in the middle. I don’t know. Even thinking back I still feel crazy. 

I had to do something. This wasn’t right. There was something very, very wrong here. This shouldn’t be happening. I promised I would try to make myself better. I couldn’t be abandoned. I couldn’t cause more damage. I hated myself. I had no idea how I ended up here. When I started to come out of that frenzied hopelessness, I looked back at myself and wondered who the fuck did all this, what was I thinking? I genuinely believed my apartment manager was constantly watching me and trying to get me in trouble to kick me out. I hated her with a burning fucking fury and other times I just didn’t care. I was not rational and how I felt about other people was never stable or solid. People were out to get me at worst and didn’t care about me at best. Little things sent me into a rage I directed inward instead of throwing things around or fist fights. I seethed with just burning hatred until I burned it all up and was back to being fine. If I had been the type of person to get in fights or do bad things in the real would, I would have been doing them. I fantasized about things like that, but instead felt deep shame for even doing so and then hated myself along with them. 

I started having periods of euphoria that lasted a few days where I felt like I could do anything. I felt social and outgoing and made a million plans for projects in my head. And then I’d be somewhat average again. And inevitably fall back into anxiety and depression. And of course, for years I’d had dissociative experiences like derealization/depersonalization and generally just feeling out of myself and having identity issues (though until 2015 I had no idea that’s what they were called). I started seeing connection in BPD and brought it to my therapist (who I’d kept a lot of this from anyway). I sat with the idea of potentially having it for a while and tried to explain to my boyfriend what it meant about my behavior. How now that I knew maybe things could get better. 

In a couple of weeks I made the decision to drop out of grad school and go back for a second undergrad. It was all very fast and somehow I thought it made the most sense and was a great idea because I wanted to be a writer and it would help with my writing. I went into the grad counseling department and excitedly spewed my latest idea, words slurred together and hardly taking breaths, to my program director who said I sounded sure of what I wanted and sent me on my way. I pushed hard and fast for the second bachelor’s admission director to admit me and get it all set up before school was out for the semester. I still got furious with people and would be polite, at worst short with them, but never rude and then take it all out on myself. 

It was done and I was set and this was turning over a new leaf, this was a new beginning. I was going to be great and I’d find my way and everything would be perfect!! Spring was coming! I had so much hope and certainty in my ability to do this. I started feeling like I was improving. Then February happened and one night around 11 pm, Kyle and I went to a gas station for snacks when suddenly I got very hot. I complained that my arm was sore. I started sweating and feeling nauseous. My heart raced. I got hotter. And hotter. My heart raced more. I could feel myself about to puke. My vision started fading, gray and fuzzy through a tunnel. My head felt light and I was so sure I was about to pass out. “I’m going outside” I said quickly, then turned and went out into the cold night air. I’M HAVING A HEART ATTACK, I thought to myself. I’m DYING, I’M ABOUT TO DIE OH MY GOD I NEED TO GO TO THE HOSPITAL. I was hyperventilating in my car. As soon as I got out in the cold and sat down, my vision came back, my head stopped tingling. I was covered in sweat that was freezing in the cold outside. I felt my heart still racing and I was in a panic wondered what happened. I could feel adrenaline just coursing through my veins and I wanted to puke again, not the same as before. This felt like I’d just gotten off a roller coaster and the rush was too much for my body to handle, so I needed to puke. Kyle came out to see if I was okay. I was trying to breathe and a part of me was freaking out going “that wasn’t normal. NEVER forget how abnormal this was, NEVER forget that this was BEYOND normal, no matter what any family member or doctor tells you. THIS. WAS. NOT. NORMAL.” He asked me if I wanted to go to the hospital and part of me was numb, emotionally, and said no. I tried to explain what happened and he asked if I thought I had a stroke. I went home and called my mom. I webMD’d it. I had a stroke, I told myself. I had a TIA. At any moment I’ll have another one and I’m dead. This is the end as I know it. I’m going to die!!!! 

That sensation at least wasn’t uncommon to me. I’d had what you might classify as a paranoid delusion when I was about 15. I was CERTAIN I was dying of cancer (no real evidence of this). For weeks I genuinely and truly believed I was going to die and my body was deteriorating. I was depressed, hopeless and suicidal feeling. But I got past it. Only to have another health related genuine delusion a year later that also lasted for weeks, nothing could satisfy it or cause me to think differently. NOTHING. 

So, here we are, February 2016 after this “stroke” - I went to the doctor. Which used to scare me, but I’d become comforted by it at this point. Every doctor happily pointed out my anxiety as the cause of any health issue I brought up and every doctor happily tried to prescribe me antidepressants. They started looking at me as a hypochondriac. I hated it. And yet I did it to myself. She played along and did a bunch of bloodwork, finding only that my A1C was ever so slightly elevated, probably from PCOS and my diet, she said, so I asked for Metformin, but that’s a whole different story. I didn’t have a stroke, she said. There was no evidence. Everyone told me I had a panic attack and it made me break down crying. I lived in constant fear for some time that out of nowhere this could just happen all over again with no warning, just like before. I realized in that past I’d had “limited symptom panic attacks” or “anxiety attacks” before. I still couldn’t accept that’s what it was - I remember how I told myself how abnormal it was and to never forget it. I was on the brink of death! I had to worry because if I didn’t worry then it would happen. It was an obsessive compulsive thought and behavior. I could not help myself from acting it out. I truly believed worrying would prevent bad things from happening. If I was carefree, something was wrong. I read about how 30-somethings described TIAs because strokes aren’t just for older people. I was certain I was going to die. And I read people describing going to the ER to find out it was a panic attack and was eased momentarily before both telling myself I had to worry it was a TIA/stroke anyway, and also that if I was having panic attacks, who’s to say that isn’t the first of many to come? 

After that day I worked out, ate FANTASTICALLY healthy, saw a nutritionist, took medication, went to therapy, lost 50 more pounds (after having lost and maintained about 30 for a year or so) in a few months, tried to go vegan, settled for vegetarian, went to therapy once a week, started meditating, and was desperate enough to start actually taking my ativan and tried buspar. That was a huge step. My anxiety was destroying my life. After that panic attack, I had heart palpatations out of nowhere at random times nearly every day. I had that sick, sinking, tingling feeling in the pit of my stomach and I held my breath only to breathe too much until I was dizzy. I wanted to cry and several times fell into an anxiety attack that felt like a downward spiral of hopelessness and irrational thinking. I felt helpless and crazier than ever.

Because on top of all that, the moodswings were still there. I went to the psychiatrist, got my buspar, some zoloft (I refused to take it) and intentionally left out the part about the moodswings for fear of a diagnosis that might ruin me, but mostly someone trying to put me on a mood stabilizer. I didn’t want anymore drugs. I’d struggled with 3 different anti-depressants in the past that did nothing, made things worse, or generally just failed in some way. I never felt well, just numb, no change, or terrible. I was desperate enough to try buspar, but that lasted for short weeks before I stopped entirely. When I did, my anxiety had lifted a bit and I did feel a little better. But it had given me painful headaches I couldn’t tolerate anymore and I just can’t deal with being on drugs. I hate it. One night in spring I went into another helpless, fearful tizzy and wanted to scream, cry, cut myself, fuck until everything stopped hurting. Oh, god, why did I hurt so much? Why did I hurt so fucking much. It hurt so bad, aching into my soul. I didn’t know what to do. I sat in warm bath water with the bathroom window open until the sun set and the wind blowing in was cold, along with the water that’d gone cold long before. I cried silent tears, lip shaking, cheeks chapped, coming from the core of me, some deep dark place. I didn’t wail, I felt so lost and empty, as though I’d realized some awful thing and felt totally out of control. I was just so fucking helpless. So fucking empty. 

Months went on into summer and I was doing a lot better. I still had my ups and downs, but I was going to be okay. It hit me I could no longer sustain myself without a job (I was in NOOO position at the point to be working AND school) on the pitiful financial aid they offered. I decided right before the fall 2016 semester started I’d go back to grad school the semester after. I was ready and this whole thing, I’d needed the experience and the time, but it was over now. I’ve been lying to myself that I’m incapable. I can do this. I’m ready to be an adult. So I went into that semester (fall 2016) not taking shit seriously at all because I was just D O N E with it. At the end, I was leaving my second bachelor’s degree needing only 4 more classes to earn it, but I couldn’t live off another semester of that and it just felt useless. We moved again due to money stuff and it was going well. I had my rocky patches with the stress, trying to manage, but ultimately it was fine. I was doing so much better and therapy and meditation were making my life fucking great in comparison. I felt stable. Sometimes I little stressed or depressed, but no major episodes. Things were looking up! 

It was around October 2016. I’d gone into this extremely positive, hopeful, centered, accepting place I’d never been. I was writing and A LOT. I was extremely productive, sleeping a bit less than usual. Making HUGE strides in therapy and my psychologist was thrilled by it, in awe of me. I was in a mild high and riding it happily. I felt powerful and strong and sure and more than anything I just trusted life. I trusted the process. I trusted the universe. I felt spiritually enlightened and wise and just so CENTERED. Like EVERYTHING just felt like it had a purpose and I was EXACTLY where I needed to be. I’d never felt anything to that level before. I started writing about an event from my past that was verrrry sexually arousing and satisfying. That day changed everything. I got higher than I had been already. Some time went by. I was feeling social and curious and really hungry to connect with other people. I missed having friends and learning new things, getting close to people, new experiences. I was growing so, so, so much personally. I wanted someone to understand and appreciate me. I felt misunderstood and detached. I didn’t know how to communicate through my fear of judgement, abandonment, and worst - invalidation or mocking. 

I fiddled around talking to old acquaintances. I made up with some people, caught up with others. It felt really nice. And I was starting to accept all these parts of me that I’d shut off for a long time, fearing their contradicting nature. I am lots of things. I am everything. It doesn’t all have to make sense. I was tired of compartmentalizing around every person though. It was hard and sad and I was kind of lonely. And then it happened, and I met (or re-met) someone. The high I’d been riding flew to new heights. Every fucking atom of my body, every cell, every piece of me was vibrating so fast you couldn’t even tell. I was floating and walking in a cloud of love that touched every person I went near. I felt like an angel, a god. I was god. I was a healer, I was mercy, I was understanding, I was pure, I was the truest truth that ever was, I was love. I WAS LOVE. I wasn’t Kat, I was a being without a name whose purpose was to give love and receive love and live in only love. I deserved this ecstasy, being in love with myself. I didn’t think, I just KNEW. I just KNEW things and followed my intuition and I KNEW that’s what it was. I had never experienced this self-perception before, not like this. Things felt RIGHT and I did them. It went on for months, my self-perception, my world perception...

“you’re manic,” my therapist said with a slight smile.  “no I’m not!!” I exclaimed defensively, ready and already going onto a sentence to continue denying”. This was just who I was now, what the fuck was he talking about??? he showed me the way to be, this body could channel love like this, the center of life, the purpose for living. Why would he say it was just being manic?? “don’t get defensive,” he said interrupting me, “I’m not criticizing you for it,” he said among other positive things I can’t remember in the haze. All I remember was his awe from a few weeks before this session, pure awe telling me “you’re not growing in a linear way, it’s exponential...it’s amazing to see someone grow like this.” Praising me for my progress and my rarity. I beamed, I hugged myself in it.  “ the crash is going to hurt,” he said. I literally laughed in his face, unable to contain it. I genuinely believed this was me now and I was never going to crash. I’d never experienced that. When I was happy before most of the time, but not always, it was short lived and just before it ended, thoughts crept in that something awful must be about to happen, which ruined everything. Not this time. I was so fucking sure. No one could have convinced me it would end. No one could have convinced me I wasn’t channeling the core aspect of the universe and that was the height of my purpose in this life, my reason for living. That I wasn’t on the same wavelength as the universe itself because I WAS. I didn’t feel delusional, and I still don’t think I was even now...  “I’m not going to crash,” I scoffed. He laughed and tested me with it again. And again I brushed him off, laughing. 

At that point, I’d stopped sleeping almost entirely. I subsisted on endorphins. I managed 4 hours a night. I wrote and wrote and wrote and I made plans and I felt like I used to feel when they prescribed me adderall only better. I stopped giving ANY fucks about school and took my first F nonchalantly for the most part. I stopped going to the class, didn’t take the final, didn’t write the final paper. This was not like me, the life time good student, and to do so with hardly a care? What was school in the face of the future, in the face of my true purpose? None of this shit is real anyway - life isn’t real, I thought. What is reality? I laughed. I am going to die and be forgotten, why am I so concerned with all this bullshit? I can do anything and I can be happy in any situation no matter what happens because I have love, I AM love. I threw in the towel at school.  

and then eventually I crashed some time after this, and it was unexpected still too. It never crossed my mind, even when my therapist put it there. Everything was all in the open now. I didn’t always do the right thing. It felt like I knew that I had wings, and no one could see them, but I flew anyway. And then something happened and my brain just decided to accept the social reality that I didn’t, so my wings only I could see shrunk into nothing and I fell thousands of feet to the ground. I realized in a speechless, horrified panic that was not the perfect, helpful, merciful, loving being I thought I’d been. I thought that I was god, but now I looked back and saw only the devil at the damage she’d caused without a second thought. What have I done? Who was I? How could I do this? I just wanted to die. What was wrong with me? Everything I’d ever done wrong in my life came back to haunt me. I didn’t know how to apologize enough. I felt miserable and like a disgusting excuse for a person. I felt like I deserved to die for my half-truths and redirected empathy. I was a werewolf. I was a normal human who turned into a selfish, hungry monster willing to do anything to fill the hole inside her that could never really be filled. I hated myself. I was no angel, no goddess. Who am I? 

It took time, lots of talking, lots of conflict, lots of effort, lots of facing fears, lots of honesty, lots of risk, but I felt like things were getting better. Part of me was angry. Why were my mistakes the gravest sins while similar sins from others were things I’d forgotten not long after they happened? Why were things always worse and more evil when I did them in comparison to others? Did I just forgive too easily? I don’t know. I had to pick up the pieces. I was knocked so far down. I’d climbed a ladder and almost reached the top, but my mistakes caused me to slip and fall to the fucking ground, damaged and terrified and uncertain of how to even go about climbing back up again. 

I started wondering if something more was going on? I’d given up on diagnosis a long time ago. It’s just the symptoms, not the label that mattered. But it felt like my symptoms weren’t even being addressed anymore. Isn’t being manic a symptom? Should I not look into this? 

“I wish you wouldn’t think of yourself as mentally ill,” he said, “it’s not productive.” 

I don’t know what to think anymore. I don’t fit the full criteria for borderline personality disorder, but I am 100% certain there was a long stretch of time in my past that I did. Several symptoms still apply frequently, some less so. I was diagnosed with PTSD and don’t fit the full criteria, but I cope with symptoms off and on, some daily, some not. It changes you and it doesn’t matter if you don’t fit the criteria on a daily basis, at one point you did and it still can wreck havoc on your life. I look at bipolar disorder and there are several other episodes of my past I have failed to mention here to lead me to believe that’s something to consider in terms of symptom management and treatment. But I have a psychologist who believes that mental illness is changeable, maybe not in everyone, but in me for sure. I believe him and I believe that too. I believe that regardless of what someone might label me (because diagnosis is highly subjective and 5 psychs could give me 5 different opinions), I can learn to cope with the symptoms and function, somehow someway. I am not damaged beyond repair, but I struggle and that’s what matters. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, and even my saying that would cause my therapist to be frustrated with me even thinking of myself that way. There’s a fucking problem when I’m hurting other people and not thinking about it. There’s a fucking problem when I feel indestructible and look back going “What the hell was I thinking”. There’s a problem when in the past I’ve struggled with mood regulation and had several “manic” type episodes where even if I wasn’t “happy” like I was this time, like most people stereotypically believe is all that manic means, I was agitated and motivated and hyped up in the same way directed into negative emotions, which can be part of hypomania/mania/mixed episodes. I’ve had delusional episodes related to my health. It hasn’t happened for a while, but its presence in my past matters. 

I just want to be well. I beat myself up, thinking that even when I’m happy it’s not because I’m really happy, it’s because I’m mentally ill and he, my therapist, was disappointed in me saying that. Part of me still feels that way, while another part of me knows I truly was happy. I don’t know what to think. Maybe both can be true. I don’t know how to be. I just am, and I’m just trying to pick up my pieces and function and love and live and be a good person, the best I know how. Sometimes I fuck up, but I’m always sorry and I want to do better. I don’t have a label and I don’t know if I really want one. I just know the things I do aren’t always like normal people - my feelings, my interpretations, my assumptions, my thought patterns. I was traumatized and that changed me. But even before that I was never normal, and I knew it. I was anxious, depressed, and fucked up as a child while my other 8 year old friends didn’t have these problems. I am mentally ill but that doesn’t define me or make me hopeless. It doesn’t mean I can’t achieve and accomplish and manage it and grow. I am a capable, smart, strong, loving person, and sometimes I mess up, sometimes I feel worthless, sometimes I feel spiteful and hurt and sad and afraid, and I’m not perfect. I just do my best in the moment and that’s all I can do, even when sometimes I realize immediately I can do better in the next minute. I push myself and I try to grow. Deep down that’s the thing that motivates and drives me the most. It’s my greatest desire and biggest hope.

I am everything. I’m an angel and a goddess and a werewolf and the devil. I am courageous and cowardly. I am loving and also selfish. I am impulsive and hesitant and I think sometimes that I’m not good enough, while other times I’m too good. I am petty and apologetic and loyal and untrustworthy. I am self-conscious and helpful and kind and would do anything to help a friend. A stranger. I am also confused and knowing and lost and settled and I am every fucking contradiction. That doesn’t make me fake or wrong or cruel, it fucking makes me human. I’m aware of my contradictions, I don’t deny them. It means I have choices to make about the reality of who I am and who I want to be. I am not in denial about either side of me and every combination of my traits. It doesn’t absolve me of responsibility for the bad things I do. It doesn’t mean I am above criticism or that I’m saying I am perfect and always justified. I’m not. I love myself and criticize myself and sometimes I hate myself too. 

I’m not perfect. But I do my best, and that’s all I or anyone can ever do. 

[splendorandagony]

i hate that every fucking moodswing makes me want to kill myself i hate being so god damn unstable and i hate that i cant do anything right . i am this close to cutting open my stomach and bleeding myself dry but im too much of a coward for all of that

[fuchsschatten]

so i decided to write my current feelings out cause i don’t have therapy for that anymore and it might help idk..

idek where to start with this..

i’m a mess, but who isn’t really? i’m a failure but does anyone really feel like they are better and have it all together?

Probably not, but the thing is..it doesn’t matter. Logic takes no part in feelings most of the time..actually make that always..

Nothing fucking matters. There’s no reasons for anything, but stuff still happens how it happens.

Feelings still exist. There’s no special sense or meaning behind these things...I kept trying to explain eerything away, but it just doesn’t work like that. it really doesn’t.

“Oh, this is just a bad day bc this thing happened” “ oh, now i’m just extra happy bc of that thing”

But guess what? even if that’s true, there are stilldays that are just bad bc they are without reason at all!

But when I am  upset about it.does that mean i am just being overworried? Cause it’s considered normal to have bad moods right? So maybe i just want extra attention being like ‘omg it’s my depression being back’

My doc wanted me to reduce my med intake bc i was so well in the las weeks, but since then it wasn’t all sunshine and puppies anymore..Does me thinking it’s from the meds make sense and is true or is that ust weak me being like ‘fuck i can’t work without meds so obvi if i have a bad day i gotta take more pills again!’

Als maybe i am just not happy with being happy...maybe i just need to hae bad tuff in my brain telling me it’s fine to mope around bc i am so depressed!!! fuck everything is such a mess...i hate that i hate work even though i loved it a while ago and i hate school even tho it was fun??

and i can’t get myself to pick up the stuff i need to do and i just wanna crawl into bed and stop existing bc life is just so shitty. Not even mine in particular either! So many people sufer from worse stuff and also other stuff and we’re killing animals and ruining the planet and jess fucking christ here i am complaining about moodswings??? which aren’T even real moodswings???? THE FUCK