#my grandma on my dad's side has ocd

[alvaeris]

my mom blames my dad's side of the family for my mental issues

[sgkjd]

sometimes (right now) i start to feel mentally claustrophobic because i see how my grandparents and parents are and where i get my insane brain genes from.... and it's like.... i'll forever have to live like this won't i.....

[cubicle-dialogue]

my ocd instrusive thoughts and obsessive ones are going absolutely wild, and its causing me so much distress. like idk what to do...and on top of all that, my mom tells me my grandma (on my dad's side) is in the hospital bc she has bleeding in her brain. so now i cant focus and i feel so awful....

[vulturewizard]

Every so often I go on the internet to look up anxiety, depression, and the like & almost every time I come across symptoms that match up with OCD or general anxiety.

EDIT: looking back at my side blog posts, this contributes to that theory

EDIT: no one looks at this blog anyway ; here are my perceived symptoms I’ve noticed over time and have had varying degrees of intensity over the years:

-Fear of coming into contact with perceived contaminated substances, such as germs or dirt (this was worst when I was a teenager; likely developed my eczema on my hands cause of it)

- Unwanted thoughts or mental images related to sex, was worst when I was a teenager

- Fear of making a mistake, was worst when I was a teenager, still happens occasionally

- Feelings of doubt; persisted throughout adolescence and contributed to loss of religion in early adulthood

- Need for constant reassurance; need to know if I’m doing things right but if it’s positive compliments about myself, I don’t believe/take it to heart sometimes

- Bathing, cleaning or washing your hands over and over; since being told kindly by 3 coworkers last year that I smell, I have kicked this into higher gear but also cause of an bill incident last winter I am anxious on using too much water and so end up taking sponge baths on a regular basis

- Rituals related to numbers, such as counting, doing a task a specific amount of times, or excessively preferring or avoiding certain numbers; not fully in tune with the number part but since getting wind-chimes, I ring them when I leave the house and when I get back because it reminds me of my grandma and also cause I have a inkling that if I don’t then that may be the slimmest chance that my grandma dies that day

- Saying certain words or prayers while doing unrelated tasks; not sure if I understand this bit fully but over the past year I have started and continued to utter the phrase “stab me” when I get stressed and upset with myself, and in the past and possibly as a precursor when I was still religious and was experiencing unwanted thoughts or crisis of faith I would imagine curved blades curving through my stomach and erupting from my skin like ribs

- “Try not to seek reassurance — It may seem natural to ask for reassurance from others or try to reassure yourself. However, the reality is, reassuring yourself or doing what’s known as reassurance-seeking, is just another compulsion that’s associated with OCD” ; well fuck me

- “Focus on letting go of perfectionism”; this has actually helped significantly over the years

- “OCD symptoms may be reduced but rarely ever go away.”

EDIT:

- “A person may question himself whether he is really concentrating during a prayer, if his faith in God is strong enough…”; you are fucking kidding me!

- “Sometimes a person may start avoiding the place of worship as he feel unworthy of being there, or because his intrusive thoughts may increase when he attends the service….”; aghhhhhhhh

- “Or, a mom would spend hours checking and decontaminating the food before cooking for her kids but will let the kids eat the non-decontaminated food that their dad cooked as long as the mom wasn’t present during that cooking time. This is why I’m referring to this OCD type as responsibility-related. These individuals can’t tolerate the thought of being responsible for causing a disaster.”

- “Constant questioning of self-judgment”

- “People with OCD consistently report that change of any kind, even positive change can be experienced as stressful”

[harleythealter]

My uncle and I work out at the same gym, and we’re… rather particular about how things are put away.

And so we’re setting up the workout we’re going to do together and he is lining the clips up by weight for elastic cable stuff. And I made a sarcastic comment about how I was “shocked” that he cared about how stuff was put away and he went “really?”

I realized he took the sarcasm seriously. Anyways. After explaining he laughed and said “I was shocked because I simply thought I had been hiding it this well for so long”

Anyways. Later I put something away the way I would’ve according to my own particular preferences and paused because the clips now faced different ways. And my uncle was already reaching to fix it. Well he laughed that time when I joked about not being that particular. (Really we just have different preferences). And he said “you haven’t had 40 years to build up your ocd”

I don’t think I have ocd but it did make me wonder 1) if he has ocd? 2) if he thinks he has ocd? And then it made me deeply realize how far back into my family the tendency to be particular goes. This shit is genetic—ocd or not—although I don’t think my experience qualifies for an ocd diagnosis for multiple reasons. And then, I remember the way my dad and I repark and repark and repark until it’s *good* or *insert a whole document of more and more examples* and my grandma… she’s… probably the one it reaches back to next.

Anyways. It’s weird to realize on a neurodivergent level, just how similar I am to my uncle and to observe how different we express the stuff happening in my head. Super similar yet remarkably different.

And also sorta soothing because he might be able to understand some of the things I experienced if I tried to explain them to him. So I gotta feel that one out and then try to express the crazy shit going on in my head and no joke the people who are always sitting there talking. Because I’m hella curious if he’s got that going on too. Although that may come from my mom’s side.

[diaryoftheunidropout]

DAY 92

I feel like utter shit.

About a day or two before I left for this camping car trip I started stressing out because I knew it was going to be hell for me with my OCD. Basically, the entire thing is, in my head, dirty. At all times. Except maybe the bed, which inevitably gets dirty because I'm never perfectly clean. Which means I never actually feel fully clean :')

I could bear it so far, but things keep getting worse. Not just this but also the fact I cannot stand to see my mom so proud of herself for "eating twice a day" even though all she is doing is eating barely as much as she usually would in one meal, but spread over two meals. And she's convincing herself that this is what two whole meals are. And she's proud of herself. And every 5 seconds I'm THIS CLOSE to snapping back at her but I know that would be so fucking shitty because she's an anorexic and even if it's not much, or practically nothing, it's still an effort. And I want to encourage her, but how can I encourage her when what she's doing is still REALLY harmless and she's convincing herself it's good for her?!

Secondly, my grandma on my dad's side is sick. Probably because her cleaning lady who comes once a week did not wear a mask although she was fucking sick, possibly with Covid. I fucking despise people. I'm really worried about my grandma. She's really tired and has a big fever. I'm praying she'll be okay soon. Have I mentioned I hate people?

Thirdly, things got a bit strange with my grandpa. At dinner we talked about my plans for the future and I basically explained I didn't know what I was going to do, and he turned quiet, just like my grandma did when I explained it to her just a few hours before we left for our trip. They don't say anything but I know they're fucking disappointed because they will never see, never know, never understand that I am MENTALLY ILL. Very ill. And that's why I can't do shit. Worse thing is, when I jokingly said "I'm going to become a prostitute", my grandpa said, not looking me in the eyes, with a face torn with disgust and just looking so condescending, he said he would be really disappointed. A calm tone but you could feel all the disgust, and even if it was just a joke, the fact he could be disgusted of me, his OWN BLOOD, just made me feel so... wrong.

I finished reading "Loveless" by Alice Oseman. It was amazing. I also read a second book.

I just got out the shower and my grandpa got angry at me for being in there too long although the water was running for no more than 4 minutes I think? I don't know.

I feel shit.

The new BTR album is fucking WONDERFUL. But I'm never going to matter to them or be known by them the way I wish I was, like some other American fans.

Bye :)

[shirtlesssammy]

6x01: Exile on Main St.

Then:

The Apocalypse that didn’t stick

Now:

One year later, Dean’s living his apple pie life. 

We get a glimpse into that life: Cut with memories of Dean’s former life, we see Dean make breakfast for Ben, work construction, share brewskies with neighbors, show Ben the ropes of car maintenance, and check the perimeter of his home (because that’s what war veterans do when they have severe and unchecked PTSD.) He’s got a very soft life, but he still keeps a shotgun and holy water under his bed. 

He’s out having a beer with his neighbor, and his neighbor wants all the details of his life before suburbia. Dean gives a cover story of “Pest control.” 

The waitress gives Dean her number (and who can blame a girl for trying?), but Dean’s taken and he tears the number up. Later, when leaving the bar, Dean hears a scream in the distance. With a flashlight in hand, he goes to investigate. 

It’s pigeons! No, wait, there are claw marks and blood on the wall.

Later, he’s scanning the police dispatches and on the phone with the cops. Lisa walks in and Dean covers by saying he’s setting up a poker game. At 11:30pm.

Dean checks the perimeter before going to bed.

While driving the next day, he sees claw marks on a telephone pole. He pulls over and finds shredded sheets in someone’s backyard. He heads for the garden shed, gun drawn. It also has claw marks, and something is inside.

It’s Dean’s #1 Nemesis, a Yorkie!

The dog takes off, and Dean’s neighbor sees Dean with a gun. His cover this time: “Possums kill.” Good one, Dean! Dean then sees sulfur on the shed floor. 

He rushes home to load up on supplies. Lisa walks into the garage, and Dean acts like he’s just grabbing a hammer. She asks about the dog, and then asks if he’s hunting something. He admits to his OCD about this situation, asks her to go to the movies with Ben, and he’ll do one final check in the area. He’s definitely downplaying what he thinks is happening. 

After Lisa leaves, he starts looking through his dad’s journal, but stops when the lights start to flicker and he hears a noise. He turns to see Azazel right beside him. Azazel mocks Dean and tells him that God brought Cas back, why not him? “Add a little spice to all that sugar.” Wow, never paid attention to that line before. Dean shoots him but it does nothing. Azazel puts Dean in a choke hold. “You can’t outrun your past,” he tells Dean. And just before he passes out, Sam (!) comes behind Azazel and stabs him with a syringe of something. 

Dean comes to in a derelict building and Sam, or something looking like Sam is with him. 

Sam tells Dean that he was poisoned and what he’s been seeing isn’t real. He’s real though. Of course! He goes through the silver/holy water/salt routine and passes with flying colors. 

Dean hugs his brother. He doesn’t quite believe it though. Sam has no clue how he’s back. “Was it God, or Cas?” Dean wonders. Yes. 

Cas isn’t answering Sam’s prayers. 

Sam then admits to being back about a year. EEESH. Something seems off about our Moose. Ahem. He tells Dean that he deserves a regular life (YOU BOTH DO.) and that he’s been hunting this whole time with --family. Dean meets Gwen, Parker Lewis Christian, and Mark...Campbell. They’re all distant cousins of Mary’s. And then the real surprise walks in: Samual Campbell, Mary’s long dead father. 

Every now and again, I have to stop and take a moment to think about the fact that Walter Skinner is Sam and Dean’s grandfather and my little fandom mind just explodes. It’s like that time that Sam Beckett dated Murphy Brown. I swear. 

Dean needs a moment too, because multiple unexplained resurrections in one day is A LOT. 

Dean is 100% freaked out by all the revelations. Sam adds one more to the pile. A few days prior, he was attacked by a djinn and they think the same djinn is after Dean. Oh, and djinn totally blend into all of humankind now - visible markings are now optional. Samuel happens to know a cure for djinn poison. “Stick around and I’ll show you tricks your daddy never dreamed of!” Samuel promises chirpily. Aaaaand suddenly I gain a greater understanding of the kind of bullshit posturing Mary put up with from the men in her life. Dean realizes that djinn gunning for him means that Lisa and Ben are also in the crosshairs. He and Sam race back to Lisa’s house. 

Outside the house, Campbell cousin #??? sits dead in his car. The door to the house stands open and nobody answers Dean’s calls. Dean’s busy ascending to the ninth plane of freaked out when Lisa returns. Dean gives her a MEGA hug and then orders everyone to pack their bags for a little trip. Lisa is shocked to see Not-At-All-Dead Sam. Welcome to the supernatural, Lisa!

Bobby answers his door with a soft “damn it” because he knows that Dean’s presence means things have gone cockeyed.

Bobby shoos them upstairs where they have “plenty of Reader’s Digests” on hand to entertain them. JUST LIKE THAT I am transported to my grandma’s farmhouse and the stacks of Reader’s Digests we’d go through during our visits. Thanks for being so goddamn old, Bobby!

Bobby and Sam greet each other casually and Dean realizes that those two yahoos have been keeping the truth of Sam’s resurrection from him for...A YEAR. A yeAr. 

Bobby explains that he was thrilled that Dean escaped the life and tried to do whatever he could to let Dean keep that. (Crying noise crying noise) Dean reveals that his apple pie life was anything but...he drank too much, had nightmares, and researched lore like crazy to find a way to spring Sam from the cage. 

Lisa heads downstairs and Dean tells her he’s headed back to the house with Sam to hunt the djinn that attacked him. He apologizes to Lisa for bringing monsters back into her life. “You can’t outrun your past,” he says and she immediately sees through the lines. 

“You’re saying goodbye,” Lisa surmises. 

Readers of this blog know that I am TEAM LISA, which means that I love her very much and wish her every happiness in life. She stands up for what she wants. “You're always so amazing with Ben. You know what I wanted more than anything was a guy that Ben could look up to...like a dad. So, you're saying it's all bad, Dean? 'Cause it was the best year of my life.” Oof.

Sam and Dean return to Campbell headquarters and the Campbells are just a tiny sea of smug assholes. They needle Dean about his time away from hunting. Dean takes this needling EXTREMELY WELL, and offers himself up as bait for the hunt. 

At Lisa’s house, the Campbells scoff and smirk at their various belongings. A magazine! A framed photograph! What frivolity! Such decadence! Sam discovers golf clubs though, and even I have to take a moment to drink in the image of Dean on a golf course. 

Samuel approaches Dean (who is very much on guard at this point) and tells him that Dean reminds him of Mary. She wanted a normal life too. Excuse me while I cry in your FACES. Samuel also drops that the supernatural world has been going bonkers lately. It’s keeping hunters busier than ever. If Dean joined the hunt again he could really make a difference.

Dean heads outside for a status check with Campbell cousin #?!? and learns that there are three djinn lurking in the distance. They won’t approach until Sam and Dean are alone, so Dean orders the Campbells to clear out. 

Sam uses the wait to ask Dean how he’s doing.

Dean’s NOT GREAT but he still asks Sam how Hell was and if he wants to talk. Great idea! Keep the conversation light and nontraumatic for both of you! Sam pushes away those concerns - he’s FINE. Just then, Dean happens to glance out the window and sees djinn attacking his neighbors. Dean rushes the antidote over to Sid and his wife, but two djinn grab ahold of him, smash the antidote, and start to poison him. Dean falls to their thrall.

Sam beats the stuffing out of another djinn with a golf club only to find himself confronted with the other two who’d attacked Dean. 

Meanwhile, Dean’s busy trying to sort out reality from djinn-soaked fiction. He sees the djinn confronting Sam in the house next door and outside he spots Lisa and Ben. Azazel suddenly appears to spice up the pot. 

Dean “wakes up” in Ben’s room. Lisa gets drawn to the ceiling to suffer Azazel’s favorite kill while Ben drinks his blood. The room explodes in fire. 

Dean continues to do VERY POORLY while Sam works to fight off the last two djinn. Samuel arrives and kills a djinn. He shoos Sam off to help Dean and he and another Campbell capture (but don’t kill) the last djinn. We’ll see her again near the end of the season!

Later, Dean tells Sam that he’s going to head back to collect Lisa and Ben. Sam’s doubtful about this plan. He tells Dean that he’ll put them in danger if he stays with them. Besides, Sam wants Dean hunting by his side again. Dean “cares” about helping the victims and Sam “wouldn’t even think to try.” This makes ZERO sense to Dean, but Sam insists that it’s true. Dean shakes it off and hands Sam the keys to the Impala. “She should be hunting. Take her.” Sam turns it down. OUCH.

Sam heads out to hunt with his band of merry Campbells, and Dean is FINE with it.

I’m Still Hallucinating These Quotes:

Did you almost shoot a Yorkie?

Careful's my middle name

If you're here, something's wrong

You can't outrun your past

The guy that basically just saved the world shows up at your door? You expect him to have a couple of issues

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive! 

[elsewhereuniversity]

The Family History Assignment

I’m A Medical Major. I have a minor allergy to Iron. Fast moving water unnerves me at time. Swimming in sea water always makes me a little itchy, but i adore sea salt ice cream.

For some reason we are to do a family history assignment to help track out the health illnesses in our families, and what we may pass on if we have kids. reasonable enough, we wouldn’t be presenting our paper, the Professor will be grading it then handing the papers back.

Mom’s side was easy, various Autoimmune disorders already noted down do to a childhood illness and dad’s fear we could get something else from that mess, that would just need some refinement and voila half my paper done.

Dad’s side of the family is harder, with dad coming from the winter court and sprung from a thought from his “mother” there is not a lot for me to report… and not wanting the forbidden major to study me extensively (AGAIN (thank you Uncle Arwin for getting rid of my stalker in exchange for 3 chocolate pies)), nor wanting to lie fully… I connected their behaviors with a few things and bluffed a few things her and there. My dad’s half of the paper went like this;

“… My Dad was adopted into a rather large family as a new-born, so while we dont know my dad’s actual family illness history, I’ll list a few things within his families history as i’m familiar with it, and these people Are my family.

“I inherited my allergy to Iron from my dad, though it isn’t as bad, my dad also has a minor motor tick  due to an old work injury. My Uncle Danniel had a phobia of running water due to seeing one of his best friends almost drown during their childhood. My aunt Agatha has major OCD problems and cannot use her lower body due to a car accident. My Grandma and Great-grandmama both suffer from arthritis and have started to develop dementia in their old age. Uncle Arwin has had multiple eating disorders because of his OCD suddenly targeting the food he eats and a need to control it in the absence of his usual fixations.”

Not truly lies, just enough of the truth to make a passable paper and not needing to ask another favor from my relatives, with midterms coming up i wouldn’t have been able to bake what ever confection that they wanted in time to complete the deal, and i didnt want to spend Another winter break helping Auntie Min hold the Court sessions again. Or playing Messenger between grandma and grandfather all summer.

- from the thoughts of Fin Emerald Yellow.

x

[v1xv4p0rub]

Okay, I need some advice/help

So, lately I’ll find/see/hear something that makes me really happy, and most the time I’ll start shaking my arms really fast side to side, similarly to some videos of stimming I’ve seen. So I’m going to be using the word stimming to describe it (sorry if that’s rude). But if something makes me ‘stim’ enough times, it slowly becomes more and more dull. Like, I still enjoy it, but it’s effect wears off, and the most of a reaction I can honestly give it is a slight smile. It’s kinda upsetting because I realize something made me really happy, then after a week of it being my main serotonin source, I can tell that it doesn’t have as large of an effect. Which makes me feel like somethings wrong with me, because “If it made me so happy a few days ago, why doesn’t it have the same effect now? What am I doing wrong?” So I’ll try and act like it has the same effect, but that takes up so much energy, so I just feel worse. Is that normal, or...?

Also, on a slightly different note, I’ve been looking into a bunch of different neurodivergent things upon reading something that said most gifted kids/former gifted kids tend to be neurotypical, and I am/was one. But despite looking into it for hours on end for the past few weeks (though at this point I’m trying to distract myself), I feel bad relating to these things and identifying with them. One of the most common things that’ll happen is that I’ll be reading something about ADHD/ADD and I heavily relate to it, but then I’ll think “You’re just faking it. Even if you deal with the same/similar things, there’s no way that this is what you are. You’re just a neurotypical who wants to act like the universe is against you. You have so much good in your life that you’re not grateful for. Besides, haven't you said yourself that people shouldn’t self diagnose? Hypocrite.” So then I have a mental breakdown and my tics (I have been diagnosed with those) start acting up as I sob in a pathetic ball on my bed. So, I asked my mom to get me therapy, but she hasn't really gotten far. And keep in mind, a lot of my family doesn’t believe in doctors, so I can’t ask them. I found that out the hard way and they kept telling me thing like “But you’re so smart for your age!”, “Get over yourself.”, “Doctors don’t know sh*t.”, and more. Which led me to have a mental breakdown after isolating myself, because I can’t cope with any rejection.

Though, my father’s (Not my dad’s) side of the family is prone to issues, mental and otherwise (My grandma: Social anxiety and bipolar, my Father: Bipolar and seizures, my aunt: ADHD, and etc. Plus, my mother has OCD, Anxiety, and Migraines {ALL OF THESE WERE DIAGNOSED}) I’m just not really comfortable with asking them.

The train by my house was being loud so I had to take a break from this. It was too loud, despite the fact that it was like the same volume as my music???

Anyways,

On top of all of that, I’ve been feeling sick every time somebody refers to me as she/her/princess/queen/etc. I’ve tried to talk to my mom about this, and she said “When I was your age, I didn’t like being female either, but I’m glad I didn’t change anything.” But she meant things like not enjoying periods/cramps, or having b00bs. But she doesn’t mean that she put on a dress and immediately had a breakdown before even looking in the mirror (I just sobbed harder as soon as I looked in the mirror btw). And my mother’s side of the family- yes, he same side that doesn’t believe in doctors- only believes in two genders. Luckily, Jess- my father’s fiance- got me a binder and is supper understanding. So I’ve got that going for me.

If you have any advice or anything, please tell me. I need some help/advice.

But it’s 2:03 AM, so Ima try and sleep, night.

[sunnysideofsaturn]

2019, oh how you’ve destroyed me.

basically i’ve seen a ton of posts like this, especially by one of my best interweb pals (lookin at you, C @hey-im-pan ) and it’s inspired me to make one of my own! i journal a LOT but it’ll be interesting to try and sum everything up in little synopsis.

*side note: i struggle with anxiety, depression, insomnia, and ocd, so those and their effects may be mentioned. be cautious. This also doesn’t include a lot of the more personal instances, so don’t take it as an accurate representation of what it is like living with these issues*

January:

Honestly, not much happened. I went on a college visit trip with a few of my friends to my dream school, which was stressful but informative, and my anxiety attacks were far and in-between. Sleep schedule was wack (has been since 7th grade), but i was functioning. Dysphoria (i’m nonbinary, but hadn’t really even come out to myself then) was pretty high this month in particular for some reason, so i finally started trying to convince my mom to let me cut my hair off. (I had like 2.5 feet it was a mess)

February:

Finally came out to one of my close friends as pan, kinda accidentally but she was chill with it :) My grandma had a weeklong sickness that scared the shit out of me, but she got better for the time being. I was constantly pushing myself academically and physically at practice, but my grades were taking a bit of a nosedive because i didn’t have the capacity to deal with everything, but i bottled it up because i hate feeling weak. I continued to explore my sexuality, and started to research the gender spectrum.

March:

School and Crew (rowing sport) were the only things on my mind at all times. I started having more anxiety attacks again, and decided it was time to talk to my doctor about going back on meds after 3 years off them. IB was kicking my ass, but i’m so grateful for all of my teammates for giving me an escape on the water. Started to accept I was non-binary.

April:

A month full of good vibes i really needed. Got my drivers license on 4/20. I hiked my grades up with the help of extra credit, held a “wedding” in a Dillard’s try-on section, and spent a few days of spring break at the beach with two friends. I finally cut my hair off!! That feeling was literally incredible and i try to get a haircut every other month to actually keep up with it now. Saw endgame, died inside, and competed in an art show! I was doing really well, so I went off my meds again (don’t do that without a doctors permission like me).

May:

BAdddd time to be off meds, anxiety and depression were dropping my health and IB finals kicked my ass and the class i had been most excited about taking had become my worst at this point, but I got through the exams without missing any. Went to Jr. Prom though! We actually used going to Jr. Prom as a coverup to throw a surprise birthday party for my best friend. I still have no idea how she didn’t figure it out. I also started talking to one of my internet buds, Rosie. She’s helped me through so much she doesn’t even know about, and it such a beaut inside and out <3

June:

MADE IT TO PRIDE MONTH!! I finished my actual finals with minimal panic attacks, and join a Parkner discord! That was short lived, but from it was born… The What the Actual Fuck Fam, whom i love dearly. You guys still crack me up, and i know i’ll always have people to fall back on ( or help me commit murder.) Turned 17 and watched Monty Python (again.) Was forced into not one, but tWo bible camps, but also went to my first pride in my city! I have never felt so loved by so many people i don’t know :)

July:

Depression hit me HarD. I was constantly in a bad mood and taking it out on other people and myself, and I was losing even more sleep. Went back on meds for a bit. I got to see Far From Home, but pretty much isolated myself from anyone in my real life. July is always hard for me to get though for some reason. On a happier note, I started talking to @winterrs-child , who I now love dearly and @exbrodokills , which started out by exchanging memes but i think we can now call a friendship :D

August:

More depression, yayyyy, but Rosie and my irl friends helped me through it so much, even if they didn’t know it was happening. I finally came out to my parents and grandma as pan. They honestly took it pretty well, even if my grandma thinks it’s a ‘phase’. Also came out to C, B, and T as non-binary. Ya’ll were the first people I told after a YEAR omg <3 developed a huge celebrity crush on a cosplayer i won’t name even though they’ll never see this :’) Also fell back into the kiribaku pit after finally stabilizing my Parkner obsession. Also, joined a sapphic server which is basically a big gay support group :) (thanks to Rosie)

September:

Started my senior year of high school. So far, it’s pretty much been one big panic attack but i’m managing. I’m a mentor on the crew team this year and have adopted pretty much every underclassmen on the team. I love them all equally (except for my favorites) Cut my hair even shorter! I love it! Got back into writing poetry and short stories after an intense writer’s and reader’s block that lasted for almost a year. Went off my meds again (I should stop doing that, ik) Went to a Harry Potter fest, which was great, but started building up major anxiety for planning the rest of my life.

October:

SPOOP MONTH. October is my favorite month, so I was determined to make it good. Went on a couple more college tours, but also celebrated fall and halloween with my favorite people. Came reallllly close to stabbing my IB Bio teacher, but he’s survived, so far. Cosplayer mentioned earlier followed me on insta, cue gay panic. i also accidentally created a huge cuddle pile of 30 girls on my team in the captain’s backyard. It was as amazing as it sounds :0 Applied for 6 colleges

November:

CAVETOWN omg. I was also murdered with a bent hammer (don’t ask) and my mental health was pretty stable. I joined yet another server created by the cosplayer, and have made so many friends through it, plus gained a new dad figure :). Contemplated buying a binder on black friday, didn’t and deeply regret it (planing on getting one with the christmas money i get from my homophobic grandfather we pretend doesn’t exist) Discovered the goodness of Baby Yoda. Did pretty much no spanish homework. Solid 7/10

December:

Honestly, school wise december has been the most stressful month of this year so far, and the 2nd worst depressive episode. I’ve written 6 essays and done 5 projects this month and that was not a good time for the already low seratonin levels. i got waitlisted for the school i mentioned earlier, but was accepted into the other 5 :) I got to see an Of Monsters and Men concert, and I’m trying to push thorough til break, but my grandma has been getting sick more and more frequently over this year and now she’s been in a lot of pain for over two weeks and in and out of emergency care 6 times. Just hoping to make it to 2020 with everyone in tact and healthy :) I’m doing a secret santa with my friends im looking forward to. My friends have been amazing support through all of this mess, even if ii didn’t tell you about it, and i love you all!!

special mentions:

@donnaschaunamanon

@dawdlzdoodles

@harleykeenerprotectionsquad

@bumbblebeeeeee

@lykkesw

@chai-studying

@hey-im-pan

@pumpkinparkner

@everyone’s users i don’t know/remember

[wouldnt-it-be-hilarious-if-i]

11:59 pm

currently listening to: means something by lizzy mcalpine

i got a new tarot card deck today---two actually. one of them is cat themed, and the other is unicorn. i started getting super sad (not sure why honestly), so i ordered some stuff to get back into witchcraft. it made me feel safe when i was younger to do spellwork and to worship the earth the way i did.

i remember being like eleven or twelve and leaving out nightly offerings to the fairies. i had a specific tea set that i used for them, and i'd leave them sweet cream, sugar cubes, milk, and other sweet things. i was a big fairy girl.

i've loved fairies for as long as i can remember. i used to draw them all over the place, and i remember reading fairy books all the time and learning all the facts about their diet and where to find them and how to get them to speak to you. i don't think i ever actually tried to attract them. i really just liked leaving them offerings.

for now, i'm back to creating an altar. i couldn't do that when i was younger because even though my parents aren't religious, that would have freaked them tf out. i ordered a travel altar on etsy. it's super pretty---it has himalayan rock salt, florida water, a candle, dried flowers, and a few other items. the theme of the altar is self love, which is something i'm severely lacking in rn it's very pink and girly. i'm getting more crystals soon too. ya girl needs a moonstone.

i've been scared to go back to being all witchy and such for a while. i used to think it was just a really strong catholic guilt, but i'm starting to think it's more likely my religious ocd. i practiced until iwas thirteen, and then i stopped because i watched the craft and it scared the fuck out of me. so i started avoiding witchcraft entirely, which is a very ocd trait.

what's sad about that is i'm pretty sure it's ancestral to my family for me to practice. i've never asked my grandmother before (no contact), but i have a clear and vivid memory from when i was in nyc with her, sitting in her apartment. it was 2009 and the princess and the frog just came out (we had the bootleg version). my siblings were out somewhere, and i was just laying on her bed. my grandma came in smelling like cocoa butter and empanadas (we aren't hispanic---she just liked making them for us), and she very carefully walks over to the other side of the room. "have i ever showed you my special jar?" she asked. i shook my head. "you have to be careful. it's very important. do you understand?" i nodded. "do you think you're ready?" i nodded.

grandma got on her hands and knees and gently pulled out a tall glass vase with a peach colored ribbon carefully tied around the neck. she sets it down and begins to cut her toenails. i watch as she does this and then sweeps them into her hands before pouring them into her jar.

a jar full of toenails.

she shows it to me and she's like completely serious. gentle, even. she explains how important it is and how the others wouldn't understand it. i don't think i fully understood a word she said. i wasn't freaked out or anything. i just literally was like, "coolcoolcool, toe jar. nice." anyway, grandma puts the jar up and leaves the room

and i just go on watching the princess and the frog

now here's the thing: my grandma wasn't a prankster. she wasn't the type to joke around about those sorts of things, and she was very protective and careful with her words around me. i have my own reasons for not talking to her anymore, but i don't think she was fucking with me. especially considering there ARE family rumors that she dabbles in witchcraft, and the fact that she's from a country that is known to practice it in rural areas. also, i asked my cousin and one of my older sisters and neither of them remember a jar like that, but they 100% agreed it probably wasn't a dream. my dad also used to read this book about african folk remedies and told me it was all "mumbo jumbo" and he didn't "believe" in that stuff. sounds witchy to me. my dad's side of the family is chalk full of weird witchy things---my grandma was not the only person who collected things like that. but i didn't find that out until later.

interestingly, no more than two years after this memory, i began to naturally gravitate toward witchcraft on my own. she never told me that's what it was or anything. i just naturally felt comfortable with it, and never had trouble making spells work for me. anyway, it's wild that it never occurred to me before that ocd might have been why i stopped practicing because honestly, i avoid the church too. i get the same level of anxiety if i do anything other than pray.

but you know what? i hardly ever feel genuinely anxious when i wear the protection amulet i wear every day. it's definitely not a cross. i also never feel anxious when i look at my crystals, and i wasn't anxious doing my tarot card reading today.

anyway, i'm really excited to start practicing again. i'm hoping that i can just focus everything on practicing again and not think about all the other things that are bothering me. i want to look more into the practices that my ancestors would have used, but also lean into applaciation and german folk magic because that was present in my mom's side of the family as well. i don't know who all in my family practiced, but i know it's there.

[twenty-nothing]

OneHundredSeventyFive

Books

Which book series was the first you read?

- Junie B. Jones

What was the last book you read? - Joyland by Stephen King

Would you rather write a book or direct a movie? - Direct a movie

Dreams

Do you usually remember your dreams?

- The good ones yeah, very few linger past 48 hours though

Are most of your dreams good, scary or just plain weird?

- Good

What dream that you’ve had has stuck in your head the most? Describe: - Went through something terrifying with a group of people and ended up getting engaged to one of them because the event bonded us.

Emotions

What emotion do you find yourself trying to hide from others?

- My depression/loneliness 

How emotional/sentimental would you say you are? - Very much so

Do your emotions control you or do you control your emotions? - They control me for sure

Fun

What do you do for fun?

- Watch TV, read books, go for walks, listen to music

Which is more fun: cycling, watching tv, roller coaster ride or cooking? - Cycling

What is the funnest game to play? - Cards Against Humanities 

Geometry

Nearest square thing to you?

- Side table

What was the last circular thing you ate? - A container of queso? lmao

Is there anything triangular in the room you’re in right now? - No

Height

Are you taller or shorter than average?

- Short I would say, 5′4′’

Is your Mum tall or short? How about your Dad? - My parents are on the shorter side. Mom 5′3′’ and Dad 5′8′’

Do you wish you were taller or shorter? - I’m good with my height

If…

If you became pregnant or your partner did, what would you do?

- I don’t think I’d be mentally ready but I finally got a good paying job, great health insurance and all so I think I would keep it

If you lost something your friend lent to you, what would you do? - Feel horrible and offer to replace it

If you had to talk about 1 subject for a minute live on TV, which one? - What makes a good restaurant

Jokes

Do you normally tell jokes or listen to the jokes?

- Tell them but I like a mix of both

What is your sense of humor like (dry, dark, sarcastic etc)? - Sarcastic

Kisses

Do you put x’s in your text messages?

- Nope

When did you last have a kiss? - It’s been a few years

Does your grandma give you big sloppy kisses when she sees you? - No, we just hug each other

Language

How many languages can you say ‘hello my name is…’ in?

- Two, English and French

What language do you think sounds the nicest? - French

What language do you want to learn more of? - French lol

Marriage

Do you ever want to get married?

- Yes

Church or Registry Office? - Registry Office

Dream wedding? - I’d like something simple and nice, with not too many people

Names

Your closest friends names?

- Lisa and Elaine

What names would you ever call your kids? - Lily or Angie for girl and Paul for boy

What name is the cutest for a little black and white doggie? - No idea lol

Order

Are you tidy?

- I like to say I am but I’m not really

Do you colour code things or put them in alphabetical order? - It depends what it is lol My DVDs are in alphabetical order and my nail polish is color coded

Do you have any form of OCD? - Nope

Promises

Do you make promises often?

- Not really. I make them when other people ask me to promise something, but it doesn’t happen often

What was the last promise you made? - I don’t remember, it has been a while

Do you plan to keep that promise? - ^^

Quizzes

What types of online quizzes/surveys do you like taking? - I love taking personality quizzes. As for surveys, I like the random and themed ones the most

Have you ever made a quiz? What was it about? - Nope

Have you ever taken an EQ or IQ test? If so, what did you get? - I haven’t

Secrets

Do you have a lot of secrets?

- I have a couple

“A secret isn’t a secret if you tell one person.” Is this true to you? - Yes if they will go around telling everyone

Thought Provoking

If you knew you had a high chance of dying, would you kill yourself before disease riddled you unable or hope for the best?

- If I had an illness that slowly and painfully killed me, then yes

Choose a box: 1 has a large amount of money, the other either a wish or fear of yours come true. Which do you pick? - The amount of money, I’m sure that will help me make a wish come true

An angel comes to you and offers to show you one thing from the future or the past; past or future and what is that thing gonna be? - The future, my life in 10 years

Unlucky

Would you say you are more unlucky or lucky?

- Unlucky

A leprechaun pops up and offers to plant some luck on you but it could go either way. Risk it or dismiss it? - Yeah what the fuck, I’m never very lucky anyway so might as well risk it

Violence

When did you last hit or punch someone?

- Junior high

When did you last get hit or punched? - Never been hit or punched

Are you more likely to be verbally aggressive or physically? - Verbal

Warnings

Do you listen when someone gives you a warning?

- Sometimes, I need to learn to listen more

What warning has someone gave you that you wish you’d have listened to? - To stay far far away from my last job

What warning has someone gave you you are glad you didn’t take? - Community college won’t get you anywhere, you better go to a 4 year school

XXX

Have you ever had sex?

- Yes

Have you ever accidentally saw someone having sex? - No

YouTube

Do you go onto YouTube?

- Yes

What is your favourite video of on YouTube? - I like lyric videos,food reviews, mukbangs, disney vlogs, asmr

What channels do you go on the most? - Steph Pappas, TheTimTracker

Zodiac

What’s your star sign?

Cancer

What are the traits of that sign? Do you have them? Emotional, sensitive, strong willed and all of them fit me

What zodiac sign do you think you suit the most?

- Mine 100%

Number 1

Name me 1 person who has changed your life for the better?

- Matt, learned a lot through that bullshit

Name me 1 object that’s in your kitchen right now? - Fridge

Name one creature that freaks you out/scares you? - Spiders

Number 2

2nd person that you talked to today was…

- Only talked to one person today

What is 2 times your favorite number? - 34

You and two of your friends have got in trouble with the law. Who are the 2 friends you have got in trouble with and what did you do? - Lisa and Elaine and I dont know some stupid shit

Number 3

3 words that don’t describe you at all:

- Mean, simple, creative

Who is 3rd in your contacts list on your phone? - Aunt Ang

In 3 more days, what will the date be? - April 4th

[natsthinkitythinkthinkthonk]

natsspammityspamspamRANT

For the next two weeks, I’m going to be a complete mess because (warning: incoming first world problem) I'm not going to the Philippines this year. I used to go every year, and I would go see deranged family that would play fake, but the experience always makes me realize what I have back home and not to take it for granted. I also do occasionally appreciate seeing my relatives alive. I like the experience of going to my favourite places. It truly feels like a second home for me. I've gone there nearly every year since I was six years old, so I've grown attached to everything there. With all of that said, I can't go this year. My allergies have gotten worse, and last year I broke out in hives, I couldn't breathe too well, and my eyes were swelling up, so I figured it was not the best decision for me to visit since the only place we can stay at has 20+ cats (I wish I was kidding but I'm not, and I'm extremely allergic to cats). I had to stay in an isolated room for 2+ weeks with no wifi. Still, I'm really upset that I'm not going to the Philippines. I enjoy being immersed in Tagalog for a couple of weeks a year because then I learn a little. I like eating food that I can't have back home (SEAFOOD FOR THE WIN). I like going shopping for electronic stuff that's too expensive back home. I like getting t-shirts for my pyjamas and the occasional gag gift for a friend.I'm going to really miss all of that. My grandma (since my grandpa is already dead) is sort of... how should I put this... is very old and not too well. I talked to her on the phone, and she didn't speak to me in English. I could understand what she was saying in Tagalog since it was very basic stuff, but she was incoherently repeating the same things over and over again. I don't want to remember my family like this. Right now, they're calling each other insane and stabbing each other in the back to the point where when I was at the hospital, my uncle called my mom blaming her for missing a meeting of theirs because she chose to be by her child's side in their time of suffering.

People often think that people who go to university are smart, and they have more sophisticated and logical arguments. Those people might be right, but in this case, you couldn’t be farther from the truth. Almost all of them are university educated with some being engineers while other are eye surgeons and former architects, yet they are vile, hostile, and believe that whoever shouts the loudest and gets the last word is ultimately the winner. It’s almost as if they are in an arena thirsty for one another’s blood. They manipulate the odds to be in their favour, and they truly believe that the ends justify their cruel means. It’s toxic. It’s heartbreaking to see. I wish it would stop.

I'm going to be left at home for two weeks now in a life that's already on-edge. I feel like I'm spreading my negativity everywhere (and nobody wants that). I'm alone at home with my brother who's generally okay (but rather insensitive) and my dad who is one of the most difficult people I've ever met. My mom usually monitors him, but with her gone, he gets to go nuts. He gets offended when I don't want to eat his cooking, but he uses rotten ingredients (too cheap to buy fresh ones) which makes my stomach and my soul upset. That's just the least of my worries though. He likes to pick at insecurities and revels in the pain of others sometimes. My relatives in the Philippines also don't believe in mental illness even though a few of them are or have gone through it. I know one aunt who has OCD, but she doesn't like putting up with my anxiety or depression. It's sort of like that there because nobody cares about your problems. My aunt just rants to my mom (and me) for the two weeks that we're there. On top of that, I'm just suffering from the everyday worries, anxiety, depression, and a sea of first-world problems that is my life. As I’ve probably mentioned before, I deal with many problems that a strong person could probably take on, but the truth is, I’m very weak in all areas of life. From convincing myself that I’m worthy of life to telling myself I’m not “fat” to telling myself everything will be alright to just accepting that school won’t accept me for who I am to just saying that even though there are things wrong with me, I still can live life with people who love me problems and all.

With my overall dread that I already feel within the first hours of this ordeal, I pray that I remember to sleep, eat, and generally perform tasks that a normal human being should do. I already forget to sleep, eat, and bathe, so this is going to be quite the experience. Let’s see that I make it to the end of this! *nervous laughter*

[lady-divine-writes]

Klaine one-shot - “Organized Chaos” (Rated PG13)

Kurt comes home one night to find his husband in desperate need of his help ... but will Blaine let Kurt help him? (2292 words)

So, I re-wrote this, playing off the idea that Blaine may also have suffered from OCD, kind of the way Kurt did, but as an extension of PTSD (seeing as the meta exists that Dalton!Blaine was actually the facade, and the Blaine we see at McKinley was the person he actually was). I based this off of my own personal experiences with OCD and PTSD. The cleaning, the disposable pens, the paper towels, and the obsession with vents, those are personal to me, as is the way Blaine's grandmother passes away.

Read on AO3.

“Sorry I’m late, sweetie,” Kurt calls, juggling his messenger bag on his shoulder, a narrow paper bag with a bottle of Riesling in the crook of his arm, and two way-too-thin plastic bags, both trying, with little success, to contain the multiple cardboard containers of Thai food inside, “but when I went to get our food, they messed up our order … again!” Kurt shuffles in, the door refusing to open more than a few inches because of something lodged on the opposite side. “I mean, I know you love Pok Pok, and I know it’s our Thursday night tradition, but I really think that … whoa …”

Kurt stops a foot inside the apartment, the door swinging shut on its own, and stares at the mess … no, the organized chaos afoot in the living room. But not just the living room. Kurt can see through the doorway that leads to the dining room, and the hallway that tangents off toward the kitchen, that the effects are far-reaching. Shelves empty, their contents relegated to the floor. Cabinets and storage closet doors left open, their insides purged, and the strong, lemon-scent of cleanser hanging in the air.

Kurt walks by perfectly constructed stacks and piles. Books from off the shelves create pillars that mark his way, and behind those, CDs, Blaine’s vinyl records, Kurt’s song books and scrapbooks. Blaine’s collection of vintage superhero action figures have been moved from the curios cabinets to the dining room table, along with Kurt’s collection of Hummel figurines (an inside joke between him and his in-laws that Blaine’s mother loves to indulge), lined up like a small army, staring at him with wide, pleading eyes, solemnly standing guard.

“Blaine?” Kurt calls, keeping his voice light, knowing what he’s most likely going to see as he rounds the corner to their bedroom. Kurt is struck by how silent the apartment is, and how dark. Blaine’s main coping tools are light and music. Every light in the place should be on and classical music playing, but there’s nothing. If not for the clutter, Kurt would be convinced that Blaine isn’t even home. “Blaine? Honey? I’m here, and I brought dinner.”

Kurt walks down the final hallway, bottle still lodged under his arm, bags clutched in his grip, towards the only room in the house glowing with light. No music, just light. This one’s bad. Kurt knows they’re in for a long night. He only hopes that Blaine will tell him what triggered it.

“Blaine …” Kurt keeps talking so he doesn’t startle Blaine, in case he’s locked in the midst of his own unreasonable thoughts. “Don’t worry. I made sure to get that spicy mustard that you like. You know, the guy behind the counter always gives me a look because he knows we use it on our lunch sandwiches and not our take out.” Kurt chuckles. It sounds unnatural. “You know, I’m surprised we haven’t been blacklisted yet for inappropriate use of condi … ments …“

Kurt’s voice trails off when he gets to their bedroom. He can’t help it. The whole room is a wreck – so much more than he expected – but in a different sense. It looks like Blaine had started doing a little … childproofing might be the right term, if they had a child, one who suffered from an extreme case of asthma. Just like the rest of the apartment, books and CDs are piled on the floor. The doors to the closet are wide open, and Kurt can see that every stitch of clothing has been put in a garment bag, every pair of shoes closed up in a plastic shoebox. The mattress has been stripped, along with the pillows, and everything covered in allergy-free casings. Blaine’s authentic Persian rug, the one they got on their honeymoon, is rolled up in the corner and stowed in some kind of plastic, cylindrical-shaped container. Crowded in the opposite corner, Kurt sees a collection of dust mops/steam cleaners/chamois clothes/anti-allergy surface cleaners/and the whole Lysol family from underneath their kitchen sink.

And then there’s Kurt’s husband, wearing yellow latex dishwashing gloves on his hands and a dust mask over his mouth, frantically buffing a spot on the shelf.

“Hey, babe,” Kurt says, taking a step through the door. “How’s your day been?”

“I know what you’re going to say.” Blaine doesn’t turn to look at him, but moves his dust mask down to his chin to make talking easier. He swipes the cloth down the length of the wood shelf, then zeros in on that same spot again and buffs. “But, you didn’t see it. It was filthy, alright? Everything was filthy.” He does another swipe, then moves an inch to the right. “A-and the other day, you said that you felt a tickle in your sinuses, right? D-didn’t you say that?”

Kurt doesn’t answer. It won’t change anything either way, so he stands in place and listens.

“A-and I know you’re standing there with dinner, a-and it sucks because you’re going to wait for me to be done, and then it’s going to get cold …”

“That’s alright, honey. I don’t mind.” Blaine doesn’t usually stutter. Kurt knows when that starts, he’s nearing a break. Kurt puts the bags down by the foot of the bed. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Most of the time, the answer’s no. Or it’s nothing. Or there’s nothing to talk about. But this time, Blaine’s hand stops. His head drops, and in his profile, Kurt can see anxiety assailing his face - wrinkling his brow, crinkling the bridge of his nose, tightening his lips in a scowl.

“I---I stopped by NYADA this afternoon to get a copy of the summer schedule for that music theory class I’m subbing,” Blaine starts. Kurt walks over and sits on their bed, as close to Blaine as he knows he can. “I’ve been emailing them about it all week, but no one’s posted a copy, so I thought, why not just go down there? It’s a nice day. I need some time out.”

“You did,” Kurt says so that Blaine knows he’s listening.

“Marlene, that lady from the financial aid office, was out today because her little boy is sick.” Here Blaine’s voice shakes, and he stops to swallow. “The exhaust system in their building was being flushed, so they had to stay at a hotel for a few days till it was done. Their building’s old and they had to convert …” Blaine stops and shakes his head, trying to move along in his story, brush away the unimportant facts from his mind. “Well, I guess some mold spores or something got into her place. Her and her husband, they’re older, they’re at work all day, but David, he’s barely one, and he’s at home with his nanny all the time. He ended up with meningitis or something awful like that, I can’t … I can’t remember. He’s on a breathing machine and he’s unconscious. And then I remembered you saying you felt a tickle, and yesterday, you were coughing. And then, you know, when my grandma got sick, right before she passed” - Blaine chokes up, and Kurt’s not sure he’ll continue, but he does. He seems to need to get this out – “but the doctor couldn’t tell what was wrong. I came home, and I saw this shelf and everything on it, and everything in the place collecting dust and God-knows-what-else. And your dad, Kurt. He’s coming next week. He just finished treatment …” Blaine shakes his head again, a single tear gathering on his eyelashes. “I know it’s clean, Kurt,” he says, his voice shaking so hard it doesn’t sound like his voice anymore. “I know it is, because it’s always clean. Because you keep it clean, and because the housekeeping service was just here, and because we don’t have any carpets” – his eyes dart to the one lone rug rolled up in its coffin in the corner – “and we keep our suits in bags, and … but what if, Kurt? What if you have meningitis? What if your dad comes and he gets something? What if you guys get sick like my grandma did, and …”

Kurt stands. He wants to reach out and put a hand on Blaine’s shoulder, but he can’t. Not yet.

Kurt misses the days when the touch of his hand could soothe his husband. Lately, Kurt feels like he can’t do anything to help.

Blaine has always been a bit of a perfectionist, all through high school and college, for as long as Kurt has known him. It was just a character trait then, a quirky part of Blaine’s personality. So maybe it seemed a little off the wall to Kurt that Blaine only owned disposable pens in even numbers, or that he organized his books and papers on his desk in right angles, or his pencils by height. When Kurt didn’t understand Blaine’s coping mechanisms, they were just another thing to tease Blaine over, and for Blaine’s part, the teasing didn’t seem to bother him. He used it as an excuse to tease back - to instigate tickle fights or pull Kurt over his knee and spank him.

Blaine developed one or two more “quirks” after he and Kurt moved in together – alphabetizing the canned goods in the kitchen cabinets, and turning them so their labels faced front. Kurt had considered once messing with the cans when Blaine wasn’t looking, since it had never been an issue before. But without even understanding this fixation with order, Kurt felt it was too cruel.

It didn’t become a big deal until a few years ago, when Blaine’s grandmother, one of Blaine’s favorite people in the world, died of pneumonia. It hit her kind of out of the blue. She’d already had a compromised immune system from a bout of the flu so severe that it put her in Cedars-Sinai. Blaine had been the one to sign his grandmother out of the hospital, even though he told Kurt later that he had a nagging feeling that something else was wrong. Blaine had been the one to stay the week at his grandmother’s house, taking care of her. And Blaine had been with her the night they rushed her back to the hospital, when she stopped being able to breathe, when liquid filled her lungs so quickly no one could do anything to stop it.

The night she passed away.

Blaine felt that he could have done something more, he could have anticipated it. That he should have said something the first time he felt uneasy with her care.

After the funeral, that’s when whatever dam in his head that kept things locked away exploded. That’s when the episodes started. The night terrors. That’s when the compulsive repetitive behaviors became more exaggerated. Blaine seems absolutely fine most of the time – teaching at NYADA or when they’re out having dinner with friends. His tells are relatively minor things. His need to use exactly three paper towels to dry after he washes his hands. Counting the sweetener packets on the table at the restaurant to ensure that there are an equal number of sugar to Sweet ’N Low to Splenda. Turning the lights on and off two times before he leaves a room. These are things that most people they know ignore. They’re not blaring. They don’t scream obsessive compulsive disorder to someone who doesn’t recognize them.

Things like this, though – this intense, manic cleaning - Blaine does in quiet, where only Kurt gets to see.

Kurt doesn’t try to tell Blaine that it’s okay, because in Blaine’s mind, it’s not okay, and Kurt has no intention of belittling his husband’s feelings.

“What do you need me to do?” Kurt asks.

Blaine pauses, his shoulders rigid. Kurt waits for Blaine to dismiss him, the way he always does. Because Kurt can’t help him. Because Blaine doesn’t like Kurt to see him this way. Because this compulsion he has that he can’t stop, no matter how hard he tries, becomes so sickening inside of him that the moment Kurt leaves the room, he’ll most likely start dry heaving.

But this time around, he turns his head halfway to meet Kurt’s eyes, and Kurt feels his heart stop.

“Could you … maybe … help me?” Blaine asks, finally looking over his shoulder.

Kurt smiles – it’s weak, and he’s sure his exhaustion shows, but it’s a smile Blaine knows is just for him.

“Sure,” Kurt says. “What do you need help with?”

“Th-the books?” Blaine says with a sniffle. He glances over his other shoulder to a stack of books from the shelf, their immaculate leather covers waiting their turn to be dusted. “Would you mind … dusting the books?”

Kurt feels the answer catch in his throat, and he doesn’t want it to. He doesn’t want Blaine to think that he’s anything other than completely and utterly happy that he’ll finally let him help.

“Of course. Anything.” Kurt points to a reserve cleaning cloth on the bed. Blaine sees Kurt’s hand reaching and nods, giving him permission to take it.

Kurt picks up the top book on the pile – A Tale of Two Cities – and wipes down the covers, the binding, and the gold edge of the pages, while Blaine watches. Kurt lifts his eyes to look at Blaine, to make sure he’s dusted the book to Blaine’s satisfaction. Blaine extends an arm and takes the book. He puts it on the shelf and Kurt reaches for another.

One by one, Kurt dusts the books, then hands them to Blaine, who returns them to the shelves, and together, they slowly put Blaine’s peace of mind back together.

[shanie-the-toyaddict]

I have eaten some wretched scrambled eggs over the past 3 decades.

My darling grandmother, my nana bear, she didn't know how to cook eggs. Like, at all. My dad loves to joke that he didn't know there were anything other than scrambled eggs until he went to college.

In reality, my grandma fixed all her eggs the same way - she cracked them over the skillet, scraped them around a bit until they were CRISPY ON ONE SIDE, and served them.

Believe me when I tell you I have eaten some truly horrible food in my lifetime and that is a big reason that my OCD has manifested through food paranoia. Most mental illnesses and such develop from real-life trauma and the fact that I am absolutely obsessed with food freshness, safety, and expiration dates is a direct result of being raised by a family who... uh... wasn't.

So my stovetop cracked a couple weeks ago which fuckin sucks bc it was on my favorite burner (front right burner supremacy) but I’ve been cooking on the other burners bc the crack didn’t go that far but uhhhh. The crack spread. To the left side. I’ve been cooking on a busted ass stovetop just hoping nothing boils over or anything so I don’t get electrocuted sksksksksskkss and we obvs don’t have money for a new stove so. I’m out here. Trying not to die. Every single night 😂

[pokerbrookie]

My "coming out" post about my mental illness

I am writing this with much reluctance since I've only hinted at my life with mental illnesses in shared posts and quotes etc. Until right now I've never “come out” and declared my battle throughout my life fighting mental illnesses. I'm sorry to those of you I may embarrass by sharing my story but it's time…. It time for me to share my story, it's time to let the world know, it's time for me to fight the stigma I so hate but have felt my entire life. As I'm sure many have deduced I fight with anxiety, but not just any anxiety. Crippling life stopping anxiety. I am diagnosed using the DSM-V as bipolar type 2, agoraphobic, and OCD (NO THIS IS NOT BECAUSE I LIKE THINGS NEAT FFS). My secondary diagnoses are social anxiety (yes even people who seem extroverted can have social anxiety) and a few others. I was first in therapy at 11 years old and I was hospitalized in 1993 at the age of 13 for the first time. So yea this has been life long battle and years of different diagnoses, different programs, hospitals, shirks, therapists, medications, self medicating and on and on. I won't bore you all with my life story but I will tell you my most recent experience (If anyone is so inclined I will happily share the whole story). My most recent attempt at mental wellness started in 2014ish it was 2 years after my grandma died and those 2 years were my most sickest in my life. I was in a dark place, I wouldn't leave the house and barely the bed, I let people take advantage of me and sadly in turn take advantage of my mother. I was legit crazy nuts, I'm talking down the rabbit hole with no light at the bottom. I was one of the people you see in movies all paranoid and such. You know the ones I'm talking about, the people you feel for but don't think you know anyone that severe. Well guess what you do, at least one (if not more closet cases), you know me. I AM A ONE OF THOSE PEOPLE YOU KINDA FEEL FOR BUT MAKE UNCOMFORTABLE WHEN YOU SEE THEM IN ENTERTAINMENT OR IN YOUR DAILY LIFE. I just hide it by isolating and acting all extroverted and funny when I'm around people. But when I'm sick inside I'm dying, all I want to do is go home and my mind races with a million thoughts, one being “I want to go home” over and over” I'm more than happy to elaborate on how my mind works if you are interested. But for now I'll stick to my work these last 3.5 years. I was put into a “partial care program” also known as partial hospitalization by my family's insistence. I was so sick I couldn't even make the the phone call, my sister called for me, my mom took me to the intake and I started the program immediately due to my severe state at the time. The program is intensive group therapy 6 hours a day 1-5 days a week depending on the client (yes we are called clients or consumers NOT patients, personally I think it's silly but if makes other people feel better then why not, I'm fine with patient myself). There are 5-6 groups a day each a different “topic” for example meditation, relapse prevention, humor therapy, WRAP (wellness recovery action plan) and so on. There are also groups called units which is where you work in the kitchen, thrift store, clerical and newsletter. I tended to not do well in the units so stuck mainly to groups. I did this for 3 years and was released into just individual therapy in January but my therapist thinks I need to go back 1-2 days for more structure… Let me say that instead of looking at this as a bad thing I have come so far in my recovery that I can see why and accept it. In the last 3.5 years I came from not leaving my house to having a part time job I love, friendships I can keep up with, and am able to recognize what I do need help-wise. Yes I live with my mom. It took until literally 2 months ago for me to accept that I am still unable to live alone successfully and that I need the help of my mom and step-dad. And you know what, it's ok. To everyone who puts down people for living with their family realize there is usually a good reason. No I don't have a full time job, no I don't have my own place, no Im not married, I don't have kids but you know what I'm ok with that. I'm actually happier than I have been that I can remember. Recently I was at an event where someone made a comment about how “terrible” my life was being on disability and delivering pizzas and it bothered me at the time and still does but now it bothers me that there are people out there who judge others that way. My life isn't terrible it's wonderful. I have family and friends who love me and I'm working on myself… that's not terrible, that's life, it's my life so now thinking back at that moment I wish I said fuck off to him, but alas my social anxiety caught in my brain and I don't even remember my reply. It's because of this guy, some posts I see on FB putting down people who can't work, and because it's time I do my part to end the stigma of mental illness that I write this post. So I beg of any of you still reading please before you judge someone or something you don't understand ask about it. Research it. Find out reasons before you look down on anyone. They may be like me, severely mentally ill so much so that it has affected my ENTIRE life. Living with it is hard but it's possible. As a side note to this post I refer to the people that attend these programs and the mentally ill in general as the “Forgotten People” we do so much for homelessness, autism, cancer you name it we help but with mental illness we turn away because it makes “normal” people uncomfortable. I bet you that in 90% of people's neighborhoods there is a group home that you don't even know about housing the mentally ill not lucky enough to have family support. There are tons of programs in every county like mine… We are all around you, you just don't realize it. We may be bat shit crazy but we are humans and awesome ones at that! If you're still reading thank you, if you have questions please ask, if you want resources tell me I'll help, please just don't forget about me because I don't go to every event or because I'm not “normal”