#pride brings up a lot of feelings.. and ive been really struggling with past traumas lately

[forlornmelody]

The Fantabulous Vacation of One Harley Quinn and Her Girlfriend Poison Ivy

Rating: T (suggestive themes, cartoon violence)

Fandom(s): DC Comics

Ship: Poison Ivy/Harley Quinn

Linkage: Ao3

Summary:   Harley's been burning the wick at both ends and Ivy knows just the thing to help. But it takes more than just a change of scenery to get Harley to let go.

Note:  Commission for @rookie009

~*~*~*

“You’re probably wondering Mr---Watchman--”

“Tockman.” Mr. Watchman spits. “William Tockman.”

“Why I’ve brought you here today.”

Mr. Watchman rolls his eyes. “I imagine you’re going to tell me.” 

“Ah! Good. You’ve stopped struggling. Progress, Mister!” Harley boops him on the nose. Maybe she made the binding too tight? “I’m not cutting off your circulation, am I?” She leans in close. “Are you comfortable? I need you comfortable.” 

“I’m tied up in ropes, wench!”

“Ah, see! This is what I’m talking about!” Harley sits across from him and his fainting couch, pulling her pen from her bun and making a heading on her notepad. “You have a whore madonna complex.” Chewing her pen, she murmurs, “perhaps from the trauma of your wife’s death? Cystic Fibrosis, was it?”

Her new patient says nothing. “Mister?” Harley glances up. “Willy?”

“Help!” William Tockman dangles from his left ankle, suspended in air by a beefy vine.  “She’s gonna kill me!” 

“Oh please. You’re hardly worth the trouble.” Ivy steps around him and the vine, brushing the dust off her hands. “Hi Harls!” How she got the vines up this far on this abandoned apartment building, Harley has no idea. But it sure has a lot of brick to climb. 

“Ivy!” Harley doesn’t so much as hug her as ram her at full speed. 

Her target, used to such behavior by now, braces for impact and manages to hug back. Harley takes a big whiff. “Mm. Jasmine?”

“Lilacs.” Ivy peers over at Clock King. “You...uh, busy?”

“Mm yeah. A little tied up at the moment. Or he is, at least.”

“So I see.” Ivy chews her lip, staring out the window as if she had left a reminder there. She makes a face as the draft stirs some of the painting tarp discarded on the floor. “I was thinking maybe we could get out of town for a bit.”

“HELP.” 

“Are you asking for help, Billy? Or do you prefer Willy?”

“HELP ME! THESE WOMEN ARE CRAZY.” 

“Great!” Harley says brightly. “Admitting you need help is the first step towards healing!”

“Harls? Are you even listening?”

“You need help dismantling another CEO along with his company?”

“No.”

“Fundraiser for conservation efforts?”

“Harley--”

“Pride pre-game with Kitty?”

“Harleen.” That stops Harley short. Ivy never calls her that. Mostly cause she hates getting called Pamela with an undying passion. Probably childhood trauma. But Harley digresses. 

Ivy sighs. “Sorry. Look. I need a vacation. We need a vacation.”

“I need help!” 

“SHUT UP ALREADY.” Ivy and Harley say it together, and Ivy waves a hand, muffling Harley’s captive, er, patient with a particularly broad leaf. 

“Mm... I’m a little busy--”

Ivy glances at Tockman, finally. “I can see that.”

“Lemme look at my calendar. Mmm.. maybe...next year? Definitely the one after that.”

“Harls.”

“I know, I know. But there’s my derby team, missions with Task Force X, the Birds of Prey, my day job--”

“I know.” Ivy takes her hands, gently, and squeezes them. It’s the softness that stops Harley in her tracks. “It’s why you need some time off.”

“But--”

“Shh. I already have plane tickets and a hotel booked. You don’t have to plan a thing.”

Harley can’t help the blush creeping up on her cheeks. “Aww, shucks, Ives. When are we leaving?”

“Now. The plane’s departing in--shit. We gotta go.”

“MMRPH.” 

“Oh, right.” Ivy releases Clock King with a patented thud as she shoves Harley out the door. “Bye!”

-----

“So, we’re we goin’?” Harley pushes the arm rest out of the way and rests her chin on Ivy’s shoulder. She glances at Ivy’s phone as if it’ll give her some clues. She spots a sudoku puzzle. “Japan?”

“No.”

“The Amazon?”

“Nope.”

“Themyscyra?” 

Ivy gives her a look. “Really?”

“Er���.my mom’s? Please say it’s not my mom’s.”

“It’s not your mom’s.”

“Thank God.”

“Also, why would we fly to your mom’s house when we could easily drive? Or take a commuter bus?”

“Good point. Mm.”

Ivy smooths Harley’s hair out of her eyes. “It’s a surprise.” She snatches a quick kiss before the flight attendant rolls by. “You’ll love it.”

In this moment, Harley’s pretty sure she’d love anywhere as long Ivy’s there with her. She’s lit up by the light of the tiny window behind her, and her crimson locks glow like an angel’s. But Harley knows well enough that neither of them are anywhere close to innocent. “Say, how’d you get us past security?”

Ivy winks at her. 

“No casualties?”

Her lover mockingly brushes her own chest like a scandalized church mouse. “I would never!” she snorts. “They’ll be fine. Just a little dazed and confused.”

Harley leans her head on Ivy’s shoulder. “I know the feelin’.” And really! Harley’s proud of her. Ivy’s never been one to follow rules or care for humans. But she tries for Harley. Why she bothers when Mistah J never seemed to care, Harley has no idea. But it means the world to her. 

-----

The taxi drops them off in front of a large revolving door. But it’s not the gold handles that capture Harley’s attention. 

It’s the lush plants growing from every nook and cranny on the place. Harley bets Ivy could spend an hour naming all of them (scientific names and personal names.) Butterflies and hummingbirds in every color of the rainbow--and the faint buzzing of bees. A solitary stream crosses their path, and a wooden bridge stretches over it. Garden terrace after garden terrace rise up from the ground to an open-air cafe at the top. 

And behind the walls and the hotel proper? A waterpark. 

Harley’s eyes go as big as saucers. “Ivy! You shouldn’t have!” She squeezes her into a hug.

“Thanks, sweet pea, but I can’t breathe.” Ivy manages to get out.

“Oof, sorry. Here ya go.” Harley releases her, and Ivy pecks her on the cheek. 

“Best part is, they’ve a zero-carbon footprint and they’re waste free.” Harley rarely sees her grin so wide.” 

“Whoa.”

“They call it The Greenhouse.”

-----

Their first day at the resort passes in a blur. Harley shows Ivy a good time in and out of their bedroom. They go snorkeling in the ocean, ride the rides so many times Harley ends up upchucking their picnic at the beach, then make love at sunset in their honeymoon suite. Harley wonders if the management thinks they’re--well, they’re as good as, aren’t they? They don’t need rings or a wedding or a place of their own or--

“Harley?”

She blinks. Ivy only calls her that when she’s worried. Harley realizes she’s been staring at the chocolates on their pillows for God knows how long. “Yeah?”

“You okay?”

“Of course!” she says automatically, pulling Ivy into another kiss.

Ivy kisses back, then runs a finger down her cheek. “You’d tell me if you weren’t, right?” The setting sun makes her hair even redder, which Harley didn’t think possible, and Harley finds herself toying with her curls. 

“Hey, I’ve been wonderin’.”

If Ivy notices the change in subject, she doesn’t mention it. “Yeah?”

“How come we haven’t seen any other guests? And how come we haven’t been arrested?”

“Oh! That.” Ivy waves a hand dismissively. “I rented out the whole resort.”

“With what money??”

Ivy shoots her a wicked look that sends shivers down Harley’s spine. “Ace Chemical’s investment fund.”

“Ooooh, you’re naughty.” 

Harley dives in for another kiss but Ivy puts a finger to her lips. And doesn’t let her suck on it. Rude. “So, are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?”

“Since we’ve got all this extra cash, wanna make a run at the casino? I hear they donate the proceeds to rainforest restoration.”

“Alright.” Ivy sighs and reaches for her dress. Harley has a sinking feeling that she’s going to bring this up later. Maybe if Harley’s lucky she’ll forget about it? Yeah. Ivy forgets things all the time. 

“Last one there buys the first round!”

-----

Ivy and Harley sit across from each other, an immaculate brunch setting between them and two mimosas. Her lover’s plate sits almost empty, and while Harley’s lies largely untouched. She keeps playing with her veggie egg white omelet, but the next bite never seems to make it to her mouth. “And then we can go for a walk on the beach later! Have you seen those beds? Right there on the water? Mm. Do you think anyone would hear us if we--”

“Harley, wait.”

“Like, the sound of the waves would cover it up, right? Mm. Maybe not. I’m loud. Not as loud as--”

“Harley, no. Stop. Stop.” Ivy presses her hands on either side of Harley’s face, drawing her to a standstill and inches away from her. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I want to!”

Ivy gives her a sad smile, shaking her head gently. “You don’t have to impress me, Harls. I love you.”

Harley, in typical Harley fashion, vibrates with energy. “But…I want this to be special. As special as y--”

“This vacation already is special. Cause you’re here with me.”

“But--” I’m not that special, Harley wants to say. But she knows Ivy won’t let her get away with saying that out loud. She wants to crawl underneath the tablecloth and hide until Ivy leaves. They always leave in the end. Once they get what they want. Mistah J--

“I love you, Harley Quinn.” Ivy takes her hand, gently, rubbing her thumb over her knuckles. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And maybe. Maybe it’s that she doesn’t know what to do if Ivy stays. It’s easier to love someone who doesn’t love her back. It’s safe. Ahem. Emotionally safe, Dr. Quinzel says inside her head. For once, Harley has nothing to say. She’s too busy trying to keep the tears from falling. 

“You don’t have to do anything. I already love you.” Ivy bites her lip--the way she always does when she’s thinking hard. Like how best to resurrect a drooping petunia or a rose bush that has a pest. She takes a deep breath, steeling herself. “And if it’s not too much--too early--to say this: I always will.” 

“You proposin’ or somethin’?” The words tumble out of Harley’s mouth before she can stop them. Her cheeks feel like they’re blushing as bright as Ivy’s hair. 

“I…” Ivy’s eyes widen. “I-I don’t have a ring on me.”

Shit. Fuck. ShitshitshitFuuuuuuuuuck. “I’msorryIdidn’tmeanit.” “It’s way too soon.” Harley puts on her best brave face--the same one she always put on when Bats showed up and Mistah J magically was nowhere to be found. “Marriage is so outda--”

“Harley.” Ivy puts her entire hand over her face. “Quinn.” “I never said I didn’t want to marry you.”

“Mmphwr?” 

“Who wouldn’t want to marry Harley Quinn? You’re amazing.” She traces her eyebrows. “You’re the smartest person I know.” Boops her nose. “You’re impossible to kill. Holy fuck.” Runs her fingertip across her bottom lip. “You…” Ivy presses her lips together, looking down at the table. “You helped me love again when I hated everyone.”

“Pam.” Fuck, she’s getting misty eyed. 

“I mean it. I was ready to wipe humanity off the map and start over.” She laughs a little, her voice rough as she wipes her cheek with the back of her hand. “But then you came along and nominated yourself my new shrink.”

“Don’t give me all the credit.” Wow, okay. Maybe she’s more than just misty-eyed. “You saved me too. From Mistah Jay. From Bats. From what woulda been a really boring life.”

Ivy’s smile slips slightly. “You’re not gonna die on me, are you Harls?”

Harley squeezes her hand. “Nah. You’re stuck with me.” Her words come out a little thick. “For richer or poorer.” 

Her lover leans in close, capturing her lips in a warm kiss. “That’s usually pretty literal for you.”

“HEY.” 

“It’s true! Guess I’ll have to see if Ace or maybe Lexcorp has any funds they won’t miss. I need to get that ring soon. Garnet? Spinel maybe?”

“Aww, shucks. How am I gonna be surprised now?”

Ivy scoffs. “If it’s a real surprise, it’s not a good time for a proposal.”

“But what if I want to be like those girls in those Tik Toks? Like where you propose to me but like I got my own box in my pocket?”

“Harley. A ring box wouldn’t fit in your tiny ass pockets, and you know it.”

“You know what would fit in my shorts?”

“Harleen Francis Quinzel.” Her laughter dissolves in a kiss and Harley pulls her back to their suite. They got a lot of planning to do. Though Harley has a pretty good feeling they’re not gonna get a whole lot of planning done today. But Harley’s okay with that. Pam’s always been the top of her to-do list anyway.

[thehappymessproject]

92/100 - On exploring our darkest corners

- On perfectionism and self-sabotage

Last week, I had the worst session I ever had with a patient. I always struggled with perfectionism. I was also raised to keep work as a very high priority. That means that I spent a lot of time over the years trying to be the best possible therapist, even after realising I couldn’t, that no one could. It also implies that having a big crisis at work can provoke huge melt downs. 

Last year, I started this therapy focused on trauma and attachments wounds. Since then, I’m having those very intense moments sometimes, where something very hard happens, and I react in a very old and new way at the same time. 

The old : I react with a lot of emotional intensity, like I used to years ago, before my first therapy. When I look at it from closer, I’m not just reacting about what happened, I am also reacting to a lot of similar events in my life. Parts of me, of my identity, break down. I am suddenly filled with doubt about many many things. 

The new : First, I can feel really quickly that it’s not just about the one that triggered my emotional response, and calming down. The pieces that break down are much smaller, and don’t stay broken for long anymore. A calm voice replaces the resenting panicky voice running the melt-downs. The quiet confident voice is making the doubts slowly subside. 

I am a bit thrown by that mix between familiarity and newness. Familiarity brings us comfort, even when it feels bad : we know how it feels, and often even how it will go. Newness is exciting and full of possibility, but also the root of uncertainty. Unless we were lucky enough to be wound-free as a child, emotional uncertainty can get scary, and often leaves us feeling vulnerable and fragile. 

A few years ago (the last time I had such a crisis at work), I would have been devastated for weeks. I would have completely doubted my ability to be a good therapist, bordering on having difficulty to see how I am even a good person. Having such an awful encounter with a patient I appreciate a lot would have meant that I am clueless about what is good for my patients. Which would have surely slipped towards the belief that I am clueless about everything.

Here’s the first thing : by wanting so badly to be perfect and doing things perfectly, we always close ourselves to the ability to actually see our flaws and all the ways we are far from perfect. We also close our hearts from seeing how we hurt the people we love the most. We cannot change anything we refuse to see. 

Brene Brown did an incredible job studying shame, and busted forever the idea that perfectionism has anything to do with pursuing excellence. Perfectionism is about avoiding shame at all cost. We get so obsessed by being good and right, that we end up doing a lot of bad things, and be really wrong : we’re just not able to see it. 

Learning how to see how flawed we are is one of the most precious skill we can ever develop. We all feel at some point dumb, clumsy, awkward, incompetent, needy, weird... If we can’t see all that and still love ourselves, we won’t be able to change in the ways we want, to connect deeply with others, to truly love. 

A team of Harvard researchers studied something they called Immunity to change. When we operate in ways that aren’t good for us, it is generally assumed that it is because of a lack of awareness, knowledge or skills. What their method is showing to us is that in fact, we are feeding a certain pattern. 

Here is the second thing : when we resist doing certain things or changing in a certain way that would be good for us on the long run, it is helping us going toward a certain goal. This unconscious goal that we don’t really know we have, but that is more precious for us than what we would accomplish by doing otherwise right now. 

This secret goal is often related to identity : “If I do that, it will mean I’m weak/bad/wrong/out of control/rejected...”. It is generally about avoiding feeling bad in some way. These parts of ourselves want to protect us. They love us in their own sabotaging way, but they are well intentioned. We need to see them for what they are to live at peace. 

I could have found a million reasons why my patient reacted so strongly and ended up very hurt, to blame her for what happened. I could ignore my guilt and the shame of not being perfect by directing them at her, finding all flaws in her and her reactions. There always are some. 

Instead, I’ve spent a good amount of that past week reflecting over how I felt, what I didn’t like in my own reaction and behaviour, and what I was considering as problematic or not aligned with my values. I got upset, I cried, I journaled, took really good care of myself to heal the wounds. I spent most time looking at my shadow right in the eye. 

Looking at our flaws can be an evil tool of self-persecution, or the magical tool of our emotional freedom. We can choose. We can cultivate the latter to transform the former into an asset. 

By making it all about me, since it is MY experience of it, and I know hers will have to be different, I allow myself to question what I did, without questioning who I am. To see that we were both trying our best, and couldn’t come up to a more comfortable ground, without attributing fault. I can feel that blaming, as seductive as it can be, will also bring me nowhere useful. 

Seeing our flaws and darkness for what they are and not for the fantasy we wish they really were liberates us from repeating the same mistakes and patterns. 

By facing what we are the most afraid of, we always discover we made it bigger in our head. We can finally see the cheap tricks our mind is playing. And learn how to free ourselves from them. 

We can do hard things. 

We can look where it is scary to look inside of us. 

We deserve to be able to look at ourselves with love, and pride. 

We can free ourselves.

Speak soon, 

Love, 

L.

[soulsxng--a]

hi, i hope you don’t mind getting an ask like this, but ive been in the process of making an oc that has mpd and from what ive seen in research its the same as did? and i was hoping since you have it that you might be able to tell me things to keep in mind to make it more accurate? sorry if its too personal i totally understand if it is!

I’m going to put this one under a read more just because it is pretty personal, and while I don’t mind sharing it too much, (and I’m actually really glad you asked and have been doing your research!) I know there are some people that follow me that don’t really care for posts like this, and I don’t want to clutter people’s dashes with this really long thing (I’m not kidding, it’s really long). I’m pretty much just going to give you my whole 8 years of experience with it. ^^;;

Okay, so as far as I know, Multiple Personality Disorder and Dissociative Identity Disorder is the same thing now. When I was first diagnosed, they were two separate conditions, with DID being people with 2 distinct “personality states”, they called them, and MPD being people that had 3 or more distinct “personality states”. Like I said, I’m pretty sure they just merged the two, and they’re pretty interchangeable now.

Anyway, I was first diagnosed in 2010, but have never been on meds for it because nobody believed me or my psychologist when we talked about it. Almost everybody I knew thought that I was just being difficult and rebellious and didn’t want to own up to my actions. So eventually, I just agreed with them and have been hiding it from pretty much everybody but my fiance and a very small handful of people outside of that. 

Because of this, I also declined any medication and stopped seeing a psychologist completely. Which means that even though most cases of DID can be pretty different and present different symptoms and such, mine has never been treated, so it can be even less like the majority of people with the condition.

My secondary personality state, or alter, because I’m lazy and don’t want to say (or type) that every time I talk about it is named Rey. He showed up as a result of something traumatic that happened when I was 15 (and I’m not going into specifics because that’s not what you asked about) and he showed up violently, though not all of them do. What I will say about the traumatic experience is that it wasn’t just some little thing, and though it wasn’t as serious as it could have been, it was also happening during a really tough time in my life, and things just kept piling up, and then that happened and bam, there he was. 

So it takes a lot of stuff to happen before the mind is suddenly like “Wait, I can’t handle this, but I need to do something!” and creates an alter, or alters. It also usually happens to people when they’re young. I was 15, and my psychologist said that even then it’s really rare for it to appear that late. For a while, that kept her from diagnosing me because she was like “I just want to make sure that it isn’t something else because you’re older than the usual age group.”

For like 6 months after that, I had little to no idea when he was “in control”. I would just start to get a headache in class or at home and then it was like I would blink and all of a sudden I was somewhere else. People would mention something that I did or said (usually bad) and I would have no clue what they were talking about. 

After a few months though, I started to notice that I would start to get these headaches when I was experiencing (or about to experience) negative emotions, particularly anger or fear, or extreme stress or depression. They were always on the right side of my head near my temple, and shortly after they started was when I would “wake up” somewhere else.

So I convinced my mom to make a psychology appointment for me and she (begrudgingly) agreed. Shortly after that I was diagnosed and I started to get a little better about noticing when Rey was “awake” or when he was about to take control. I also didn’t lose time so much anymore, but I started having “out of body” experience type stuff, like I was pretty much watching somebody else live my life for me? It was really scary for a long time, especially since he was always mean and violent and I hated the thought that people might think that I was actually that way.

I also tried that thing that happens in TV shows and books and stuff all the time and wrote notes to him a few times? It worked sometimes, but mostly he just ignored it. I suppose it could work with an alter that’s less…difficult?

For the past 8 years he’s been around, I’ve pretty much had to figure out his triggers, and I’m pretty sure I’ve gotten them all by now. Experiencing negative emotion, (though now it has to be far more extreme than it used to) someone else touching my right temple or touching/getting close to touching the space between my eyes, anything having to do with the trauma that made him show up, extreme pain, exhaustion or sickness, driving longer than an hour, surprising/sneaking up on me, (though he doesn’t auto-punch people for sneaking up on me anymore; a change that had only happened in the last year or two) hurting or upsetting my loved ones, (that’s his fastest and longest lasting trigger) and sometimes thunderstorms will, too.

Rey started out as an asshole and treated literally anybody that wasn’t a loved one like absolute shit until he’d been around like 3 or so years? Now he’s capable of being civil, but he’s still cold. So I mean, I guess that an alter can change and “grow-up”, so to speak like regular people do. 

My fiance is the only person he’ll talk to regularly, (and the only person he’s nice to consistently) so I’ve learned a lot about him since being with her. Like the fact that he’s aware that he’s an alter, why he’s around, and that I’m around, and he always has been. He also says that he’s around to protect us, and that’s why he acts the way he does. He has periods like I do where he feels like a backseat driver; watching me in control, (both of us call it him being “awake”) ones where he doesn’t see anything (”asleep”), and in control (”active”) and he’s pretty much in control of all of it? Pretty much, he’s a regular person, he just doesn’t have his own body.

Which brings me to the next topic, which is things to avoid. These are things that people have done (or still do) or say that always always always put me in a bad mood. First off, people telling me that he’s not real. People used to tell me all the time that he wasn’t real. That he was like an “imaginary friend” or that I was faking it for attention, or whatever, some of them even going so far as to getting angry at me when I told them that I wasn’t lying or faking it. That made the condition way worse.

Second, people thinking that he’s like some cute little thing that they can “fix” and be best friends with and TRY TO TRIGGER whenever they please because “No, no, he won’t hurt me, it’s fine! Seriously!” (or worse yet, they would treat him like he was some kind of kink for them to get off on.)

It’s not fine. That used to be one of the quickest ways to get him to come out seething. That still happens a lot, but both of us mostly ignore it at this point. It’ll happen to your OC if they decide to tell people, I can almost assure you of it, and I’m not going to tell you how to write your character, but please, try not to just turn them into “that cute little thing that can be fixed as soon as someone is nice to them” because that’s not at all how it is.

Third, if your muse has it on their medical records, there are jobs out there that can see that they’re “mentally unstable” and will not hire them, or will fire them if it’s found out about. Especially if it’s untreated. Luckily, it isn’t on my medical records because I stopped seeing the psychologist before it was officially put on any of my health charts, but that can also be dangerous, because if your OC’s alter just randomly pops up at work, that can be a HUGE liability.

Fourth is that there’s no set schedule to when they come and go. Like I said, he pretty much does what he wants, but that doesn’t mean I always just let him. Though I couldn’t at all first, now I can usually take control back from him if I want to, but it isn’t a very easy thing? It causes a lot of migraines, or sometimes even nausea and dizziness. He can also take control from me if he wants to, and that hurts like hell when he’s really trying to come out if I’m holding him back.

There was one time I even passed out because he wanted control so badly, and I kept trying to keep him under. (he was going to hurt someone that I really didn’t want him to)

So pretty much, there will be conversations that I’ll be in the middle of, and then he’ll get active and just turn and walk off, or start talking about something else, and the same will happen with him when I push him back. 

One thing that also always gets on my nerves (and his) is that there are plenty of times where it feels like there are certain emotions that I can’t feel anymore because as soon as I feel them, he comes out. Like it used to be that I felt like I couldn’t feel anger. (which seems like a good thing, but after a while it’s really irritating) Anger was Rey’s, not mine. And he used to feel like love or pride wasn’t something that he could experience, because it was mine.

It’s a struggle. Not as much now as it used to be, but it is literally a constant struggle that I have to be aware of all the time if I want to keep him under control. I know this is a lot to throw at you, and some of it might not make a lot of sense, or might just be babbling on my part, but it’s stuff that I deal with or dealt with on a daily basis for 8 years now, so…idk. This is just my perspective of it.

I’m also going to add that my fiance went to college for psychology and says that I’m not at all an “average” case of the disorder. Usually people have a lot less control over their alters than I have over Rey. She says she believes that part of it is because he’s been around for so long, probably mostly because we’re so aware of each other, and a tiny part because he’s the only alter? She also says that alters typically don’t “grow-up”, I guess. A good amount of the time, they’ll manifest even more alters instead. That didn’t happen with him. (thank god)

I’m just gonna tag her in this so when she wakes up, she can add to it if she wants to. She can give a more medical perspective to things that I can’t, as well as probably throw in details I’m missing.

@thexuntamed

[this-brownie]

3.31.20

it feels therapeutic to write things out and be able to put my thoughts into words that I can visualize. I, sadly, had to stop writing in my old blog because Tumblr locked me out of it because I no longer had access to that Email…fucking yahoo and 2007 emails…anyway. I want to do a continuation from that blog so I will be making quite some posts about my past, starting from around April 2016.

https://somebrownie.tumblr.com

lets begin with a little background. so dad died on April 16 2017, but he had been sick for years before that. it first started off with slurred speech almost like he was drunk or something, which was when I was in tenth grade, and then progressed to him not being able to speak at all, resorting to writing on paper to communicate with us, not being able to eat solid foods anymore, having to get a tube attached onto his throat, bringing in medical equipment that was situated on his bed while he slept, and eventually having to move to a nursing home completely where he spent his final two years. I am not going to discuss what a domineering and prideful man he was, what a workaholic he was, how he tried to show us his love and affection through money and materialism, or how his death impacted me. those can be discussed at a later time. 

one positive result that came from this situation is that I had a little more freedom in pursuing the life I wanted. my mom always looked to him for guidance on every decision— I knew I wouldn't be able to marry the person who I loved because he would never allow it. Levi is a jew after all and as a muslim im supposed to hate him, of course. after he died, my mom became severely lost— she had never been completely independent. however, she still had her reservations when I told her who I wanted to marry. I had to be extremely forward, logical, and manipulative about it because old habits and a lifetime of molded mentality don't wash away that easily. a few factors helped me achieve my goal: I was in the process of graduating and had no means to get a job in my field because I didnt have the legal papers to reside in this country. by getting married, I would obtain a green card which would allow me to make money and make use of my degree. also, there was less pressure to uphold an image for our distant family and relatives— people had naturally started distancing themselves the sicker my dad became. less wealth flowed into our house meaning less parties to throw, less opportunities to give gifts to others, and less reasons to cook fancy food. this all contributed to people checking up less on my mom— all these people who she hold so dearly, couldn't give less of a fuck when they had nothing to benefit them. I asked her, are these the people youre trying to impress? is this the reason you want to hold me back? because it won't look good to THEM even tho they don't help us  at all? even while we are struggling? the last sneaky tactic I pulled was telling her that there are several friends who are willing to marry me, but at a cost. only one person who is willing to do it without a charge (good old Levi haha). and to my utter shock, she slowly agreed. I wasn't sure if she completely understood so I confirmed…”you know that means I have to live with him right…in case the lawyers check?” she said she understood and was okay with it. sweet success. that was June 2018.. in a couple months we will have been married for two years now.

Levi and I have been seeing each other since 2011. so our marriage was….a long time coming to say the least. luckily I had the chance to meet almost all of his immediate family members before we fully committed. the first people I met were his aunt candy and uncle chuck way back in 2013 for thanksgiving, and then again for Levis graduation ceremony in 2014. I've gone over for thanksgiving and passover dinners throughout the years as well. I met Levis parents for the first time in 2015 (I think) in boston and I was deathly nervous. his dad used to teach Jewish studies at both Harvard and yale—he's retired but still gets invited to conferences to gives speeches around the world. his mom opened a free after school program to teach poor children who don't have access to educational resources. so ofc I was so nervous I could hardly breathe. I wore a cute, not too revealing, dress and minimal makeup. thankfully, they steered the conversation and actually didnt interrogate me too much. we mostly just told stories which was nice. I remember one conversation where I talked about my degree in linguistics, my affinity for learning and understanding how languages work, and seamlessly adding an anecdote from a tv show that Levi and I watched from just the night before. the person on tv, I think he may have been European, wasn't able to pronounce the word “skewer” which I found very interesting because there are many sounds our tongues can't produce because we are not used to moving them in that certain way. something about the brain and tongue not being able to make the connection between the ways a foreign word is spelled and the different areas it has intonations. like, native Spanish speakers would have a difficult time saying an English word that starts with ‘sp’ like “special” or ‘sk’ in “school” because in their language the letter s isn't followed by another consonant; the sound of the letter ‘e’ always precedes the ‘s’ (like if you were to literally sound out the letter ‘s’)-- so a speaker would pronounce it as “especial”. anyway! I told his parents this tidbit that I found intriguing and added that Levi isn't able to pronounce the sound ‘gh’ but his dad was able to make all those sounds perfectly! which impressed me and put a smile on my face. his mom, who is French, was practicing the different sounds herself (not properly) and his dad just makes eye contact with me, rolls his eyes in a goofy way aimed at his wife, which cracked me up because here is this sweet woman trying her best and her silly husband secretly, but lovingly, making fun of her. it touched me because it felt so tender and genuine, when I had never really seen something like that exchanged in between my own parents.

I met his younger sister and middle brother, but only after we got married. his sister alissa is a such a sweet, quiet, docile woman who really looks up to and adores Levi. she used to stay near us while she studied law at nyu. his brother David is animated, quirky yet can be very serious, and is very kind as well. I probably didnt leave a good first impression because the three of us had been walking to a restaurant and this HUGE man and his huge ass fucking dog purposely bumped into me, in order to get by me. I don't think Ive ever gotten that angry at a stranger. I was actually in pain at how hard he smacked into me. I started cursing and Levi was shocked that I was being so loud/violent especially in front of his family member. I just said “did you see his fucking size? did he really need half the block just ti get past me?” in my head im thinking, its because im a small woman that he knows he can get away with it. and then Levi finally realized the gravity of the situation and said “should I go talk to him?” but the man had already walked away at this point. I calmed down at that point thinking, yes im gonna let my tiny husband fight this massive douche bag. I apologized to david and we just continued on.

I never got a chance to meet levi’s eldest brother, wife and youngest kids until I visited Israel (different post!) but I did meet hilly, their oldest daughter when she visited nyc with Levis parents. she's sweet, a bit of a rebel, maybe even hotheaded and insecure like the way I was when I was a teen. I enjoyed spending time with her and gifted her a bunch of lipsticks/glosses and a mascara from Sephora when we all had to say goodbye. I think she felt comfortable that I was younger because she opened up to me about her boyfriend, and told me to keep it a secret. I knew she liked me too because once Levi and I finally got married, she told him that she knew we were going to get married as soon as she met me.

even though I had a lot of luxuries as a child, I never truly experienced unconditional love without trauma or negativity. others may have it worse, but I had what I had. I've dealt with it and come away from it as a better person thanks to Levi. I feel happy to call them my family now, and that they accept me without hesitation despite me being muslim, or much younger. I still feel shy to talk to them on the WhatsApp group chat but im working on it!