#mostly worried about my health insurance

[dandylovesturtles]

Hello, I really enjoy your amazing fics and was wondering if you were still planning to make the second chapter of "say something true."

Either way I hope that your having an amazing day or night.

Thank you!

Yes I do still plan on writing the second chapter, as well as the rest of the room fic. However without getting too deep into it, I got laid off from work and fic writing has taken a backseat while I try to get a new job and work out what’s happening next.

Thanks in advance for your patience!

[sollucets]

. . .

[suzukiblu]

Thank-you sentences for quietellen; Billy adopts Conner and it actually goes pretty good! (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“. . . oh,” Billy says, and blinks at him instead. Huh. “Wow, that is so much more than they charge at the ER. Or even for like, fertility treatments and stuff.” 

What a weird thing for Cadmus to have told Lynn, though. 

Lynn blinks too, looking startled. Billy doesn’t know what was startling about that? Unless maybe Lynn doesn’t really know much about monetary value yet scale-wise, anyway, or like, maybe Cadmus just didn’t explain how stupid health insurance is and all the stuff it doesn’t cover. Or maybe they did and were pricks who don’t know how to vote in their own self-interest about it, which is also maybe a concern, considering. 

Probably he should explain insurance to Lynn later, yeah. And maybe healthcare. Like, obviously the League’ll deal with it if Lynn ever gets sick, because Lynn is Kryptonian and therefore a regular hospital probably couldn’t deal with it if he ever got sick, but also it’s better if he knows that kind of thing. Just like–so he understands, Billy means. Gets where the people he’s saving are coming from, and what kind of stuff they’re dealing with. 

It’s important, getting that kind of thing. 

“I count as a real kid to you,” Lynn says for . . . some reason, his voice stiff, and Billy–blinks, again, and tilts his head. Lynn’s face is back to blank, but even blank-faced, he kind of still looks tense and uncomfortable. Superman doesn’t look like that when his face is–well, no, actually, Superman’s face doesn’t really go blank, does it, Billy realizes. He’s always got something showing, emotionally speaking. 

That’s kinda weird, come to think, because Billy also doesn’t really think of Superman as someone who’s, like, super-open or anything? Like, he shows a lot of emotion and stuff, Billy guesses, but Billy doesn’t really know anything about him. Mostly people don’t, as far as he can tell. 

Also, he can’t really think of all that many times he’s seen Superman showing a negative emotion, now that he is thinking about it. Like, a few times during really bad fights or after some really awful thing Superman clearly blamed himself for, but not like, just day-to-day. Superman doesn’t ever seem to be impatient or cranky or in a bad mood, like, ever. 

That’s . . . weird, yeah. Huh. 

But also, more importantly–

Billy frowns to himself, and then frowns a little deeper and tilts his head a little more. Looks at Lynn and all his tension and discomfort and negative emotions, and . . . 

“You definitely count as a real kid to me,” he promises him again, because he’s probably going to have to promise that a few times before Lynn really believes it anyway, and he’d kinda figured that out already. “You’re my real kid.” 

Those are both probably things Lynn’s worried about, he figures. Being somebody’s real kid, and being a real kid at all.

[anonymous-dentist]

Bleeding Heart Part Five

Part One | Previous Part

-

"Mr. Balanar?"

"Yes?"

"Hi! I'm the nurse at your son's school, and-"

"What!? Is Richarlyson okay? What happened?"

"Well, unfortunately your son did have a bit of an incident this morning. He threw up all over his clothes, and he's running a slight fever. I'm going to have to ask you to pick him up."

"Of course. I'm on my way."

-

Cellbit lets out an anxious breath and slumps into a seat. His foot taps against the floor, his other leg bounces. He wipes his palms on his jeans and flashes a fake smile at the concerned secretary.

It's only been an hour and a half since Pac dropped Richarlyson off at school. Cellbit knows this because he knows Richarlyson's schedule better than Richarlyson does, he knows precisely when school starts, and he knows that Richarlyson has only actually been in class for an hour. The first half hour of his day is a school-provided breakfast.

It's only been an hour and a half, but Richarlyson has somehow developed a fever in that hour and a half. He wasn't sick earlier, obviously, so.

Is his son dying? No, right? He's fine. It might have been the breakfast. Richarlyson complains about it all the time, he hates it.

Maybe Pac just missed the fever. Richarlyson has a habit of not mentioning he's feeling sick until he's ready to be thrown into an ambulance; Cellbit understands, he feels the same way. Hospitals are too... cold.

So it's logical that Richarlyson is sick now. It's logical. Cellbit doesn't need to be worried.

Cellbit pulls out his phone to text Pac an update: 'Waiting in the front office now. Taking Richas home, I'll take care of him'

Pac, of course, wants Richarlyson to go to a doctor. But Pac also knows that nobody in the family can exactly afford a doctor; Bagi is the only one with health insurance, but it doesn't cover anyone but her.

(Pac also knows that Richarlyson can't so much as smell antiseptic wipes without acting out. So him going with Cellbit is probably for the best; nobody else understands just gets it.)

Cellbit doesn't react as the secretary buzzes someone else into the school. He doesn't react as the door opens beside him, and he doesn't react as he hears a small group of people walk into the office muttering amongst themselves. He keeps looking at his phone, mostly so the secretary doesn't feel obligated to try and calm him down.

But:

"Mr. Balanar, hello!"

And, suddenly, he can hear his own heartbeat and nothing else.

Slowly, Cellbit lets out a breath. He smiles, polite, and he places his phone screen-down in his lap. He looks up, and he nods oh so politely.

"Cucurucho," he very politely greets.

In all white stands C.B. Cucurucho, the Federation's 'civilian liaison' and Cellbit's worst enemy. The goddamn bastard.

They're smiling, because of course they fucking are. Their teeth are absolutely blinding- straight and white as a military graveyard.

"What a surprise to see you here!" they exclaim.

They lean closer, hands behind their back, head cocked slightly to the side. "Did you get my email?"

Nobody knows what the 'C.B.' stands for in their name. Nobody knows what their powers are. They're an enigma even down to their appearance: sleek, white hair down to their mid-back straight out of a shampoo commercial; pale skin akin to that of a corpse's; long, sharp nails like claws; and a pair of eyes constantly hidden behind black circular sunglasses. Their suit is sharp, their heels are pointed, and their lipstick is red.

Cellbit hates them.

Behind Cucurucho, their group of Federation employees all go to sign in to the front desk. There's a handful of people in suits and two heroes in goofy outfits who do not look like they want to be there. Newer ones, probably. Less popular than Bluebird, too, or they wouldn't have to be doing school events.

Cellbit nods. Doesn't say anything.

He and Cucurucho have beef. He hates Cucurucho, and Cucurucho doesn't really acknowledge beyond him being Detective Bagi Webber's twin brother. He wants Cucurucho dead, and Cucurucho sends him and Bagi Christmas cards every year. He wants to squeeze the life out of Cucurucho's shitty fucking heart with his own bare hands, and Cucurucho keeps adding him to the Federation promotional email list.

He and Cucurucho have beef.

The group of Feds all filter out of the office and into the hallway beyond, following the secretary to wherever they're supposed to be going, but Cucurucho stays behind. They're tall on their own, but them being in high heels and Cellbit being seated makes them loom above him almost imposingly. Their glasses are so dark that he can see his reflection in them, and he looks so small, somehow.

Cellbit bites back a shiver. Even with a jacket on, he's so cold.

"I hope you consider my offer," Cucurucho says. "I'm sure your camera has been returned to you by the police department by now. There shouldn't be any trouble getting those pictures over to me."

"Just ask Bagi for them," Cellbit politely huffs.

Cucurucho shakes their head. "And take the credit away from you? Come on, Mr. Balanar, who do you think we are? The Federation of Heroes takes pride in its civilian associates and their work. You'll be credited and compensated."

Kill yourself, Cellbit thinks. Fucking die already.

"I'm not interested," he flatly says.

Clicking their tongue disapprovingly, Cucurucho sighs and stands back upright.

"You know," they say, "I made an effort to look through your records before emailing you. It's a shame it never worked out between us, but I do think that a collaboration would work. You have talent, Mr. Balanar. The Federation could easily put it to use."

Cellbit shivers, pulls his coat closed across his chest subconsciously.

He doesn't respond. He just watches as Cucurucho turns to the front desk, flipping their hair back over their shoulder as they go. They sign in.

As they turn to follow their group into the school, Cucurucho pauses to give Cellbit one last look.

"I'll be in touch," they say.

And, with that, they leave.

Cellbit folds over in his chair as soon as they're gone, head falling into his (shaking) hands and shoulders tense and heaving. He can't fucking breathe-

The door to the school opens again, and Cellbit snaps his head up just in time to see the nurse leading a very embarrassed Richarlyson into the office with her hand on his shoulder. His clothes are damp, and his face is visibly shining with sweat.

Immediately, Cellbit is out of his seat and swooping in to pick Richarlyson up. He takes Richarlyson's backpack and slings it over his own shoulder.

"Come on, filho, let's go home," he murmurs.

"Yeah, 'kay," Richarlyson whimpers.

The nurse waves them off with a worried frown.

Richarlyson is so light, he always has been. But today, he seems lighter, somehow. Oh, God, is he dying? That's just what Cellbit needs, a dying son. Great. Great!

As soon as they're on the street and away from the school, though, Richarlyson starts wriggling and begging to be set down.

"What?" Cellbit asks. "No, you're sick, and I'm your dad. Shut up."

"But I'm not!" Richarlyson whines. "I made myself sick! Put me down!"

He kicks and writhes until Cellbit is forced to set him down on the sidewalk. Almost immediately, Richarlyson's face is back to normal. No sweat, no sickness, nothing.

On a hunch, Cellbit unzips Richarlyson's backpack and sees an open notebook in it. With. With a sick Richarlyson drawn inside it.

He narrows his eyes at his son, who just shrugs and puts his hands in his pockets.

"I didn't wanna go to the Junior Heroes presentation," he explains. "Fuck that."

"Oh," Cellbit quietly says.

The Junior Heroes... ugh. Everything about them makes Cellbit's stomach turn uncomfortably. They make him sick, actually. And it's not the kids' faults, but. But what kind of parents actually sign their kids up for what's essentially a war on crime?

Richarlyson jumps up to get his bag back. Cellbit lets him; he faked being sick, he can carry his own shit.

They start walking again, towards the subway that'll take them back to Cellbit's apartment.

"I didn't know they were coming today, or I would've skipped," Richarlyson continues. "I only found out after breakfast, and apparently they're recruiting or something? Today was supposed to be some huge presentation trying to get us to sign up, but, like, nah. Fuck that."

Cellbit nods. "Fair."

It explains why Cucurucho was there, at least. And the two heroes are probably graduates of the Junior Heroes Program.

Cellbit has beef with Cucurucho.

He extends his hand towards Richarlyson, and Richarlyson takes it.

"Come on," he tells his absolute genius of a son. "I'm proud of you for getting out of there. Let's get ice cream."

"What, really?" Richarlyson gasps.

Cellbit smiles at him. "Yeah, 'really'. You basically tricked Cucurucho. That deserves a reward."

Richarlyson cheers, and Cellbit cheers with him. Sure, they look stupid jumping and fist-pumping and shouting in the middle of the street, but if being annoying was a crime, Cellbit would have been arrested years ago. Richarlyson is a kid, he should get to be as annoying as he wants to be. He deserves that much, at least.

"You're my favorite dad ever!" Richarlyson exclaims.

"I'll be sure to tell Pai Felps that you said that," Cellbit teases.

Richarlyson gasps and shakes his head. "Noooooooooooooo, he's my actual favorite, you can't do that!"

"Sure I can. It'll be your punishment for abusing your powers in public."

"But dad!"

"You know the rules, Richas. If I have to follow them, so do you."

Richarlyson groans, but he knows that Cellbit is right. He hates it, but Cellbit is right. Cellbit hates it, but Cellbit is right.

With Richarlyson complaining, they turn away from their subway station and towards the street leading to Richarlyson's favorite ice cream parlor. With any luck, Bad won't be working today, so Cellbit won't have to explain why he's there with his son when he's supposed to be editing and Richarlyson is supposed to be at school.

(As they walk towards the ice cream parlor, Cellbit swears he sees a shadow following them from on top of the nearby buildings.

He flips the shadow off.

Fucking creep.)

--

A/N: Let me know what you think in the tags or in my inbox! I want to hear your theories, thoughts, opinions, everything!

[covid-safer-hotties]

Also preserved on our archive

A lot of good sources linked in the original article!

By Bruce Mirken

As the dangers of Long COVID become more recognized, the country's going backwards on preventing new infections.

While I’m far from the only person worried about Long COVID and our society’s general inclination to look away and pretend it’s not there, people like me certainly feel badly outnumbered. It’s beginning to feel reminiscent of how people with AIDS and their loved ones felt circa 1986—and maybe it’s time for the same kind of response.

For those of you lucky enough not to have lived through that era, by the end of 1986, AIDS had killed nearly 25,000 Americans, but president Ronald Reagan had yet to speak the word “AIDS.” His press secretary had joked about it and the White House press corps laughed. While individual scientists were doing important work, the bureaucracies running the NIH and FDA seemed very much to be in business-as-usual mode. Because the casualties had largely been gay men and injection drug users, it seemed like no one with any power cared whether we lived or died.

So, a group of New Yorkers – mostly gay men – decided it was time to start raising hell. Calling themselves ACT UP, they disrupted the New York Stock Exchange and, as chapters sprang up nationwide, they staged protests that shut down the FDA and NIH. Eventually, people like Anthony Fauci began to see they had a point. I joined the Los Angeles ACT UP chapter in 1988 and ended up getting arrested half a dozen times in protests at the LA federal building, the County Board of Supervisors and the U.S. Capitol, among others. We won major improvements in HIV/AIDS care in the Los Angeles County health system, which cared for thousands of people with AIDS who had no health insurance. When I landed in San Francisco in 1993, I connected with ACT UP Golden Gate.

Here I am (with my late boyfriend Tim at the left) at one of the protests in that L.A County healthcare campaign. Most of my closest friends from that era have been dead for decades.

I get that COVID has played out very differently than HIV/AIDS. AIDS ramped up slowly and seemed not to affect “normal” people until it killed closeted gay movie and TV star Rock Hudson in 1985, and even then officials largely looked the other way. Only scientific breakthroughs in the 1990s finally stemmed the tide of death. In contrast, the much more highly transmissible SARS-CoV-2 virus came on fast and furious, turning Americans’ lives upside-down almost immediately.

But now, we’ve arrived at what seems in some ways like an eerily similar place. When needed precautions to curb a highly infectious airborne virus spurred frustration and political pushback, officials largely threw up their hands and gave up. Even measures that don’t involve mandates or restrictions on behavior have mostly either been dropped or never happened in the first place.

LONG COVID’S GROWING TOLL

Unfortunately, the virus hasn’t gone away, even if the initial wave of mass death has receded. In August, as a summer surge peaked, US COVID-19 deaths exceeded 1,000 per week, though the latest September data suggests the numbers have begun declining toward pre-surge levels, when deaths were generally in the 300-400 per week range. That’s still equal to a 9/11 every eight to 10 days. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention tracking of SARS-CoV-2 levels in wastewater—probably the best data on US viral prevalence now that cases aren’t being reliably tracked—showed 15 states with “very high” levels and another 19 rated as “high” as of Sept. 19.

But COVID is not just a matter of cases and deaths. The disease’s long-term effects have disabled millions of Americans, and the numbers keep growing with each new wave of infection. An updated review published in Nature Medicine puts the current global number of Long COVID sufferers at 400 million and estimates the worldwide economic impact at a staggering $1 trillion.

We now have plenty of people experiencing repeated SARS-CoV-2 infections. The good news, if you can call it that, is that these reinfections may produce fewer new cases of Long Covid than a person’s first infection – but they absolutely produce some, and the Omicron variants circulating in the last year or two seem to produce more Long Covid than earlier viral varieties. Every time you get COVID, you roll the dice with your health – maybe for the rest of your life.

If I sound alarmed, well, I am. As longtime readers may know, I have some first-hand experience with Long COVID, though in milder form than many experience. My January 2022 infection left me with peripheral neuropathy—painful nerve damage—in my legs and feet. It’s incurable and nearly impossible to treat, as conventional pain drugs don’t help. I will likely never live another day without pain and walking more than six or seven blocks at a stretch is a struggle. I used to enjoy hiking, but will probably never do it again. Still, I don’t have the more debilitating symptoms like crushing fatigue or dysautonomia—disruption of the part of the nervous system that controls automatic functions like heartbeat, blood pressure, digestion and breathing—that afflict some Long COVID sufferers. Lots of people have it way worse than I do.

We know that COVID can have lasting impacts on many parts of the body, including the brain. A recent study of 52 COVID survivors—about half with mild to moderate initial illness and half with more severe disease—found that compared to healthy controls, both groups “had a significantly higher score of cognitive complaints involving cognitive failure and mental fatigue” 27 months after their original illness, with no significant difference based on the severity of that initial illness. On a series of tests, researchers found “changes in brain function” that may explain the reported problems.

Just as scary, a study of people aged 65 and up just published in the Journal of Alzheimer’s Disease reports that “people with COVID were at significantly increased risk for new diagnosis of Alzheimer’s disease within 360 days after the initial COVID diagnosis.” This review of the medical records of over six million patients found that the risk escalated with advancing age. As with many of these long-term impacts, the mechanisms involved remain unclear.

Survivors of an initial SARS-CoV-2 infection also have increased rates of high blood pressure, now documented in multiple studies. High blood pressure increases your risk of deadly cardiovascular complications like heart attack and stroke.

I can’t help but wonder whether these issues have affected me, but there’s no way to be sure. My blood pressure, well-controlled for a dozen years with a very low dose of medication, began ratcheting upward about a year and a half ago, necessitating three medication adjustments since then. I’m also definitely more forgetful than I was, mostly little things like walking into a room and forgetting why I went there. But those things can happen to older people with or without COVID, and it’s hard to know cause-and-effect in a given individual.

But I sure as hell know I don’t want to get this virus again and risk these and other issues getting worse. Unfortunately, avoiding it is getting harder by the day, and neither government at any level nor public health authorities seem to care.

PREVENTION? WHAT PREVENTION?

While there’s some evidence that the antiviral drug Paxlovid can reduce the likelihood of Long COVID if administered early enough, the results so far are mixed and not overwhelming. The best way to avoid Long COVID is to not get infected in the first place. As a society, we’ve pretty much stopped trying.

The government is still encouraging vaccination, as it should. But it’s been clear for some time that while the vaccines are very good at reducing the chance of severe illness and death if you get infected, they offer only limited protection against getting infected in the first place. “Vax and relax” can prevent mass death, but it can’t prevent mass infection and an ever-growing number of cases of Long COVID, even if most people get vaccinated. And vaccination rates have been declining for a while, with a new Ohio State University survey reporting that only 43% of U.S. adults have gotten or plan to get the new COVID-19 shot.

And in a bit of absolute madness, Florida’s Ron DeSantis-appointed Surgeon General Joseph Ladapo has actually advised against use of the newly updated mRNA vaccines. In a post on Mastodon, Yale epidemiologist Gregg Gonsalves called this “beyond irresponsible. It is malpractice.”

Ladapo is an outlier, but even his saner colleagues around the country downplay the fact that we don’t have to limit ourselves to vaccination. It’s an airborne virus, so there are two main ways to stop it from spreading: 1) Get the virus out of the air, or at least reduce its concentration to a very low level, and 2) Protect yourself from breathing in any virus that’s in the air around you. We know how to do both.

Masking works, but the type of mask matters. As the Mayo Clinic notes, “Respirators such as nonsurgical N95s give the most protection. KN95s and medical masks provide the next highest level of protection. Cloth masks provide less protection.” Two and a half years ago, a CDC study found that those who reported regularly wearing an N95 or KN95 respirator in indoor public settings had an 86% lower risk of catching COVID-19.

Recently, during my first return visit to San Francisco after moving in early 2022, I met my nieces for lunch at the Ferry Plaza. It was a Saturday, Farmers Market day, and the place was jammed. In three-plus hours I saw no more than half a dozen people wearing any sort of mask, and only a couple were N95s. In my new hometown of Hilo, masking is only slightly more common. At the supermarket, I see barely 10% of customers and staff in some sort of mask. In some venues, it’s less.

A recent Ipsos survey found that half of Americans believe they’ll never get COVID again. Only 20% described themselves as “trying to stay as safe as possible.”

None of this is a surprise—people are simply responding to the messages they get from the people supposedly leading on health issues. The CDC promotes vaccination but barely talks about masking anymore; it acknowledges the value of indoor air quality but doesn’t seem to be doing much about it. In interviews, CDC Director Mandy Cohen regularly urges vaccination but almost never brings up masking or air quality and says little about Long Covid. Political leaders mostly talk about COVID in the past tense and pat themselves on the back for a job well done in prior years. The result is what you’d expect: Most Americans now treat COVID like a common cold, disregarding most precautions and not bothering to test when they get sick.

Back in 2022, when public policy on COVID was still relatively sane, the Biden administration published indoor air quality guidance and made congressionally-approved funds available that “that can be used in schools, public buildings, and other settings to improve indoor air quality.” It’s unclear exactly how much of that money has been used and for what, although some school systems have definitely made HVAC upgrades. But we’ve never had either enforceable indoor air standards or a coordinated plan to implement them. As Science noted in July, “The COVID-19 pandemic has clearly shown the vulnerability of society to the spread of infectious diseases. At the same time, with frequent outbreaks in elder care facilities and school classrooms, it became clear that it was a fatal mistake to largely neglect the recommendations of scientists and engineers regarding minimum standards for ventilation and indoor air quality.”

In any case, those federal dollars were aimed at schools and public buildings. It’s been left entirely to the private sector to do, or not do, anything to reduce airborne pathogens in supermarkets, theaters, clubs, malls and other privately owned spaces. Local groups like Chicago’s Clean Air Club and Austin’s Clear the Air ATX have tried to fill the gap by lending HEPA filters and other clean air equipment to arts and performance venues and other gathering places.

A RADICAL IDEA: DO WHAT WORKS

We know what to do. As Clean Air Club founder Emily Dupree and co-author Shelby Speier wrote in Sick Times in May, “We possess the technology to make public spaces safer. Studies show HEPA air purification and far-UVC lamps drastically reduce the number of airborne pathogens in a room and therefore lessen the likelihood of COVID-19 transmission. When combined with other layers of protection, these tools have the potential to finally make our shared spaces more accessible during an airborne pandemic.”

A key word here is accessible. Failure to address indoor air quality and other prevention measures makes public spaces seriously dangerous for those at highest risk, including the elderly, the immunocompromised and those with long-term health issues, including Long Covid.

Such simple, factual messages are rarely heard in official statements about COVID. “What I find the most frustrating about official handling of COVID and prevention is the lack of care, education, and honoring the science around COVID,” comments Clear the Air ATX founder and Long Covid activist Katie Drackert. “Telling people to ‘stay home when they feel sick’ for a virus that spreads asymptomatically? Well, they are just straight up ignoring science.”

Admirable as they are, the small, volunteer-driven efforts of groups like Drackert’s and Dupree’s are not remotely comparable to the scale of the problem. For now, people must take matters into their own hands. “In the year 2024, people still need to be wearing a well fitted KN95 or above for optimal communal and individual protection,” Drackert says. In the absence of reliable information about air quality in indoor spaces, she suggests getting a portable air quality monitor, which can be reasonably affordable. “High CO₂ levels indicate poor ventilation, which may lead to higher concentrations of aerosols that could contain the virus,” she explains. “Some air quality monitors track particulate matter (PM2.5 and PM10), which are small airborne particles. While COVID is smaller than these particles, high PM levels may indicate poor indoor air quality.”

Most of us can’t entirely avoid being in spaces with poor air quality, and that leaves us with masking, which the country has largely abandoned. Worse, we’re starting to see bans on face coverings in public spaces being enacted—for example, in Nassau County, New York, and North Carolina.

These laws typically contain exceptions for people masking for health reasons, but, as New Jersey’s Star-Ledger noted in a recent editorial opposing a proposed mask ban, “t leaves it up to the cops to decide whether someone has a legitimate medical reason for wearing a mask at a public gathering. “How will they know that? It’s subjective. And based on past experience, we know what that means: Police will disproportionately stop and question Black and brown people, who have also been the most likely to continue wearing masks to protect against COVID-19.” It’s hard to imagine a more demented public policy than making disease prevention illegal. And it’s not hard at all to imagine a COVID-19 prevention framework that would make a meaningful difference without causing a nationwide freakout: Encourage masking. Even if mask mandates are a political non-starter, there’s still plenty we can do. First, officials can talk about it and actively encourage people to wear high-quality protection like N-95s when in busy, indoor spaces. They can remind people of its importance—that COVID is not over, not just a cold, and that even a “mild” case can change your life forever. Federal, state and local governments could distribute N-95s or KN-95s free or at minimal cost. Get serious about indoor air purification. Build on what the Biden administration started a few years ago: Develop medically informed, enforceable indoor air quality standards and create a verification system so that people know when a building they enter meets them. Start with public buildings and the largest, busiest private venues, like sports arenas, concert halls and theaters, and move on from there. Give business owners generous technical and financial support in meeting those standards, and a reasonable amount of time in which to do it. While this program is ramping up, fund the local organizations now struggling with limited resources to fill the gap. None of this is that difficult. It’s not even that expensive when you consider that the federal government is in the process of spending $634 billion to upgrade nuclear weapons that with any luck will never be used. What’s missing is political will, and that won’t be there until people scream bloody murder. That’s why I think it may be time for a new version of ACT UP focused on COVID-19. The issues are somewhat different, but less so than you might think. While the original ACT UP focused a lot on research, treatment and care, it also addressed prevention. ACT UP chapters around the country started syringe exchange programs, handed out condoms at high schools, and sometimes succeeded in shaming the system into doing the right thing. And of course, there are issues to tackle around Long Covid research that I haven’t addressed here, but which I will try to cover in a future piece. The fundamental problem is much the same as people with AIDS faced in 1986: a system stuck in neutral, politicians stuck in denial, and a public closing their eyes, covering their ears and shouting, “I don’t hear you!” The first task must be to break the system–and the broader population, as much as possible–out of its present inertia, complacency and denial. I honestly don’t know whether ACT UP tactics like occupying the CDC and disrupting state and local health commission meetings will have the same effect they did decades ago, but at this point I don’t know what else to try. Nothing good lies at the end of our current path.

[octuscle]

Hi, I was wondering if I could get some input. I work at a pretty large company- mostly construction related stuff, but me and my friends work on the accounting side. The higher ups have been laying off a lot of the white collar workers and offering them a deal to remain employed, but in positions where their skills are considered more valuable. Issue is, I haven't been able to get in touch with my friend since he took the offer. In fact, whenever I text him, I just get selfies of a guy I've never seen before on a construction site and lewd comments. I don't know what's going on and I'm worried. I just got a notice that my contract is up, but they have a deal for me. I don't know if I should take it- something seems really off.

I don't know about you, but I think the offer is fair. Two years job guarantee. Accident, health and pension insurance. The costs of retraining and the associated loss of working hours are reimbursed in full. And you are to be deployed together with your friend. Okay, there is a little less salary. But you are assured that the work will be much less mentally demanding. You said yourself that you are constantly on the verge of burnout. This might be a great opportunity! And you even get the rest of the day off! Loss, do it!

You sign. The boss from HR shakes your hand and says that you won't regret it. Your first assignment will be external, please be at the company's depot at 06:00 tomorrow morning. What the hell? Well, you've been given a day's vacation for that. And what are you going to do with it? Down in front of the company you stand in the sun. Beside you the box with your private things. You search in your jacket pocket for cigarettes. But you've already given up smoking in college. Fuck, man! You need a smoke now. And actually a beer, too. Dude, you're really out of it. Smokes are always in your sleeve pocket of your work jacket. The Zippo is in your pants pocket. Actually, you should quit smoking, you think to yourself. Or at least roll your own cigarettes. That shit is really too expensive. You grab your duffel bag and look for a bar. The one up ahead looks good. Sure, pretty empty at this time. But a couple of guys in Hi Viz clothes are standing in front of screens, watching sports news and drinking a beer. Probably on breakfast break. You order a beer, open the bottle with your lighter, empty it in one go and order the next one. Hey, your break is short, you have to use it. Shit, why break, today is your day off. Your buddy asks if you can stop by the construction site. If you want to finish today, they need every hand. Shit, in this company you never get off work. But if you're supposed to go to the new construction site tomorrow, you have to finish today, that's clear. So what? You're wearing the clothes anyway. And you've already got your stuff for tomorrow. Then let's go for a night shift!

By the time the bus comes to take you to the next construction site, you've been sleeping on the floor of the depot for maybe two hours. Anyway, the extra shift brought good money. And on the bus, you two can crash for another round. It's a tough job. But you don't know any different!

[kvalenagle]

Okay, I've been summoned to Tumblr by cute Satra and Lei fan art, so I should probably introduce myself and my books. Hello! I'm Vale, and I write creature fantasy as K. Vale Nagle. If you like interesting gryphons, you're in the right place: aquatic diving petrel/fishing cat gryphons, poisonous hooded pitohui/tiger gryphons, pretty gyrfalcon/snow leopard gryphons, intimidating Haast's eagle/saber-toothed tiger gryphons, soggy sandgrouse/sand cat gryphons, and a lot more. My series are epic fantasy using mostly real (though sometimes extinct) animals, free of humans but full of queer characters, intrigue, large battles, and ecological apocalypses. My cover art is by Jeff Brown, with interior graphite pieces by Brenda Lyons and gryphon chapter headers by Kittrel (whose chibi hearts you may have seen). I also have a short story collection (best read anytime after Starling, book three) with a beak-cute lesbian gryphon love story with terror birds, a Gryphon vs. Nature blizzard apocalypse tale, a Christmas-y story, and something pretty close to zombies. I've also written a full novel set in the world of Dire by John Bailey called Coldbright which can be found in the Tales of Feathers & Flames anthology. If you like GryphIns but you want something with more mystery, almost horror, as told through the eyes of a snarky little opinicus and his dire gryphon ex-boyfriend, it's a great read this time of year. I love and appreciate all the fan mail, fan fiction, fan letters, and people reaching out about this series. I'm a little slow replying, as I started writing the series right after getting diagnosed with a catastrophic autoimmune system. The treatments are pretty intense, and it's easiest for me to spend my time and energy writing. I used to have a few pen names across several genres, but for the most part, all of my energy goes into finishing up GryphIns. I'm married to dragon author Glenn Birmingham, so if you've seen us posting pictures of our cats and thought it's strange they share a name, they're the same cats. And that's about it. Just a queer author writing gryphony books when I'm not walking my cat. A few common answers to questions: Q: There are sometimes typos in social media, why is that? A: Catastrophic APS means I've had a stroke (and associated memory loss), so when a copy editor isn't coming up behind me, there'll be doubled words and typos from time-to-time. I used to worry about them, since they don't look good if you're an author! But I'd rather reply to fan letters and kind posts. I think if you've read my author notes at the back of my books, you know to expect a few doubled words here and there. Q: When you say a queer author, what do you mean? A: Since people ask about own voices and I have a lot of lgbtqia+ characters in my books, I'm pan, demi, trans, and genderfluid. I'm lucky enough to have a lot of queer friends and first readers who make sure I don't mess up any characters. Q: When's the next GryphIns novel coming out? A: Some years, I spend a lot of my time fighting health insurance battles, and it slows me down. Pridelord (#8) is currently in line edits. It's twice as long as Eyrie and three times as long as Coldbright, so it's a pretty big book! It shouldn't be too much longer. You'll know it's just about time because you'll hear James Scott Spaid talk about narrating the audiobook. Q: How many books will there be in GryphIns? A: I'm famous for underestimating how many books it takes to finish a series. My other pen names all wrote short stories and standalone novels, so my proposal for GryphIns originally had five books. Jeff Brown is wrapping up the cover for Saberbeak (#9) and Nighthaunt (#10). If I end up needing one more book to finish, though, don't be too surprised.

[purlturtle]

One of the hardest thing for me all throughout my life has been the fact that my parents still don't trust I could be doing all right for myself. That my life, different though it is from their lives, and from their vision they had for my life, is a fulfilled and happy and working one.

I am forty-four years of age. I have lived on my own for twenty-five of those years: longer than I have lived under my parents' roof.

And yet!

And yet.

And yet it would seem that they see me as a head-in-the-clouds dreamer incapable of navigating this world, constantly in cloud cuckoo land, squawking helplessly (apparently) at such things as taxes or car insurance or, I don't know, cooking without burning the kitchen down or something.

I have been living in this world for forty-four years; twenty-five of them on my own.

They have never had to bail me out of jail, drive to where I live to pick me up crying on someone's doorstep, spot me money so I can pay rent, none of that. I have never once moved back home or even entertained the idea. (Not that there is anything wrong with any of the aforementioned - I, personally, don't think of these things as failures. I know my parents do though.) Never once have I needed them in such a way that it could hypothetically theoretically potentially play into their idea of me being someone who doesn't have her life together.

And yet!

And yet.

And yet I feel so keenly their dismissal of my adultness, of my being capable the way I am. So many things that are so important to me, are taken by them as a sign that I'm childish. So many markers that they put so much importance on of adulthood: car ownership. House ownership. Children of my own. - some I will never check off on, some I passed too late (whoever heard of owning your first car at 38!), some I very vocally dismiss as a marker of adulthood in the first place.

This hasn't gotten any better (heavy sarcasm) since I developed mental health problems. Why only today, in a phone call with my mom, I had to justify my use of social media to her (since of course all of social media is universally bad, and the fact that I "spend so much time glued to your phone" is a dire sign of my impending insanity (more heavy sarcasm)), AND list all of the things that I do to relax to make up for being stressed out of my wits due to my hypersensitivity. And thank GOD I listed knitting among them, "at least that's being creative" - thank you Mom, for your approval; I needed it so badly. (heaviest sarcasm yet)

I mean in a way I get it; she doesn't see me day to day, she doesn't know that I *have* arranged my life in such a way that I'm mostly okay. But the thing is: I have told her. I have told her, and I am not being believed. Because I couldn't possibly know best what I need. Like, even my consumption of food - I tell her that one of my strategies is making sure that I get enough food so that I don't fall into a blood sugar hellhole, and the first thing she worries about is whether or not the food that I eat is healthy food. Fuck, Mom, sometimes all that helps is chocolate and ice cream!!

And this conflating of "we're worried about you" and "we still don't trust that you know what you're doing, so tell me in precise detail what you're doing so that I can judge if youre doing it right (based on my incomplete knowledge of you and of being HSP)" is....... tiresome. Especially when their causes for worry are based on their headcanons, basically; hypotheses and images in their own minds, based on when we see each other twice a year, usually not at my best, because (who would have thought it?!) being around my parents is fucking stressful to me!

So earlier this month we had such a visit, and it went badly, and a few days after I got home, my mom and I talk about the visit and I tell her, in very plain and coarse language so that she'll fucking hear me, how fucking badly it went - and the next thing I know is I get a phone call from my DAD (in itself only a thing that happens in dire needs), saying that I made my mother cry, telling me with tears in his own voice that I need help, that they think I need help (i.e. therapy), basically staging an intervention based on the abovementioned hypotheses and images, and not even talking to me or asking me any background for proving or disproving their theses.

When I do not need therapy, I've worked with therapists and coaches before, I am the clearest on my needs and accommodations that I've been *in my life* - I just need my parents to accept those needs and accommodations, and to trust that I have things handled, and to damn well consult me first before they think that their precious little baby girl is out there in the world not knowing how to deal.

I've been managing myself even when I still lived with you, you numbskulls. Moving out was the best decision of my LIFE (and arguably saved it)!

God, I am so angry. I am SO angry. I can't handle well being treated dismissively at the best of times, and their dismissal is CONSTANT, and they don't even realize it. I told my mother, in today's phone call, several times that she could trust me when I say that my social media usage isn't detrimental, when I say that I have my life arranged in such a way that most days I'm okay, that I have a grip on things. And she said "well all right then, if you say so" and oh the humoring was audible and I am so furiously, incandescently angry.

And the thing is, I cannot have this conversation with them.

Not on my own, anyway.

Oh how I *wish* that there was a way in which I could sit them down, sit down myself, and then look at a family therapist or someone like that, who will then moderate that conversation so that I can be *part* of the conversation, and not also its moderator. Because that is what I'd try to be, if I sat them down with only myself, and that would NOT work out. As it is, every time I talk with them, I walk on eggshells, I constantly watch myself and them, I check everything I say to make sure I'm communicating clearly and factually and in I-messages and that whole-ass shit, and it is such a high demand on my brain that it leaves me shaking with the effort, ten minutes in. (Not because I'm afraid they'd get abusive. Don't worry. It's never been that, neither in word nor in deed. It's just the constant dismissal, which won't be helped if I have an emotional meltdown.) Still, it's an amount of managing them and their emotions that is not fair to put on my shoulders alone, but as the person that I am, that is where I'd put it, because I don't know how to have that conversation in other ways (curse of being a social worker...).

If you've read all the way to here, thank you. I appreciate you.

[beanghostprincess]

TW for chronic illnesses and body image issues/disphoria and infertility for some headcanons.

Lamikkaku anon here, I wanted to share some headcanons and thoughts about modern AU Lamikkaku because I think I've just come up with the most precious thing ever.

So, I think modern AU Lami would be cronically ill/have some health problems. (I was thinking about her being a survivor to childhood lung cancer that was caused by long term exposure to asbestos, since the Amber Lead Deasease seemed like it was referencing that. And therefore having long term health problems due to treatment)

It would affect her breathing and heart (cue Law deciding to become a cardiosurgeon to help people with similar problems) but also her body and personality as well. The steroids based treatments made her gain weight that she hardly lost, she has scars from various surgeries, and she became an introvert that struggles to meet new people. She feels guilty that she always made her parents worry and made Law miss out on many childhood experiences too, as he hardly saw his parents who were caretaking his sister and was mostly looked after by their godfather Corasan.

Cue my transfemm Ikkaku headcanon. She also struggles with acceptance and body immage issues, worrying about her appearence and not being "feminine enough", as well as some anger issues she develoeped due to tauning from others. I think she may also have issues with her family due to this. It contribuited in her being somewhat "hostile" when trying to meet new people and trusting them.

They met because of Law. Lami doesn't have many friends of her own so she hangs out in his friend group and meets Ikkaku. Its sorta of a love at first sight. Lami looks at Ikkaku and views her basically has a goddess: one with a flawless body, untouched by medical horrors, a sassy and sarcastic personality that sports a level of confidence that she can never have. And Ikkaku sees Lami as an angel: a kind, gentle person with such soft, and a heart of gold thats completely pure, cute ligneaments and a caring and amazing family that loves and supports her.

They start talking and getting close, opening up more to eachother, about their insecurities and fears. The topic of dating eventually comes up and both are very catious about it: Lami isn't sure about what she can give, her health problems are something she always saw as a burden, and she doesn't want to give this burden to anyone else. And Ikkaku thinks she would be awful for Lami, after all Lami is such a nice and kind person, Ikkaku considers herself far too brute to be good for her.

There is also another added thing... Lami can't have children. The treatment made her sterile, and its something she always knew but only really started grieving now. Part of her thinks this makes her an inadequate partner, a not good enough girlfriend (Bullshit, Lami is perfect and you know it) and Ikkaku also had mixed feelings about her own body functions, with transphobes harrassing her and saying shit like "ReAl WoMeN CaN GiVe BiRtH!!!" (Bullshit, I fucking hate this terf behaviour).

The two of them understand eachother deeply due to these things about themselves. Ikkaku never saw Lami's health as an obstacke, it just something that is part of her and makes her unique, and Lami doesn't give a shit about Ikkaku being trans, she loves her because of her personality and the way she is treated by her.

Eventually they do manage to start dating. Its a gradual process, but it doesn't matter because they have their love. They also protest and advocate for themselves, weather its trans/queer rights or better funding and medical treatments (insurance is a SCAM) and marriage equality in both cases.

Law couldn't be happier for her (he doesn't show it at all but he cries of happyness in a corner at least 5 times a day. Bepo calms him down) he also goes on double dates with them and [insert character you ship Law with].

And occasionally there are double dates with Penguin and Shachi as well (Penshachi and transmasc Penguin my beloved) but they have to be very carefull because if they mess something up Law will come after them with a weapon of mass destruction.

And Cora is so proud of them!!! His little girl finally finding confidence, loving her own skin, advocating for herself and all with the love of her life by her side. This man is so goddam happy you wont believe it!!! He gives Ikkaku his full blessing and some older transfolk advice (transmasc Corasan my beloved) he is already picturing their wedding, and he's crying about it. Someone get this man a tissue, or a blanket.

This is all so beautiful!! I've always loved Modern AUs but this one is especially soft. I love how they both have their own issues feeling loved but end up overcoming them together,,, Also, Cora would be the best father-in-law ever in the world. He's so. So happy. He loves Ikkaku so damn much-- And I think Law is concerned at first because he loves and trusts his friends a lot but whenever Lami and Ikkaku go on dates. Together. Alone. Law worries a lot in case something might happen. But Ikkaku is a sweetie with Lami and when Law realizes that everything is okay and the world isn't ending and nobody is dying he cries because he's just so so so relieved.

[dhmis]

hello to my wonderful tumblr friends. i know i've been gone almost a week. i know in the grand scheme of things, this isn't a lot of time, but i just wanted to blog about why i've been missing and yap.

so most recently and most alarming, my health is declining. i have crohn's disease, and i am having quite possibly the worst flareup i've had in a while. i am starting the brat diet (bananas, rice, applesauce, toast) and pedialyte to try and calm my symptoms. i don't currently have insurance, so this is my best bet.

this kind of segues into my eating disorder. i have had ednos for the last 13 years now. between the binging and restricting cycles, my crohn's has been so aggravated. i've attempted recovery a few times over the last 4 years, but with no real success.

as i get older, i know that it is paramount that i recover. even in times that i do not want to, i know that i have a limited amount of time. i am nearing my thirties, and i know as time goes on, my body will have a harder time bouncing back.

i am also experiencing symptoms such as presyncope, heart racing, nausea (that could be entirely crohn's related), and dizziness. my husband is putting me on his insurance, so i just need to make it to january. i'd like to be tested for POTS.

in terms of my mental health, i've admittedly been struggling. i've been relapsing with my borderline personality disorder. not nearly as severe as i was when i was younger, thankfully. it's mostly identity crises and emptiness + depression. i've had thoughts of self-harm, but i don't think i will ever relapse with that. i think my husband's worry alone stops me in my tracks.

i've had a lot of work stress too. i am autistic, and i trust people way too eagerly, i think. "friends" at work causing issues and speaking badly about me behind my back, as well as twisting my words around. at this point, i am resigned to just going to work, being cordial, and going home. but i guess it hurts because i thought two of these people were my friends. i am working on handling that.

on the bright side, i may have the opportunity to transfer to a different location! they have a full-time position open that i want, and it's only 15 minutes away from my house. it would be nice to get that pay bump, insurance, as well as have a fresh start with a new mindset. no more close connections at work. which is funny, because i met my husband at my job. he was just in a different department.

i guess that's the full update on my life. tldr; my physical and mental health have not been the best, and i'm surviving right now.

[liskantope]

[Privileged, overtly irrational, navel-gazey election-related hand-wringing below the cut...]

I've never really exactly been directly affected by any presidential election result beyond how it made me feel in spirit. Sure, there was a moment or two when my family was worried about the possibility of my getting drafted to fight in Bush's war before we kind of figured out that the prospect of a draft was mostly a scare tactic from the Democrats; the Great Recession of 2008 only gave me the most minor of worries about lowered chances of getting into grad programs and didn't affect my family at all; none of Obamacare really affected me since I had pretty good health insurance in my graduate program at the time; the pandemic profoundly affected my life but most of its effects didn't have that much to do with Trump; etc.

But, I have an uncharacteristically superstitious feeling that Trump's victory on Tuesday foretells a downturn for me in my own life unrelated to whatever policies he may enact. I made the biographical observation some time ago that throughout my lifetime, the periods when we had a Democrat in the White House have been happier for me than the periods when we had a Republican, and that my life has gone up and down roughly in sync with the changes in the party that held the presidency. My early childhood, while not miserable or anything, was rife with neurology-related difficulties I mostly don't remember that well (Bush Sr.'s term); the main stretch of my childhood was overall pleasant and peaceful (Clinton's terms); there was somewhat of a flatter gloom over my teenage years and a lot of storminess in college (Bush Jr.'s terms); graduate school was a uniquely happy period of my adult life (stretching neatly across the bulk of Obama's terms); things went dramatically downhill when I moved abroad for my first postdoc and my mental/emotional health became turbulent for the first half of my second postdoc back in the US (Trump's term); life evened out and I found some happiness and relative peace during the second half of that postdoc followed by moving to the nicest job I've ever had for my third postdoc (Biden's term).

There are irregularities in this analysis of course, but these I can just "explain away": Obama got elected and became president while I was still in the midst of tons of stress and drama in college, but I was at the same time becoming incredibly optimistic and excited about my future in grad school which matches the "hope and change" vibe of Obama's start; the worst period of my first postdoc was in 2016 (indeed a candidate for the worst calendar year of my life) while Obama was still president, but that's when the national discourse was dominated by the rise of Trump; I experienced tons of internal storminess throughout the relationship I got into in 2021-2022 as pleasant as it was on the outside and then the relationship met a sad demise, but I could say something like that reflects the fact that Biden's presidency never felt like anything more than an unstable "caretaker period" colored by the later effects of the pandemic with Trump looming in the background. All pretty silly, I know.

Anyway, I've seen a probable major personal crisis coming from a long way off, which is that I'm likely to become very lost and depressed in the (from a rational analysis quite probable) event that I don't manage to get another academic job and have to abandon my career in academia, and the timing of that potential crisis is that it would unfold fairly early in the new year, not long after the next president takes office. The superstitious part of me reads Trump's election as a sure sign that I will indeed fail to get hired for an academic job in the coming months, finally reaching the end of the road in academia, and that I'll enter quite a difficult and depressing new chapter of my life.

Not going to say that in job interviews though (whenever I get any).

[hanasnx]

canadian here - canada's pretty okay. if you wanna move somewhere progressive stick with the big cities and not to dunk on the other provinces but BC and Ontario are probably the best in that sense (and ofc the most expensive sorry). Alberta is only semi jokingly known as the Texas of Canada so do with that what you will. Never been but from what I've heard you do need to speak French to get by in Quebec so unless you do or want to learn I wouldn't super recommend it.

as a Vancouverite I gotta rep my city- it's super diverse and really queer friendly, and in those regards feels really safe. plus the Pacific northwest is fantastic - so so much nature, loads of beaches, ski resorts, islands, lakes, trails, forests, and the temp goes from about -3 to 30 degrees Celsius, so not too extreme. Not sure what you've been told about Canadian wildlife but it's really not that bad - you only get bears in the suburbs and outwards and as long as you keep alert and keep your head on you it's fine. same with the coyotes.

downsides of Vancouver: job market is TOUGH atm, especially for entry level jobs. cost of living and housing especially is also really bad, and there is a fairly significant homelessness/drug/mental health problem that makes certain parts of the city not super safe

politically we are coming to a crossroads - Justin Trudeau, the current PM & with the Liberal Party, is near universally hated at this point, mostly for economic reasons, and the NDP party is never gonna win, so unless Trudeau gets his wakeup call and steps down, at our next election we might be looking at a Conservative government, which would not be ideal. not trump-levels of devastating but not ideal.

anyways you should come to Canada indy!! it's definitely not perfect but we'd love to have you <3

i do know the area im going to be moving to already but this was super informative about the surroundings thank you so much for being thorough i really appreciate it. and for explaining the political landscape too! super helpful

right now my worries lie in the work visa and it’s stipulations because i know i can’t apply for PR or citizenship for a couple years at least. updating my passport and applying for a visa is my next move, and then i know the canadian gov has to let me know if i’m approved and then give me the info on where i’m allowed to work and how long.

i’m guessing since my record was expunged there shouldn’t be a problem with that at least. what i am worried about is my history with keeping a job is not super good, and i’m worried that if i obtain a visa to work a specific place, and then fuck it up, then i’ll be shit outta luck

my other problem is the cost of living and how i’ll basically be forced to work to keep up with the visa and to afford actually eating and being alive.

if you don’t mind me picking your brain a bit more, healthcare is a big thing for me right now. does it differ from province to province and does it cover mental health services and issues? would therapy be on the table or is that an out of pocket cost or would i need better insurance etc

if you don’t know that’s cool! i’m just gathering as much info i can on the subject before i dive in, as i often do

[cannidol]

ahhhm how do u do an intro???

𐔌ྀི　　૮ › ༝ ‹ ྀི)ა ALL ABT BECK !!!

my name is beck!!! i dont rlly label my gender but im pretty fem presenting :p i am a woman, but like… also a boy. a man sometimes. a girl. a swamp creature? i use they/them n im queer. im 16. i probably will mostly post complaining about my freakin uh. health issues. but also im very into fandom so i might post some of that,,.,,

im diagnosed with dysautonomia, hypermobility, general weakness in my legs especially in my hips & ankles. theres probably some other stuff going on there? but im not too worried about it since i can mostly cope rn. those factors combine into chronic leg pain. i also have chronic headaches.,,. i think those r diagnosed?? idk i looked into them years ago and they couldnt figure it out but they were like yeah something is probably going on!

im in the process of being evaluated for adhd and autism! adhd is currently in progress, and i have a referral for autism but there r health insurance issues that wont be able to be resolved until next year 😑😑😑 which is annoying cuz im rly only getting the diagnosis for school,,,. uhhm i also have gad, episodic depression, n dermatillomania

FANDOMS IM IN!!!! UHHHH. ok big fixation rn is one piece. other rly big ones r scp, marvel n creepypasta. and then other fandoms im just generally interested in… would be very long. erm. im too lazy for that rn ill do it later

general interests!!! i will probably go into computer science in the future, so i. have a lot of interest in that. plsss talk to me abt stuff like ai and shit because i have OPINIONS . anyway. i write a little bit, i code a little bit, i draw a teeeeeenny bit cuz i am not very good…. i love love love science, especially quantum physics !!!! ask me about my clock time dilation thought experiment. i LOVE art. all kinds of art. i like history, queer history, cryptozoology, greek mythology, mythology in general, the ocean, and whatever general topic jacob gellers videos fall under. i am fascinated by religion, specifically by the history of and stories or myths from religions. i really like analog horror.

creators i like!!!!! coffeezilla, bdoubleo100, jacob geller, wendigoon, kurtis connor, matt bernstein, sad boyz, funkyfrogbait, hbomberguy, doctor nowhere, d’angelo, smallishbeans, fd signifier, knowing better, drew gooden, danny gonzalez, kwite, and probably more. jesus christ theres like no women there. i need to go read my books on feminissm written by strong women.

im so normal

ꕀꕀꕀꕀꕀꕀꕀꕀꕀꕀꕀꕀ

[lowpawly]

still pretty caught up worrying about when ill inevitably have to go back to work because this time off has really made me realize just how horrible sad and unhappy my job made me and it makes me so scared for whats gonna happen to my brain when I'm back at it. but also I can't just leave for a lot of reasons mostly money and health insurance. sighh

[ill-caterpillar-7616]

My life is falling apart and I’m so close to a relapse

My marriage is crumbling due to my own mental health and lack of affection. I feel as though I’m failing my kid at every turn, even when everyone keeps saying I’m doing well or telling me how smart and well-behaved he is. I’ve had to move 2 hours away from my husband and toddler to my mom’s house as my grandmother is now needing 24/7 care probably until she passes (expected within a year but who fucking knows) since no one else in the family can or will be bothered by their own mother dying. An ACTUAL live in caregiver wouldn’t be covered by insurance and would be too expensive. My kid is going to have to live like we have split custody. I feel as though I have barely any true emotional support as my husband is struggling with his own battles that I’m trying so hard to fix/ help with since they’re mostly my fault. My friends are all long-distant or online, and I’m not REALLY that close to any of them at this point in my life. My mother is juggling her job, finances, her mother’s health, her mother’s impending death, another mouth to feed as I can’t bring much monetary assistance to the house, and so much more so it fucking seems like I can’t seem to even ask her to take my kid for 5 minutes after a LONG day, not only doing my duties to my kid and grandmother, but helping my own mother outside even though I have chronic joint pain and a fatigue condition that left me feeling like I was going to collapse from exhaustion, pain, and lack of oxygen by the time I finally pushed my body back inside. SHE WOULDNT EVEN LET ME GET THE QUESTION OUT OF MY MOUTH!! I had been struggling to get him to go to bed for over 30 minutes and I just needed a moment (we do NOT do the cry it out in this household). All I said was”Moma,-“ and it’s all “no, it’s not happening, I have to be up early,” as if I’m not having to ALSO wake up early to get my grandmother dressed, fed, taken to the bathroom, and received her toe fungal meds alongside the other laundry list of medications before she needs to be out the door at 8:30 in the morning

Now, I am aware of my responsibilities as a parent and that as I have MY child, he is MY responsibility, and I don’t want to push him off to other people who have enough on their plate, but to ask for 2 seconds of help from my own mother and to be shot down so quickly and (IMO) cruelly, fucking hurt. I’m taking care of her mother and so far, for just the price of a vape (I’m trying to quit. Also I don’t expect monetary return on help I’m just adding it in I guess. Idk at this point). I have a whole life and family that is falling apart but I know I’m the only option here. My siblings either work or are out of state. My aunts and uncles either have work (which some have the ability to still help even then), their own elderly to care for, or my favorite, care more about their weird church’s “volunteer work” or mowingg their lawn more than coming to help or even fucking visit. Like. Who fuxkin does that?!??!?

So with all of that info… I battled with an addiction to self harm for over 7 years. I’m riddled with scars on my body but I have been 4 years clean as of so far. However, with everything going on, it’s becoming harder and harder to push the thoughts away and think on the things that usually help me get away from those urges/temptations. I hate it because my husband and our baby have been the pillars to my continued clean streak/sobriety(?) and with everything falling apart as it is right now… I don’t know how much longer I can hold on to my sanity if I’m being honest. I have to cancel and put a rain check on both my therapy that I JUST FUCKING STARTED and my psychiatrist appointment (I hope I can just call him and let him know the dosage is fine). It’s all just a big fucking mess.

Im sorry. I know there are many details missing to all of this but it’s not for advice… I just needed to get it off my chest. I can’t tell anyone else. Can’t worry those who are my closest circle bc EVERYONE is dealing with something right now and my BS just …no.

[crowskyler]

About a month ago, my grandmother — my last living grandparent, on my dad's side — died. I've been wanting to sit down and write about it, but I haven't been able to actually do it before now.

It wasn't a shock. Her health had been declining for several months, and she'd been moved into hospice care roughly a month or so before. Two types of cancer and various other kinds of organ problems were the culprit. At 95, treatment options were limited, and she'd refused to do anything about it for months. I know this seemed to frustrate my dad, who went right into fight mode the second she needed to go to the hospital. He was carving out a plan with a specialist while my grandmother was sent to a physical therapy and care facility, where he had to fight her insurance tooth and nail — despite her not having able to walk more than a few feet.

Then a doctor from her plan got in touch with him and asked him why he was putting her through this. She was in so much pain from everything. He wanted to fight, but she didn't; she was over it. The doctor managed to convince my dad that she needed hospice care, to put together a plan to make her comfortable. And it worked. My grandmother was in much less pain when she passed, thanks to painkillers. When my dad told me she'd stopped eating, I knew what was about to happen. But my mind didn't really know what to do with the information.

I was at work when he called me, cleaning rooms at the hotel. Luckily it was a slow day and I only had to work a little bit more before I could go home, but I had to come in the next day. I was fine — unless someone talked to me about it, and then I was an instant crying wreck. I couldn't talk about it at all. My coworkers gave me a few hugs — the only people who did, and I'm grateful to them — and I managed to mostly get through the day, blessedly having two days off after that to attempt to process everything.

Or, I thought I was processing. But as I've come to realize, it was much slower than that.

My grandmother was the last of her friends to go, something that I'm sure made her feel pained and lonely; her best friend had died roughly a year ago, a lovely lady named Dorothy whom she'd talked to multiple times a day, for decades. Losing Dorothy took something out of her. Maybe that was the start of all of this. When my grandmother had been admitted to the hospital nearly 4 months ago, I'd started to see the writing on the wall. I'd already done some grieving and worrying. When she passed, I was able to feel a little glad that at least she wouldn't suffer anymore, laying in that bed and wanting to go back home.

As it turned out, my dad and the rest of my family very quickly went into practicality mode. My coworkers had put together a little lump sum for us, very kindly, and I offered to pay for a meal for all of us. A wake situation, or celebration of life — whatever you want to call it. My dad seemed bemused by the offer. Nothing's been organized. Instead, the project has been my grandmother's home. He offered for my sister and brother-in-law to buy it, and that's what they've decided to do, and now that's consumed everything. Sorting belongings, contracts, and finding an estate sale service to clear out everything we don't want. We're still in the middle of that. My sister sold her house and has about two more weeks until they have to move out. The estate sale will be this weekend, I think.

It's not my place to organize a celebration of life, or anything like that, but I've felt the absence. We had a wake for my mom a week after she died. Now, nothing. Just divvying up her belongings. Maybe we're waiting until my uncle can come down from where he lives, in about a month or so, I don't know. But my grief has sat nearly raw within me for weeks. When I go over to my grandmother's house to help out, it threatens to overwhelm me at least once. But with the exception of my brother coming over and breaking down a few times, my family's shown almost no emotion except on the actual day — when I heard it in my dad's voice. It's weird. Aren't we supposed to be commiserating and celebrating her in this time? But instead they're just gutting her house and acting like all of this is such a nuisance.

It's strange to get a hug from my coworkers and not my actual family. The silence has been deafening, from them and from the friends I've told. It's fine. I keep myself operating — mostly. And the lack of anything gave me a revelation, of sorts. When I was fifteen, I decided that I wanted to write. That's what I wanted to do more than anything. When I cleaned out a folder at her house, I found a story I wrote when I was a kid. Just some nonsense, but my grandmother had kept it for all of these years. She'd been an avid reader and had always wanted to read my writing, but after my mother had done so — and criticized it horribly — I became cagey about letting my family read anything. I'd wanted to become a published author, to present my grandma with a book she could read; to make her proud. But that hasn't happened. Depression and full time work have been a huge setback for years. And now she's gone, and I never had anything to show her.

I have many fond memories of waking up in the sun on her couch, while hearing the strum of my grandfather's guitar or the gentle brush on his drums, and smelling their coffee while my grandmother made us pancakes. My grandmother loved pizza, and she would often get it for dinner while I was there — and then we would have a cold slice of pizza for breakfast the next morning, another of her favorite things. She would give me a mini art lesson in the afternoon, or take me out for a walk, or let me play with all of her bead-making materials. In the late afternoon, she'd give me gardening tips while we weeded her yard and checked her tomatoes. In the evening we'd watch television. I'd sometimes beg to watch a nature documentary, which she was also happy to watch, or I'd content myself with whatever she found. On Saturday mornings we'd all watch cartoons together.

My grandmother was the most supportive person I knew as a kid, she would always listen to what I had to say. Even if she found it silly or weird, she would answer with words that made it clear that I was heard. As a teen who struggled with self esteem, it was everything to me. It's hard to accept that we can never talk about animals again (a mutual love of ours), or art; it's even harder to know that I'll never be able to listen to another of her lovely and funny stories. She had so many funny stories about the shenanigans of past pets and friends, and interesting stories about growing up in a rural and much less developed California. She taught me everything that I know about gardening.

And now I have to accept that I disappointed her, just like I've disappointed everyone else.

She would never say so, to be clear; she would hug me and tell me that she loves me no matter what, because that's the kind of person she was. If I said anything like this to her, she would tell me that I'm enough, I'm sure. But I've never managed anything impressive, or even average, and I know people in this family view me as a failure. I wish, desperately, that I had been able to do something to show her otherwise. Instead, I'll just have this emptiness for the rest of my life. No wonder so many people think of the afterlife as a shining place above, where you can watch your family below; future triumphs could be viewed by the dead, giving you comfort in life.

I hope writing down some of this has calmed the churning parts of me that haven't found any rest, these past few weeks. I'd like to start healing from this profound misery.