#my health anxiety is at an all time low and now there's so much space in my head and he is. filling it up. with his floofy fucking hair

[mrcowboydeanwinchester]

starting off the day with dreams by the cranberries and ending it with i love you, i'm sorry by gracie abrams this is a cateogry 5 'in my head about this crush' situation

[cybersugru]

❝ follow you ; nick ruffilo

𖥻 pairing: nick ruffilo x female reader

𖥻 contains: angst, comfort, fluff, +18 contents (mental health issues)

𖥻 warnings: inspired by bring me the horizon's "follow you". swearing but other than that mostly none, except for maybe the not-so-happy ending / english is not my first language

word count — 1.7k

synopsis — healing isn't a linear process and despite your thoughts that tried to convince you otherwise, nick knew that and was willing to hold your hand throughout the whole thing as it was a way of him to try and heal some of his own wounds of guilt. he was willing to do anything for you, as long as he could be with you.

🎀

PERHAPS you should have chosen to be with someone else, someone who didn't have a public life that could directly affect your private one.

as the air began to feel more and more unattainable, and your hands started to intensify their grip on the light grey sheets beneath you, you could swear that something heavy had sat on top of your chest. the thoughts on your mind racing faster than they could be processed properly, the heat and sweat covering your body making it impossible to stay still on that bed and it wasn't until somebody grabbed your wrists while trying to immobilise your legs and calling out your name that you opened your eyes reluctantly, realising it was nothing but a nightmare.

"hey, hey, i's okay, it's me... it was only a bad dream, you're safe." nick's worry was obvious not only in his voice but also lingering on his blue eyes as he looked at you up and down. there were bags under them as well that didn't go unnoticed as it made you wonder if nick was already awake when the nightmare began. if that was the case, why was he awake this late? once he saw your breathing calming down, he let go of your wrists and your legs that he held onto whilst waking you, so you wouldn't hurt yourself with all the fighting you were putting up in your sleep.

"i'm sorry" you mumbled with a weak and confused voice before glancing to your side at the clock on the bedside table. it was 2:30 in the morning and you probably woke your neighbours up screaming. "you can go back to sleep, i'll go make myself some coffee."

brushing your fingers through your hair, after taking a deep breath, you decided to get up from the bed you two were supposed to share every night only to find his side of it untouched. nick hadn't gone to bed with you. but, despite the pang in your chest that came with the realisation, you said nothing about it and continued with your task to head downstairs towards the kitchen.

the bassist argued internally whether or not he should stop you from leaving or if he should respect your desire for space. seeing the person who brought light into his life, like no one ever did before, so low and lost in herself broke his heart in places he didn't even know was possible; even more so considering nick thought of himself as responsible for the pain eating you from the inside out. if he wasn't in your life, none of this would be happening and you'd be a thousand times happier than you were now with him. all the memories from before, of good times, were constantly being suffocated by the fog of the recent events that pushed your relationship to hang by a thread that thinned more each day.

nick watched as you left the room without uttering a single word. he untied his long dark hair and allowed it to cover his face much like a waterfall capable of momentarily hide his anguish.

ignoring the guileful thoughts, he began his path to find you — caring for you was more important than anything else in his life at the moment, more important even than the band or his career, simply because without you he couldn't play like he knew he was capable of.

you sat by the kitchen counter, your back facing him but nick could tell you had your hands on each side of your face — just like you usually did when anxiety got the best of you. the smell of coffee invaded his senses and for a second he thought about pouring himself a cup for he knew he wouldn't sleep at all that night. or any night as long as this ghost stood between the two of you.

"talk to me, angel" the bassist's voice was cut out by one of your cats that meowed to get your attention while looking up at you from the ground until you pat your lap allowing him to sit there. for a second, ruffilo smirked. "please. i'm worried about you."

hearing his call for you made you shift your focus from the furry thing on your lap to your boyfriend who now stood across from you with the counter between you. "what do you want me to say, nick? i mean this honestly: what exactly do you want me to say?"

you blinked away the few tears in your eyes as they connected with his blue ones; once the kindest eyes you had ever seen in your life now carried a sense of sadness and somewhat of a heavy burden. "i just want to know how i can help you. seeing you like this– it's fucking killing me."

"you don't want to know what i am thinking right now. trust me. i'm trying to protect you and save this relationship."

"by pushing me away? how the fuck is pushing me away saving this relationship?" his voice wasn't loud and ruffilo most definitely wasn't yelling at you, instead, he was desperately trying to find an answer; ideally, one that excluded him from the guilt consuming him, even if he didn't know about that desire in him. "i don't want you to push me away, i want to be with you. whatever comes your way. you're the most important thing i have, angel."

"oh, really?" you chuckled and took a sip of your coffee. "didn't really seem like it when those things were happening and you didn't say anything to them."

as soon as those words left your mouth, you regretted them: that was too cruel of you to say. but you said it anyway and now couldn't take it back even if you tried. closing your eyes, you let out a deep sigh and shook your head. "i'm sorry, ruffi... i didn't mean it like that."

the musician looked to the side, poking his cheek with his tongue and staring at the landscape outside the kitchen window before turning his tired gaze back at you. he understood where you were coming from and for that reason, he couldn't be angry at you for lashing out, especially because you had been bottling everything up for the last six months — refusing to talk about your mental struggles to anybody, hoping it would all magically go away. it wasn't your best life choice, but you were scared to talk about what was happening and be judged. you were taking one blow after another and still tried your best to not take it out on nick. one way or another, though, he saw everything, he saw you wasting away with each nasty comment directed your way. and he hated himself for being the reason why that happened to you.

afraid that your emotions would upset your cat, you gave him a little kiss on top of his head and put him down on the floor.

"you're right." ruffilo nodded as the voice in his head cursed him in a thousand different ways. "it was– it is my fault. i should've been a better boyfriend, a better partner. you needed support and protection and i didn't give any of that to you when you needed most."

tears came back almost immediately to your eyes upon hearing his apology. you were frustrated, you weren't mad at him — a part of you also understood his side of things. still, you were hurt and with pain came anger. "i never wanted to drag you through this madness... you've always been so good to me. it's just that this is destroying me, all those years in therapy improving my mental health only for that to just go down the drain."

as you let out a faint sarcastic laugh between the tears, nicholas went around the counter in a rush and so, quickly, he was standing right in front of you. with those gentle hands of his — despite the callouses on them from being a musician —, he cupped both your cheeks, wiping away your tears dry with his thumbs. the blue in his eyes carried more worry than ever.

"it is my fault, angel, i own my mistakes. they're fans of the band i'm in, it was my responsibility to make it clear i hated what they were doing to you, what they were saying and i didn't because i was fucking weak and i'm sorry that i wasn't the man you deserve." ruffilo admired your features as if you were a work of art handmade specifically for him. that devotion only made the guilt worse. you looked up at him with eyes glistening due to the remaining tears and his heart broke a bit more before he leaned towards you to place a soft kiss against your lips. "there's nothing you should feel sorry for... i would go to hell for you, my angel. i love you so much and i don't think i can be away from you. don't go, please"

touching and kissing you like george knightley did emma, the brunette man wanted nothing but to take away all the pain in you caused by the maniac fans of his that went lunatic once they discovered your relationship: what was so special about her? what was it about her that made nick ruffilo fall in love with someone so... bland? those were the kinds of questions that made them feel entitled to destroying your privacy, tearing your mental health apart and turning your love for nick into resentment for what your life had become since you moved in with him six months prior. on his end, ruffilo began to dislike doing the one thing he loved most other than tattooing and as much as he knew it was a very small part of his fans that created this mess, he couldn't help but distance himself from them as a whole. how couldn't he?

"i'm not going anywhere, ruffi" you whispered, brushing a strand of his dark hair that fell over his eye and tucking it behind his ear before caressing his cheeks like he had done to yours. "i just need time... i needed to know you wouldn't leave me alone dealing with this stuff."

he immediately shook his head and furrowed his thick brows. "woman, for christ's sake. i'd let my whole life burn before leaving you. i'll follow you wherever you go."

[taeaura]

Is Thomas {Hewitt} Neurodivergent?

TW: Discussions of mental health, TCM-Canon-activities

____

I’ve headcanoned Thomas as neurodivergent, specifically with high-function/low-support needs autism {What would’ve  previously been diagnosed as Asperger’s} for quite some time now, which I brought up in a previous post. As someone who’s autistic, being diagnosed late gave me..mixed feelings. On one hand, I’m glad I was diagnosed. On the other; Feeling so isolated socially, being overwhelmed and “trapped” in my head without knowing why, and being so aggravated / anxious all the time made me feel like something was wrong with me. I literally imagined myself as a druid, elf, siren, and even an alien at times because I felt so ‘inhuman.’ I imagine Thomas felt and still feels this way, too. I mean, the most he was diagnosed with was ‘mental deterioration’, which for the time period, makes sense. Mental deterioration is often described as loss in memory, changes in mood, decline in intellectual functioning, social isolation, changes in thought, difficulty perceiving things, and so forth. Considering Thomas doesn’t speak, is very reserved, very much ‘in his own world’, and has had violent / destructive tendencies since a young age, the diagnosis makes sense. For the time period. First of all, Thomas has a very cluttered and inconsistent family life. Having a family member in the military is no easy trip; It takes a lot of mental energy to keep yourself together when they leave {coming from someone who’s father is in the military.} I spent a little under half my life without my dad, Thomas only spent a year without Charlie/Hoyt, but the impact is still there. Second of all, Thomas was and still is intensely ridiculed socially. The childhood pictures of people covering his face? He’s basically been told he needs to ‘cover it up’ his entire life. The only time we get to see his face {besides his reveal} is the pictures at Henrietta and ‘Kathy’s’ trailer. Even then, his face isn’t shown in that, you have to look it up. 

___

The ridicule most definitely caused image/confidence issues, as well as some social anxiety. I tend to get aggressive when I’m anxious {prior to my Lord and savior prozac}, which I think could be the case with Thomas. He can control himself, sure, but he still gets overstimulated. Surprisingly, he doesn’t seem to get overstimulated from loud noises and textures; But maybe those things bring him comfort. He’s very attentive with an almost heightened sense of hearing, which is surprising considering he basically breathes through his chainsaw. Especially at around 1:17:7-8 in the 2003 film. Bro whipped his head around so fast once he heard those rats. He does seem to shy away from touch, unless it's a necessity or something he initiates. This is incredibly clear at 1:09:15 during The Beginning 2006; When he comes in to amputate Monty’s legs with his new mask. When Luda Mae tries to touch him / his mask, he just..stares down and adjusts his jaw. He doesn’t lean in, he doesn’t acknowledge anyone; Just zones out almost. He’s there to get a job done, not to talk. I think this is a form of self-regulation for him: Just focus on what needs to get done, then we can go back to the basement. Speaking of the basement, I think that’s his preferred space. It’s the one place {besides his bedroom / sewing room} that feels like his. No one else comes down there, spare the victims which he brings, and Hoyt on occasion. Even then, it’s short and to the point; Hoyt’s a busy man, he doesn’t linger too long. Thomas gets to let loose and be violent. It’s like as soon as he opens that steel door, the mask drops {pun intended.} He gets to create, he gets to be violent; There’s no expectations for him. In the 2003 remake, he’s listening to the radio with a HEAD ON A PLATTER as well as bottled eyeballs, sets of teeth, jars of petrolatum, and all his little machinery n’ trinkets; He’s just working away with some metal music playing and his collectables sprawled out without a care in the world. That’s his space; His “safe room” if you will. And his sewing machine up in {what is believed to be} his room. 

___

Going back to his ‘social awkwardness / social isolation,’ Thomas likes to stare. Like, a lot. There's multiple shots in the 2003 remake {34:15-34:23, 34:55, 43:02, 1:11:49, ect} where he’s just..staring / observing. And that’s JUST in 2003. Obviously, he’s trying to see what Erin and other victims are doing, but he’s definitely hyper-aware of things. I brought this up in a previous post, and I’m bringing it up again; in the extended scene in part 2 {0:00 - 0:30}, where Bailey is tied under the table and starts screaming once she sees Thomas just..staring at her from the doorway. He’s doing what’s called ‘T-rex arms’ as well as fidgeting with his fingers which might be a form of self-regulation; ‘Cause lets be honest, he just got introduced to this new ‘way of life’ the previous night. He also just lost his job and killed someone the previous day. He’s a little new to this. #firstkillkindanervous

I think Thomas doesn’t understand, or maybe just doesn’t care / notice he’s doing it. Staring can be very intimate for people, and I guess Thomas is just a curious and cautious fella. And I get why, gotta make sure the family is okay, and nothing goes wrong. Anyway - I also previously discussed how Thomas could have Apraxia of Speech; Which if you didn’t know, is often found in autistic children. It usually progresses with speech therapy, but Thomas very obviously didn’t have that. Expenses + time period and rural areas don’t usually produce good outcomes for neurodivergent kids anyway. 

To wrap things up; I definitely think Thomas is neurodivergent. Even if he doesn’t have Autism, Apraxia of Speech is considered neurodivergent. I still firmly believe he has Autism {Level 1?}, but I’m always open to feedback and alternative ideas!

Much love, 🫀

[esoteric-chaos]

Low Energy Witchcraft - Chronic Fatigue Edition

Making a post such as this is something I find absolutely vital. Many of us deal with fatigue. Many of us deal with chronic fatigue and don't know it. This comes in tiredness, drowsiness, exhaustion, lethargy, brain fog, memory issues, slurring of words and muscle weakness.

I deal with Myalgic Encephalomyelitis aka Chronic Fatigue Syndrome (ME/CFS). My Fibromyalgia accompanies that which is a chronic pain condition.

Sometimes you feel stuck in your own body. Bedridden for hours, days, weeks and sometimes life in extreme cases of ME/CFS. Weather can affect this, environment and pushing yourself past your limits. Rest is important.

Now how does this tie into witchcraft? Simple. We use our energy for spellwork, raising energy, energy work, devotion, basically everything. So much of our practice requires personal energy being manipulated and used, leaving us exhausted after in a lot of cases.

I'm going to share some helpful tips with you today.

Now remember, witchcraft is an aid. Nota cure or a replacement for medical aid. Please still take any and all medication and go to the doctors when needed.

Now let's get into it

Sustaining and drawing energy:

Borrowing energy from elements, crystals, tendrils (I'll go into this), space. It's limitless.

Tendrils. Tendrils are a form of vampiric magic I learned. Where you can borrow energy from another person. I will not go into the ethics of consent. I believe you need to do what's right for you at the moment. However, consent is something vital and needs to be practiced. How do you do it? Visualize or focus on feeling these energy tendrils coming out of your fingers. They can suck up the energy from the space or from another person with contact and focus. If not immediately needed, you can store this excess energy in a crystal or an amulet for later use. Always try to ground after so you don't feel overcharged. Being overcharged can cause shakiness, anxiety and sometimes manic-like states.

Sigils

Sigils are a great form of aid. You can make them for lifting brain fog, fatigue, memory, etc. I will link some when I make a few.

Spells

You can do mini spell workings on higher energy days to aid in many ways. I will link some when I make a few.

Deities Worship

If you work with certain deities they may aid you in health. Honouring and working with Apollon (Greek), Apollo (Roman), Sekhmet (Egyptian), Eir (Norse), Airmed (Irish) and many more are associated with healing. A simple prayer can do.

What can I practice when I have little/no energy?

You can practice mindfulness or elemental box breathing. How I do that is breathe in Earth, Fire, Water, Air. Hold Earth, Fire, Water, Air. Breathe out Earth, Fire, Water, Air. and Hold Earth, Fire, Water, Air. Repeat as needed. You will feel more connected to the elements that way.

Take any medication you have with intention. Drawing the sun symbol on your bottles, the planet sun is great for healing.

Prayer to any deities, guardians or ancestors you are currently working with.

Grounding your energy may help you feel better with brain fog. It tends to help me on heavy days.

Doing something as simple as opening a window on a windy day to connect to the air element. Helps cycle air in a stuffy environment as well.

Opening your curtains and basking in the sun's rays can feel very soothing. Alternatively, if you have a sun lamp for SAD, you can bask in its glow and envision the sun's rays on your skin to connect with solar energy.

I will add to this post as time goes on.

Do you want to see more posts I have? Check out the Masterpost.

Updated 2/6/24

[somberjoon]

METANOIA [10]

✩ pairing: wolf hybrid nj x cheetah hybrid reader (f) - eventual ot7 x reader

✩ genre: soul-searching , romance🔞 , found-family , healing , angst , happy ending

✩ word count: 6.1k

✩ chapter warnings: uncertainty in behavior and emotions , anxiety , crying and loss of a grasp on what to do , SA without major details !! Please look out for * at the start and beginning of the conversation she has with Namjoon. It is not detailed in a way that would tell exactly what he does, but it's more of a panicked description of what she felt. Lots of mentions of suffocating feelings and her skin being touched and hurt and feeling gross, but nothing more than that. Please go into this understanding that this conversation with nj is put in a way that I resonate with / would prefer in my experience, so it obviously won't be preferred by everyone! Please take care of your mental health, and skip that section if you are not up to reading of these themes. Blood mentioned, knife and stabbing mentioned but not detailed.

✩ summary: She doesn't know. There is so much about her and her cheetah that she hasn't had the privilege to understand. Unknown backgrounds and unknown emotions clash with feelings of want- hopes of being herself unapologetically. Namjoon seems to be someone that can help her- but can the rest of his pack truly be what she has wanted and needed?

✩ cover: me

ch.1 , ch.2 , ch.3 , ch.4 , ch.5 , ch.6 , ch.7 , ch.8 , ch.9 , ch.10 ...

Y/N

To wake up refreshed, warm, and content seems totally cliche. It’s unreal and shouldn’t be Y/N’s reality after everything she’s been worrying about. She faces the window where the early morning sun is rising to greet her. She remembers the night before, turning in the bed to find Taehyung in the same spot he was before, but this time his head is propped up and sniffing towards the door. She must’ve awoken to something outside her door if Taehyung is also paying attention to it. 

“What is it?” She asks, her voice still groggy from not being used. One of his low energy ‘chuffs’ tells her exactly what she needs to know, already recognizing how he feels about Namjoon in her space. 

“Is it only him in the house?” His head lifts to give an too-human head shake that takes her aback only slightly. 

“Who else?” She asks, wondering how he’ll respond. Taehyung stretches towards her nose first. The light touch of his snout digs into her stomach, his head lying atop her lap to make sure she understands. Her stomach. Food?

“Seokjin?” Another ‘chuff’ leaves him and closes his eyes to try and push himself into her lap farther. She sits up and crosses her legs to accommodate the weight he pushes onto her. She can’t help but smile at the sweet gestures of his cheetah. He wants her to scratch here and there, which she does with no issue. It doesn’t take long for a loud purr to rumble through him and into her own skin where he lies. A light knock at the door doesn’t bother Taehyung, so she waits for a voice. 

“Y/N?” Namjoon. She pulls herself out from under Taehyung’s weight, earning a disappointed chuff as he sprawls out in the now empty space. She slips on her slippers and hurries to unlock the door to find a tired Namjoon still in his PJs. 

“Hey. Sorry, was I loud?” 

“No, not at all, just wanted to make sure Taehyung wasn’t bugging you.” He leans in to look at Taehyung and Y/N only hears that same annoyed chuff. She lets a puff of a laugh out at him. 

“He’s fine.” She assures, staring far too long at his soft morning features. It should be odd seeing him in this new way, but all she feels is content mush. He looks well-rested and carefree. Safe- just as she felt last night. She doesn’t care to control her dopey smile aimed up at him. 

“That’s good.” He looks down at her with his own soft smile, “You want some breakfast? Seokjin and I are the only ones here at the moment.” 

“Yeah, are you-?” 

“I’m gonna eat right now as well.” He answers with a nod. “Let’s hurry before it gets cold.”

The house outside of the room she slept in smells wonderful. It always seems to- whether it’s from scented candles or colognes and clean home, or just the lingering scent of every homey meal. She’s hesitant to step into the kitchen with her bruises and scratches so on display, but she makes an effort to stay in stride with Namjoon, placing herself behind him slightly just so they’re not the first thing Seokjin notices. Luckily, she rounds the kitchen island and sets down on one of the stools next to Namjoon without Seokjin turning around. 

“Good morning.” Seokjin greets them, still chopping away at something Y/N can’t see. 

“Good morning.” The two say at the same time, causing them to share an intense look for just a moment. They melt into matching smiles that Seokjin turns to find. 

“A sleepy pup and a sleepy cub- my favorite customers.” Seokjin pokes at them, setting matching bowls in front of each of them. “Chicken porridge, lean meats for Y/N’s stomach and extra of it for strength.” He finalizes with a smile, obviously proud of himself. He should be proud, it smells delicious, and the green onions sprinkled on top make the presentation look so pretty. 

“Thank you, Seokjin.” Y/N shyly thanks. Unlike last time, Y/N is ready to dig in. It must be how good Seokjin’s food always is- or maybe she realizes it’s because she actually feels safe in their home, at least in the presence of the three at home at the moment. She takes a few hungry bites before saying anything, content with filling her desires of just eating in comfortable silence. 

“It’s very good.” She hums, looking up at a content Seokjin. He looks even more satisfied, seemingly only waiting for her opinion to continue his morning. He rounds the corner of the Island, greeting Namjoon with silent gestures that she decides to give them complete privacy for- focusing only on her food. Seokjin leaves after that, mumbling something about Jungkook and giving Y/N a little wave. 

“Did you sleep well?” Namjoon asks after a few moments of eating in silence. 

“Really well. I don’t even think I dreamed. It was- peaceful.” Y/N admits now that they’re alone. 

“I’m glad to hear that. I know Taehyung doesn’t take his presence in your room lightly. He was mostly there to guard you more than anything. He can sense it more in his cheetah form, like smelling out your emotions.” Namjoon explains. 

Her thoughts get the best of her- still set on wanting and yearning to meet her cheetah. 

“Is it like that for all animals, or just him so far?” 

“Do I think you’ll be able to do it, you mean? No clue. But, all of us have our own little thing in our animal forms. Taehyung can sense when we feel certain ways, without us wanting to admit it. Seokjin somehow knows when something bad happens, his fox always waiting patiently  and then- poof, someone cuts themself on accident or sprains their ankle on the treadmill and he’s right there.”

“Wow.” She can’t help but listen in awe. 

“Hoseok’s tiger is a guardian, as well as my wolf- but I’m a lot more…active.” 

“What do you mean by that?” 

“It’s the reason I wouldn’t want to shift for a while if you decide to stay with us, at least not if you’re uncomfortable with what I do. I just get really- protective. Unnecessarily protective. I’ll want to groom and nag and be glued to anyone  I feel needs it most. He would definitely pick you at the moment, and it would be more overwhelming than anything.”

“That’s very sweet, though. That they have you two in the pack as protection, I bet it makes everyone feel safe.” Y/N tries her best to make their protectiveness be a positive to him, not an overbearing thing he thinks it may be. 

“I hope so.” His smile is aimed at her but she feels as though he’s thinking about his pack, not including her at all. 

“Anyways,” he continues. “Yoongi is also protective but his panther is a lot more…cuddly.” 

“Really?” It’s a little surprising having his personality a contrasting thing despite Namjoon saying he’s not the talkative type. She can’t say she’s any different though, more set on touch and active attention rather than talking all the time. Maybe she can become closer to him. 

“Oh yeah, he’s like that in human form too though.” He gives her a smirk before continuing. “Jimin is very active in his wolf form, he wants to get everyone into trouble and be a pest honestly. But, he knows how to have fun, even if it is overbearing sometimes, he’s not pushy- he’s just…wanting. He wants to do so many things and he’ll drag anyone along to join him. Finally, Jungkook. He’s actually not one that has displayed anything major. He’s still trying to get used to everything, but he’s a lot more confident in his bunny form. He’ll not speak all day but the second he’s a bunny he’s all over you, wanting the attention he didn’t want in human form. That’s normal by the way.” Y/N turns to give him a questioning look.

“The confidence in your animal form. You’ll find that whatever you don’t allow yourself to do in human form, your animal form will absolutely get what it wants if the other is okay with it. It’s normal and shouldn’t be anything to be embarrassed about.” 

She understands him and feels as though there is something he’s not specifically saying. But he is saying something. Something she can’t quite pinpoint, though. 

“I would never judge. Taehyung was really sweet, and was taking care of me. It felt…nice.” She admits. “Really nice. It’s all really nice. It feels too good to be true.” 

Namjoon seems to hold his breath at the statement, waiting and waiting for Y/N to say the unsaid. It’s morning, they’ve eaten and they’re very well rested. It’s all pointing to her wanting and hoping she can stay here and have a safe place to live. But, she still needs to tell him. 

“I still want you to know. I thought about it a little more and- I’d want someone to know anyways. Even if I took advantage without making sure the pack leader knew what I did, I’d want someone that I trusted to know. Just so I had a place with someone where I don’t have to worry about this thing haunting me and everything I do.” 

“Let’s finish up and we can go wherever you’d like. You can still wait if you’d like-” 

“I really need you to know, Namjoon.” He gives her a long, observing look. Maybe he’s really savoring this last normal moment they’ll have before she pulls the rug from underneath him. Maybe she’s doing the exact same thing, looking over this pretty, just awoken Namjoon that’s comfortable in her presence. It’ll probably be the last time she gets to see it. 

“Okay.” He finally whispers. 

*

The guest room she used is now empty, Taehyung nowhere in sight. ‘He’s probably in the sunroom.’ Namjoon told her without having to ask him. She doesn’t question it, content with only telling Namjoon right now. 

“I don’t know where to start.” She says after some time of quiet thought. Namjoon sits on the edge of the bed near the spot Taehyung settled the night before. 

“Can I ask something? It may help.” Namjoon confesses. She only looks at him with awkward question. “That night you seemed fine, and then- you weren’t. I was very hesitant with leaving you home alone, and I really regret it, honestly. I just- I guess I think that’s when something happened.” 

His confession causes her heart to ache in remembrance. That was exactly when it started, but honestly- she could go farther back in time. 

“There’s this man. He’s Richard’s coworker.” Namjoon shifts uncomfortably in her peripheral vision, but she’s too focused on her thoughts to pay attention. She shifts and paces, biting at her nails as she recalls everything. “I met him that first night Maria was out of town over the weekend, and he- he called me ‘exotic’. He-” She stops, not wanting to give those specifics yet. “He made me uncomfortable, but I didn’t see him after that so I thought that would be the last of it.”

There’s no ‘right’ way to tell him the rest. She just needs and wants to do it. 

“The night I was here, with Maria gone, I was glad to be out of the house. I didn’t want to chance having dinner without Richard with his coworker there. It was pretty late, and I thought Richard would have already had him over, eaten, and had gone to bed. Richard had texted me and I checked it in the car. His coworker needed to stop by and grab some tools from the unlocked garage.” 

She thinks and thinks, her breathing picking up. She wants to calm slightly before she goes on. 

“I was hoping- praying- that he had already come and gone since the text was a little old.”

“Y/N…” Her breathing picks up despite her recent stop. Namjoon notices, but tries not to interrupt her. His plea is soft, asking more than anything. 

“I really wanted you to stay. I was so scared. Something inside of me knew. It’s like, my cheetah knew I needed you.” She honestly confesses. “I stayed by that door before heading to my room. I was stuck there, my cheetah wouldn’t let me settle. But, I ignored her.” 

“Y/N.”

“When I heard his truck, I thought- I thought it was Richard. I memorized the sound of their cars. It sounded just like Richard’s. I was so relieved, so happy to have someone slightly familiar there. But, he didn’t come into the house, and it confused me. His truck was shut off and he’d been in the garage for so long. I thought he was putting tools away, maybe- I don’t know.” Her eyes start to water at the stupidity she feels recalling those thoughts. Why else would he be in there for so long. If only it was Richard in that garage.

“I was so desperate to see him and feel at ease. I heard the garage open finally, but he didn’t turn on the lights. So, I met him in the kitchen, asking for him, searching.” She has to stop and breathe, her voice becoming louder and her words more unstable. “I didn’t see anyone, but…I felt him. His hands. His body. He was on me before I could even blink. He held my mouth shut.-”

Y/N That Night

Panic sets in immediately. She thrashes against the hold, desperately trying to get away from the grimey hands- one keeping her quiet, one keeping her arms at her sides. She doesn’t know how, but she gets loose.

She fights. 

She yells and pushes herself away, trying to scramble for purchase on anything. Why would Richard do this? He must be drunk- this can’t be what she thinks it is. He doesn’t give up, reaching for any body part he can get to as she trips over his waving arms. She pulls and pushes away from him, her voice a loud plea that she can’t even understand herself. She can only hear him, him and his scrambling body trying to get to her. 

She finds herself pushed into a counter as she finally stands. The counter- she can grab something. Grab something. Grab Something. As her hands roam blindly, the man is on her again, his nails being used to dig and dig into different parts of her. He pushes her down once again just as she grabs onto something with a handle. She’s able to twist so her back lands on the ground underneath him instead of face planting. The handled utensil clatters to the ground and a wail of irritation falls from her mouth. 

He just tries to pry at her, touching her here and there with hands that aim to hurt her. Nothing is gentle about his touches. But neither are hers. She pushes and pries his hands from her face, her body, her arms. 

“Stop. Please- Stop!” She begs. He’s so much stronger, though. He sits up, his knees bracketing her torso in place as he pushes her arms to the ground. She just about goes limp, her legs the only thing free enough to keep fighting for her. Her hand stretches out onto the floor, hoping something is within reach. As she loses the will to try, his hands move down as she tires, feeling her body underneath him. Her wet eyes wouldn’t even be able to see in the light- but within the dark she still searches and finally-

The knife. 

He’s choppy and not attentive, as if he thinks she’s just giving in to him after a short while of fighting. She still can’t see him, can’t aim or direct this properly. She has one chance. 

-

Y/N Present Day

“I struck true. I don’t know what I hit, but the second my adrenaline got the knife sunken into him I pushed and pushed and he just fell to the ground. I- I thought it was Richard and he was limp- I was more worried that I killed my guardian. I was fucking terrified.”

“I turned on the light after some time. I had just felt the blood on me, I felt his hands still all over me- it took me a while to finally decide to see him.” She lets out a shaky sigh. “It was his coworker, of course.”

“Is he?” 

“They said he’s in critical condition.”

With telling him comes the feeling of those hands upon her, his body pressing into her. It’s the worst part every time she recalls it. She doesn’t remember what she said or how hard she yelled. It’s the feeling of him that stuck. The worst part stuck. Her tail wraps so tightly around her it feels suffocating. But it’s just not enough right now. She can’t get the feeling to go away. 

“Y/N.” His voice is steady but kind. “Is there anything I can do to help you right now?”

Just as he was in the hospital, just as he knows whenever she needs literally anything, he knows when to ask. She can't give in just yet, that's not all that haunts her. 

"He was so easy to hurt, Namjoon. It was so easy to get him so close to death. What if I- what if I hurt someone else?" She whispers the last question.

"You're not dangerous Y/N. He is. People like him deserve to be hurt. People that hurt people deserve to be hurt." Namjoon tries to explain and explain as Y/N tries her hardest to see it that way. 

"I would never think of hurting you guys." Y/N whispers to him. 

"I believe you'd never hurt us. You are not the one that did anything bad. You protected yourself, you did exactly what you needed to do." Namjoon urges a bit. 

"I'm just so scared that I could hurt someone. I don't want to hurt anyone. Not like they've done to me, I can't let that happen to you guys. And if everyone else in the pack doesn't know I did that- and I live here- I feel like I'm betraying them."

Namjoon gives a heavy sigh at all her confessions. She understands it’s not towards her, but she can’t help but feel split open and raw at the sight of him assessing her and thinking about the consequences she’ll have to face. 

“We all have secrets. We’ve all kept secrets from each other. Each one of us has a complicated history of regrets and shameful acts. Yours isn’t shameful- at all- but I want you to know that we aren’t perfect. None of them would judge you for this. None of us would feel unsafe with you here. I would feel much better if you were here.” She watches as his finger points directly in front of him at the ground to emphasize his wants. 

Her cheetah seems to take him literally, urging her forwards. She halts, though, not understanding why she would need to quell something like that within her. The last time she disobeyed her cheetah she ended up hurt. Really hurt. Maybe she is questioning it too much. Maybe her cheetah is trying to truly help her more than she realizes. 

She takes a few steps forward, watching as Namjoon waits for her. 

“I want to be here. I want to feel safe and- I want to stop feeling him on me.” She explains with her stilly misty eyes and shaky breaths. “I don’t want to rely on others all the time, least of all someone that pretty much got stuck with me. But I want to rely on you. I want to be with you all the time, and I want to find comfort in you whenever I need it. Because you comfort me.” She’s now right in front of him. 

“I don’t want to feel him on me anymore. I hate it so much, Namjoon.” 

Namjoon’s hands reach up for her, clenching in the air with questions and unsure placement. 

“What do you need from me?” He whispers. 

“Can you hold me?” She whispers back, just for him. Can you make him go away? Can you hold me together so I don’t fall apart? 

“Of course. Always.”

*

“So, Your contract already states that this decision will nullify the opportunity for rehoming services, but we still have a few papers for you to sign just to show this was finalized with your consent.” Mila shuffles through a few manilla folders in one of her drawers, finally pulling out a set of papers. 

“This one states the home you’ve picked is one that you’ve found on your own and is not under the organization. Meaning, it isn’t the organization’s fault if you chose this home haphazardly, and you have to find your next home on your own as well.” She slides the other paper on top of that one, “And this one is your consent form, saying that you are the one that is choosing this home that is not under the organization.” 

Y/N looks over to Namjoon with one more playful question in her eye just before she presses the pen to the paper. Namjoon can’t help but watch her with a content smile, playing along with her giddy emotions. 

After Namjoon held her with no qualms, no questions, it didn’t take long for the adrenaline in Y/N’s body to dissipate into mush and playful giggles. Namjoon made sure she was fine and then gave into whatever she wanted at that moment. She knows she needs to work on how she handles her ups and downs, and how she copes with everything. But Namjoon calms her so well, makes her feel so safe, he’s not too much for her right now- she’s afraid to make it a full-session of her talking about it. That would be too much too fast. 

She signs both papers confidently. 

“Perfect. Also, I wanted to apologize that your last doctor wasn’t well-equipped to handle hybrid patients. We updated the list we have to exclude her as well as went over all the ones we hadn’t checked up on in a while. We’ll cover all the doctor fees still and will be for any other medical, mental, or herbal health you seek out. Namjoon suggested his doctor’s office if you’d like to give that one a go.”

“I’ve tried a few out, this one I’ve been using for a couple years, though.” Namjoon explains. “The whole pack goes there.”

“If it’s trustworthy that’s fine.” Y/N gives her approval. 

“Okay, I’ll fill those papers out and send them to the healthcare team by tomorrow so that you can make your first appointment as soon as possible.”

“Thank you so much, Mila.” Y/N genuinely tells her. “I appreciate the work you put into everything, and I really appreciate that you’ve been caring through- everything.” 

“I want you to be safe, Y/N, I’ll make sure I can provide you with all the options you have no matter what, and I’ll always give you honest advice.” Mila gives her a smile she hasn’t seen before, making her feel shy under the attention, but Namjoon helps end the meeting with the attention on him. 

-

Y/N didn’t realize their day would end here after she watched Namjoon finish the minimal work he had for the day. A couple hours of meetings later, Namjoon is hauling her into the car with a borrowed jacket and clothes that fit her horribly. 

“The budget you get for clothing, essentials, and all that are your own to spend. But, I wanted to celebrate your decision a little bit.” 

“Namjoon.” Y/N warns. 

“It’s not that bad, I promise. But, you will need a new phone ASAP and you will need new clothes and stuff sooner than later just to help get you settled.”

“I don’t find this celebratory.” Y/N moans into the air, her head leaning against the headrest of the car’s seat. 

“Oh, that’s more because it’s extra time you get to spend with me.” Namjoon says with absolutely no sarcasm. He buckles himself in and doesn’t give a second glance to her. 

“You’ll be the death of me Kim Namjoon.”

“Don’t die on me yet, that ruins the fun.” He coos. 

-

It shouldn’t be anything special- Namjoon doting on Y/N like an experienced pack leader, suggesting this and that and making sure she’s on their phone plan even. Shopping for socks and toothbrushes isn’t something fun at all. It’s far from special or romantic but it’s- domestic. Domestic in a way that makes Y/N speechless until Namjoon turns to ask her a question with his gaze on her, obviously not having asked the question just once. She can’t pay attention to anything when his hand brushes against her with silent comfort. The touch doesn’t make her recoil or think of anything else but the butterflies in her stomach. She doesn’t understand why people call them butterflies, though. They feel thunderous, like dragons more than anything. 

“Are you hungry?” Namjoon is stopped in front of her, looking down at her with concern. “Are you alright? You seem a little out of it, I’m sorry if I rushed this, I just didn’t want you to be overwhelmed when the guys got home and needed my attention suddenly.”

“I’m fine, just a little tired.” She speaks the first thing she can think of. Her cheeks pink, causing her to dip her head so he hopefully doesn’t notice. 

“I just have one more stop, is that okay?”

“Of course.” He turns to walk with her again, making sure to keep in time with Y/N as she wants to walk slower to prolong her time with him before-

‘He has a pack’, she thinks. He has a family and people that need his time and attention much more than you do, more than you deserve to have it. 

You could be pack. I’m not. You could be, I want to be. 

Dread washes over her at the realization, and suddenly her limbs feel heavy, her skin not something that’s her own. Butterflies and dragons are long gone. She follows alongside him, this time with more space in between them. How could her cheetah want that, how could she think she has any place such as that in their home. Y/N needs to stay in her place to be able to keep her spot there, she needs to be a guest. A good one. What would they think of her if she tried to wiggle into their lives for good?

“Go ahead and look around, I’ll just be a few minutes.” Namjoon cuts her out of her thoughts, now standing in front of an electronics store. She listens, fascinated with all the little things in display cases that let her head ponder in wonder instead of that dread. Maybe she’s been staring at something for far longer than she realizes, or maybe he took less time than he’d thought- Namjoon is already ready to go with a sleek black bag added into the pile of bags. 

“Let’s go home and eat, yeah?”

“Yeah.” 

Home. 

-

Y/N is surprised to find she isn’t as nervous to see the pack this time around. She’s much more nervous with the fact that she still doesn’t know her place around them. Without Namjoon or Taehyung doting on her, what is the relationship supposed to be comprised of?

“Hyung!” Jungkook runs up to Namjoon who enters in front of Y/N, she hides behind him, her head down and hoping her bruises and cuts aren’t something they want to focus on. Jungkook clings to Namjoon, obviously having missed his wolf after not seeing each other all day. ‘I missed you.’ Y/N can hear the younger whisper as she hastily puts on her slippers. It all seems to weigh on her more now that she can hear them, smell them, and put excited or content expressions onto the pack’s faces. 

“Y/N,” Jungkook draws her attention away from the floor, her surprised expression matching his own. “It’s nice to see you again.” He shyly admits- his bunny ears dropping to cover his pinking ears. 

“It’s nice to see you as well, Jungkook. Thank you for, um, letting me be here.” She slips in before he can turn away. She needs to tell them, all in her own ways at the right time, whenever they offer her the time. She wouldn’t want to intrude on their unknown schedules. 

“It’s safe here.” He says quieter, as if he knew she wanted to hear why he allowed her to be there, in his home. She gives him a shy smiling nod. 

“Y/N, if you’re hungry, we are all going to eat right now.” Seokjin pulls both of their attention to him. Jungkook moving out of her way allows her to finally see the open living room and all the eyes setting on her. She immediately looks down again, not wanting to see their reactions to her. 

“I, uh, I-”

“She said she was pretty tired, hyung, I’ll get her settled and grab her some to eat up in her room.” Namjoon jumps in to help her.

“No worries. Have a good night.” Seokjin says with a smile in his voice. 

“Goodnight.” Y/N says in their direction, not knowing what else to say. 

She can’t help but feel a bit defeated at her failed attempt to be normal. She was less nervous before walking in. But, the second she realized that only Seokjin had seen her that morning, she immediately deflated into an anxious ball. 

“I’m sorry.” She whispers at Namjoon as they enter her room. 

“What for?” He genuinely asks. 

“That you had to save me, and that I didn’t greet them properly, or- I don’t know.” She wants to tell him more, but after the realization earlier, she has to put some type of distance between them. She can’t just give into her cheetah now that she knows what she wants. 

“You don’t have to worry about any of that. They know you need time, and I know you are trying. You are strong for doing all of this and even stronger for letting me know how you feel.” Namjoon explains, separating the things in the bag he dragged in for her. 

“I’ll do that. You should go have dinner with them.” She urges a little, still slightly timid from her earlier interactions. He pauses, not immediately responding to her or giving in. But he soon faces her with a smile. 

“Just take the tags off and then we can wash everything before you wear them. And I’ll bring you food before settling in with them.” Namjoon almost rushes out after instructing her. 

Suddenly, every layer she has on is itchy and suffocating. She strips off the oversized clothes Namjoon found for her, immediately heading for the shower to try and melt off the gross feeling coating her skin- she chooses a pair of new sleepwear she doesn’t care to have cleaned beforehand.. The water isn’t overwhelmingly hot, but a temperature that numbs her well. It’s nice not feeling anything, being scrubbed clean and warm. Afterwards, she’s dressed and leaving the bathroom to find the tray of food Namjoon promised, set on the side table near the space she sleeps. 

‘I’ll wish you goodnight after everyone’s settled.’ A note near the bowl of porridge similar to this morning’s sits. A side of veggies and cooked tofu sit on a plate next to it, accompanied by a chilled glass of water. She doesn’t deserve the attentive gestures. Not when she knows deep down how she really feels about this home. 

She takes to brushing her own hair and wrapping it up into a bun similar to how Namjoon did for her. She eats quickly, listening for the sound of five or six sets of footsteps to make their way to a bedroom down the hall. Then, she’s slipping out of her room with slippered feet, careful not to drop the tray with empty dishes. The coast seems clear, a way for her to clean up after herself without bothering anyone or getting in their way during their nightly routine. The kitchen light above the stove is one of the only things that lights up her path. It’s enough to get her to the sink, setting everything on the counter before slowly opening the hot water. 

A light clicks on above her, causing her to squint up at the entrance she came in from. 

“I didn’t realize you’d finished up, I’m sorry for getting to your room too late.” Namjoon. 

“It’s okay. I can finish up by myself.” She starts her work on the dishes, following the steps she remembered Namjoon and Hoseok took to clean the dishes. She basically ignores Namjoon as he rounds the island to meet her at the sink, watching intently as she washes and rinses, setting them aside to dry once she’s done. He’s too close, practically breathing down her neck with something primal and new she hasn’t felt from him before. 

Just as she’s finished washing and rinsing, Namjoon nudges her a little to the side. She doesn’t budge as easily, though, set on finishing her task. Namjoon gives an unfamiliar huff, and takes to gripping underneath her shoulders. Suddenly, her feet are off the ground and she’s set down butt first onto the counter near the sink. Namjoon wordlessly dries at the dishes she just washed. Her bewildered expression goes ignored. A scoff leaves her at the happenings. 

“Aren’t you gentlemanly?” She bites out. He doesn’t answer, in fact, he seems to not care at all for answering. It’s not until he’s finished and the dishes are put away that Namjoon finally gives her attention. His hands land on either side of her legs, bracketing her in on the counter. 

“I told you I’d take care of you.” Is all he huffs up at her. It’s an unfamiliar look for him- but not entirely uncomfortable or foreign feeling. 

“I can do simple things. I told you I’m not living here to be a cub you can dress up and buy things for as you fancy.” 

“I want to do everything. Right now, while you’re not feeling well, I want to do it.” He gives with another huff. 

“I don’t want to be a bother, especially during the time you should be with your pack.”

“You are-” He stops himself, cutting off what he was going to say to calm himself a bit. “I told you I’d care for you. I need to, Y/N.” He sounds pained in some way, his gaze not on her face anymore. Y/N remembers their conversation from before. His wolf. 

“Namjoon,” She tries to pull his attention up. He grumbles with an animalistic sound she hasn’t heard yet. She tries harder, finally allowing herself to touch him once again. Her palm gently pushes up on his chin to catch his gaze. “Is your wolf wanting this? Or are you?”

“My wolf is me, Y/N. We are not separate things, but two parts of one whole. Just as your cheetah will want and not want, and it will be connected to you with more intent than you realize.” It’s as if he knows. She shrinks under his words, a dry gulp being heard from her in the silence. 

“You really don’t mind caring for me like this? Like I’m something that needs- deserves- all this extra stuff?” 

“Even if our fates were different- I know I’d always want to care for you. Let me, just so my wolf can be satisfied a while longer, okay?” 

“Okay.” She whispers into the space- or lack thereof. He doesn’t back away, instead staying there to make sure something in him is quelled. 

“Okay.” He whispers back. “Let’s get you to bed, it’s cold out here.” He stretches out his arms for her, his want to carry her obvious and unforgiving this time- unlike this morning when he didn’t show his obvious want to soothe her. She could feel him against her once again. A feeling she’s growing to want more and more of. You would think that the constant small touches and the one-off hugs would put an end to her want. But, really, it just makes her yearn for more. It’s dangerous and bound to get her hurt. 

She clings to him still. Her arms tight around his neck, his arms tight around her back, her legs tight around his waist. 

“Don’t drop me.” She whispers, a little nervous once he starts up the stairs. 

“I won’t.”

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Untitled By Ramin Hossaini

* * * *

Big Sur Diptych I: Summer Solstice The Red Bull/The Psalm-Singers The Big Sur Diptychs were written in the early 1980s when for more than eighteen months solitude meant a backpacking tent perched on a cliff almost half a mile above the Pacific Ocean. Although the human context below was fraught, the time on the mountain stands out in my memory for its simple happiness, spaces of freedom from anxiety, moments of terror—a density of glory that burns there like a jewel of the night. * * * Big Sur is one of the wildest, most spectacular coasts in the world. It runs some eighty miles down the edge of California from Carmel to San Luis Obispo. There are no power lines for much of its length, and telephones are unreliable. In some places the road is two-lane only by name: sections of it are forever falling into the sea, or buried by landslides from the mountains that rise straight from the ocean floor and overhang it. Some slides take years to clear. These slides cut off the sparse population from north-south communication, and the single east-west paved road over the coastal range can cause vertigo in the most intrepid. For nearly two years as health and circumstance allowed, I lived in a tent pitched on a south-facing slope twenty-three hundred feet above the sea, through all seasons of Big Sur’s Mediterranean climate. There were hurricane force winds that rolled monstrous waves unimpeded from Japan and smashed them against the cliffs with such force that the earth trembled; there were torrential rains, sleet and frost, and months-long stretches of calm sunshine. These were months refulgent with stillness and the leisure to be and to observe. I watched lizards catch moths, the seasonal flights of birds, weather forming over the broad bay, the changing angle of the sun in the slow evening as the molten sphere flamed its way down the vault of heaven to slip into a sapphire sea. At night I would be visited by ‘coons and foxes, and sometimes a mountain lion’s scream from nearby brush would shatter the dark. The faint roar of surf wafted upward through the silence; the slow, wheeling dance of constellations turned overhead. It sounds idyllic, and it was. But violating this chastity of wildness were flights of experimental aircraft and things that might not be so easily identified as aircraft flying low in the dark, so low I could see the heads of the crews bathed in the red glow of flight decks. One of these craft, I know now, was a prototype of the B-1 bomber, but I will never forget that night when the strange whoosh of its engines jerked me from sleep, and I gazed in horrified fascination at the bizarre shape skimming the mountain at treetop level. In daylight hours B-52s patrolled high overhead, and sometimes the shriek of fighter-bombers—planes with tail configurations even a commercial airline captain could not identify—would ricochet off the sea and reverberate against the cliffs. Looking across the Pacific toward the rim of the world, I would see one or sometimes a small group of specks coming toward me flat out, two feet above the waves. In the moment you thought they would surely slam straight into the rock they would pull up, terrain-following. Only a few hundred feet horizontally from me they would howl past, bristling with missiles, gradually, then sharply, climbing to clear the peak that rose another twenty-five hundred feet, half a mile beyond my perch. I got to know the regulars among the pilots. We developed a strange, waving acquaintance, an eerie well-wishing between people dedicated to opposite ends and means. They knew I was a nun from my tunic and my location; I knew they carried nuclear weapons.

[by Maggie Ross]

[Thanks to “Alive On All Channels”]

[blessedarethebinarybreakers]

Wanted to go anon but I asked in DMs if I could vent so hopefully this’ll make me feel better:

A lot of times I feel Christianity is causing me more harm than good. I grew up in the Baptist south and I see Christians so happy with God and their blessings. And while I acknowledge my blessings and thank God for them I don’t think I feel the same kind of joy everyone else does. I went to a revival at my aunt’s church last October and came out of it with horrible anxiety that lasted for months. Even as people talked about God’s love and mercy and second chances I left without feeling that love, I was scared and it felt like I wasn’t a good Christian and that when I was saved years ago no longer counted. Any time I see someone talk about spreading the Gospel I feel low and awful cause no one has come to me and told me they’re Christian now and why should God let me into Heaven if I can’t do that?

I recently discover scrupulosity and I’m 90% that’s what I have. It was a relief to know (even if I can’t always believe it) it’s ocd making me feel this way and not God. But how I can I find comfort in the faith when that is where my anxiety stems from?

Hey there. My heart aches for you and the harm Christianity has brought you. When faith is done right, it should be a place of support, a place you feel encouraged towards growth and vulnerability. Instead, it sounds like you've been taught fear — that you're not "good enough" for God or heaven; that not feeling what everyone else seems to be feeling is a failing on your part.

You deserve so much better, and it's not your fault that this is the Christianity you've been put through.

I want to start by saying that what you're feeling, or what you don't feel, does not make you a "bad Christian"; it's not a sign of God's disfavor; and it absolutely does not bar you from heaven!

It's such an alienating feeling to be surrounded by people who seem to be experiencing something you just can't seem to access. It reminds me of Psalm 42, where the psalmist wrestles with their depression and anxiety:

But I remember these things as I bare my soul:     how I made my way to the mighty one’s abode,     to God’s own house,         with joyous shouts and thanksgiving songs—         a huge crowd celebrating the festival! Why, I ask myself, are you so depressed?     Why are you so upset inside? Hope in God!     Because I will again give him thanks,         my saving presence and my God. (Psalm 42:4-5)

In the above verses, the psalmist visits God's Temple, is surrounded by people shouting joyfully...and all they seem to feel is that soul-deep depression. They also wonder, "What's wrong with me??" The hope they find even in this fretting about their inability to feel the joy everyone else is, is the hope that there will be a future time when they will once again feel the gratitude and joy they can't access right now.

What will it take, what does this psalmist need, in order to work through their depression and into joy? ...What do you need?

One thing I highly recommend, if at all possible, is finding a therapist who can help you through your religious hurt and help you navigate scrupulosity.

Look for therapists who specialize in religious trauma, or scrupulosity, or "deconstructing" faith, or working with "ex-vangelicals."

In your consult with them, make sure they are, like, not part of a conservative Christian church themselves and actually aim to keep patients in such spaces; make sure they are there to help you find spiritual wellbeing, wherever that journey takes you. Asking about their view on LGBTQ+ persons might be one way to determine their overall aims.

I'm by no means a mental health professional; I'm not an expert in scrupulosity and I don't know best practice for working through religious trauma when scrupulosity is part of your experience. So please take everything that comes next in this post with a huge grain of salt, that I'm offering what I've seen work for some people, but that doesn't mean it's the right thing for you. Getting that professional support is much more ideal.

Along with professional support, I do feel that a break from Christianity, or at least the Christian spaces you are currently part of, may give you the space to work through everything.

However, if not going to church will impact your scrupulosity or activate fears about hell, prepare some options in advance for dealing with that — whether it's having someone you trust you can talk to, or setting up your own Sunday worship, a space and time where you pray, read scripture, etc. at home.

If you feel that even those preparations won't be enough to keep safe from those fears, you might wait till you get a therapist who can help you navigate whatever comes up when you leave church.

You could also start looking around for different kinds of churches than you've currently experienced, churches that make space for depression and fear, and that emphasize that God's love is freely given, not earned. This is my post with tips for finding an affirming church near you. But I want to emphasize that it's okay if you aren't ready to start looking for a new church, or if you're unsure you ever want to do that.

Finding people who are going through similar things could be very helpful — people who get it, who can share their stories with you as you share yours with them.

A progressive church might be a place you can find that support.

It's also possible that LGBTQ orgs in your area might offer resources for those with religious trauma.

There are also online options, such as Journey Free, which offers both free and paid support — including online support groups.

Recovering from Religion is another site with support group options, online and in person (note: I'm not that familiar with this org, so if anyone has experience with them please share).

If you're a reader, two books I think might bring you some healing and reframe your relationship with faith are:

Learning to Walk in the Dark by Barbara Brown Taylor, which explores a Christian faith that has room for depression, grief, fear, pain, rather than pressuring everyone to Be Happy All The Time to "prove" they're blessed. (I have a tag with a few excerpts from this book)

Bad Theology Kills by Kevin Garcia, which unpacks a lot of the harmful stuff Christians in evangelical / fundamentalist type churches internalize.

You might also find some useful stuff on my FAQ, particularly the "emotions and sins: guilt and fear, anger and hate" section and the "on God" and "prayer and faith" sections.

I'm not sure how helpful all this was, but I want you to know that you are worthy of spiritual thriving, of finding places that bring you peace and joy rather than fear and isolation. I'll be praying for you as you unpack what you've been through and where you need to go to find that thriving. The journey will probably be long and bumpy, but you do not have to go it alone. <3

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I move into my own apartment for an internship instead of with friends like I initially said I (more likely than not) would for a while?

CW: kinda long but I don’t think I can put a readmore on anon :(

I (20sNB) have an opportunity to do an internship in spring of 2024. My friend (20sF) and her husband (20sM, we’re all within ~3yrs of each other) have been working on renovating a single-wide trailer in a trailer park in the same town as the internship, and it will be done with them living in it for at least a good few months before my internship. I’ve helped them with renovations whenever I’m in town and they’ve promised/shown me the room they’re reserving to be my space because they’re so sure I’ll move in with them.

I’ll be honest, I was planning to at first. But that changed with a variety of factors contributing, including but not limited to:

The trailer was reportedly full of black mold. Abandoned dressers would be opened and a puff of mold dust would emerge from the doors. It was also previously a hoarder’s house possibly due to the amount of junk in and around the trailer. Nobody wore PPE during renovations as far as I’m aware, and seem to believe they’re “in the clear” as they’ve shown no side effects yet. They’ve literally kept up only exactly what’s required to legally say they’re ‘renovating’ instead of tearing everything down and reusing the foundation, but it’s still a concern for me due to the casual way it was brought up and addressed.

My friends admitted that the neighbors don’t like them much due to the loud noises day in and day out from the renovation, resulting in the cops being called on them several times as a noise complaint. I have a rough time as it is being close to strangers, and that anxiety/paranoia? isn’t alleviated by hearing that and seeing people come out of their own trailers to glare at us whenever we work on the property.

My cat (20F) would be moving in with me. She’s indoor-only, but cats are bound to run around at some point. There are numerous unvaccinated and unfixed strays in the park and I’m concerned for her health; she’s having a hard enough time just keeping down food, a virus or infection would make me put her down.

My friends own a Pomeranian that does not respect other animals and continuously harasses them by barking and chasing after them. My cat does NOT like dogs, and my repeated warnings that having them in the same room would result in the dog getting blinded and possibly even more severely injured have been waved away with “The dog will learn soon enough to leave her alone!”. I would also have two relatively small lizards with me, both of whom leave their terrariums regularly for general holding sessions and to run around while I clean their tanks. There is a nonzero chance of them being beyond the safety of the glass and the dog eating them as the dog has a high prey drive.

Being with them would save me and my parents MASSIVE amount of money as rent is nearly nonexistent with how low it is in the park; I would mostly help with other bills (such as water, electricity, groceries) and general housemate things like cleaning up after myself and helping cook or chip in for takeout every now and then. Both friends know how restricted my ability to really develop is in my house due to my family (such as not knowing how to make anything more complicated than air fryer food) and have expressed that they are eager to help me learn and watch me grow into who I am.

But for a while I’ve been very strongly leaning towards an apartment instead despite rent being crazy (my parents are willing to pay half but with 0 guarantee of a paid internship and uncertainty as to whether I can hold a part-time job at the same time it would still be a blow to my savings). It’s gotten to the point where my language is full of “My future apartment will have….” “When I move into an apartment do you think I should….” when discussing the matter with my parents with zero verbal room for considering living with my friends. Advantages to the apartment include having my own space, being much closer to my internship location (though my friends weren’t all that far out themselves), and no concerns about my pets being around strangers or other animals. My parents and grandma agree that an apartment sounds the safest for my pets’ physical health and my mental health.

However, I have yet to tell my friends. The F is a friend of a decade now, and the M and I aren’t exactly close but regard each other as siblings. While she might be hurt but understanding, I don’t know if I want to risk him or both of them blowing up on me for my decision after at least 6mo of helping here and there and encouraging them to finish renovating their own place. The closest I’ve gotten to saying anything is warning them that it isn’t guaranteed I’ll move in with them when they use language suggesting it is and that I’m trying to keep my mind open to all housing options, including renting a space in a family friend’s basement. Neither of them seem to have caught on to what I’m doing, though. So, WIBTA if I finally break it to them that I’ve decided on an apartment and move into a space without them? This might seem like a non-issue to outsiders but it very much is to me :(

(For slight additional context: my friend is typically very understanding and we do our best to communicate our feelings about joint activities especially. Her husband is the type of guy to get mad at the ‘politics’ of the new Barbie movie and the joke made out of the Kens.)

What are these acronyms?

[youremyheaven]

Hey youremyheaven! Do you have any advice for a rahu girl (UBP sun, swati moon, ardra asc)?

Trying to heal from social anxiety, very very low confidence and self esteem and procrastination. I know i have potential but my head feels sooo scattered sometimes and I’m now realising how important self discipline and living in the present moment is. Oh and I’m a massive and I mean MASSIVE maladaptive daydreamer!!

If you see this, thank you thank you thank you!!!

I think the answer to all of this is a healthy lifestyle and consistent routine

Go for walks, journal, eat nutritious food. Do a blood test and see if you have any deficiencies (you'd be surprised by how much nutritional deficiencies can impact our energy levels and cause brain fog) exercise, do breath work. Do things that make you happy and take care of yourself like you would with a toddler. Clean clothes, clean space, hair wash, lotioned up, tummy full etc

Lastly be kind to yourself

Edit: I feel like I should add this for clarity but our emotional state is a reflection of our physical environment. If you feel anxious, underconfident and constantly stuck in your head, you need to find ways to ground yourself PHYSICALLY. this means DOING things instead of simply thinking about things. It's going to be hard to start a whole new routine from scratch so start by incorporating small changes. There was a point during my mental health struggle days where I found it hard to get out of bed or even shower. I'd wake up in the evening and just feel like it was pointless to do anything now. But I just made myself brush, shower and eat. And slowly it got better. Think about what you can do now and not what you can do after purchasing 388373 products and living a brand new lifestyle. Give yourself tasks to do. Chores are a great way to be engaged and detached at the same time. No wonder yogis emphasize on seva so much

[lanawinters-ily]

You're My Baby, Say It To Me

Your mental health has taken a dip again. But it is okay. Mama Ally is here to pick up all the (literal) pieces.

Pairing: Ally Mayfair x Teen!Reader (Gender neutral)

Word Count: 1300

Warnings: mental health themes, collapsing, themes of s*lf-harm

Yes, if you can believe it, I did write this fic as less bad than the true story ouch.

It was getting bad again.

Though, this time, you weren’t entirely sure if you had ever gotten better in the first place.

The feeling deep in your chest was heavy, and with every step you took, it became harder to not sink right into the floor.

Through the tile, through the foundations, through the dirt.

To bury yourself in this depression that had built up around you.

It was different this time.

You felt as if you had talked too much, shared too much. Everyone was so so worried, but even their concern didn’t seem enough.

No one could touch you when you had already blocked them off before they even tried.

University had failed. It was supposed to be a new start, but somehow you had fucked it up even more than at home.

Now that was impressive.

At least you had your mama.

It was just you and her, and she had struggled when you were gone.

The house seemed so much emptier, and she was looking forward to having you home for the holidays.

But not this early.

Unfortunately, we are beginning at the day after Ally had to collect you from university, after a friend has called her expressing serious concerns over your mental health. She had rushed straight over and bought you home without hesitation.

But you were yet to open up to her.

Ally wanted to give you space, though her maternal instincts were screaming to pull you close and hold you until every problem faded away.

She wanted you to trust her, to come to her in your time.

Perhaps that was a bad idea.

—

It had been another rough evening, though your emotions seemed slightly off. You couldn’t place the difference, but it made you uneasy.

Today had been good. Your mood had lifted a little, and you had even managed some low-effort chores. This kind of day was unfamiliar for you, and often didn’t have the desired effect.

After one day of slight positivity, your depression tended to come back with full force. Like, slap-in-the-face kind of force.

You had convinced yourself that this mood was different, and would last.

Well, sorry to spoil, but it did not.

As you were getting ready for bed, nausea started rising in your throat. The familiar feeling of anxiety shot through your body, not creeping up like usual, but pulsating into every limb in an instance.

This was not going to end well.

“Sweetheart, would you make me a cup of tea?” Ally’s voice called up the stairs.

Shit. You had to pull yourself together quickly, take drastic action to save face in front of your mother.

Swallowing down bile, you took a couple measured breaths and walked down the stairs.

All you had to do was boil the kettle, pour it into mugs and say goodnight to your mama.

Easy, right?

Wrong.

With shaky legs you stepped into the kitchen, filled up the kettle and put it on. Took out two mugs, two teabags, and a teaspoon.

It was then when things began to get hazy.

Your ears were ringing, and the kettle looked like it was floating. Spots took over and a strange grey haze coloured your usually bright kitchen

Something crashed to the ground, and it took you a couple of seconds to realise you had dropped a mug.

The last thing you heard was a distant scream of “Sweetheart?!” before everything faded to black.

—

“Sweetheart? Baby?”

You could hear a faint muttering. Never in your life had you felt so disorientated. Hard floor under your back, a throbbing in your head, and a sharp pain on your arm.

And who was talking?

Squeezing your eyes, you tried with all your energy to force the lids open.

“Baby? Can you hear me?”

A groan that you didn’t even recognise as your own slipped from your mouth. Eyes wandering the surroundings you realised you were on the kitchen floor, with your mother hovering over you.

She’d never looked so terrified in her life. Ally Mayfair did not do scared.

But it was different with you. Her baby.

You couldn’t speak, so just looked at her and made a noise in recognition that you could hear.

“Oh my baby.” Ally let out a huge sigh of relief at this sign.

“Stay down here for a little bit love. I don’t want you collapsing on me again, okay?”

You just blinked, pretty sure that you couldn’t even imagine sitting, let alone standing right now.

Your body felt as if you’d somehow doubled in weight, heavy heavy heavy into the ground. As if you’d break through the grey tiles and fall forever and ever.

“Sweetie.” Ally said in a somber tone, making you look back up at her.

“You were bleeding pretty badly from your wrist. I thought it was from the mug, but when I looked, I could tell it was something different.”

Sure enough, you looked to see your wrist securely bandaged.

Huh.

That must have happened during the panic attack. How weird. You’d never done that without even thinking before.

Maybe that’s why it was worse than normal.

“When did this start again honey?”

Your mother peered down at you with sad brown eyes, tears peeking out from behind eyelids.

Energy was needed for this conversation, and energy was certainly not what you had in that moment.

So, you just made another noise and shrugged, hoping that Ally would sense that you wanted to move away from the subject.

“Alright love.” She squeezed your hand and sighed, looking briefly at her phone.

“You were out for about five minutes, which is not ideal darling. I called an ambulance while you were unconscious. They weren’t too concerned, but a crisis team is going to call us soon. Is that okay baby?”

Tears filled your eyes as your lip wobbled. You had really fucked up this time.

“My baby,” Ally mumbled and gently guided you up into her embrace.

She rocked you back and forth while you sniffled, not even having the energy to form sobs. You sat like that for a couple of minutes until you had quietened down.

“Let’s get you up and comfy sweetheart.” Your mama said.

As desperate as you were to move off the cold, hard floor, your body was still in shock-mode. As Ally carefully pulled you by your hands upwards, your knees buckled, sending you back towards the ground.

“Oh!” Ally gasped, grabbing you as you fell. You both ended up on the floor again.

“Let’s try that again. I can hold your weight darling, you can always lean on me.” Your mother said softly.

You knew this was a double meaning, and made a little smile in recognition. Working together, you and Ally managed to make it into the living room and she laid you on the sofa.

She sat beside you and soft hands stroked your pale face.

“We’ve got this baby. Me and you, against the world. All the bad, that’s staying outside this room. In here, it is us. I’ve got you, sweetheart. Please lean on me.”

And for the first time in a while, you felt a stir of hope in your chest.

“Thank you mama. I love you.”

“I love you baby. You’re my everything.”

Taglist: @sweetestberryofthebunch @dreamypqulson @ahsfan05

(I just tagged people who I knew wanted to read this bc my other taglist is so out of date haha)

[sonnyinthesky]

Could someone help me with identifying support needs?

I am diagnosed level 1 autistic. Does this mean i have low support needs? It was never explained to me. In fact none of my diagnosis was. I don't know what the level means really and google isn't helping.

I can do ADLs myself. Such as having a shower, feeding myself, moving around, dressing, etc etc, but i often (always) need reminders.

I wont shower for weeks if i dont have someone demanding me constantly until i do, or when i was younger, physically forcing me in. I can't brush my teeth. I mean technically i can once i know i need to and have the toothbrush ready but i cant get to that point independently yk? I eat constantly, because i cant tell when im hungry so I interpret any discomfort as hunger which has caused many health issues. I often wear the same clothes for weeks because i forget i need to change them. Its only when i smell that i realise "oh i need to change my clothes".

As far as iADLs go, i can do some but not all. Im great at shopping, i love it, its a routine for me to go to the supermarket every day independently. I can also navigate public transport really well. I can't however, make a phone call or manage money or clean a mess or tidy my house or wash dishes after cooking. Its not laziness, i genuinely want to do those things, but being faced with the task causes me to freeze and/or meltdown and nothing gets done.

I need a lot of help and support from my mum every day to live happily. I cannot work or attend school, and i cant live alone yet. I cant drive either because i simply cannot wrap my head around the car and it causes so much anxiety that i have a meltdown every time i try. The theory is easy for me but the practical part i cant do.

I cant go to school or work because i struggle too much with the social aspect and the overstimulation. I had meltdowns before going and immediately after when i did go. And during i would have such panic and anxiety that i had to leave half way most days.

I cant live alone because i cant manage money or clean or any of that. I also would have no hygiene because i wouldnt shower or change or brush my teeth without help.

Thats all the things i cant do. But what are the things i can do? Do they outweigh that?

I can communicate well with safe people or about safe topics. I obviously dont communicate in an allistic way because im diagnosed autistic, but i can speak and mask when needed. I do suspect i have selective mutism, but generally i can talk most of the time and in emergencies.

I have been described by a lot of people as intelligent. I know a lot of facts and can learn quickly. I read and write really well. Im kinda shit at math but that's because i dont try at all and havent practiced in years.

I can cook (but not clean up after) and shop and go places that are familiar and accessible via public transport.

I can make friends if i really want to.

I can easily navigate social media and the digital world and do so safely.

I can mask and suffer through my sensory issues. I couldnt for a long time but now i can ignore sensory issues (it doesn't feel good but i can). I can also act neurotypical if i try.

So: what does this mean for me support needs wise? I know my level is 1 because im diagnosed that way, but are my support needs the same?

I dont ask to self diagnose or invade spaces i dont belong etc etc. im pretty sure im low support needs, i just am curious to know more about what autism is for me, because i was never told. My doctor diagnosed me but never told me anything about it and i want to understand.

Thank you for your help! Here is an autism creature for your troubles

[prodigal-explorer]

so as someone who is only on chapter one of omori and is obsessed with it here are my thoughts as a new member of the fandom

bear in mind that i haven’t finished the game. i only just got to that one creepy forest place? like the one after the spiders? please don’t spoil!!

but spoilers for everything before that below

1) I HATE BASIL. he’s such a stupid little punk. “uwu im so smol and helpless and i always get bullied and i’m so sweet and innocent” I JUST KNOW THAT FUCKER IS HIDING SOMETHING. everytime i end back in that stupid white room it’s because HES DOING SOME SUSSY SHIT. i also just hate him and everything about him and i know for a damn fact that he’s hiding something horrible behind that sweet little smile and he thinks he’s tricking me but he’s NOT I KNOW HIS GAME.

anyway.

2) i literally cannot decide on a favorite character. i have a least favorite, that’s pretty obvious, but when it comes to a favorite im torn. i LOVE omori, aubrey, kel, and hero all the same! i love mari too but i’m a little salty against her because all her hints for the quests are severely unhelpful 😭 but i still love her tho. i just love the main four so so much and i physically cant choose who i like better. poor little aubrey seems so scared and alone when she has the pink hair and she’s so kind in the little space world thing. hero is a sweetheart and i can’t wait to meet him in the colorful world where i’m moving or whatever. and kel is literally so me 😂 it’s not even funny he just does whatever the fuck he wants and that deserves some respect on his name. and omori is a kickass main character who has a cool thing going for him. but these four characters are sooo well crafted and i love how they work together! it’s a great dynamic balance!

3) i’m either a really bad gamer or the game is super long. i finished the prologue in like seven hours. it took SO LONG. i’m not used to indie games taking that long to play considering that i got through all of undertale in like 10-12 hours my first time. it’s awesome! i love finding all the secrets and talking to all the npcs but DAMNNN.

4) this game has so. much. detail. it’s insane. like the sheer amount of mini games and tiny pockets of lore. it’s like higher than undertale level and i don’t mean to keep going back to undertale but i see a lot of similarities in the game style. i also totally got sucked into playing like 30 rounds of blackjack on omoris computer. it was cool af.

5) the fighting mechanics are super hard. maybe i just suck at strategy but i am so bad at the fights that i just run away whenever i have the opportunity 😭 it’s a problem. i also have no clue how the happy sad angry shit works, i just make omori sad so stab has an attack boost and make aubrey angry so headbutt has an attack boost but other than that i don’t really use it at all and i don’t understand it. maybe that’s why it took me literally 10 tries to get past space ex boyfriend? it’s really fun i just think it’s supposed to be easier than it is and i just missed a memo on strategy.

6) i really love the message so far. the way that mental health is portrayed as something that’s a never ending journey. omori doesn’t just breathe and then everything’s okay, the game highlights realistic coping strategies and makes things like depression, anxiety, and phobias to understandable for any audience through a very creative medium: an indie video game. it’s genius. and i just love how it’s been approached so far, it’s very inspiring!

7) i’m terrified that this fandom is gonna make me mad, i swear to god if i just walk in and see a bunch of basil stan’s i’m turning and walking back out 💀 i mean okay maybe i’ll like basil better later but chances for that seem very low right now. my sister told me that apparently he went through some trauma thing? womp womp don’t care he’s an annoying mf who keeps taking me back to that boring white room where i stab myself, he’s a party pooper and i want a tornado to blow his dumb little flower house down.

[nerdygaymormon]

A F*cking Eating Disorder?!!!

A week ago it was determined I have an eating disorder. 

I'm having a lot of feelings about it. I mean, a f*cking eating disorder?!!! That's serious. My physician thinks I need a psychologist and a psychiatrist! I mean, yes, one is for talking and the other is for medication, but how bad is it that I need BOTH of them?

Already some things make more sense--illogical behaviors, compulsions, shame, secrecy. I’m sure even more will make sense once I begin therapy.

I'm tired of being broken. I’m tired of discovering new ways in which I was harmed. I’m mad at myself for staying in a space that caused this. Why wasn’t I brave enough to come out earlier and stand up for myself? Why did I believe all the hurtful “truths” said about queer people and use those to hate myself? I’m actually a wonderful person.

I did some really hard therapy for my social anxiety disorder. Sometimes the homework was too much and I’d sit in the car and cry, but I’d report my experience and then try again the next week. This is going to be hard, too. It scares me. I know it will lead to better physical and mental health, but the journey is going to be hell.

In therapy I learned to stop suppressing my feelings and to understand and manage them. That was a nightmare, I wasn’t used to strong emotions, I was crying all the time about everything like I was a toddler. The tests showed I’m a ‘deep feeler,’ so when I let myself start feeling again, those intense emotions were overwhelming. I’ve come a long ways, but I’m feeling so much right now that I wish I could be numb again.

I first went to therapy because I was suicidal and didn’t know what to do. I was required to share with 10 people that I was in therapy and why, and ask them if I could contact them if I needed to. This was part of my safety plan which I had to keep on me 24/7 for months. It was so embarrassing tell others and ask if it is okay to contact them if I need to. I learned people really cared. I did have to contact people a few times and ask them to say some good things about me, it was a way to break the string of negative comments streaming in my head. And they did, they always had some good things to say. Those months were the scariest of my life. Somehow I held on. I did the work. I did hard things. 

Another thing I worked on in therapy was low self-esteem. It was so bad that the first time I was asked to write a list of 10 things I like about myself, I broke down in tears, I thought really hard and felt I really stretched to get to 3. That’s it, 3 things, and it took 10 minutes to come up with them. I had minimized every good thing and accomplishment about myself to the point I had no positive feelings about them, which left only negative feelings about myself. It’s taken years to get where I can say good things about myself, accept compliments, and recognize some of the great things I do. I should never have felt that way about myself, that was self-destructive, but I believed all the negative things said about me and about people like me.

Along with working on self-esteem, I worked on my internalized homophobia and on accepting myself as a gay man. Being gay is fine, but allowing myself to try new things, have gay friends, and so on, has been breathtakingly amazing. Life is much better not having to spend so much energy trying to hide myself.

When I was a teen, I used to self harm. It was a way to change that emotional pain into physical pain. The physical pain overwhelmed the mental, it allowed me one thing to focus on. The physical pain was localized, the emotional pain seemed endless. Rather than cut or burn, I would hit my head repeatedly against the wall or lockers in the hope that I was causing brain damage and it would help lessen my ability to feel. I couldn’t see a life that wasn’t pain. I didn’t believe there could be happiness ahead for me in my life. 

C-PTSD means I have the symptoms of PTSD but it wasn’t caused by a shocking, scary, or dangerous event. Instead, C-PTSD is caused by ongoing trauma which lasts for months or years, while PTSD may be caused by a single traumatic event. YEARS. As a result, sometimes a trigger brings back strong feelings. I don’t just remember how I felt, I relive those feelings. 

As I had a serious discussion with my physician last week and talked about eating disorders and my mental health history and she asked questions screening me for depression or distress, it brought back these feelings I have around all the things I’ve worked on. 

I’ve worked hard but my life still isn’t all put together and figured out. Part of me feels like I’m drowning and I don’t know how to swim. I have to remind myself that I can swim, I’ve swum through some choppy waters. I can’t look at how far I need to go or it will feel like too much, just keep focused on my breathing and on moving forward. 

I’ve started telling a few friends because I’m sure I’ll need a support network. I know from experience it’s better if I have people who love me that I can turn to when I need them, like they’re my floaties (sorry, trying to fit this into the swimming metaphor)

[blogfullofemos]

Okay So I Promised a Carmy Fic 😅

I definitely wrote this when I was feeling low (which has been very frequent lately, hence the lack of posting), while listening to Britney Spears- Everytime. I'll share the tidbit I wrote at the time. If I can follow through on it, I'll continue it. Enjoy.

Pairing: Carmy Berzatto x fem! reader

Summary: Carmy doesn't understand why you're giving him a cold shoulder but he really wants you to say something.

Trigger Warning: Reader is experiencing an intense anxiety attack alone from C-PTSD, stuck in a hard headspace. If it becomes hard to read PLEASE STOP. As a person who suffers from it, I just want to shed some light to it.

Also Warning: There's touching and a scratch.

Word Count: 1344

Again thank you for sticking with me, I don't post often. But when I do, I see the amazing support and greatly appreciate. 💓 Enjoy and remember, take it easy.

      You haven’t been you for a week now and Carmen knew once it started. The short responses, the quiet removal of yourself in group settings, and the fake laughter. Did he say something to trigger you? Was he pushing too much of his stresses onto you without realizing? You guys were having petty arguments lately, but he always apologized when he was wrong. You doing the same. Taking a final drag from his cig during his break, he pulls out his phone to text you.

Carmy: Hey love, do we need to talk…

Carmen looks at the message and tsk as he deletes it, that was a little too abrasive. Even if he was reading a little too deep into it. He looks around the space, trying to communicate his concerns about you in an easier light. 

Carmy: My love, is everything okay? I’m going to let everybody off early today and give you all my attention tonight. Would you mind? Just let me know ok ❤️

Carmen jumps as the back door of the restaurant slams open with a highly irritated Natalie. “CARMY can you tell RICHIE and FAK to stop messing with the FUCKING ice machine!! Hitting it with a fucking wet mop is not going to FIX the shit and don’t even get me started if a fucking health inspector THINKS of coming!!” she yells with a redden face. Is she close to crying? Carmen quickly pulled himself out of his own issues and patted Nat on her shoulder. “Take a breather Sugar.” he says gently before storming inside the building.

“CUZZO!! FAK!! YOU BETTER GIVE ME A GOOD FUCKING REASON!!” is all Nat could hear before the door slams closed behind her.

A FEW HOURS LATER *in SpongeBob narrator voice*

       Before opening the apartment door, Carmen checks his phone once more. You really left him on seen, and would he be wrong to want to confront you? No he wouldn’t, and with that he unlocks the door with all the jurisdiction in his hands. He enters and slams the door behind him, “(Y/N)!!” he yells. The apartment remains in a still silence, the living room remaining the same as it was when he left. Hastily taking off his coat and tossing it on the cluttered couch, he storms down the narrow hallway. Yelling your name once more and checking the kitchen, he stops. Hearing the dull hum of the showerhead within the closed bathroom door, he barges himself inside. Ripping the shower curtain open with your name flying out his mouth, his eyes shot open as he sees you.

       You were hugging your legs, your drenched curly hair clinging onto your curled body. Your eyes looked back at him with red, your under eyebags swollen and dark. God, how long have you been crying? You hiccupped as your face scrunched into more sadness, “I’m so sorry.” You sobbed weakly burying your face back onto your knees. Whatever anger he felt shattered in seconds, his heart dropping cold. Instantly he lowered himself to your level, placing a gentle hand on your back. You were shaking. “Hey, hey.” he says, trying to brush your wet hair from your faee. But you weren’t helping, turning your face away and letting your hair fall back into place. Carmen quickly takes his shirt off, and inches nearer to you. His arm wrapping around you, the side of the bathtub being the only barrier between you two. “Baby you gotta say something please.” his voice shakes within your hair. You sob some more as he rests his head on your shoulder, letting the cold water soak him as well.

     “I’m having a hard time.” You admit, hugging yourself tighter. Instinctually Carmen tries to pull you in tighter, his other hand resting on your thigh. “Is it about us?” he rushes as panic rises within him. You shake your head quickly, easing his inner worries in seconds. He kisses the side of your head, “Tell me what’s on your mind right now baby.” He says giving you another peck. You shake your head and sob. You were being so weak, and he didn’t deserve to deal with it. He has bigger things to be stressed about. Why be another on his list? A few minutes pass as you both listen to the water fall and your dry sobs eased up. He pets your head, “Hey look at me please.” he says. You turn your face to him and rest it on your knees, letting him brush away all your hair. His blue eyes were watery, his nose and cheeks rosy. “I’m here.” He consoles with a sniffle, resting his tatted hand on your cheek. He soothingly rubs his thumb, easing your tension headache and nerves. You close your eyes, finally relishing some form of sensation. 

      “You can trust me; I know we’ve been on bumpy grounds. But I’m not letting you go this easy.” He says, kissing your forehead. Instantly you loosen your grip on yourself and pull him in for a kiss. He grips the side of the bathtub for stability, but never letting his lips leave yours. You rest your hands in his soaked waves, pulling him in more. God, you needed him, your heart ached for his every touch. “I need you.” You plead, never wanting to break the distance. Your hands fall as you watch him stand up and undress before you. Your heavy eyes scan him slowly, his cock barely even hard and you couldn’t blame him. “Get up.” He says putting his hands out like anchors. You take a hold of them and stumble up, your body unbelievably heavy and tight. His eyes scanning your body and when you finally stood, he steps in.

    He corners you in and away from the cold water. He silently makes you look into his eyes as his fingers hold your chin gently. He takes your lips with his in a slow and soft hold. You place your hands onto his shoulders, pulling him closer. He puts his hand on the side of your neck, the other above your head. You open your mouth more and brush your tongue on his upper lip, granting him more access which he quickly followed. Every movement he made, even in the make out, subtle and slow. He’s letting you take the lead, unsure if you were doing this to use him as a distraction but fuck it if you were. It was better than any thing else. He breaks the make out for a breather before heading to your favorite spot on your neck, pecking it as his hands rests below your breasts. “Carmy.” You whisper as you arch your back to try and press your body against his. He only smiles against your skin as he licks your neck before giving it a nip.

      You moan as he starts suckling the area. Bringing your hand within his hair and gripping it, the other clawing his shoulder for more. He grips your ribs only slightly from the scratch you were giving him, “Easy babe.” he says.

“Sorry.” you apologize, moving the hand to his side. You rest your head back and close your eyes, letting your body take in the tantalizing sensations. His hands fondling your breasts, fingers teasing your nipples, and his mouth marking up your neck. Maybe you can trust him. Maybe he is strong enough to deal with your messy ass. Maybe you could love him deeper than this. You took a deep inhale as you told him everything. The way your cptsd is chewing you alive and your anxiety just adding the many cherries on top. Carmen stopped marking up your neck to hold you in an embrace. He listened as your body shook every sentence that spewed out, kissing your temple and rubbing your back. He asked questions on things he didn’t quite understand, and you answered.  “I’m sorry for throwing so much on you, I-I.” you try to finish while wiping your eyes, but Carmen shooshes you.

      “I’m just happy you told me.” he smiles, kissing your temple one more time. 

[shellgrabbingpapa]

Today was a low mental health day. Not the whole day and not for any particular reason.

I was just hanging out in the living room and for a second I felt the body sensations of an ache and awareness in the center of my torso. This is the ache generally associated with sad. Today, it was sad-depressed-loneliness.

Most of the time, I would try to do something else. Watch something, play games, find some kind of distraction. Today, I just stayed where I was and sat with the feeling. I was able to quickly identify it and it went just as easy as it came.

Then the thinking starts… I began to analyze and overthink and try to dissect the feeling and what to do about it, despite it no longer being there. I began to judge myself for thinking so much about it and not just letting it be. I started to become Chicken Little, feeling something solid hit my head and think the whole sky is about to fall. And it didn’t nor was it going to. Any action that I could think of to remedy myself felt disingenuous. I was trying to to solve a problem that didn’t exist.

Sadness, anger, disgust, anxiety are not problems.

My entire life, through both action and inaction, I was taught that any of those emotions and experiences were a problem. I was a problem. My feelings were too much, my sense of danger was wrong, my need for boundaries was wrong, my need to grieve was wrong. So of course, I have a difficult time just allowing those feelings to have space and be seen. And that’s all they want. If you sit with a complicated emotion and breathe through it, notice where you feel it in your body, and what that sensation is signaling to you, it doesn’t last for long. It won’t go away for forever, and it won’t stay for forever, because no emotion does.

Today, I saw my pain within me and I invited it in. I let it know I could see and feel it and that I was listening. In that small, silent action I felt relief. I felt proud. Proud of my growth and progress in healing. Proud of my resilience. Proud of the love that I now have for myself and the reteaching and reparenting I’ve been able to do, even within the last few years.

[priscilla9993]

Currently on ep 4, somebody tell me why the last two minutes of this left cliffhangers for all these traumatized main characters for season 2. Here are my theories and thoughts. 

As much as I ship Elias and Chise as the main ones, I’m also dying to see Chise and Philomela as girlfriends besties. Although Chise is often the damsel in distress while successfully being someone’s white knight (self sacrificial harm am I right?), I can see her rescuing Philomela from whatever ails her by being a friend, be it being supportive about mental health problems, isolation, bullying, or magical curse problems. But like tell me why Philomela, sleep deprived and anxious baby, threw away the calming teas that Chise gave her? Trust levels may be low but I just want someone to hug Philomela and tell her that not everyone is kind bc they want something in return.

Lucy as Chise’s dorm roommate has so much potential except that girlie likes her space, quiet, and sleep more than anything else. I hope Chise reaches out to her more when she’s awake despite everyone else seeing her alone and saying “she’s just like that so don’t bother”. Seeing her wake up from a nightmare about people manufacturing stuff, I’m just like “is that your backstory moment for why you don’t trust or want to hang out with anyone?” Could it be related to war or the printing of books?

Zoe (I assume they’re male but that name seems so oddly female) has red headphones on all the time and can sense things that are un-normal I guess. Dude looks like he’s on the verge of a panic or anxiety attack at the sight of Chise so eeee. I can only assume he has sensory overstimulation problems from things that are unknown or not human but I really hope he can open up to others and give people like Chise a chance, to see them not as malicious or with ill intent.  Great googly moogly, all of these characters have trauma and unseen backstories as of now, but I’m all for them becoming friends and getting past their differences by realizing they don’t have to controlled by their fears or going through them alone.