#physical therapy and medical stuff has been cutting into my sleep for three weeks now

[magicalgirlmindcrank]

Blehhh

[writersrealmbts]

A Natural: Part 5

Description: Hybrid!Taehyung x Reader: You’re a single mom, and your son is your entire world. When you take him to get his first hybrid, his choice is pretty bewildering, until you realize that he was picking out a dad.

Posted: 05/24/2020

Tags: Taehyung, Hybrid Taehyung, Human Reader

Wordcount: 1,906

A/N: Oh look, another series that was never supposed to be a series. And I had to pick a new series gif because it wouldn’t show up. 

Taehyung woke you up gently, pressing kisses to your cheeks, nose and forehead.

You sighed and stretched. “Mmm, what time is it?”

“Seven,” He whispered, tilting your chin slightly so he could kiss your lips. “You said you wanted to get there early.”

You nodded. “It’s his first day of physical therapy. He was scared. Jin send any updates?”

“Haven’t checked. You okay?” He asked, feeling your forehead.

“Just tired. Always tired. I wish there was a miracle cure that I could give him. Or that I could take his pain and he could continue to be my rambunctious baby.” You buried your face in his shoulder, sighing in frustration.

The past three weeks had been exhausting. You couldn’t recall a single night where you felt like you went to bed with some scrap of mental, emotional, or physical strength. They had woken Theo up about a week and a half after he was admitted, and he had taken it well since he was still so groggy. But you hardly left his side for the first three days. The only reason you left on the fourth was because of work. You had to pay for the medical bills somehow. Now they were thinking he was healed enough to start some very minor physical therapy. He didn’t have feeling from about mid-shin down, but his brain had healed well. The doctors didn’t think there was any lasting damage now. He got the casts off of his legs and his collarbone was healed, so they were really happy with how he was recovering so far.

Taehyung spent most of his days at the hospital, and Jin and Jimin alternated nights to help you two out.

Yoongi bought you lunch most days, and visited Theo on the weekends. Bringing movies to binge and board games to play.

Theo always perked up when Yoongi got there on Saturday morning.

Namjoon brought Hoseok whenever the two didn’t have too much work, and he would bring in music stuff—instruments or tracks—to entertain Theo.

Theo loved Namjoon’s music visits, just as he loved music class the most.

Hoseok still had to catch up on some grading, and recovering his class from a week with a substitute teacher on top of his own bit of physical therapy for his leg injury. He still obviously felt guilty, but he also helped Theo learn things he was missing in class. He had told you that the kids would ask after Theo, and they even sent in get-well-soon cards.

Theo kept saying he couldn’t wait to go back to school.

Jimin drew cartoons on Theo’s casts before they were removed and Theo loved them so much that he insisted Jimin teach him how to draw, and now there were drawings everywhere.

Taehyung kissed your collarbone. “Hey, you okay?”

“Just…waking up.” You curled into him.

He chuckled sleepily. “No, you’re not.”

“Are you telling me that you’re awake?”

He gave a sleepy sounding hum. “Not really, but I know we need to get up.”

You nodded, yawning into his chest and then rolling away from him and getting up in one movement.

“Hey, Jimin texted me to call him,” Taehyung said, frowning at his phone.

You sighed. “It probably has something to do with his parents. You better call him.”

He made an almost growling sound at the mention of Jimin’s parents—who had been a continual pain in the ass through this whole process—but he calls Jimin.

You don’t pay attention much while he talks to Jimin, getting ready for the day, and only noticing that something was wrong when Taehyung growls again.

He’s pacing along his side of the bed, not saying anything but there’s a steady growl in his throat. “He starts his therapy today!”

You flinch when he scoffs, and worry fills you at the frown creasing his forehead.

“What am I supposed to tell Y/n, Jiminie?!”

“I’d suggest the truth if you want everyone to live,” You said, eyes narrowed.

He looked up and gulped. “Can I make him explain it?”

You were already in front of him, taking the phone. “What’s going on?”

“My parents…they caused a scene here and the doctors decided to reschedule his physical therapy…since my parents ordered a DNA test.” Jimin sounded apologetic.

“What do they expect to get from a DNA test?” You asked, feeling bile rise in your throat.

“I don’t know, but I’m on top of it, they won’t make a move I don’t know about. I’ll stay with him all day, okay?”

“Jimin, why did they order a DNA test?”

He was quiet, and you heard him huff out a breath. “Because they want to see if he’s actually who we claim and maybe add him to their will if he is,” He said, sounding frustrated.

“Which means they’d try to take him away from me?”

“Possibly. If you didn’t want to comply with their standards.”

“Which I won’t.” You glared at the wall. “Your family sucks.”

“I know. It’s probably better if you stay away, though, that’ll delay things because they need your permission to do the DNA testing.”

You froze. “But—”

“I’ll keep her away,” Tae said, loud enough to be heard, and taking the phone. “Call us if Theo needs her.”

You stared in disbelief as he said goodbye to Jimin and then hung up.

He looked back at you. “It’s for the best, anyway. You’re exhausted.”

“I can’t sleep, not now,” You argued.

“There’s more than just physical exhaustion,” He rebutted, then leaned in and kissed you. “He’s safe with friends. Yoongi will be there later today, with Namjoon and Jimin, just like they planned and they’ll play games with Theo.”

“I barely ever there—”

“You practically live there,” He cut you off with a whine. “Please, I know you’re tired. I know. It’s been a really hard month. But Theo’s being looked after really well. All of the nurses adore him because he’s so sweet and polite. It’s time to take care of yourself.”

You tilted your head, at a loss for words.

He stepped closer, and arms wrapping around your waist after he tossed the phone onto the bed. His lips met yours softly. “It’s time to forget you’re a mom for a few minutes. Just…be you. Be who you were before you were a mom.”

“I don’t know who that is,” You whispered.

“Then just be the person you are with me,” He whispered back, voice low and deep.

You sighed and surrendered to him, allowing him to pull you into a series of lingering kisses.

“Dress up a bit, lets go out.” He murmured, tail swooshing behind him. “Or, well…let’s go for a picnic.”

You stepped back slightly, uncertain.

“Please, Y/n. We both need to let go for a while.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek.

And you gave in, nodding. “Okay, but…I don’t know…I don’t want to deal with other people.”

“Then we’ll have a picnic in the backyard. You get ready, and I’ll go get things set up and then if you could make us sandwiches?”

You nodded.

“Then we’ll have a nice little date,” He said, grinning at you as his fingers brushed your cheek. Then his shoulders scrunched happily with his face and he practically skipped out of the room. “Remember, wear pretty clothes!”

“O-okay…” You called back, then frowned at your closet door. “I don’t know if I have anything?”

You went into your closet, looking for something pretty that was also middling between casual and Easter Sunday high teas that you used to go to at your grandmother’s senior home while she was alive.

Instead you found frustration and work clothes. Some clothes you might wear to parent-teacher conferences, or to one of the school events.

But the only date-like thing you found in your closet was from before Theo was conceived and you weren’t about to try that on. You knew how your body had changed since then and didn’t need the reminder from your closet. You’d sort of squeezed into it the last time you’d worn it anyway, and you had more hip now.

Sure, you probably had more clothes in that box, but you knew most of the clothes in ther

Taehyung came back when you had been in there for too long. “What’s wrong?”

“No clothes,” You muttered. “Nothing to wear.”

He tilted his head, then came over to look through your clothes. He pulled out a sweater and a skirt, handing them to you. “It’s a little cold outside, so maybe leggings?”

You looked over the outfit and then at him, surprised. “Um…yeah…okay.”

He nodded and walked out. “I’ll make sandwiches!”

You heard your bedroom door close, and started changing. You were surprised at how well he managed to find an outfit for you, but then again, he dressed so well himself, even on a minimal budget.

And it was a nice, casual date outfit.

You did your hair a little, and your makeup a little more. Actually put on earrings and a necklace.

Taehyung was plating sandwiches, making things look nice.

You looked outside in surprise. “It’s raining?”

He looked out as well. “Yeah. It just started. But we can still have a picnic. It’ll just have to be a living room picnic. I already cleared the space and….” He trailed off when he looked at you. His expression softened and he smiled. “Wow, y/n. You look so beautiful.”

You could have blushed, and you might have blushed from the way he was looking at you. “It’s been a while.”

“You always look beautiful,” He added, sincerity in all of his features and gestures. He took your hands in his, tail slowly swishing. “Thank you for agreeing to do this with me.”

You nodded, looking at the ground, unable to meet his gaze.

“Ooh, can I put a fire in the fireplace?”

You nodded again, stealing glanced at him as he excitedly went to turn on the gas fireplace.

Then he dimmed the lights some, and finished arranging blankets and pillows.

“Alright, I think that covers it, sorry we’re only having sandwiches.”

“I can live with sandwiches,” You replied softly, letting him lead you over to sit in the picnic area. You got comfortable while he hurried back to get the plate of sandwiches. You didn’t know your living room could feel so romantic.

He brought over the food and drinks on the bed-tray, setting it down. “It’s just grape juice, but I thought the glasses made it feel more romantic.”

You smiled. “Does. I didn’t even know the living room could look like this.”

He grinned. “We should make it look like this more often.”

You laughed a little.

He kept your laughing a little as the two of you ate, telling you stories and drawing stories of your family out.

You moved the tray and sat beside him, leaning on his shoulder.

He was still for a moment before relaxing into it. He kissed your forehead, then kept telling you about a movie he had seen.

You stared into the fire, listening to his voice. It was so soothing, so wonderfully perfect.

His lips met yours softly, then parted to lightly brush your cheeks. “I love you, y/n.”

You sighed happily, eyes staying shut. “I love you, Taehyung.”

Previous.  Next.

Taehyung Masterpost.  Masterlist.  

Taglist (must comment on taglist to be tagged from now on)

Tagging: @rosita7703, @ephemeral-mindset @forvever-ddaeng  @ncttzuuy @givebuckysomelove @alex--awesome--22  @missmoxxiesworld  @bryvada @knjhe  @i-dont-even-know-fck @young-yellkie @veryuniquenamegoeshere @lottohsehunnie​ @briramirezalipio​ 

Unable to tag: @bunnyboyenthusiast (think you changed to @kthstrawberryshortcake​ please let me know if I’m wrong or right because I have you listed for multiple stories)

[herofics]

Hello! How are you? Can I request a scenario where class 1a finds out you're alive after they think you died during a fight with a villain? (Either because you got caught up in an explosion or fell off a cliff into a body of water or something)? Thanks! Hope you have a good day!

I’m good I guess. I wasn't feeling like writing the whole class and there is a three character limit, but I did some of the more main characters I guess. Also this isn’t my best work, but it’s okay I think.

You had been badly burnt in the fire and when you were brought to the hospital, you were extremely hard to identify. You were barely alive, but the doctors did all they could and saved your life. However, you were in a medically induced coma for months and no one managed to get to the bottom of who you were.

The whole class attended your funeral, along with the teachers, your family and many others. People laid flowers on your casket and a few of your family members and relatives made some speeches.

It was half a year after the fire that you were woken up from your coma. Since you knew who you were and were at least somewhat coherent, the hospital staff managed to get in contact with your family and the UA. Recovery Girl visited you to aid with your recovery and when you were allowed to have visitors a whole lot of your classmates showed up. You were still mostly covered in bandages, so of course someone had to comment on it.

“We thought (Name) was in this room, not a mummy” Kaminari remarked with a grin.

“Hahaa” you said mockingly as everyone gathered around your bed. No one really knew what to say to you.

“How are you feeling?” Midoriya asked, breaking the awkward silence.

“I’m fine, all things considered. What about all of you?”

Everyone glanced at each other and then looked back to you.

“How the fuck do you think? We thought you were dead” Bakugou growled angrily, earning disapproving looks from his classmates.

“You do realize that’s not really my fault, right?”

“Of course we know that, for the last six months… you were gone” Uraraka said.

Silence descended upon the room once more, and now you felt like you had to say something to break it.

“How has it been at school? Any more villain attacks?”

“Well not directly at the school, but All Might is out of the hero business after Bakugou got kidnapped by the League of villains and-” Kirishima started explaining.

“Shut the fuck up shitty hair” Bakugou cut him off and smacked the back of Kirishima’s head.

“That sounds like a pretty big thing” you said with a shocked expression.

Everyone involved in the what you got to know as the Kamino incident, told you what had happened. Yaoyorozu’s recount of the events probably made the most sense. Midoriya didn’t say that much but you could see the pain in his and Bakugou’s eyes. Todoroki stayed mostly quiet, adding a few little details in the story here and there, but mostly he just either looked at you or around the room. Kaminari wasn’t present at Kamino, but him and Kirishima got into a little argument about the details of the whole thing, which made you laugh, since it was clear to you Kaminari was just coming up with all the stuff he was saying. Iida was trying to keep everyone quiet, so they wouldn’t get thrown out, but he didn’t have much success.

“When are you coming back to school?” Todoroki asked, after the whole Kamino incident explanation was over.

“In a few weeks maybe, but my participation is gonna to be limited, since I need to finish physical therapy before I’m allowed back to the gym class and hero stuff” you shrugged

“Take your time, school can wait” Iida assured, which was kind of surprising coming from him.

Everyone only left when the visiting hours ended, which was hours after they had arrived and you were left exhausted and ready to get some sleep. You had gotten some good laughs and interesting information out of talking with your friends.

Six months in a coma had seemed like a blink of an eye to you, but you knew it had hurt your classmates a lot, even if they didn’t tell you, you could see it in their eyes, but you could also see they were happy to have you back.

[charmingpplincardigans]

January Kitchen Sink Check In

This is mostly for me, because I’m trying to become a better person this year, for varying definitions of the term ‘better’, and I like to see my progress laid out all organized like. It helps me move forward. So I’m gonna go through my Body/Mind/Money goals for January and note how I did and what I’m going to do moving forward!

BODY

Working Out: 

My two work out goals for the end of the year are to 1) be doing yoga semi-regularly and 2) be working out four days a week reliably, including the yoga. I’m working on easing myself into these (and all) habits, because I don’t want to overwhelm myself and give up on everything, so my goal for January was to work out one day a week. And I worked out *drumroooooooll* NONE! NOT A ONCE. I don’t have an excuse for this. Part of it was stress, part of it was depression, part of it was sheer laziness. I promise myself I’m gonna work out at least once a week in February, but also shoot for the two times a week that is the February Goal. 

Food: 

I have several overall food goals for the year. One is to give up soda near completely, or at least to break my addiction to it. The others are to start planning meals and eat less meat. For January I wanted to drink only two sodas a day (20oz max). I managed that 23 days out of 31. In looking at the calendar you can reliably match the days I failed to the days that were extremely stressful or anxiety ridden. I have a very bad habit in those moments of throwing up my hands and deciding that I’m a failure anyway so nothing matters. That’s definitely a mental tick to keep an eye on over the next few months as my job no doubt just gets more and more stressful. The other goals I did okay with. I decided to plan one meatless meal a week. New recipes I made in January were: 

Black bean soup

Moroccan sweet potatoes

Spinach lasagna

Black bean & sweet potato enchiladas

Do recommend most of them. The lasagna had way too much cinnamon in it, which was kind of weird. If I make that recipe again I’m gonna quarter the amount. But I might just find a different veggie lasagna to make. 

For February I want to drop the soda to one a day (12oz max), and start to plan to make two meals a week. I’m doing okay with meat, but I could for sure do better. It helps that I have started making THE WORLD’S BEST SANDWICHES for lunch. Probably just gonna eat those forever instead of ordering out Huey Magoo’s or whatever. (The sandwich is hummus, cucumber, and feta on toasted Good Seed bread. Try it!)

Doctor Things:

Uff. I need to figure out the CPAP issues and the chest pain issues. I absolutely despised the first mask they sent me for the CPAP. It gave me panic episodes and I was ripping it off IN MY SLEEP. Insurance refused me a new mask until April, but my doctor came in like an angel with a sample version of a different type of mask to try. This one is...better. I’m still not comfortable in it and it’s not appreciably helping my sleep. People keep telling me it’s going to change my life, but that has not happened yet. On the other hand I have friends who’ve tried to make them work for YEARS and never did, so I’m wary of this whole process, but still trying. 

I had a sort of fraught meeting with my cardiologist last week. My chest pain symptoms had been getting better as of October, but with the change in my job I’ve back slid almost entirely. I had a 36 hour period of chest pain two weeks ago. I go whole nights having every heart attack symptom in slow motion, but doing nothing about it because I can’t afford for the ER to tell me I’m fine five times a month. I cried when she asked me why I didn’t go to a hospital when that happened. I feel so helpless all of the time and I’m certain I’m going to die any day now, even though my heart is technically physically fine. Can you anxiety yourself into a heart attack? I THINK YOU CAN. She did tell me to try to speak to the psychiatrist again about anxiety medication. The last time I tried the woman I saw didn’t want to prescribe me anything. She told me to work on my sleep and come back. Welp! The cardiologist said that if that happens this time she’ll write a note telling her to prescribe me something. We’ll see. I need to try to make that appt this month. 

MIND

Therapy:

My therapist thinks I’ve done really well over the last year with working on myself and said out loud that she thinks I’m better at dealing with some things and am in a good position to move forward. But I’m so stressed right now that I just feel like I’ve fallen apart again. We’re meant to start on EMDR this week, but I’m going to have to put a pause on it so I can talk about how I’m at like, the lowest point of my life, which she will be very supportive of and then probably remind me that if we could just get to the EMDR and work with the older traumas this might not feel so dire. I’m just, on the struggle bus and too tired to do anything but freak out about that. 

Writing: 

I have so may creative goals this year! Too many probably! I should put some back! My creative goals for the year are:

Complete a rough draft of AMLD (10,000 words a month)

Complete and mail out the Girls Who Date the Universe chapbook

Complete and mail out any remaining art for people who helped me with the car fund

Work on poetry and short fictions (Monster Story?)

Actually check in to @gywo every month (10 days a month goal)

My creative goals for January were to write 10,000 words on AMLD, work on the extra poems for GWDTU, and send the remaining postcards from the car fund. And uh...look. I did work on writing. I worked on the chapbook layout and editing pieces that needed to be edited/replaced, because there are several. I did also work on the outline for AMLD, but didn’t write new words on it. Not anywhere 10,000 of them at any rate. 

The owing people art thing is just...it fucks me up, man. I have learned a huge lesson between the car fund and the patreon. I get so in my head about how these people deserve beautiful things and then I tell myself I’m not capable of making things worthy of them and then I put off doing the thing because I want to put off letting them down and then it just spirals from there. ALL THE WHILE I AM FOR SURE LETTING THEM DOWN. I realize this is both unhealthy and unprofessional. It’s why one of my goals this year is to clear all of this once and for all so that I can square myself away with everyone and try not to end up here in the future. 

So, the January Goals now get rolled up into the February Goals, which leaves the new list for the month at: 

10,000 words AMLD

Complete extra poems for GWDTU

Send postcards from car fund

Complete layout for Boston chapbook for car fund

I did check in for GYWO. 

Future Plans:

Part of letting off the pressure for the now for me is always about planning for the future. Not like, the actual future, I’m not starting a 401k, let’s not go nuts. But for something that is one step forward. In my notes for my year goals this is all about moving back to Boston. I need to set a date for it. I need to save money for it. I need to keep my job until after I’ve done it. But now I think this part needs to include notes about my job itself and the ways I can either move forward with it or move away from it once and for all. 

I talked to Lisa and Kait at the beginning of the year about the moving plan, and now I just need to talk to my apartment complex to see if it would be feasible to extend the lease to December or February without paying an exorbitant amount in rent each month. If rent ends up being more than $2k/mo for the extension then I’m just going to have to have to wait until June 2022. This frustrates me, because I hate not being able to just follow through with decisions once I’ve made them, but patience is another thing I’m working on eternally. My goal for February is figure out money stuff well enough and talk to complex and set a timeline. 

Work is. Wow. It’s awful right now. I still have my job, which takes up much of my days, but because of re-org I’m also having to learn a whole new job which would also take up much of my day. I can’t not learn this job, because the person who used to do it is in another department now too, so there’s no one to get the work done if I don’t learn to do it. But I also can’t do both. I CAN’T DO BOTH. An issue popped up last week with my job that literally brought my ulcer back. I asked my boss for help with it and she sent me a message at one point saying she wanted to cry about it. So like. She knows now, right? She knows I can’t do both jobs?? BUT THERE’S NO ONE ELSE TO DO IT SO I GUESS I JUST GET TO SLOWLY KILL MYSELF. I’m just so frustrated, and angry that these decisions get made without taking the people in them into account, and of course anxious and miserable. I’m currently dreading work in a way I haven’t since I was in text perms. It’s real bad. So I have to find a way to make it work or find a way out. 

My February approach to that is to finish this Love It or Leave It book and see if I can’t divine where my true motivation lies, and also to research library school. I kind of would rather not go back to school. Not because I wouldn’t spend my entirely life in school if I could. I WOULD. But because it’s expensive and time intensive and there’s no promise my life will be better after it’s over. But every job I think I want pretty much requires that masters, so. We’ll look into it at least. 

MONEY

Eating Out:

During the pandemic, one of my money sinks became DoorDash. I never used it before, because it costs literally twice as much as just going to get the food. (Also because I kind of like eating in restaurants alone. Ah, one day again I hope!) But the more afraid I became of the outside world, the less inclined I was to go into a restaurant to pick up take out, so I’ve had it brought to me. And I need to cut that shit out! I have food at home! My goal for January was to order out only 4 times a week. I managed this for three of the weeks, but when I blew it it was definitely those weeks at the very beginning and very end of the month where I was super stressed. The goal in February is to only order out 3 times a month.

Savings:

I need to open a high yield savings account. I’ve had the starting money for the move just sitting in my bank account making me no extra money for like, four months. The latest reason I haven’t moved it over is that I’m worried I’m going to owe a lot in taxes this year because of the partial unemployment I got. Hopes are that since it was a work share the taxes were taken out ahead of time, but I do not trust the government with my money as far as I can throw them, so. I’ll do my taxes this month and finally know for sure. And then I WILL move the rest of the money into a high yield savings account. I WILL. 

Also, every time my credit union savings hits a grand, I’ll move $500 of that over into the high yield account to put toward moving expenses. 

Budget:

I keep meaning to sit down and work out my new budget for 2021. I’m bringing home a little bit less in my paycheck because I changed my health insurance, and I’m also, of course, trying to save as much as I can ahead of moving so I don’t put anything on credit cards. (I’m doing so well paying those down!) This means I need to save everything I can and not spend money on stupid frivolous stuff. I’m not buying clothing like I did in the before times, but I AM spending too much money at Target still, because the app lets me just peruse any dumb idea I have and then pick it up that day! What a disaster! So, I really need to work something out. Or at least, I need to check my bank accounts more often and keep tabs on how much is actually going out. I have a bad out-of-sight-out-of-mind habit when it comes to bank accounts. Just another piece of me to try to cure this year.

And that’s it for January. I’m now late to bed because I’ve been working on this post for an hour and a half. Working on my sleep is also a goal, but we’ll see how exercise and the cpap handle that. Til next month!

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #391

“if you wanna soar with vultures, you’ll have to swallow crow”

Have you ever been to Australia? No. I want to visit a friend there, but honestly, Australia scares me too much lmao. That place is like, the Hard mode in life. Who was the last person you know to have a birthday? My sister's husband just had his. Are you wearing a necklace? If so, describe it. No. Do you know anyone who is left-handed? My best fren. Ever wear out a CD? What was it? Haha, yeah... I caused a few scratches on Ozzy's Black Rain, as well as one more of his, where the album name is surprisingly evading me. What’s your favorite card game? Magic: The Gathering. What’s your favorite fast food meal? Burgers or chicken tenders are usually my go-to, depending on the place. Where is the best restaurant you’ve ever eaten in at? The Cheesecake Factory. @_@ Lamb chops or pork chops? I've actually never tried lamb chops before, but I've always thought they look yummy. If you HAD to pick ONE song to listen to for the rest of your life, and that would be the only song you ever heard, what would it be? "Life Won't Wait" by Ozzy Osbourne, probably. It's very motivating. Ever heard of Shinedown? Yeah, I like 'em. They're one of Dad's faves. What size is your bed? Queen. What is the first meal you remember eating? Hell if I know. What was the first movie you ever saw? I also don't remember. What percentile of your class were you in? The top. Can you name every place you’ve ever had sex? I probably could, but I'm not going to. What forms of birth control have you used? The pill and also just not having a sex life lmao. Do you use sponges or dishcloths when doing the dishes? A sponge. What’s your favorite song on the top twenty right now? I have zero clue what's in the top twenty. Ever punched a wall? No. What was the last bug you killed and what did you use? An ant in the house. My fingers. Ever get pulled over by the cops and get away without a ticket? I've never been pulled over. What was your first legal alcoholic drink? A margarita, I think? What’s the most expensive things your parents ever bought you? Probably this laptop. What’s the most expensive thing you’ve bought? My snake. Or my most recent tattoo, idr. What is your favorite cover song? I think Disturbed's "Sound of Silence" is unbeatable as a cover. Well, or Johnny Cash's "Hurt." Both SLAUGHTER the originals. Did you ever drop out of school? College, three times. Ever raise a child that wasn’t your own for more than 3 months? No. Strangest medical procedure ever performed on you? Considering the location, having a pilonidal cyst drained by pushing on it. Jesus FUCKING Christ it hurt so goddamn bad. Does the place you work have music playing? What sort? I don’t have a job. Do you use Windows, Mac, Linux, or something else entirely? Windows. Do you cut tags out of clothing so they don’t itch and bother you? Yes. How many times a year do you go on vacation? Zero, generally. What is your favorite time period in history to learn about? The Holocaust. What’s the saddest report you have ever seen on the news? *shrug* I don't watch the news. In your honest opinion, what is the scariest sea creature you know? Putting aside my illogical fear of whale sharks, probably giant squid. Like no thank u. What superpower do you think would be the most handy in times of trouble? Teleportation. Do you believe there is just one love for everyone, or…? No. There are WAY too many people in the world for that. Plus, you're talking to a person who has been in love with two different individuals, and both were perfectly valid feelings. Why are you best friends with your best friend? She's just simply amazing. Strong, funny, intelligent, caring, supportive, loyal... She's, again, amazing. Do you world peace is truly a possibility in the future? Realistically, no. But it's nice to imagine. Pretend you are a really good cook, what meal would you make? *shrug* It would depend on what I wanted to eat. What do you think of when you look at the stars? Just the vastness of everything, and I wonder what it's like up there in outer space. If a turtle doesn’t have a shell, is he homeless or naked? Dead? Their shells are part of their actual skeletal structure. What’s one thing you feel you must do in your life before it ends? Just... feel like I did something. What Disney princess are you most like? Personality-wise, I mean. Maybe Belle? To be totally honest, I don't really remember the details of most of their personalities. What do you think is the most important thing in this life is? Love. Do you use any acne medication? Not anymore. Have you ever tried to learn another language? How did it go? I took Latin for one semester, and it was hard as FUCK. I quickly changed to German next semester and did that for all four available classes. Do you still have a landline phone in your home? No. Throughout a typical week, which places are you likely to go? I go to the TMS therapy office every weekday, and I might ride with my mom to pick up groceries or something. How often do you use your webcam, if you even have one that is? Never anymore because my mic doesn't work on this laptop, so there's no reason to. Do you have a lock number or pattern for your phone? Neither, actually. What was the last thing you bought from a liquor store? Mom bought a nice bottle of some pink lemonade Smirnoff the other day for us to try, but she left it at my sister's. ;-; It looked soooo good. Is there any cereal in your house? What kind? Yeah. Mom got some Honey Nut Cheerios and Reese's Puffs. What's the most number of people you've ever lived with? Excluding myself, I wanna say five. Do you celebrate St. Patrick's Day? No. Do you have any pets? How long have you had them? I've had Venus forrrr... I want to say four years, and Roman for two, I think. What's your favourite kind of cheese? American. Have you danced in the rain? No. Who is your favorite person to text? Sara. What’s your favorite brand of jeans? I haven't worn jeans in many years. Do you enjoy Mario games? Not especially. Mario Kart is fun, though. What’s your favorite online game? World of Warcraft. Have you ever been hit with a ball in gym class? Yes. That shit hurts. Who was last to cook for you? My mom. Would you ever wish to explore a cave? YES!!!!! You see the person you fell hardest for. What do you do? Freeze, physically and mentally. Have you ever ridden in a car with someone who was high? Yes, because I was afraid to say no. Did you ever date the last person you kissed? Yes. Have you ever held a snake? Plenty of times. How often do you have friends over to your house? Never. Have you ever had a boss who acted unprofessionally? No. Who was the last person who cried around you? Why did they start crying? Was it unexpected? My mom, because she always feels unwanted at Ashley's house. It wasn't unexpected, honestly. She cries a lot in the car when she leaves my sister's house, honestly. It's heartbreaking. Do you have any exercises you do everyday? No. :/ Are you more of a dog or cat person? I'm a cat person. That only becomes more apparent with time, really. Have you ever had a dream of stabbing someone? I probably have, given I've had nightmares of strangling someone, punching and slapping people... all kinds of stuff. My nightmares are so fucking violent and I hate it. Would you ever have a bird as a pet? No. Have you ever had to speak at a funeral? No. Do you know someone who’s been cremated? My dog, as well as my younger sister's old pup. And Mom's. What is your favorite animated movie? The Lion King. Did your grandparents teach you anything? To not be horrendously old-fashioned and to never have kids, yes. Congrats, Grandma, I took both things to heart. Do you want/have a Bachelor's degree? No. Are you into superheroes? Who's your favourite? Not massively, no. I like Deadpool (yeah, yeah, antihero, whatever) and Spider-Man. Have you ever played Cards Against Humanity? Did you like it? Yes to both. Have you ever played a drinking game? Which ones? I don't think so. Did you ever play Neopets when you were younger? Yes, I LOVED them. Sometimes I'm still tempted to make a new account, I shit you not, lol. Have you ever been to Mexico? No. Have your parents ever worked in medicine? My mom was a pharmacy technician or some title like that for a long time. Is there anything unusual about your house? I don't think so? How many serious relationships have you been in? Two. Do you listen to Rise Against? I only know "Re-education (Through Labor)," but I LOVE that song. When was the last time you congratulated someone? It was probably something on Facebook, but idr. Have you ever taken care of a newborn baby? Go no, I could never. How old were you when you got your ears pierced? I don't remember my age, but old enough where I did it of my own volition. Do you snore when you sleep? No. Surprising for someone with sleep apnea as horrendous as mine. What was the last type of burger you ate? I had a McDouble from McDonald's a few nights ago.

[backtobackbakubabe]

Baby its Cold Outside (PART 6)

Bakugo x Reader 

Fluff. Smut. 

Just taking it one day at a time. 

PART 1 HERE, PART 2 HERE, PART 3 HERE PART 4 HERE PART 5 HERE , PART 6 HERE PART 7 HERE PART 8 HERE PART 9 HERE PART 10 HERE PART 11 HERE PART 12 HERE PART 13 HERE PART 14 HERE

Words: 2821

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Bakugo had been woken up by a nurse the next morning. She pulled him into the hallway where a doctor was waiting with a clipboard. Looking every bit the stereotype from the dumb tv shows y/n always watches.

The doctor smiled and held out his hand, “Ah Mr. Bakugo I presume?”

Bakugo just stared back, not bothering to shake the mans hand, “Yes, can I help you with something?”

The smile never left the doctors face as he pulled his hand back, “Yes, so I understand Y/n lives with you. Is that correct?”

Bakugo smirked, “As of a few days ago, yes, she officially live with me.”

“Oh perfect! So we are expecting her to wake up any time now and I just wanted to go over everything you might expect in terms of taking care of her while she heals. As you know she suffered a major concussion as well as multiple gunshot wounds to the stomach.”

Bakugo flinched at the memory but nodded anyways as the doctor continued his speech. “When she wakes up she’ll likely be confused and a little frustrated. Because she’s been in a bed for several weeks it may take a while for her to regain normal range of motion but that’s nothing to be concerned about. We recommend having her go to physical therapy, as well as possibly seeing a mental health professional if she needs help coping with the trauma. As the person who will be living with her just make sure she takes her medication and for the first couple of days she may need your help with daily tasks such as showering, getting dressed, picking up anything over fifteen pounds, and so on. Are you prepared to take on these tasks?”

Bakugo was almost offended, “Of course! You think I can’t take care of my own girlfriend? I basically take care of her already!”

The doctor just nodded, “Very well then. Here are some pamphlets on everything I just spoke to you about. I find they can be very helpful and informative. I understand you are a very capable man Mr. Bakugo and I think Y/n will be in great hands. We will more than likely be able to discharge her within 24 hours of her waking up and in the event that you are not here, we will make sure to give you a call to let you know when she has woken up.”

Bakugo’s heart raced at the idea that you would be waking up soon. He had said any time now. He would have sat his ass down in that chair and not left until you woke up, but he knew he has a few things to finish up at the apartment. He also knew he was in desperate need of a shower.

He had officially gotten all of your stuff moved into his place he just needed to go meet with the landlord and turn in your keys. Not that it mattered you never used them anyways seeing as you would just teleport through the door.

Bakugo was skimming through one of the many pamphlets the doctor had given him the day before, sitting in your old apparent when the landlord showed to collect the keys. He gave Bakugo a smile but his eyes looked sad. He liked y/n and was sad to hear of her accident. “Well son, I’m sure the place is in pristine condition. I’ve seen you comin and goin for weeks now to clean it up so here's a check for the security deposit and I’ve waved the cleaning fee.”

Bakugo thanked him as he pocketed the check. He was about to insist that he charge him for the cleaning fee because you were a messy gremlin and he was sure the place could use it but he was interrupted by a weird noise. It was a loud thump from his apartment. “What the fuck...”

He sprinted out of the apartment, bypassed the elevator, opting for the stairs instead. He was practically out of breath by the time he reached his door. Wow he really needs to hit the gym soon. He tried the handle but it was locked... which would mean the person in his apartment didn't use a door...

His hands shook as he ripped his keys out of his pocket and swung the door open. “Y/N!” He ran around the corner to his bed and there you were. Sitting on the floor with your head in your hands.

“Katsu...?”

He was at your side in an instant pulling you to him. “Oh my god. Shit you’re awake. You’re okay. Fuck I’ve been so fucking worried, you have no idea. I love you. I love you so fucking much, and I need you to know that.” He kept kissing the top of your head while he rubbed his hand up and down your back. That’s when he noticed the hospital gown. “Y/n... how did you get here?”

You looked at him with very sleepy and confused eyes, “I don't know. I woke up in the hospital and I was really scared. I couldn't figure out what happened or where I was and I just wanted you... and I guess I accidentally teleported here.”

He took your head in his hands and looked at you like you were crazy, “Y/n we live across town from the hospital... you’re telling me you just teleported 15 miles...”

Your eyes widened, looking just as bewildered as he did, “Yeah I guess I did.”

Next thing you know he’s hugging you so tight, “You know what? I don't even care right now. We’ll figure that out later, right now I just want to hold you. I’ve missed you so much. Dont you ever do something like that again, do you understand me. Ever.”

His phone started to ring but he let it go to voicemail. Whatever it was could wait. He hadn’t held you like this in weeks. He gently scooped you up and brought you to the bed that now had a few of your girly pillows. “Katsu? Are these my pillows? Is that my lamp? Wait what is my stuff doing in your apartment? Did you loot me while I was out?”

He chuckled as his face turned red, “Yeah about that.. I uh.. I kind of moved all of your stuff up here and terminated your lease downstairs.... surprise?”

You knew you should be irritated, but honestly you were just too exhausted to care. You barley spent time in your apartment anyways. So you just shrugged, “Oh okay I guess. I mean if you’re sure...”

He pulled you close to him, “Oh I’m sure. I need you here where I know you’re safe.”

You winced as you giggled still a little sore, “I literally lived in the apartment right below you. It wasn’t exactly a long distance relationship.”

Bakugo ignored your quip instead focusing on your face as it pinched a bit with the pain from laughing. “Are you okay? Do I need to bring you back to the hospital. Shit I probably do. You just up and left...”

You reached up and squished his cheeks together to get him to stop talking, “One thing at a time babe. Yes I am okay. I am really tired, and truthfully I’m very sore. But it’s not anything I can’t deal with. I would kill for some water though...”

He was up and in the kitchen before you could even finish your sentence. You wondered how long this over protective phase would last. Bakugo was never the kind of boyfriend who waited on you hand and foot. Before the accident he would have told you to get off your ass and get it yourself.

He came back with a huge camelback water bottle with a straw. You expected him to hand it to you but instead he crawled into bed next to you and held the straw up to your mouth. “Uh.. Honey. Not that I don’t love the fact you want to take care of me, but I can hold it myself.”

He blushed slightly muttering a sorry as he handed you the water bottle.

So you sat like that, his hands never leaving you while he caught you up on what had happened since you were out. Avoiding the topic of the accident because neither of you were ready to rip off that bandaid yet.

Your conversation was cut short by a banging on the door. Bakugo groaned and went to go answer it. Periodically turning around to look at you. Almost like he was checking you were still there. He flung the door open, “WHAT?!”

There was a very nervous Kirishima rubbing the back of his neck raw, “Okay listen man I have some bad news, but I’m going to need you to stay calm because we’re going to fix it I promise... but... uh... Y/nIsMissingAndWeDontKnowWhereSheWent....” He flinched like he was ready for Bakugo to blow up. But instead Bakugo just laughed. “Oh shit he's really lost it.”

“Oi shitty hair, you can relax, she's okay she’s here. She teleported. We’ll head back soon so they can officially discharge her and give us her medication.”

Kirishima looked like he was going to faint with relief, “Oh thank god. They only sent me because I’m indestructible. They really thought you were going to rampage. You should have seen it. First she’s mumbling in her sleep right?  Next thing we all know her eyes shot open and she was asking where you were. When no one could answer her she just teleported out. They were all panicking and running around looking for her. I’ll let them know she’s safe.”

You had snuck your way over to them with very wobbly legs, “Thank’s for checking on me Kiri!”

“Oi what the fuck do you think you’re doing?! Get your ass back in bed!”

You glared at your over protective boyfriend, “I've been in bed for... for...”

“Three weeks” Kiri filled in you.

“Thank you Kiri... Three weeks! I don't think it’ll kill me to stretch my legs!”

Kirishima bit his lip to keep from laughing, “Good to see you still got your spunk. Well I’ll leave you two love birds alone. Try not to kill each other.”

He realized that was not a good joke to make when Bakugo’s eyes bore into him, “Too soon.”

*************************

It had been two weeks since you woke up. The first week Katsuki refused to leave your side for more than 30 seconds. Everywhere you went he was right there behind you like a clingy shadow. He even took showers with you insisting it was “doctors orders”. It got real old real fast. You practically shoved him out the door the other day joking about how one of you needed to work or you wouldn't make rent and you just moved in. You still had nightmares, and any loud noise made you jump. Bakugo was trying really hard to not yell at you or be any added stress while you adjusted but you honestly hated the way he treated you like glass. Never in his life has he ever seen you as anything but strong and now he tip toes around you. That ends today.

You dressed up in your sexiest underwear and robe and waited for him on his....your bed. You kept forgetting you actually lived here now.

You heard his keys in the door and your heart started to race. “Hey baby I’m home! I was thinking about maybe making some stir fry for dinner. What do you think?” You took a deep breath and reminded yourself this was Bakugo... there was no reason to be nervous.

You stepped into the kitchen and tiptoed up to him. He had his nose buried in a grocery bag pulling out ingredients. You took the bag from his hand and put it on the counter. He froze when he saw what you were wearing.

“I think I’m hungry. But not for food.” You grabbed him by the belt loops and pulled him to you.

He smiled but his eyes gave him away. He looked nervous.

He cupped your cheeks and gave your forehead a kiss. “You look amazing babe. But you need to take your pills soon and you can't do that on an empty stomach.” He pulled away from you and went back to sorting the groceries on the counter in front of him.

You huffed and smacked him the back of the head.

“Oi! What was that for?” “You know what for! Other than our morning showers you won't touch me! And even then it’s not even sexual....” You don't know why but your were suddenly hit with a wave of insecurity. “Do you not find me attractive anymore...?”

He was at your side in an instant. He put one hand in your hair while the other one gripped your chin rubbing soothing circles on your cheek. “Are you crazy? of course I find you attractive! You are the single most beautiful women I’ve ever seen.”

Tears threatened to spill out, “Then why won't you touch me?”

He sighed as he thought carefully about what he said next. “I guess I’m just scared of hurting you. I’m the reason you were hurt in the first place and the thought of causing you any more pain... it... it drives me crazy. You just woke up from a medically induced coma only two weeks ago! I didn't want to do anything until you were ready!”

You looked up at him with needy eyes, “Well I’m ready now...”

And that's all it took. 

Bakugo’s lips crashed to yours as his hands gripped your ass. You knew you were needy but you had no idea you were this touch starved until the feeling of his hands on you practically made you melt. 

He pulled back just long enough to tell you to jump. You eagerly compiled as you wrapped you legs around his waist. He walked you over to the couch and laid you down. 

Your robe was long forgotten on the floor and his shirt and your bra was quickly joining it. Katsuki worshipped your body. He always had. He showered you with kisses starting at your neck and trailing downwards. He took his time with each of your breasts. Taking one nipple in his mouth while he rubbed the other between his fingers. He had you soaked and squirming with seconds. Your hips bucked up and he grunted as you made contact with his growing erection. 

He continues his path down briefly pausing to give every single one of your scars the softest kiss imaginable. You could see the pain fast through his eyes briefly. You wound your hands through his hair, “I’m okay baby. I’m here and I’m okay and I need you. Please.” 

He tugged your underwear off along with pants. He put his arms on either side of your face holding all of his weight off of you. lined himself up with your entrance and in one sweet snap of his hips you were seeing stars. His mouth covered yours as he swallowed your moans. He let you adjust before he set a slow, deep, rhythm. 

You’ve been dating for three months now, and you don't think you had ever had sex that want heated and rough. He was taking his time, showing you with every thrust how much he loved you. Even the moans you let out were soft. This wasn't fucking, this was making love. And the thought made your head spin. 

He leaned down and nibbled on your ear before whispering, “You’re so fucking beautiful. I want you to know that. You’re it for me. Do you understand me?” 

You pulled his head back to face you, “I understand. You’re it for me too. I couldn't do this with anyone else.” 

He smirked, “Damn right you couldn't.”

Yours hands made their way to his strong muscular back, “Now fuck me like you mean it Katsuki. I won't break I promise.” 

His dick twitched at your words before he picked up the pace. 

You both got lost in the sensations you both had been craving. He pounded into you relentlessly. Hitting the spot the way it seemed only he could. It wasn't long before you felt yourself unraveling. 

“Yeah thats it baby! Cum for me! Let go!” 

You were overtaken by the most intense, toe curling orgasm. 

You could feel Bakugo start to pull out but through your pants you yelled, “No cum inside me!” 

His hips stuttered a but before he finally released inside of you. 

He rolled to the side and pulled you on top of him so you could both fit on the couch. 

After he caught his breath he looked over to you and kissed your forehead, “That was probably the hottest thing you’ve ever said to me.” 

[amour-de-tous]

Finally, the update on my health

TW: lots and lots and lots of talk about health, and bad health, in particular, below.  So I know I never really updated everyone on What Was (is) Going On With My Health. It’s been a huge mess, and I run out of spoons every day just trying to eat meals at the right times to take my meds.  Shortest version possible (believe it or not): at the end of May last year, 2019, pretty much all my joints and extremities swelled up unbelievably. Like I couldn’t put my feet on the floor because they were so swollen it felt like the skin would split open. I had to sit in a chair all day with my feet elevated on a stool and pillows just to keep them from continuing to swell, and I had to sleep with pillows under my feet to keep them from swelling more during the night. I say “sleep” loosely, because I was getting about an hour to two hours of very interrupted sleep every night. The swelling was so bad that just to leave my chair where my feet were elevated, and go sit at the table to eat meals, my feet would swell so bad it was hard for me to walk from the table back to my chair. Then my hands started going numb and tingly, but not in a “my hands are asleep” kind of way, but more an “this is excruciatingly painful but I still can’t feel my hands” kind of way. I couldn’t close my hands into a fist, and I couldn’t open my hands either, they were frozen in a sort of half curled position. There were several weeks where I couldn’t hold a fork or spoon to feed myself. There were months upon months were I couldn’t brush or wash my hair by myself. I spent months with my hands/wrists/feet/ankles packed in ice every 20 minutes to try to control the swelling. I also had this awful brain fog situation where I couldn’t focus on anything. Even if I had been able to hold a book, tablet, or phone (which I couldn’t, because my hands were so bad), I couldn’t read because I had absolutely zero concentration or focus or comprehension. Even watching TV was almost impossible because I would zone out and come back to awareness and so much time had passed I’d have no idea what was going on. I literally spent three or four months just sitting in that chair in pain, staring at the ceiling, crying on and off. So, so much more below the cut.

I could barely attend my niece and nephews baptism. We were there for as long as it took for the actual service to happen, and while I tried to stay for the meal and gifts and such, I was in such excruciating pain--and using a cane to even be able to walk--that we had to leave early.  My niece’s 4th birthday was a few weeks later, in late June, and again I was there with a cane and in excruciating pain. I’m my niece’s favourite person and having to tell her Auntie couldn’t get down and play with her, or hold her, was terrible. By the end of June, my PCP had run enough tests to be outside his area of knowledge and referred me out to a rheumatologist. The earliest the one I wanted to see could see me was January. This was the first week of July. So I looked around for whoever could see me first and chose them. The soonest someone could see me was, unfortunately, on my birthday last year, July 15th. So I spent my birthday seeing the rheumatologist, being diagnosed with carpal tunnel, tendinitis, and what he suspected was rheumatoid arthritis. Once I left his office, I spent my birthday getting bloodwork (8 vials, yikes, which continued monthly for the remainder of 2019), and then getting fitted for a set of wrist braces that I would have to sleep in for maybe the rest of my life, and wear during the day when the pain was so bad. The rheumatologist literally said to me “well, none of your labwork confirms this and we don’t really know, but we’re gonna treat you as if you had rheumatoid arthritis”. Although he kept running tests to try to confirm the RA, he didn’t look anywhere else to try and figure out what I actually have. So they started me on medication(s), and referred me to occupational therapy and physical therapy. I was so bad when I started going that my PT consisted of sitting in a chair and (trying) to flex my ankles in different directions, and then a lymph massage to try to reduce swelling. My occupational therapy, when I started, consisted of trying to pick up pieces of sponges and put them in a cup. I was so bad that was actually almost impossible for me. They also referred me out to have a nerve conduction test, where they stuck needles all through my arms and electrified them. It was the worst thing ever, let me tell you. Then I got referred to a hand surgeon (who is lovely, actually) for surgery. He decided to hold off on surgery and see if steroid shots would help (they did, to an extent, and I am so grateful for that). Fast forwards through months and months of testing and bloodwork and physical and occupational therapies and medications, and the swelling had reduced enough that I could stand up or walk to the bathroom or eat dinner without swelling up so bad anymore. Being at PT and OT still meant I came home and had to pack my feet and wrists in ice and elevate to take care of the extra swelling, but it was better. Not good, not right, but better. Fast forward more, still, and it’s December. At that point I could stand long enough to help cook dinner, or even run an errand or two before I was in too much pain and had to sit and elevate again. In mid-March they released me from PT and OT. Not because I was better--I still couldn’t (and can’t, now) bend my wrists at all--but because the prescription had run out. I’d basically used all the allotted amount I had. This ended up being alright in the long run, since aside from one trip to the lab for bloodwork, I haven’t left my house since my last day of OT on March 13th, due to Covid. Turns out having an auto-immune disease and being on immunosuppresants makes you REAL high risk for Covid, and I’m just not playing that game. At the beginning of April, I finally got to see the rheumatologist I WANTED to see all along (via video visit! Didn’t even have to leave my house and be exposed!). She’s awesome and is really set on finding an ACTUAL diagnosis for me and not just saying “we don’t know”. Had 9 vials taken from me in her first round of bloodwork, and then she said it looked like it could be Lupus and did more tests. She’s now pretty certain I DON’T have Lupus OR rheumatoid arthritis. I had an appointment with her at the very end of July (video, again), and it turns out she thinks I have something called sarcoidosis. This is going to require a CT scan, for my lungs and heart, to see if the disease is in them. Evidently with this particular auto-immune disease, your body overreacts and encapsulates what it thinks are dangerous foreign bodies (but really are just part of your own immune system) and creates “granulomas” around them. Basically think of an oyster creating a pearl around an invading body, except in this case instead of pearls, I have lumps of stuff that hurts me.  Horrifying to know I have to walk into a hospital at this point in time, of my own free will. Like I said before, aside from one set of bloodwork, I haven’t been exposed or been out where I could be exposed at ALL. All that goes out the window once I walk into a hospital for a CT scan. :\ After the CT scan, depending on the results, there’s other tests I’ll need. Chest x-rays, EKGs, pulmonary function tests, lung biopsies (YIKES) and others. She seems fairly confident that this is the correct diagnosis for me, but wants confirmation and also to see progression of disease.  At any rate, she’ll be changing my medication. Which sucks for so many reasons, not the least of which is I just picked up 360 tablets of it that I now won’t be taking. :| Also the fact that now I get to try a new medication and do the “am I having side effects or am I just anxious” song and dance. She’s also talking about needing to put me on steroids which I am REALLY unhappy about. I suppose it’s better to go on steroids than to die, but I’m still really unhappy about it. In other, related news, I’ve developed hypercalcemia. Which means there’s too much calcium in my blood, which can cause a HOST of other problems. So I’ve been put on a no-dairy, low calcium diet. Do you know how many items have calcium in them? Almost everything, that’s what. Also, they fortify all the non-dairy “milk” products with calcium. They all have as much or MORE calcium than dairy milk. It’s been a NIGHTMARE, to the point where I’m actually afraid of food now. I’m obsessively reading labels and doing research online. “How much calcium is in 81 grams of kiwi, after all?”. Nightmare. Dairy was my #1 love and foodgroup, and having to suddenly figure out all new things to eat and ways to cook while simultaneously being in pain and *exhausted* 24/7 because auto-immune is not. fun. at. all. It’s already all my energy every day to help make, eat, and clean up a meal. I literally have to sit in my chair after a meal with my feet elevated to recover. Now having to spend all this energy on a whole new diet plan is a nightmare. Basically this whole thing has been a MESS. It’s been 15 months, I’ve been being treated for the wrong disease for 14 months, the news I’m getting now is worse than the news that flattened my emotional response all those months ago, I still can’t function, and I can’t work. Oh, yeah. I haven’t played an instrument since May 2019. My whole life revolved around my music, and now I can’t even play to make myself feel better, because my hands don’t work. I’ve also been out of work since then, too: my last concert was April 2019. I haven’t made any money since. But I have had co-pays out the wazoo! Which reminds me that they raised the price on two of my meds, because of course they did. Thanks, congress. This has been really, really hard. My anxiety has skyrocketed through this, and my depression isn’t doing much better. Although physically I’m not as bad as I was, I’m nowhere near normal, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to go back to my normal again, either. The best I’m hoping for at this point is to be able to eat calcium again someday, to not have my organs eaten up by this disease, and to continue existing. It’s been exhausting. It really, really has.  That’s not to mention the added stress and anxiety over Covid, and the fact that neither mom nor I can even go to a grocery store because of my high-risk status. We’re averaging getting groceries about once a month right now. It’s super fun now because I have to read the label on EVERYTHING but Aldi doesn’t post their nutrition labels online and!!! That means I have to either guess or not get things! Great!  All this to say that I miss being on tumblr. I miss all my friends here. I miss talking to you all and being able to laugh with you and geek out. Things have been really hard for me (and there are multitudes I haven’t included in here; even if my hands would allow that much typing, I’d probably hit a character limit. Just: I miss you all. I love you. I’ve been a wreck, but I think of you all often. <3

[masosade]

It’s been several weeks now since the fight for Phos’ life and Maso hasn’t left the pillow Lounge even once. Not like he has anywhere else to go. Now that Calypso was gone, there weren’t any despair-related activities he would be assigned to, nor was he in the mood for bothering other people.

Especially since Stellan was tracking his moves. Partially, his refusal to go somewhere stemmed from a sullen attempt to bore Stellan and Neil into forgetting about him. If he never did anything exciting, they’d move on to other things and leave him alone so he could find someone to take the bracelet off. 

Then he realized they were probably not watching him and simply had a signal set up for when he got into trouble so they could make out in peace, and the joy of being boring faded.

It’s not that he was depressed, per se, not really. He was just...unsure of his next move. And waiting with a purpose sounded much better than wandering around aimlessly until something interesting happened.

The first week he was anxious someone from the MiW might come back, or Stellan would give him another lecture, but it was relatively quiet. Then he started telling himself it was relaxing, sitting there doing nothing but resting in pillows. A pitiful lie.

After two days of trying to sleep (just to see how Phos did it), his restlessness caught up to him and he started moving the pillows around, building little caves until he grew bored of that too.

Worry followed shortly after, then anger, then regret, and finally just listless state of ‘whatever happens, happens.’

As long as no one bothers me, I’m fine.

How luck would have it, his peace didn’t last long.

While Maso sat staring at the broken TV one day, wondering how he could upgrade it with the few tools he had at hand and hopefully shadow proof it so it could work even after Phos’ expected return, he heard some rustling in one of the hallways.

Phos! Was his first thought and then, The MiW? No wait...Stellan? Shadow Mariella? Can shadows even mimic footsteps?

Maybe she was still with that hopeless Alice. Maso hoped it wasn't them, because the last thing he wanted to see was a pawn of Calypso coming to gloat.  

The door swung open, letting two figures step inside the Lounge and Maso realized he had judged too soon. Any pawn of Calypso was welcome instead of them, hell, even the Absurdist would’ve been a much better sight.

“Told you the bracelet still works!” Anastasia said, sounding way too pleased. “He’s still here!”

It took Maso a second to recognize the Stanley by her side. He had changed since the last time he saw him, less glitchy and the worn employee 427 outfit (which Maso assumed he had worn ironically) was now replaced by a suit, which looked just as ridiculous.

His expression twisted into one of annoyance.

“Jesus Christ.”

“Not quite,” the Stanley smiled.

“Maybe he meant me~”

“Seriously, are you two here to gloat or something. Fuck off. I’m not hurting anyone sitting here so whatever twisted plan you have to torture me into getting better, I’m sure there are loooots of doomed Bradleys you can use them on.”

“Oh yess,” Anastasia let go of Stanley’s arm and, honest to god, marched over the pillows in five inch tall platform boots, somehow not twisting her prosthetics in the process.  “We have a hoooooorrible torture plan for you. So horrible, you’ll never call yourself a masochist ever again~”

She plopped down next to Maso, not so subtly blocking the exit should he try to jump up and run.

He glared at her. “You’re a disgrace to Bradleys everywhere.”

“I know!”

Stanley joined on Maso’s other side. He didn’t sit too close but Maso still scooted backwards, keeping a close eye on his hands in case he tried to paralyze or pump him full of hope again.

“We aren’t really here to torture you, Bradley,” He said in a softer voice than what Maso was used to from him. At first he thought Stanley was trying to appear as nonthreatening, although taking a closer look revealed that he didn’t look as strong as he did back when they first met. Probably why Anastasia was accompanying him.

“We’re here to talk.”

“That’s just as bad. I’d prefer torture.”

“Oh, any kind~?” Anastasia smirked.

“No! The pain kind, do any of you even listen to me when I say I’m a pain Masochist. As in physical pain. God! You just hear what you wanna hear, don't you?”

“That would make three of us, kiddo.”

“Yeah, fuck you, An.”

“Maybe if you ask nicer-”

“Kids,” Stanley interrupted. “Can we get on with it now?”

Anastasia piped down and Maso reluctantly turned his attention back to Stanley. All his arms were crossed tightly over his jacket, but at a moment’s notice he would be prepared to stab then both with any blade resembling object in his pockets. Stanley was weak but Anastasia was there to be his bodyguard and Maso knew that he’d have to take them both down if he wanted to escape.

Just want to talk, my ass.

“Calm down, Maso. We aren’t going to hurt you—“

“Then get on with it already so you can leave faster.”

Stanley sighed. “Fine. First of all, I wanted to apologize for...my obsession with you. It was creepy and desperate. You’re not even the Bradley, or my Bradley. So I shouldn't have come after you like that. Though I don’t apologize for paralyzing you, annoying you or giving you hope.”

His expression gave way to a bratty smirk. Maso was only slightly surprised to see he still had it in him to be a little shit, despite the beating he took from Phos.

“Okay.”

“Okay! So next, we wanted to offer you company if you are going to go get healed at Seraphim’s. I know you’re scared-”

“No I’m not-”

“Stellan confirmed you are, so yes, I know you’re scared and probably won’t go through it alone but it might help having someone you know with you!”

“It really won’t, I hate you both.”

Stanley looked pleased. He glanced at Anastasia, who took it as a cue.

“Okay, kiddo, listen up.”

Why is everyone calling me a kiddo, I’m probably their exact fucking age. If Maso wasn't annoyed yet, he was now.

“As a Spencer, I know what you’re going through.”

A derisive snort. Anastasia continued, unfazed.

“I’ve also been changed by past events in my life, ones that physically and mentally scarred me for life, or so I thought.” She glanced down at her prosthetics and despite his skepticism, Maso couldn’t help but listen.

“I was stuck in hell for months, a kind of hell that no Office can compare to. And after I was rescued, I was certain of only one thing: I didn’t want to be alive for another second. I asked my rescuers over and over again just to mercy kill me and let me be in peace, but they never listened. After immediate attention to my wounds, they gave me emotional first aid. I was put through all kinds of physical therapy and medication, the first year all against my will because I didn’t want to get better. I just wanted to curl up and rot.

But despite my struggling, it did help. And I realized I didn’t really want to die, I just wanted to stop hurting. My supervisor knew this and she told me they were willing to fix me up, give me new limbs and change my body as I saw fit, if I would promise to give living another chance. And with that deal, I did.”

So she blackmailed you into going to therapy, Maso wanted to say. He was determined to find flaws in her ‘redemption’ story. It made him feel uncomfortable, not that he would admit it. Was he supposed to believe he could have the same? A pill here, a touch of magic there and suddenly he was as good as new, Perfectly Normal Bradley Spencer, here to make the world a better place or some shit like that. Yeah right.

An continued, unfazed by his musings.

“Therapy wasn't easy, even after I decided I’ll give it a try. I hated it for a long while, but eventually the changes were noticeable. I stopped crying so much, I was able to talk to other patients at the Hospital, I found interest in hobbies again and even got my punning abilities back~”

Stanley snorted in the background.

“Either way! I know you’ve heard this from lots of people, therapy and medication helps along with a goal in mind. And I think you know we aren’t making this up to trick you into a straight jacket. But you’re holding yourself back because you’re too scared to make real goals, Maso. You think you will change into a different person. I didn’t. I changed into a different person under torture, but I changed back into my true self when I let myself heal. And I’m quite happy with how I am today. I will never want to go back to the broken husk of a person I was years ago. Even when I thought the trauma was the only thing I had left.”

She gestured around him. “You already know your true self. It’s not a sad little fusion moping around and self destructing is it?”

“Maybe it is,” Maso shot back.

“Nah, it’s not. Because if it is, then why would you still be here? Why aren’t you out there sulking and bothering Stellans and throwing yourself off platforms?”

“...well, because—“

“Because the real “Maso” or whoever you are now, isn’t that guy who wants to cosplay a corpse so badly. It’s the guy who almost literally raised Heaven and Earth to save the life of his friend. Or who spends his time taking apart broken TVs to see if he could make something interesting out of it. A robot, perhaps? A little automatic pranking device?”

Maso made a face. “I was thinking of a scanner,” He muttered.

“See!” An’s eyes lit up. “You wanna have friends who recognize you as one too, and you want to build stuff and make puns and steal people’s clothes to get your hair ruffled. If you really just wanted to die, you’d be dead already. If you didn’t want to change, you would’ve disappeared and quietly made it happen.”

“It’s the hope-”

“Hope isn’t a parasite, Bradley.” Stanley cut in. “It’s a natural state for a soul to have. If your soul only had one emotion, it wouldn’t know how to survive. You basically starved it of the thing it needed the most. Nourishment, in form of happiness, hope and comfort. Your soul isn’t true when it’s full of despair, it’s just starving.”

“You- you guys are just saying that to get me to come to your stupid hospital so you can fix me, aren't you?”

“No. We’re not dragging you anywhere. As we said, we just wanted to talk.” Stanley stood up and An followed suit.

“If you want to come with us, you’re welcome at the hospital. We have a garden, a library, workshops where you can build and craft to your heart’s content. You’ll get your own room and personal doctors assigned to you.”

“But I can’t leave whenever I want, can I?”

“...no. If you do come, you will have to stay there until you have shown improvement or signs of stability.”

Maso scoffed. “Then no.”

“It’s your choice, for now. But then I would look into other options. And I think you already know which one would work.” Stanley gave him a curt nod. “We’ll see each other around.”

With that, he turned and left for the door, back the way he came from. An lingered a while longer, studying Maso quietly.

“...what?”

“If you aren’t ready to change for yourself, think about what’s best for Phobos,” she said after a moment.

“What will you do when he comes back? Cling to him and do nothing? What if he needs help? Are you prepared to give him some hope and comfort too? If you aren’t, what will you do when he decides you aren't worth the trouble? You should then consider finding a purpose that is more than just existing around other people. You can’t help your friends if you’re nothing but a puppet following the motions.” She turned to follow Stanley out.

“Think about it, Maso. What kind of friend do you even want to be?”

And then they were gone. Maso fell back onto the pillows feeling strangely annoyed and tired. He wanted to say it’s because they were testing his patience with their whole ‘we can save you!’ spiel. But as much as he hated to say it, there were things that rang true, things he’d have to think about deeper.

What kind of friend do you even want to be?

What kind of friend, indeed?

[whatzappening]

The Zappadydoodah

Hello! I’m Jenny – I am 38, married to a beautiful (in all the ways) lady for five years. We have a son who is nearly two and another baby on the way. I’m writing this down because I’m in a transformative time of life, with deliberate hope for change occurring around some treatment for my Stuff. I’m feeling super overwhelmed, massively restless and thought it might be a) handy to channel it all into a writing area, and b) useful for anyone else in a similar sitch.

The Stuff

So here’s my stuff. Fibromyalgia since 2005, Chronic Fatigue diagnosed since 2011, Depression and Anxiety diagnosed since 2012 but probably always. Definitely always.

Here is a list of some of the things I have done to try to manage/fix/deal with my stuff:

SSRI’s

Meditation

Herbal supplements

Naturopathy

CBT

Psychotherapy

Protein shakes

Exercise Therapy

Counseling

Hydrotherapy

Acupuncture

Pilates

Yoga

All of the Elimination Diets

Gym

Walking

Alexander Technique

Kinesiology

Psychics

Hypnosis

A thousand doctors

Graded Exercise Therapy

Narrative Therapy

Rheumatologist

Physiotherapy

Massage

Reiki

All the other stuff I can’t remember

Short of fish slapping that’s all I can remember right now (I did not try fish slapping). I want to be clear that a lot of these things have been extremely helpful in managing my life and keeping me as upright and mobile as possible. The ones who promised me that they could fix me, did the opposite and caused catastrophic setbacks, in every single case. I don’t feel like me listing which ones are which is helpful because every human reacts differently to different options depending on who they are and what their experiences have been.

I will say, however, that my current team members around my health are counselor, physiotherapist, massage therapist, acupuncturist/TCM practitioner.

So that is my stuff. Read on if you fancy!

What’s happening now, and how and why?

So a couple of months ago we were taking our kid for an outing on a Sunday morning. We thought we’d head to a local market about half an hour’s drive and visit our friends who were selling food there to raise money for the local wildlife shelter. Cute! Fun Sunday outing! He fell asleep five minutes from our destination so we kept going, because sleep is golden and we had no place we had to be, and ended up driving past my sister’s place.

We hadn’t seen them for a little while (she lives there with her daughters who are 19 and 20, both at uni this year so sometimes not there) and pulled up in the driveway, waking them up because they don’t live with a toddler and get to sleep in. I have no bitterness about this, it’s just something worth mentioning.

Her youngest daughter, my niece has had severe fibromyalgia for several years now. The list of things she’s tried are varied and include things like hospital stays, ketamine infusions, morphine – and they didn’t help. Morphine didn’t touch the sides of her pain. I won’t go into too much detail but her quality of life was non existent and she was cut down at her best and brightest. It’s horrific and unfair and all the other things. I have not seen colour in that kid’s face other than green for a number of years.

When we rocked up, she was pink cheeked and was about to go out for brunch with a friend.

Let me pause there – every part of that sentence was not possible for years. So after mouthing OMG at my sister when my niece wasn’t looking, we sat down at my sister’s dining table after her she went out with her friend and my sister took my hand. She teared up and said will you please, please think about trying this thing. It works. Look at her.

And then my heart skipped a beat. It had literally not occurred to me that anything could work. That was certainly not my lived experience. I knew they were trying a thing, and I was ready to support them as much as I could (and knowing that sometimes I need to keep a stronger boundary, to protect my sense of self and eschew self pity) when it inevitably didn’t work and their desperation in scrambling for something, some relief, would continue.

“things don’t work for people like me”

That was the sentence that was ringing in my head, loud and clear as a bell. I had believed one too many times when someone had promised me they could make it all better, and then as time went on the prices would increase and the narrowing field of ways I could be pressed in on me and the possibilities vanished when things that weren’t actually physically possible for me to do (and no, I couldn’t push through or engage in mind over matter, get fucked if you think that’s a thing that can happen in this situation, frankly) and I was a bad, naughty client who wasn’t complying so their promise no longer applied. By then they had all of the money and my sense of self was at rock bottom. Snake oil merchants for the win.

Four or so years ago I had a massive breakthrough with a fabulous narrative therapist I was working on my health management with. One day she asked me how it would be if I could just accept my limitations and not place pressure on myself to be capable of anything more than I could do. That I have a serious illness that impacts every single area of my life, and the more I ignore it the louder it gets. How would it feel to accept that?

Because I was ready to hear it, and because I trusted her, and because I knew everything I knew by that stage, I took it in and really imagined how it would feel. And my shoulders dropped about fifty metres and I felt relaxed and calm.

That year I had my first winter since my diagnosis where I didn’t have a severe depressive episode. I rested more, I kept myself warm, I didn’t push myself to not be such a big whiny baby. I cared for myself. I didn’t pretend I wasn’t unwell. I acknowledged it and acted accordingly. Bloody hell – it was absolutely life altering. I will always be grateful to that therapist for that revelation. Then she went and decided to help the refugees on Manus Island with their myriad of psychological issues resulting from trauma and abuse, which I understood but felt a bit miffed about in a selfish way.

So that huge shift had informed the way I went about caring for myself. What a relief to not feel the pressure of turning every stone over just in case. Wearing myself out going to All The Appointments. Never stopping because if I did that meant giving up.

Stopping is brilliant and should be compulsory for all people in all situations.

So now I have my team around me. Every member is crucial and I’m pretty happy most of the time. I’m a great parent and wife and friend and relative, I think.

The thought of messing with that? Oof. SO risky. Terrifying. But my sister held my hand and asked me to think about it. So I did.

I don’t mean to vaguebook atcha. The thing is called TMS and is usually provided to people who have severe depression. The kind where no medication works and everything is hopeless. It’s non invasive, and uses magnetic thingamebobs to retrain the pathways in your brain that have died off due to illness. So for people with fibro, the pathways of normal sensation are often replaced with pain pathways. Recently when I was extremely distressed about a work situation and I could not deal with what was happening, my brain told me that whenever I took a step I was at risk of my ankle shattering. My ankle was not at risk of shattering, but the pain felt extremely real and terrifying. And so on and so forth. So the TMS thingo (and to be honest it’s a little bit tinfoil hat to avoid the government reading your thoughts) is a metal cap that goes over your hair on the place where the specific neural pathways are, then magnetic waves are sent through the thing which stimulate your brains. It’s habit forming, so doing it once a week isn’t going to do squat. But 3-5 zaps a week (each zap is 30-60 mins) will be highly likely to have an impact. 5 will work faster, 3 will still work the same amount but will take a little longer.

They recommend about 30 sessions and then you can taper off and see how you respond. Here’s the kick. I live 90 mins from Melbourne CBD and it’s the closest place I can go for treatment. A three hour round trip a day isn’t possible for me (both in terms of fatigue and available free time).

My work is quite seasonal so I had planned to close off my books from May for a few months, and we were all going to go as a family to rent a house for a few months and just smash it. But then we both realised my wife’s pregnancy wasn’t getting easier and sooner would be better than later. So the compromise is as follows:

Kicking off this month with a week together as a family for calibration and a couple of treatments, and then I’ll head to Melbourne Tuesday morning til Thursday middle of the day allowing me three zaps (Tues – Wed – Thurs) and on the way home I get acupuncture so I can decompress a bit before arriving for family time at home and don’t just dump all my emotions all over them. I’ll have had time to process and chat a bit. Fridays the kidlet is in daycare, Saturdays and Sundays as per usual, Monday with the wee fella. Tuesdays drop him off at daycare late on my way in to town. We’re getting some help with kid wrangling on Wednesdays from daycare pickup to bedtime so my beautiful pregnant wife won’t have to be too exhausted after working all day. There’s a lot going on. Did I mention we’re married but not legally so we’re going to do that in a few weeks as well? It’s a big time.

I turned it all over and over and over in my head, spoke with some key people and most helpfully talked with my love. You don’t owe us anything, she said, and meant it. You try it, you don’t try it, we love you. Your body and health changes, or doesn’t, we love you. If you try it and it doesn’t work and it creates massive turmoil for you then we cross that bridge. You’ve dealt with worse.

So forward we go. 

[ventus-shmentus]

1 through 100 for the question time?

oh man this is gonna keep me busy, thank you anon

1.) is there a boy/girl in your life?

*** sadly no, I've been single for like 3 years now

2.)  think of the last person who hurt you; do you forgive them?

*** yes! I generally try to forgive most ppl because I h a t e being angry w ppl

3.) what do you think of when you hear the word “meow?”

*** there was a girl in middle school that always stared me down and meowed at me at lunch???

4.) what’s something you really want right now?

*** strawberry lemonade from O’Charley’s

5.) are you afraid of falling in love?

*** thank god no, I love loving people

6.) do you like the beach?

*** yeah my fam goes every year for vacay and we spread my brothers ashes in the ocean and stuff so it’s comforting to go bc it’s like he’s still with me??

7.) have you ever slept on a couch with someone else?

*** tried to, but I have a lot of problems falling asleep so it didn't work out too well

8.) what’s the background on your cell?

*** my lock screen is me and a best friend and my home bg is a pic of ventus

9.)name the last four beds you were sat on?

***my sisters, my moms, faith’s, and Ryder’s if you count being sat on by dogs (I think thats what the question is asking lmao??)

10.) do you like your phone?

*** most of the time, yeah. the calls get messed up a lot tho and the battery sucks

11: honestly, are things going the way you planned?

*** god no, it’d be weird if they were. I'm doing much much better in life than I originally expected 

12: who was the last person whose phone number you added to your contacts?

*** probs the girls from my DBT therapy group

13: would you rather have a poodle or a rottweiler?

*** omg Rottweiler for sure,,, I love big doggies and they're such big babies

14: which hurts the most, physical or emotional pain?

*** I can't really answer this because they’re both felt in different ways

15: would you rather visit a zoo or an art museum?

*** I've never been to an art museum so id have to say zoo for now

16: are you tired?

*** heck yea my mom lost my sleep medication, I'm so tired to the point where I'm listening to Soulja boy and I'm not sure if its real or not

17: how long have you known your 1st phone contact?

*** like???? 15 years??

18: are they a relative?

*** nope just my sisters friend 

19: would you ever consider getting back together with any of your exes?

*** someone please kill me if I ever get back with one of my exes

20: when did you last talk to the last person you shared a kiss with?

*** honestly I can’t remember, probably like last month?

21: if you knew you had the right person, would you marry them today?

*** nonono I'm nowhere near ready to settle down in life like that. I'm only 19 and like I've never even had a job and I don't have my license and shit,,, def not ready for marriage

22: would you kiss the last person you kissed again?

*** yeah he was a good kisser, too bad I barely remember it lmao

23: how many bracelets do you have on your wrists right now?

*** 2 a hair tie and a friendship bracelet

24: is there a certain quote you live by?

*** Donald Duck going “WAK!”

25: what’s on your mind?

*** what happened to Kevin Jonas

26: do you have any tattoos?

*** no but I was planning on getting one soon as tribute to my brother

27: what is your favorite color?

*** yellow!! its so happy and bright

28: next time you will kiss someone on the lips?

*** heck idk no one ever seems interested in me so like?? its up to them bc I'm down to kiss like 90% of the people I know

29: who are you texting?

*** my boi Ryder bc he's coming over to give me birthday stuff

30: think to the last person you kissed, have you ever kissed them on a couch?

***nope, only a car

31: have you ever had the feeling something bad was going to happen and you were right?

*** I low key knew that my brother was gonna die the day he did but I didn't say anything to anyway bc I just blamed it on my anxiety

32: do you have a friend of the opposite sex you can talk to?

*** heck yeah, I got a couple thankfully

33: do you think anyone has feelings for you?

*** lmao ryder

34: has anyone ever told you you have pretty eyes?

*** yes! my eyes turn literally yellow in the summer and its p cool

35: say the last person you kissed was kissing someone right in front of you?

*** I'd be like “hell yeah I'm proud of u for getting action”

36: were you single on valentines day?

*** have been my whole life

37: are you friends with the last person you kissed?

*** yes but I rarely talk to him anymore

38: what do your friends call you?

*** karl, car keys, Karls, kar, karlie warlie

39: has anyone upset you in the last week?

*** does myself count lmao

40: have you ever cried over a text?

*** probably

41: where’s your last bruise located?

*** the tops of my feet 

42: what is it from?

*** dancing! you get bruises in weird places from dance lmao

43: last time you wanted to be away from somewhere really bad?

*** idk if this really counts but we went out to eat last night which is really triggering for me and I was like “I just want to go home and see my doggie”

44: who was the last person you were on the phone with?

***my sister on accident

45: do you have a favourite pair of shoes?

*** fav bc of looks are my white doc Martens but I wear my black converse most of the time

46: do you wear hats if your having a bad hair day?

*** no I look dumb in hats

47: would you ever go bald if it was the style?

*** honestly no just bc I like to have the mermaid hair effect when I’m in the bath or swimming

48: do you make supper for your family?

*** only if its like pizza rolls or smthn

49: does your bedroom have a door?

*** yes???

50: top 3 web-pages?

*** Tumblr, youtube and Facebook

51: do you know anyone who hates shopping?

*** my mom bc she hates going out in public

52: does anything on your body hurt?

*** my wrist!! I have a cyst in my joint and it hurts to move it too much 

53: are goodbyes hard for you?

*** yes bc I have a huge fear of abandonment

54: what was the last beverage you spilled on yourself?

*** strawberry lemonade

55: how is your hair?

*** its kinda short atm, I just got it cut and I'm mad bc its just the right length where only half of my hair goes into a ponytail

56: what do you usually do first in the morning?

*** pee tbh

57: do you think two people can last forever?

*** I mean I guess

58: think back to january 2007, were you single?

*** considering. was 8, yes

59: green or purple grapes?

*** depends on my mood tbh

60: when’s the next time you will give someone a big hug?

*** in like 10 minutes when Ryder is here

61: do you wish you were somewhere else right now?

*** not really but I wouldn't particularly mind if I was somewhere else

62: when will be the next time you text someone?

*** like rn

63: where will you be 5 hours from now?

*** in my living room talking to Ryder

64: what were you doing at 8 this morning.

*** pretending to be asleep

65: this time last year, can you remember who you liked?

***probably faith idk but thankfully thats faded by now

66: is there one person in your life that can always make you smile?

*** ryder and my sister tbh

67: did you kiss or hug anyone today?

*** my mom always hugs me good morning

68: what was your last thought before you went to bed last night?

*** “god I wish I could fall asleep”

69: have you ever tried your hardest and then gotten disappointed in the end?

*** did you mean: my entire dance career?

70: how many windows are open on your computer?

*** 5!

71: how many fingers do you have?

*** thankfully I got all 10

72: what is your ringtone?

*** the default iPhone ringtone, I've never bothered to change it but I want my text ringtone to be the thing from Kim possible

73: how old will you be in 5 months?

*** 19

74: where is your mum right now?

*** in my sister’s room helping her build a desk

75: why aren’t you with the person you were first in love with or almost in love?

*** bc he's an abusive piece of shit (:

76: have you held hands with somebody in the past three days?

*** sadly no ):

77: are you friends with the people you were friends with two years ago?

*** definitely not

78: do you remember who you had a crush on in year 7?

*** a dude named Zac but he was a terrible person lmao

79: is there anyone you know with the name mike?

*** my aunt's pos boyfriend

80: have you ever fallen asleep in someones arms?

*** no ):

81: how many people have you liked in the past three months?

*** not really anyone worth noting

82: has anyone seen you in your underwear in the last 3 days?

*** probably

83: will you talk to the person you like tonight?

*** I don't really like anyone atm

84: you’re drunk and yelling at hot guys/girls out of your car window, you’re with?

*** probably Bria or faith tbh

85: if your bf/gf was into drugs would you care?

*** I think it’d depend on what it was and if it was effecting them in an unhealthy way or not

86: what was the most eventful thing that happened last time you went to see a movie?

*** I threw up 20 mins into Spiderman homecoming

87: who was your last received call from?

*** my sister

88: if someone gave you $1,000 to burn a butterfly over a candle, would you?

*** I think it'd depend on what I needed the money for and how bad I needed it

89: what is something you wish you had more of?

*** friends

90: have you ever trusted someone too much?

*** all the time. I love trusting people but it gets me hurt a lot

91: do you sleep with your window open?

*** I wish but I got them allergies

92: do you get along with girls?

*** for the most part yes!

93: are you keeping a secret from someone who needs to know the truth?

*** yeah but its not worth telling them right now, gotta wait till the right time

94: does sex mean love?

*** nope!

95: you’re locked in a room with the last person you kissed, is that a problem?

*** no but I might have a hard time trying to find things to talk about

96: have you ever kissed anyone with a lip ring?

*** yeah I didn't really like it tbh

97: did you sleep alone this week?

*** always

98: everybody has somebody that makes them happy, do you?

*** yes! my sister and ryder

99: do you believe in love at first sight?

*** no bc then you're just falling in love with the persons looks and not the actual person

100: who was the last person that you pinky promise

*** my mom but I don't remember what for

[spicemethefuckup]

I am wild, full of rage and cannot be tamed. And

I am having horribly vivid nightmares over and over again to the point of exhaustion. I wake up in a daze, disassociating before I can even start my day and it’s a STRUGGLE to focus and reconnect with reality. Which is super hard given I work two jobs full time atm. I’m desperately trying to get it under control and I cried in front of a judge at jury duty during the worst part of it because I said “I’m sorry but I can’t serve due to mental illness, I can’t promise that I will be aware enough during those days or not slip out of reality mid trial” and then this wonderful lady judge just asked “are you being treated?”and I was so distraught that I had admitted to being mentally ill to a room of 60 people that I burst out into tears because I was desperately trying to calmly say not at this moment. The mental illness episodes/ recent rigger that is re-occurring for me just started two or three weeks ago and I’ve been trying to navigate my new insurance. I haven’t had to go to therapy since I was 13, so this is a new and difficult process for me as an adult on my own in the middle of a mental crisis that leaves me so fatigued and restless that I can barley make it to work. So she saw me struggling to try to compose myself and ask if I would like to discuss it in private and this angel dismissed me with the others and said I served my justly duty for the next 2 years. No extra questions, no probing. She could see how bad it was for me. And that was a couple weeks ago. And it got better, this past week was no nightmares, no fits of rage on my drive home at my old family life. And then last night it happened again. I was in my room: my adult apartment room, masturbating and suddenly my step dad opened the door and said hey Jess. And luckily everything was under a blanket and I was just suddenly back in my mindset of living at home and being vulnerable with no privacy. He said, “I’m going to need you to go get something/ head out for an errand in a little while” and I said I can’t, I have two jobs and I’m just about to start getting ready to head to my first shift( which I actually had today. You see the times lined up with the actual real time of the day) and then I had to leave work and directly go to my next job so I won’t have any availability for anything else. And he angrily looked at me with one hand on the door and said ,”in a little while you are going to head out to do an errand, I don’t care about all *gestures at my explanation*” -No I’m not going to do that. I’m an adult and I have responsibilities do it yourself /I’ll come get you in an hour -I will already be at work by then. /Get your ass up and get ready He slams the door and walks into my second room I pull my clothes on and run out after him shouting “I’m not doing it, you ass!!” As I turn into my second room, he’s sitting there in a room rearranged with furniture I’m unfamiliar with. His face morphs with my biological fathers and I run up to him while he sits and scream that I’m so sick of his bullshit and he cannot demand anything of me, especially not in my own home and he grabs me and pulls me violently towards him. I lash out and bite him so he lets me go and I slash my left hand’s nails across his face and I see it. A wound, and I get a taste for blood and I do it over and over again, attacking him and he is unfazed and won’t respond or admit that he has no claim to me or my life. That he can not control me. I am untamed and wild and I will not be restrained by some chauvinist man who spent my childhood acting like I had to obey him (my step dad) because he was the man of the house or he would make my life miserable over the smallest disagreement. And that’s how all the dreams go, that I’m overpowered and vulnerable. Always relating to me being sexual and being taken advantage of or ordered around. And I’m terrified and panicked and angry and full of rage. hyper aware of my body and what I’m wearing all while trying to argue over my right to privacy and dignity. And that’s just it, we know my real father sexually assaulted and tried to kill me. We know my step father tortured me emotionally and mentally for decades and I’m fucking broken and have this deep deep reverberation of those incidents and I’m just as angry now as I was sad and desperate to escape then. And now as an adult I know why I’m having these problems, I know what I need to do about it (go to therapy and get on medication) and I do not have the time or resources to act on it and I won’t for another 4-6months. So for now I’m desperately trying to hold it together with fits of uncontrollable rage like a sneeze. I can feel my skin prickling when something goes wrong or there is too much constant noise or I’m being touched and I can’t handle it. I try to breathe and calm down and remind myself that it will pass and I’m not actually angry at what’s happening, that I’m -.. my body starts twitching, ..- I’m not actually ..-the dog just fucking dug her nails into my thigh-.. she doesn’t know she’s hurting me. “Please get off” she digs them in deeper, the cats start meowing, my baby boy pupper can sense I’m getting upset and started to wine at the other animals and licks my face to get me to laugh and a single one of that female dog’s hairs gets up my nose . I jump up and scream GET THE FUCK OFF OF ME, YOURE FUCKING HURTING ME I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD IF YOU DONT GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME- Bear is backing away and laying down. He knows I’m not talking to him but he cringes and the pure rage and desperately looks at the female dog we are watching to for once in her stupid life listen and not jump back on me or chase the cat sending her crashing into something that will add to the ever growing expense list of things this moron has destroyed of mine. What is it now $600 of damage and expenses for a dog whose owner dumped her on us for up to a year after recklessly buying her and still making payments on her all the while letting this dog be untrained, under weight and unspayed because a $3,000 pure bred dog for someone barley making rent seemed like the right choice while also moving out of state right after high school. And now she’s our problem (my partner and I), and we are training her and giving her all the attention she never got and getting her up to weight and getting her spayed. And she is so anxious because of her past living situation that she always has to be touching me and has latched on to me as her source of love and my sensory problems don’t handle this well when touch is pins in my legs and eyes. And it burns, oh god is burns and I twitch uncontrollably from the pain and I lash out. I don’t hit or hurt anyone or any animal physically but I yell. In the same way I twitch and I yell and I can’t stop it and I freak out and need to lay still to regain my composure and I can’t beside the dog that was digging it’s nails into my thighs is running around and jumping off of me, cutting my back and now Bear is barking to try to get her to come to him and the cats are hissing at her or meowing for food and I scream. I have to leave, I can feel my body shutting down and turning off my hearing, turning off my ability to feel. I can feel my feelings fade away and reality fall in shards to the side. Everything is blurry and just out of reach so I grab my coat and leave for work. I’m trying to keep this under control and I’m having breakdowns over my clothes and I’m fat and my eating disorder is bad and my partner sounds disappointed in me and repeats “have you been eating on the new couch? No (the one I paid for in full by the way) /when we get upstairs can you look at the couch it looks like someone was eating on it. -Well I wasn’t, it’s probably Mr.Simons snot. I can wipe it down. He says this again as if I had told him no. I can feel my skin prickling. -Yeah I can do that. We walk in the front door, all the pets are making noise and he says it again. I can’t absorb this right now, I’m already heading to look at it. I brush my hand over the spot and it is dried snot from the cat like I said. I wipe it down and lay a blanket down and put the sofa cover on so the female dog can’t ruin it while she’s here. I realize it doesn’t look quite right, I’m just trying to look at it and take it in so I can conceptualize how to fix it when my partner walks in and proclaims thats not how it goes on. I said I know I can see the arm piece here but I’m trying to figure out how I’m supposed to turn it. He immediately starts pulling at it frustrated, he puts it on the way I did. I realized halfway through how it’s supposed to fit and I stop him. He gets upset and I try to explain it’s almost there we just have to do xyz. I go to sleep and have the dream above. He tells me today I “have to have to have to put the laundry away” the laundry is a million miles away from my assaulted and broken body. I repeat “have to have to have to” be rants about not being able to find his shirt and get ready. I ask if he wants me to get up and look for him. He said he had already found it(he was in the closet rustling for no more than 2 minutes prior). I’m frustrated that he unload his frustration on me while I’m trying to desperately focus on calming my body down enough to pee and focus on the aching in my stomach. He’s making me anxious, I’m about to snap. All he can say about my old home life was how dirty and bad smelling it was living in that house. And how all my stuff still smells of it years later. It doesn’t, it’s all in his head because all he’s ever seen me as is ungrateful for what he does for me and how I should perform chores in a timely manner because he’s the man of the house. And I lie back down before my alarm goes off in an hour for me to actually get up and his face melds with my step dads and biological fathers and I fall back into the nightmare. I am wild, I am full of rage and I cannot be tamed.

[krisiunicornio]

A volunteer yoga program at Rady Children’s Hospital in San Diego is bettering the lives of its oncology kids.

Aimee DeLuna practice yoga in her hospital bed. 

The cornflower-blue sleeper sofa. The formica closet. The tea cart clanking by. Jaymee Jiao will never forget the eight months she spent living in this hospital room with her son Savior-Makani Jiao as he underwent around-the-clock treatment for acute myeloid leukemia. But today, the rambunctious two-and-a-half-year-old is in remission, and he’s arrived at his former bedroom at San Diego’s Rady Children’s Hospital in a red plastic Radio Flyer. “I had to buckle him in because he was going crazy downstairs,” Jiao says when we meet, exhaling. It’s true: Right now, Savior’s energy could fuel a turbine. The familiar nurses who pass by gush over his vivacity and thick, wavy tuft of black hair. You’d never guess that just last year he was undergoing chemotherapy full time.

Five months post-discharge, Jiao is settling into life back at home with her husband and four children, of whom Savior is the youngest. She is visibly tired, yet cheerful. Atop her left shoulder is a large, tight lump, and she points it out, pulling on it as if it might loosen and slip off. “I carry my stress physically,” she says with a shrug.

Also in Savior’s old hospital room is volunteer yoga teacher Liz Fautsch, a smiling brunette who worked weekly with Jiao to ease tension and stress while she was holed up at Rady. “Your shoulder is looking better!” Fautsch encourages. Jiao nods. “Yoga helped relieve my shoulder and back pain,” she tells me. “And,” she says, lowering her voice a little, “it would take my mind off things when we were having a bad day.” But between school drop-offs and shuttling her kids to sports practice and chasing Savior around the house, Jiao admittedly hasn’t kept up a regular yoga routine since she lived in this room.

See also Building a Strong Foundation for Cancer Healing

JAYMEEundefinedJIAO with her son, Savior-Makani Jiao in their former hospital room at Rady Children's in San Diego.

The yoga program for cancer patients and their families here at Rady is powered by volunteers from the Sean O’Shea Foundation—a nonprofit organization that aims to empower youth through yoga, mindfulness, and optimistic teachings. It was founded by Gloria O’Shea to honor her late son Sean, a children’s yoga teacher who died in a fluke car crash in 2006. He was 32. While the foundation has been running programs for San Diego kids and teens since 2008, it partnered with Rady in 2011 to harness the research-backed benefits of yoga for kids undergoing cancer treatment and their families. Volunteer yoga teachers such as Fautsch, many of whom are health care professionals and specialize in yoga for cancer recovery, visit the hospital’s oncology unit three days a week, going bed to bed to offer individualized sessions to whoever’s in the room—be it patients, parents, or friendly visitors. Sessions typically last about 30 minutes and range from pranayama and meditation in bed to asana on colorful mats carried in on carts by volunteers.

“When the yoga instructors would come by, my eyes would blink little hearts,” says Jessica Davidson, whose 10-year-old daughter, Julia Davidson, spent two years at Rady battling stage four neuroblastoma. Today, after undergoing surgical tumor removal and six rounds of frontline chemotherapy followed by immunotherapy—plus plenty of yoga and bedside dance parties (’80s and ’90s music were the jams)—Julia is precocious and thriving in remission. She still dances and practices yoga regularly, and tells me, “It’s really calming and good for the human body, so I recommend it.”

Chemotherapy and other cancer treatments like radiation are notoriously volatile and can slow growth in children. The most common side effects apart from hair loss include nausea and vomiting, trouble breathing, nerve damage (neuropathy), and a weakened immune system. While a growing body of research from the past two decades supports yoga’s ability to reduce symptoms and stress and improve mood and overall quality of life in cancer patients, yoga and physical therapist Kelli Bethel, the director of yoga therapy at the University of Maryland School of Medicine’s Center for Integrative Medicine, says customized practices tailored to each patient, like those at Rady, work best in real-life scenarios. In a health-research setting, however, proving yoga’s absolute potential through standardized clinical trials is nearly impossible: “Everyone’s cancer journey is different and their needs and symptoms vary,” she says. “It’s one thing to understand which methods of yoga apply to cancer patients, but having everyone follow a script—this pose, this exercise—that will never accurately demonstrate the full benefits.”

Pediatric research is also hard to come by, but according to a 2019 clinical feasibility study that examined the impact of yoga on pediatric outpatients receiving chemotherapy, the results of two recent pilot studies show that individualized yoga programs improved quality of life for adolescents receiving cancer treatment. Ultimately, the authors called for further investigation. To date, much of the evidence for yoga’s treatment benefits comes from breast cancer clinical trials, says Bethel.

To that end, Julia Fukuhara was working as a nurse and volunteer yoga instructor at Rady in 2013 when she realized her unique potential as a data collector. “We have some research that shows how imperative integrative medicine is for adults and for kids, but to actually see it frontline was mind blowing,” she says. Kids could sleep better afterward. They were less anxious. Oftentimes they required less pain- or anti-nausea medication.

When making their yoga rounds, Fukuhara and the other teachers on the ward kept detailed notebooks with dated entries describing patient conditions, applied yoga exercises, and outcomes. “We already had all this documentation in place, so we thought, let’s see if we can numerically capture this data with some kind of pain, anxiety, and quality-of-life measure,” she says. What ensued was a six-month study of 32 kids and their families who were surveyed before and after yoga sessions. The results will hopefully be published in the coming months, and Fukuhara is excited to report that she saw significant positive change.

See also This is How One Yogi Doctor Used Ayurveda to Treat His Own Cancer

Ten-year-old Julia Davidson keeps up with her yoga practice while in remission from neuroblastoma.

Common chemo drugs are known to depress the nervous system, says Fukuhara. For the kids she worked with at Rady, this often manifested as trouble breathing, balancing, and focusing—and eventually irreversible neuropathy and numbness in fingers and toes. During her study, which she co-authored with pediatric oncology nurse practitioner Jeanie Spies, Fukuhara found that stimulating power poses such as Virabhadrasanas (Warrior Poses) and Vrksasana (Tree Pose) fired up her patients’ nerves, making them resistant to the negative side effects of their medications. “It’s like we were enhancing the nervous system,” she says.

Spies is the founder of the integrative medicine program at Rady and coordinator of the yoga initiative. Her warm red hair feels like an extension of her personality: She geeks out over things like bone marrow biopsies and witnessing a patient’s first steps (she beamed recounting Savior’s as he bounced around the room). Spies says that what surprised her most was the profound effect the yoga sessions had on parents, like Jiao, who face sleepless nights marked by constant worry and interruptions from hospital staff. “We turn their lives upside down with the diagnosis of cancer,” Spies says. “The beauty of the yoga here is that it gives them a sense of relaxation and control, even if it’s only for 10 minutes.”

Ping Cao has a petite, fragile-looking frame—but don’t be fooled. The lines on her soft, worn face, like the glossy black hair she wears in a tight pixie cut, are evidence of her perseverance. The Chinese immigrant is a volunteer yoga teacher with the O’Shea Foundation who recently finished treatment for breast cancer. Yoga and, in particular, Sama Vritti Pranayama—a technique in which you breath and hold to counts of four—helped Cao mitigate fatigue and nausea while she was undergoing chemotherapy and radiation. The strength she’s derived from the practice and from the support of other cancer survivors is what she says led her to start volunteering at Rady.

See also Dharma Talk: Yoga by the Throat

AIMEE DE LUNA practices yoga with breast cancer survivor Ping Cao during treatment.

Research shows that yogic exercises as simple as pranayama (controlled breathing) can stimulate the immune system, and Cao begins most of her sessions in the pediatric oncology unit this way. Today she sits in a little teal chair beside 17-year old Aimee De Luna’s hospital bed. Four weeks earlier, De Luna, a high school senior, was prom-dress shopping at the mall with her mom when she fainted in the checkout line. Her pediatrician suspected anemia, but blood tests revealed leukemia. As an outpatient, she and her parents make the 1.5-hour drive from their home most days so Aimee can get chemotherapy. Today she smiles, eyes closed, sitting up still in her hospital gown, a gray beanie atop her head, as Cao guides her through a bedside meditation and stretching exercise. They’ve been practicing together like this for about three weeks now.

“The first time she asked me if I wanted to do it, I was a hard No,” De Luna laughs. “But by the third time, I was feeling a lot better and was up for the challenge.” She likes Cao’s “relaxing vibe” and calls their sessions “a fun little escape from chemotherapy and needles and all that bad stuff.” She’s come to look forward to it—it’s relaxing, the stretching feels good, and she enjoys spending time with Cao, who not too long ago was in De Luna’s shoes.

��I’m in a unique position,” Cao says. “When I walk into a room, I can see it in the kids: They are in pain, or they are experiencing something uncomfortable from their treatment, or they are scared. And I can feel it in the parents, too. But I can say, ‘Here I am. I had the same experience. I felt all these difficulties physically, emotionally, too, and I did yoga. It helped. And today, I’m still surviving, and you will, too.’”  

[cedarrrun]

A volunteer yoga program at Rady Children’s Hospital in San Diego is bettering the lives of its oncology kids.

Aimee DeLuna practice yoga in her hospital bed. 

The cornflower-blue sleeper sofa. The formica closet. The tea cart clanking by. Jaymee Jiao will never forget the eight months she spent living in this hospital room with her son Savior-Makani Jiao as he underwent around-the-clock treatment for acute myeloid leukemia. But today, the rambunctious two-and-a-half-year-old is in remission, and he’s arrived at his former bedroom at San Diego’s Rady Children’s Hospital in a red plastic Radio Flyer. “I had to buckle him in because he was going crazy downstairs,” Jiao says when we meet, exhaling. It’s true: Right now, Savior’s energy could fuel a turbine. The familiar nurses who pass by gush over his vivacity and thick, wavy tuft of black hair. You’d never guess that just last year he was undergoing chemotherapy full time.

Five months post-discharge, Jiao is settling into life back at home with her husband and four children, of whom Savior is the youngest. She is visibly tired, yet cheerful. Atop her left shoulder is a large, tight lump, and she points it out, pulling on it as if it might loosen and slip off. “I carry my stress physically,” she says with a shrug.

Also in Savior’s old hospital room is volunteer yoga teacher Liz Fautsch, a smiling brunette who worked weekly with Jiao to ease tension and stress while she was holed up at Rady. “Your shoulder is looking better!” Fautsch encourages. Jiao nods. “Yoga helped relieve my shoulder and back pain,” she tells me. “And,” she says, lowering her voice a little, “it would take my mind off things when we were having a bad day.” But between school drop-offs and shuttling her kids to sports practice and chasing Savior around the house, Jiao admittedly hasn’t kept up a regular yoga routine since she lived in this room.

See also Building a Strong Foundation for Cancer Healing

JAYMEEundefinedJIAO with her son, Savior-Makani Jiao in their former hospital room at Rady Children's in San Diego.

The yoga program for cancer patients and their families here at Rady is powered by volunteers from the Sean O’Shea Foundation—a nonprofit organization that aims to empower youth through yoga, mindfulness, and optimistic teachings. It was founded by Gloria O’Shea to honor her late son Sean, a children’s yoga teacher who died in a fluke car crash in 2006. He was 32. While the foundation has been running programs for San Diego kids and teens since 2008, it partnered with Rady in 2011 to harness the research-backed benefits of yoga for kids undergoing cancer treatment and their families. Volunteer yoga teachers such as Fautsch, many of whom are health care professionals and specialize in yoga for cancer recovery, visit the hospital’s oncology unit three days a week, going bed to bed to offer individualized sessions to whoever’s in the room—be it patients, parents, or friendly visitors. Sessions typically last about 30 minutes and range from pranayama and meditation in bed to asana on colorful mats carried in on carts by volunteers.

“When the yoga instructors would come by, my eyes would blink little hearts,” says Jessica Davidson, whose 10-year-old daughter, Julia Davidson, spent two years at Rady battling stage four neuroblastoma. Today, after undergoing surgical tumor removal and six rounds of frontline chemotherapy followed by immunotherapy—plus plenty of yoga and bedside dance parties (’80s and ’90s music were the jams)—Julia is precocious and thriving in remission. She still dances and practices yoga regularly, and tells me, “It’s really calming and good for the human body, so I recommend it.”

Chemotherapy and other cancer treatments like radiation are notoriously volatile and can slow growth in children. The most common side effects apart from hair loss include nausea and vomiting, trouble breathing, nerve damage (neuropathy), and a weakened immune system. While a growing body of research from the past two decades supports yoga’s ability to reduce symptoms and stress and improve mood and overall quality of life in cancer patients, yoga and physical therapist Kelli Bethel, the director of yoga therapy at the University of Maryland School of Medicine’s Center for Integrative Medicine, says customized practices tailored to each patient, like those at Rady, work best in real-life scenarios. In a health-research setting, however, proving yoga’s absolute potential through standardized clinical trials is nearly impossible: “Everyone’s cancer journey is different and their needs and symptoms vary,” she says. “It’s one thing to understand which methods of yoga apply to cancer patients, but having everyone follow a script—this pose, this exercise—that will never accurately demonstrate the full benefits.”

Pediatric research is also hard to come by, but according to a 2019 clinical feasibility study that examined the impact of yoga on pediatric outpatients receiving chemotherapy, the results of two recent pilot studies show that individualized yoga programs improved quality of life for adolescents receiving cancer treatment. Ultimately, the authors called for further investigation. To date, much of the evidence for yoga’s treatment benefits comes from breast cancer clinical trials, says Bethel.

To that end, Julia Fukuhara was working as a nurse and volunteer yoga instructor at Rady in 2013 when she realized her unique potential as a data collector. “We have some research that shows how imperative integrative medicine is for adults and for kids, but to actually see it frontline was mind blowing,” she says. Kids could sleep better afterward. They were less anxious. Oftentimes they required less pain- or anti-nausea medication.

When making their yoga rounds, Fukuhara and the other teachers on the ward kept detailed notebooks with dated entries describing patient conditions, applied yoga exercises, and outcomes. “We already had all this documentation in place, so we thought, let’s see if we can numerically capture this data with some kind of pain, anxiety, and quality-of-life measure,” she says. What ensued was a six-month study of 32 kids and their families who were surveyed before and after yoga sessions. The results will hopefully be published in the coming months, and Fukuhara is excited to report that she saw significant positive change.

See also This is How One Yogi Doctor Used Ayurveda to Treat His Own Cancer

Ten-year-old Julia Davidson keeps up with her yoga practice while in remission from neuroblastoma.

Common chemo drugs are known to depress the nervous system, says Fukuhara. For the kids she worked with at Rady, this often manifested as trouble breathing, balancing, and focusing—and eventually irreversible neuropathy and numbness in fingers and toes. During her study, which she co-authored with pediatric oncology nurse practitioner Jeanie Spies, Fukuhara found that stimulating power poses such as Virabhadrasanas (Warrior Poses) and Vrksasana (Tree Pose) fired up her patients’ nerves, making them resistant to the negative side effects of their medications. “It’s like we were enhancing the nervous system,” she says.

Spies is the founder of the integrative medicine program at Rady and coordinator of the yoga initiative. Her warm red hair feels like an extension of her personality: She geeks out over things like bone marrow biopsies and witnessing a patient’s first steps (she beamed recounting Savior’s as he bounced around the room). Spies says that what surprised her most was the profound effect the yoga sessions had on parents, like Jiao, who face sleepless nights marked by constant worry and interruptions from hospital staff. “We turn their lives upside down with the diagnosis of cancer,” Spies says. “The beauty of the yoga here is that it gives them a sense of relaxation and control, even if it’s only for 10 minutes.”

Ping Cao has a petite, fragile-looking frame—but don’t be fooled. The lines on her soft, worn face, like the glossy black hair she wears in a tight pixie cut, are evidence of her perseverance. The Chinese immigrant is a volunteer yoga teacher with the O’Shea Foundation who recently finished treatment for breast cancer. Yoga and, in particular, Sama Vritti Pranayama—a technique in which you breath and hold to counts of four—helped Cao mitigate fatigue and nausea while she was undergoing chemotherapy and radiation. The strength she’s derived from the practice and from the support of other cancer survivors is what she says led her to start volunteering at Rady.

See also Dharma Talk: Yoga by the Throat

AIMEE DE LUNA practices yoga with breast cancer survivor Ping Cao during treatment.

Research shows that yogic exercises as simple as pranayama (controlled breathing) can stimulate the immune system, and Cao begins most of her sessions in the pediatric oncology unit this way. Today she sits in a little teal chair beside 17-year old Aimee De Luna’s hospital bed. Four weeks earlier, De Luna, a high school senior, was prom-dress shopping at the mall with her mom when she fainted in the checkout line. Her pediatrician suspected anemia, but blood tests revealed leukemia. As an outpatient, she and her parents make the 1.5-hour drive from their home most days so Aimee can get chemotherapy. Today she smiles, eyes closed, sitting up still in her hospital gown, a gray beanie atop her head, as Cao guides her through a bedside meditation and stretching exercise. They’ve been practicing together like this for about three weeks now.

“The first time she asked me if I wanted to do it, I was a hard No,” De Luna laughs. “But by the third time, I was feeling a lot better and was up for the challenge.” She likes Cao’s “relaxing vibe” and calls their sessions “a fun little escape from chemotherapy and needles and all that bad stuff.” She’s come to look forward to it—it’s relaxing, the stretching feels good, and she enjoys spending time with Cao, who not too long ago was in De Luna’s shoes.

“I’m in a unique position,” Cao says. “When I walk into a room, I can see it in the kids: They are in pain, or they are experiencing something uncomfortable from their treatment, or they are scared. And I can feel it in the parents, too. But I can say, ‘Here I am. I had the same experience. I felt all these difficulties physically, emotionally, too, and I did yoga. It helped. And today, I’m still surviving, and you will, too.’”  

[amyddaniels]

How Yoga Is Helping Kids with Cancer

A volunteer yoga program at Rady Children’s Hospital in San Diego is bettering the lives of its oncology kids.

Aimee DeLuna practice yoga in her hospital bed. 

The cornflower-blue sleeper sofa. The formica closet. The tea cart clanking by. Jaymee Jiao will never forget the eight months she spent living in this hospital room with her son Savior-Makani Jiao as he underwent around-the-clock treatment for acute myeloid leukemia. But today, the rambunctious two-and-a-half-year-old is in remission, and he’s arrived at his former bedroom at San Diego’s Rady Children’s Hospital in a red plastic Radio Flyer. “I had to buckle him in because he was going crazy downstairs,” Jiao says when we meet, exhaling. It’s true: Right now, Savior’s energy could fuel a turbine. The familiar nurses who pass by gush over his vivacity and thick, wavy tuft of black hair. You’d never guess that just last year he was undergoing chemotherapy full time.

Five months post-discharge, Jiao is settling into life back at home with her husband and four children, of whom Savior is the youngest. She is visibly tired, yet cheerful. Atop her left shoulder is a large, tight lump, and she points it out, pulling on it as if it might loosen and slip off. “I carry my stress physically,” she says with a shrug.

Also in Savior’s old hospital room is volunteer yoga teacher Liz Fautsch, a smiling brunette who worked weekly with Jiao to ease tension and stress while she was holed up at Rady. “Your shoulder is looking better!” Fautsch encourages. Jiao nods. “Yoga helped relieve my shoulder and back pain,” she tells me. “And,” she says, lowering her voice a little, “it would take my mind off things when we were having a bad day.” But between school drop-offs and shuttling her kids to sports practice and chasing Savior around the house, Jiao admittedly hasn’t kept up a regular yoga routine since she lived in this room.

See also Building a Strong Foundation for Cancer Healing

JAYMEEundefinedJIAO with her son, Savior-Makani Jiao in their former hospital room at Rady Children's in San Diego.

The yoga program for cancer patients and their families here at Rady is powered by volunteers from the Sean O’Shea Foundation—a nonprofit organization that aims to empower youth through yoga, mindfulness, and optimistic teachings. It was founded by Gloria O’Shea to honor her late son Sean, a children’s yoga teacher who died in a fluke car crash in 2006. He was 32. While the foundation has been running programs for San Diego kids and teens since 2008, it partnered with Rady in 2011 to harness the research-backed benefits of yoga for kids undergoing cancer treatment and their families. Volunteer yoga teachers such as Fautsch, many of whom are health care professionals and specialize in yoga for cancer recovery, visit the hospital’s oncology unit three days a week, going bed to bed to offer individualized sessions to whoever’s in the room—be it patients, parents, or friendly visitors. Sessions typically last about 30 minutes and range from pranayama and meditation in bed to asana on colorful mats carried in on carts by volunteers.

“When the yoga instructors would come by, my eyes would blink little hearts,” says Jessica Davidson, whose 10-year-old daughter, Julia Davidson, spent two years at Rady battling stage four neuroblastoma. Today, after undergoing surgical tumor removal and six rounds of frontline chemotherapy followed by immunotherapy—plus plenty of yoga and bedside dance parties (’80s and ’90s music were the jams)—Julia is precocious and thriving in remission. She still dances and practices yoga regularly, and tells me, “It’s really calming and good for the human body, so I recommend it.”

Chemotherapy and other cancer treatments like radiation are notoriously volatile and can slow growth in children. The most common side effects apart from hair loss include nausea and vomiting, trouble breathing, nerve damage (neuropathy), and a weakened immune system. While a growing body of research from the past two decades supports yoga’s ability to reduce symptoms and stress and improve mood and overall quality of life in cancer patients, yoga and physical therapist Kelli Bethel, the director of yoga therapy at the University of Maryland School of Medicine’s Center for Integrative Medicine, says customized practices tailored to each patient, like those at Rady, work best in real-life scenarios. In a health-research setting, however, proving yoga’s absolute potential through standardized clinical trials is nearly impossible: “Everyone’s cancer journey is different and their needs and symptoms vary,” she says. “It’s one thing to understand which methods of yoga apply to cancer patients, but having everyone follow a script—this pose, this exercise—that will never accurately demonstrate the full benefits.”

Pediatric research is also hard to come by, but according to a 2019 clinical feasibility study that examined the impact of yoga on pediatric outpatients receiving chemotherapy, the results of two recent pilot studies show that individualized yoga programs improved quality of life for adolescents receiving cancer treatment. Ultimately, the authors called for further investigation. To date, much of the evidence for yoga’s treatment benefits comes from breast cancer clinical trials, says Bethel.

To that end, Julia Fukuhara was working as a nurse and volunteer yoga instructor at Rady in 2013 when she realized her unique potential as a data collector. “We have some research that shows how imperative integrative medicine is for adults and for kids, but to actually see it frontline was mind blowing,” she says. Kids could sleep better afterward. They were less anxious. Oftentimes they required less pain- or anti-nausea medication.

When making their yoga rounds, Fukuhara and the other teachers on the ward kept detailed notebooks with dated entries describing patient conditions, applied yoga exercises, and outcomes. “We already had all this documentation in place, so we thought, let’s see if we can numerically capture this data with some kind of pain, anxiety, and quality-of-life measure,” she says. What ensued was a six-month study of 32 kids and their families who were surveyed before and after yoga sessions. The results will hopefully be published in the coming months, and Fukuhara is excited to report that she saw significant positive change.

See also This is How One Yogi Doctor Used Ayurveda to Treat His Own Cancer

Ten-year-old Julia Davidson keeps up with her yoga practice while in remission from neuroblastoma.

Common chemo drugs are known to depress the nervous system, says Fukuhara. For the kids she worked with at Rady, this often manifested as trouble breathing, balancing, and focusing—and eventually irreversible neuropathy and numbness in fingers and toes. During her study, which she co-authored with pediatric oncology nurse practitioner Jeanie Spies, Fukuhara found that stimulating power poses such as Virabhadrasanas (Warrior Poses) and Vrksasana (Tree Pose) fired up her patients’ nerves, making them resistant to the negative side effects of their medications. “It’s like we were enhancing the nervous system,” she says.

Spies is the founder of the integrative medicine program at Rady and coordinator of the yoga initiative. Her warm red hair feels like an extension of her personality: She geeks out over things like bone marrow biopsies and witnessing a patient’s first steps (she beamed recounting Savior’s as he bounced around the room). Spies says that what surprised her most was the profound effect the yoga sessions had on parents, like Jiao, who face sleepless nights marked by constant worry and interruptions from hospital staff. “We turn their lives upside down with the diagnosis of cancer,” Spies says. “The beauty of the yoga here is that it gives them a sense of relaxation and control, even if it’s only for 10 minutes.”

Ping Cao has a petite, fragile-looking frame—but don’t be fooled. The lines on her soft, worn face, like the glossy black hair she wears in a tight pixie cut, are evidence of her perseverance. The Chinese immigrant is a volunteer yoga teacher with the O’Shea Foundation who recently finished treatment for breast cancer. Yoga and, in particular, Sama Vritti Pranayama—a technique in which you breath and hold to counts of four—helped Cao mitigate fatigue and nausea while she was undergoing chemotherapy and radiation. The strength she’s derived from the practice and from the support of other cancer survivors is what she says led her to start volunteering at Rady.

See also Dharma Talk: Yoga by the Throat

AIMEE DE LUNA practices yoga with breast cancer survivor Ping Cao during treatment.

Research shows that yogic exercises as simple as pranayama (controlled breathing) can stimulate the immune system, and Cao begins most of her sessions in the pediatric oncology unit this way. Today she sits in a little teal chair beside 17-year old Aimee De Luna’s hospital bed. Four weeks earlier, De Luna, a high school senior, was prom-dress shopping at the mall with her mom when she fainted in the checkout line. Her pediatrician suspected anemia, but blood tests revealed leukemia. As an outpatient, she and her parents make the 1.5-hour drive from their home most days so Aimee can get chemotherapy. Today she smiles, eyes closed, sitting up still in her hospital gown, a gray beanie atop her head, as Cao guides her through a bedside meditation and stretching exercise. They’ve been practicing together like this for about three weeks now.

“The first time she asked me if I wanted to do it, I was a hard No,” De Luna laughs. “But by the third time, I was feeling a lot better and was up for the challenge.” She likes Cao’s “relaxing vibe” and calls their sessions “a fun little escape from chemotherapy and needles and all that bad stuff.” She’s come to look forward to it—it’s relaxing, the stretching feels good, and she enjoys spending time with Cao, who not too long ago was in De Luna’s shoes.

“I’m in a unique position,” Cao says. “When I walk into a room, I can see it in the kids: They are in pain, or they are experiencing something uncomfortable from their treatment, or they are scared. And I can feel it in the parents, too. But I can say, ‘Here I am. I had the same experience. I felt all these difficulties physically, emotionally, too, and I did yoga. It helped. And today, I’m still surviving, and you will, too.’”  

[gossipnetwork-blog]

Performers' Mental Health: Is Porn Industry Doing Enough?

New Post has been published on http://gossip.network/performers-mental-health-is-porn-industry-doing-enough/

Performers' Mental Health: Is Porn Industry Doing Enough?

When the Adult Video News Awards take place next weekend in Las Vegas – arguably the biggest night in the adult industry and one that has the power to transform young porn stars into household names – at least two of its nominees will be noticeably absent: Olivia Nova and August Ames. Nova, a 20-year-old Minnesota native whose friends and family knew her as aspiring singer and model Alexis Forte, was pronounced dead by the Clark County Coroner’s Office at noon on January 7th in a private home in Las Vegas. She’d signed with the talent agency L.A. Direct Models three months prior, and had been working in the industry for less than a year. Her cause of death has not yet been determined.

Death of a Porn Star

When August Ames killed herself following controversy on Twitter, it revealed a schism between the gay and straight communities in the porn industry

The news came roughly a month after Ames, a prominent Canadian-American performer with four years of adult film credits to her name, was found asphyxiated from hanging in a public park near her Camarillo, California home. Ames, identified by the Ventura County Medical Examiner as 23-year-old Mercedes Grabowski, had battled social media accusations of homophobia after tweeting that she’d declined to shoot a scene with a male actor who’d previously shot gay porn. In a letter published to her website last week, her widow, Kevin Moore, attributed her death directly to online bullying and harassment from fellow members of the industry.

“We are in a crisis in the adult industry. It’s almost becoming like an epidemic,” says Amber Lynn, a porn star who has been performing since 1983 – far longer than many of the industry’s young starlets have been alive. “Our [ideological] differences are not as important as our survival and our future.”

Ames’ death was highly publicized in part because of the controversy surrounding it, but it was not an anomaly in the adult industry. Over the last two months, the porn community has mourned the deaths of Ames, Nova, and at least two other female performers: 35-year-old AVN Hall-of-Famer Shyla Stylez, who “died suddenly in her sleep” at her mother’s house, according to the Calgary Herald, and 31-year-old industry veteran Yurizan Beltran, who is suspected to have died of an overdose. 

Olivia Nova died last month. She had only been in the industry for a few months. Twitter

But the rash of sudden, consecutive deaths has prompted some performers to call for change in an industry with a low barrier to entry, minimal oversight and nearly non-existent job security despite extreme working conditions. Unlike pre-Internet porn stars, performers today face the added pressures of social media interactions, increased competition without increased pay and a demand for more physically taxing sex scenes – all of which can exacerbate existing mental health or substance abuse issues. So is the adult industry doing enough to protect its performers?

To Ruby, an AVN Hall of Famer who performs under a single name, the answer is a resounding no. “In my opinion, they really don’t care whether we die or not,” she says of the industry’s producers. “In fact, I’m going to be probably a little crass here, but this is true: They’d prefer we die because they can make money off of us forever.”

That wasn’t always the case. When Ruby began performing in adult films in the early 1990s, she says, women had far more agency and a lot more choice. “You used to be able to pick exactly who you wanted to work with and exactly what you wanted to do,” she says on a phone call from her home in Ohio, where she now works as a cam girl – a job she says is more appealing because it cuts out the middlemen. “They don’t let them choose anymore. They expect extraordinarily rough scenes for most of the work now and that has to take a toll on you mentally. It just has to.”

Jewels Jade, a retired porn star based in San Diego, can attest to that. She recalls getting hired for a so-called “light bondage” scene in which she was restrained in the back of a dump truck with suction cups, clothespins and rope. The experience, she says, made her suicidal. “I just wanted to eat a bullet. On the way home I was just crying my eyes out and calling my husband. Like, I couldn’t even function. And this has happened to a lot of girls,” she says. “They go on set and [directors] want to capture that fear because this is what the fans want, and there are some sick people who want some really bad stuff. They do this to these girls and if you think you’re going to recover from that, I barely recovered from that.”

Jade, who made national news last spring after her Navy SEAL husband was investigated for costarring in videos with her, says the scene went on to become one her most popular. Had she refused to shoot it, she says, it likely would’ve been the end of her career. “Girls, they’re told not to speak, to shut up or you won’t work again,” she says. Like Ruby, Jade believes porn production companies, producers and directors are complicit in the deaths of young women: “They don’t care about the girls. They care about the fans.”

Despite the physical and mental demands of a job with a notoriously high turnover rate, Jade says the reasons women get into porn are obvious: The money is good, the hours are flexible and the attention can be intoxicating. “A lot of girls have low self esteem. All of a sudden they have fans, people who are wooing over them, they’re feeling beautiful and, of course, as you get more and more popular you get recognized,” says Jade, who now owns a rental car business with her husband and says she plans to write a tell-all book about the porn industry. Aside from the awkward encounters she now fields as a parent – smong the fans that have recognized her lately are her 11-year-old son’s friends – fame can be a double-edged sword for any performer: “You can’t get a normal job. The more and more popular you get, no one’s going to hire you. You’re trapped,” she says.

Lynn, who hosts a weekly radio show about the industry, sees things differently. She attributes her atypical longevity as a porn star to her stints working in other fields including real estate, drug addiction recovery and mainstream acting. To her, the onus is on performers to better define their boundaries and learn to step away from the gig – including its social media obligations – if it becomes hazardous, mentally or physically. “A lot of these people get into the business and they don’t think they can be anything else. They don’t think they can survive outside the industry and that’s not true,” she says. “You can get out of the industry tomorrow if it no longer works.”

Having survived her share of tragedy – her brother, the late porn performer Buck Adams, died of heart failure in 2008 and she says she was there when Savannah killed herself a decade prior – Lynn, like many veteran performers, sees it as her responsibility to ensure her younger peers are getting the help they need. She serves as an officer at the Adult Performers’ Actors Guild – a chapter of the International Entertainment Adult Union, which was formed just two years ago and bills itself as the only adult actors’ union recognized by the United States Department of Labor – and says the group is working to strengthen its network of mental health resources for performers. Meanwhile, the Adult Performer Advocacy Committee, a separate, non-union group chaired by porn star Tasha Reign, offers a mentorship program for newer performers and a list of industry-friendly psychologists and therapists, mental health support organizations, and hotlines for suicide, abuse, and addiction. Still, the industry lacks any kind of established support system for mental health.

“We really don’t have anything to help the performers. We just kind of offer outreach to them,” admits APAG board member Kelly Pierce, a performer who now focuses on cam work because of the freedom it offers. “We’re working on getting something together as far as a mental health facility for our performers, which will obviously take time and we’ll have to utilize grants for that, but most of it is outreach.”

In the absence of a comprehensive mental health care network, some performers have taken matters into their own hands. Performer and director Nikki Hearts says she and her wife, porn actor Leigh Raven, have opened up their “really clean, wholesome household” as a safe haven to performers so often that they’ve been nicknamed mom and dad. Part of the problem, Hearts says, is that most performers lack health insurance and many don’t know how where to begin when it comes to finding a therapist; others use drugs to self-medicate. “Female performers are suffering because we’re not being taken care of by the industry that we give everything to,” says Hearts, who is quick to add that she loves her job and the people she works with, many of whom she now thinks of as family. “There’s no person saying, ‘What you’re dealing with is really difficult mentally, it’s taking a toll on you.'”

Hearts dreams of someday helping to establish a health clinic where adult performers can receive therapy and substance abuse treatment that’s tailored to their line of work. She believes mental health care should be just as accessible and routinely offered to performers as STI testing, which is mandated every two weeks by California law. “I’ve gone to therapy almost the entire time I’ve been in porn just to stay grounded. I’m a big advocate for mental health,” she says. “But there’s no one out there in our industry saying, ‘Go to therapy, it’s okay.'”

Hearts, like so many others in the industry, hopes that may soon change. She looks forward to a day when performers can easily access mental health services all in one place, without fearing they’ll be stigmatized by a healthcare provider. Until then, performers are looking to agencies, production companies and labor groups to better advocate for their wellbeing on and off the set. They’re counting on each other to look out for one another’s health and survival, even if that means checking in on social media or offering up a safe, sober place to spend the night. Porn consumers, who dictate the direction of the industry with their clicks and subscriptions, also have a role to play.

Above all, performers say, attitudes about women in porn have to change before the industry can start to evolve. “People have to start caring. The problem is that nobody cares about these girls. They’re dehumanized,” says Jade. “These are girls. They’re humans.” 

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[humanatease]

Casey Raub is a bartender at a busy brunch spot in Brooklyn, New York City. After years of hoisting heavy buckets of ice, he found that his lower back pain had compounded. Casey Raub can easily deadlift over 100 pounds — not thanks to the gym, but from his work as a bartender at ever-packed Brooklyn brunch hotspot Five Leaves. He regularly hoists heavy boxes of liquor and massive buckets of ice for an endless stream of gin gimlets and grapefruit margaritas. But after three years in the industry, Raub, 35, found that his back pain had compounded. Read more at http://bit.ly/tipstheyachefor While pouring a coffee for a customer named Dy Elise, he mentioned his chronic pain to her. Elise, owner of a nearby wellness center called Human@Ease, encouraged him to come in for a rehabilitative workout focusing on his back. "One of the most important things for restaurant workers is to do lower-back exercises, because the lower back is constantly working to stabilize you," Elise says. Raub began working out on low-intensity machines with Elise, who treats many of the borough's bartenders, servers and chefs. Within weeks, they had strengthened his back and core so he could continue bringing home a mostly painless paycheck. "I've had positive gains in building muscle mass in just a couple low-intensity, 20-to-30-minute sessions a week, and improvements in the areas that are fatigued through bartending, like my lower back," Raub says. "People can do this job for a while, but I think for people in my age group of mid-to-late 30s, it's taxing and you need to find a way to be healthy long-term — or you need to get out." Dy Elise has Casey Raub come in for a couple of low-intensity, 20-to-30-minute sessions a week to strengthen the areas that are fatigued through bartending, like his lower back. The average leisure and hospitality employee stays at one job for only 2.2 years. With hazardous working conditions and low rates of health benefits, high levels of attrition are hardly surprising. With a chef shortage, attrition is costly and retention is vital for the restaurant industry. Chefs may love cooking, servers may have a passion for hospitality, and bartenders may excel at making drinks, but a harsh working environment may knock some would-be long-termers out of the game early. Several national organizations have been established recently to help restaurant workers cope with and stay in the game. For instance, there's Chefs With Issues, which hones in on anxiety, depression and addiction. Restaurant Recovery focuses solely on addiction. Journee works with the industry at large, providing discussion groups, mentorship suppers and networking conferences for a wide variety of restaurant employees. Mind Body Spirit(s) helps bartenders deal with burnout — it offers seminars addressing health initiatives and community outreach, like yoga retreats. Yoga and pilates in particular have found a rapt audience in the restaurant world because of their ability to relax the body and help practitioners manage emotional stress. Emily Branden, who teaches yoga at Mind Body Spirits' annual seminar in Santa Fe, N.M., sees "the dudes who are all tatted up and working in all the great dive bars" actively participating in the new Champagne Yoga brunches she hosts with a chef. "They are taking to it — really listening and learning the concept of meditation," Branden says. "We do yoga and then drink champagne, and I teach simple restorative poses, such as lying down on the floor when they get home at night and putting their legs up on the couch to reverse the blood flow to the legs, so they can sleep better. They learn breath work to deal with the chaotic world at work." For years, Raub, the bartender, assiduously visited Worksong, a sliding-scale, community-based acupuncture practice in Greenpoint, Brooklyn. Owner Isobeau Trybula says she's seeing an increase in hospitality-industry workers among her clients. Bartender Casey Raub says that after a few weeks of low-intensity strength training with Dy Elise, he had conditioned his back and core. Elise owns a Brooklyn wellness center called Human@Ease and treats many of the borough's bartenders, servers and chefs. "I often get a person who's maybe 23, who took Adderall for four or five years to get them through a very prestigious college, and they now live with four or five people and work in the service industry," Trybula says. "But there is a wall you hit at around 27. " Trybula treats service-industry workers for a variety of ailments, from plantar fasciitis from all-day standing and carpal tunnel from shaking cocktails, to sleep disorders from pounding coffee to stay awake for late-night shifts. In 2008, during the Great Recession, Trybula says she saw a spike in stressed-out clients, with more underemployed and uninsured every year. She believes restaurant owners are asking for more work from their employees than ever, with "people waiting behind you to do your job." Trybula wants young, vulnerable food service workers to focus more on long-term wellness in anticipation of lengthy careers. And then there's diet. Weight-resistant strength training isn't the only method restaurant workers seek to curb their pain. Yoga, pilates and acupuncture are also popular options. The irony is that many of the people who make and serve food and drink have pretty erratic eating habits of their own. Think a quickly-shoveled meal before going to work, followed by a grueling 7-to-10-hour shift (with bites of bread snuck in), and band-aided by a drink with coworkers afterward to nurse exhaustion and depression. All that might be capped off at midnight with a bowl of instant ramen at home before passing out. Others subsist merely on coffee, cigarettes and alcohol. They then repeat the process the next day, potentially over a double shift. Nutritionist Christy Harrison works with restaurant industry workers to help them make better daily food choices for long-term health. "Our focus is often to help them carve out time during their shifts to eat their own meals and snacks, and to be aware of their own energy levels and hunger/thirst as they're working, since a busy shift can cause people to completely tune out of their own physical needs," Harrison says. San Francisco server Michael Procopio has been in the industry for 26 years. He knew he needed to quit his unhealthy habits when, already afflicted with depression, he rapidly suffered appendicitis, followed by a heart attack and then the death of his mother later that year. So he cut out his post-shift drink (which he called "self-medicating"), dropped smoking on doctor's orders, lessened his shifts and joined the gym. "I'd never given it much thought before, connections of my own wellness and waiting tables, but the restaurant lifestyle wasn't helpful for my heart, with its late hours," Procopio says. "I've had those concerns and fears of doing this when I'm 60, and I don't know if my body can handle doing it." One of his biggest preventives is psychotherapy. "I don't take the bad stuff home anymore, and part of that is therapy," he says." But his insurance does not cover mental therapy. While the rise of businesses catering to the long-term wellness of workers is welcome, restaurant worker advocate organizations like ROC-United says that broader industry changes like a livable wage, employer-sponsored insurance and sick days are needed in order to create a thriving, long-term industry. While waiting for the industry to catch up, Trybula begs restaurant workers to prioritize their own health. "People say, 'I have a hard time waking up early.' I totally get it, I really do. That's a huge reason we're open until 9 p.m. Making a routine for self-care makes everything better." Read more at http://bit.ly/tipstheyachefor