#she hasnt been diagnosed with anything not that shes going to a doctor

[br1ghtestlight]

WAIT LMAOOO i had a stressful ass dream last night where i learned that my mom was diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer and she needed to do chemotherapy and radiation but We all knew she wasnt gonna do any fuckign chemotherapy or radiation bcuz she's late for everything and doesnt give a fuck about her own life

and my dad was telling me about this and ALSO how he's in his 60s or whatever now and he's unhealthy too and he had like another disease that was probably gonna kill him if he didnt end up murdered in prison. anyway my mom was gonna die in like...... 6 months and my dad is already an older parent so he had maybe 5-10 years left and i was supposed to tell my sister our mom was dying she was like ^_^

and i just ended up ACTING OUT at her bcuz i was so pissed that in a few years i wasnt going to have any parents left and she gets her dad and his stupid ass young family and wife in the suburbs and their happy lives and her kids will have grandparents while mine never will and i was like fully sobbing. What was that about. was my subconcious telling me my parents are like about to die???

[h-doodles]

boy the sudden outpour of angst ideas for larissa weems x reader in my brain got me weeping so bad i feel a fever coming on

[yearningandpatheticaboutit]

SPEAK FOR YOURSELF

CHAPTER 16: WOOYOUNG

wc: 5242

warnings: mention of death, violence, drugs etc, SMUT

prev chapter

***

san

i remembered that wooyoung was afraid. he was scared of what would happen if miss A ever found out he shot mingi and deliberately antagonized a hotshot black dragon. looking back, i thought the black dragons would be anatagonized anyway because we caused shit in their side of town to get yunho back, it shouldnt be this big of a deal.

so why are so many bad things happening?

i didnt go to school today. i emailed all my teachers a forged sick note, claiming i couldnt leave the house because i went to the doctor and got diagnosed with sinisitic dizzy spells. most of my teachers are really helpful and good people, so they sent me the work they did for the day so i wouldnt miss out.

being a 'delight to have in class' aka a quiet smart kid who wasnt a pain in the ass had its perks sometimes. regardless, i used my morning to get all my money ready, of which i had just over enough to go to miss A to get her off my back.

when i get there, the place is crawling with old gangsters. miss A is screaming at people and when she sees me she's shocked, as if surprised i actually had guts to show my face. shes propped behind a round steel table in her garage, leaning back in her chair and the room goes silent as her eyes are on me.

"look who it is," she says to me, dipping her cigarette in her ashtray. "Lucky, you better have good news for me."

i bow to her and put the potato sack of money on the table. unfortunately i didnt have anything really fancy like a briefcase. im a fucking gangster on a budget.

she glares at me. "potatoes? is this some kind of joke?"

three guys restrain me out of nowhere, holding a knife under my throat. my breath gets stuck in my throat and i only manage to force out one thing. "m-money."

she doesnt tell them to let me go, which pisses me off. what the hell did i do to make her this mad? she lifts the opening of the sack and only when she sees the cash does she wave the gangsters to get off of me.

they drop me so hard i fall with my butt on the floor and i make no real move to get up in case they jump me again. instead i get to kneeling. "miss A, that's the money from all the dealings."

"i can see that. oh wow, you actually decided to be useful," miss A says, getting up and coming up to me. she puts her hand down on my hair and gently scratches it like you would a dog and i struggle to not show any fear. "if only wooyoung could be like you."

her words make me sweat. "where is wooyoung, miss A?"

i swear, if she laid a hand on him. i dont know what i would do, but no one here, including me, would be left alive.

her eyes darken. "i was actually hoping you would tell me, Lucky. your brother has become a magician. a cold case."

she doesnt know? did wooyoung actually skip town?

"i told him to bring me the hand of who killed my boys or else i would have his. he hasnt been back in days."

fuck. this is bad. im actually starting to get dizzy.

someone rolls into the garage, and my face drops in horror at the man and his disfigured, burnt face. hes in a wheelchair, an armbrace and has a bandage wrapped over everything but his mouth and eyes.

"you and your buddy got changbin and a lot of good boys killed. look what they did to seonghwa." miss A says.

that's fucking seonghwa? he looks fucked. hes never recovering. he wouldve been better off dead. now he really looks like something out of a horror movie, a real, terrifying disfigured butcher.

"that hongjong motherfucker," miss A laughs but there's nothing joyful in it. "he came into MY warehouse, burnt MY cargo, killed MY men. and all because he was looking for you two."

im struggling to breathe. i dont show it but im silently breaking down. i cant take my eyes off seonghwa. thats it? thats my future? i might as well kill myself. seonghwa killed yunho, he was one of the topdogs in the gang. im fucking nothing. if thats what that hongjoong guy could do to him then its over for me.

"he said that?" is all i can get out. miss A lifts my chin and forces me to look at her.

"you're not a boy anymore, Lucky. you'll always be a baby in my eyes, but its time for you to get serious, dont you think?" she tells me. "wooyoung is gone. so someone has to fix this. you know the rules, you make a mess, and you clean it up."

"miss A-" i start stammering. i feel like im going to cry. "we didnt do anything. we never even met that hongjoong guy. wooyoung shot mingi because he tried to kill him. it was in self defence."

"did i ask for an account of what happened?" miss A's voice drips with sarcasm. "i dont care who did what. but my boys paid the price. i wont let an attack on my turf go unpunished. you find wooyoung and you two will go and kill that fucker or i'll have you swimming in a fishtank with the rest of yunho. am i clear?"

fuck no. fuck my life is over. i just started having sex and now i have to die. this is a fucking nightmare.

"yes, ma'am," i nod my head. "when do you want this done?"

"before my boys suffer another attack. he wants you, so let him come."

"you won't find him," seonghwa says and he sounds like a lays packet trying to talk. his voice is raspy and sounds terrible. "he only shows when he wants to be found. and he wanted to be found that day. so make him come to you."

i dont want him anywhere near me! i want to scream. look at what the fuck he did to you.

i have to run away. i have to do it tonight. i have to take everything. i cant think clearly, my brain is beating so hard i can feel it in my ears.

i nod and get up and miss A distractedly starts counting the money. "so you got the money fast. i always knew you could do it, you were just lazy before, yeah?"

i had help, i want to say. yaera's stealing, her savings, wooyoung stealing all mingi's gambling winnings, fucking jongho. i couldnt have done this on my own. i would have been dead by the end of this month.

i did all that, just to stay alive. only to have another target on my head. this...it never fucking ends. its only going to get worse. i cant win. this game, its unbeatable.

i almost want to laugh out of pure irony. and yaera wanted me to ask miss A for a fixed amount. she wanted to help me pay off my dads bullshit debt. im never going to be free.

my hopes and dreams are gone.

"you still have your dad's gun right?" miss A asks me. i say yes in the smallest voice.

she smiles. "you better get to using it then, Lucky."

i leave miss A's garage with nothing left in the tank. nothing but another assignment. an assignment that will kill me.

im the sacrificial fucking lamb. why is she doing this to me? because she thinks i can do it? because she wants to get rid of me? i did what she asked of me. i got her yunho. i got her the drug money. now she wants me to kill an assassin? an assassin that already has a bodycount of seven?

and hes brutal. four of those were other gangsters, luckily none of those were ours at the time, but he guts every one of his enemies. he was connected to a murder of a prostitute. and cut out the stomachs and sliced off the hands of two guys who apparently looked at his sister.

what the FUCK am i getting into.

i get home and i dont know what to do. everything comes crashing down on me. i throw my fist into the picture frames on the wall, sending glass bursting everywhere. i look at the picture of my parents, feeling nothing but burning hatred. i hate them both. i hate my mother for leaving me behind in this shit life and i fucking hate that bullshit excuse of a sperm donor for killing me.

he killed me. he signed my death sentence.

i start tearing everything apart. im ripping my apartment to shreds because nothing matters. this is all useless, nothing, i wouldnt fucking miss this place. i have nothing but awful memories here. but my anger doesnt last. it comes crashing down so fast that im left to collapse next to my bed and i cant stop myself from crying.

its over for me. everything is.

i had nothing to begin with. nothing except...

without even thinking, my bleeding hand reaches for my phone on my desk and calls her. she picks up on the first ring.

"san?" her voice is comforting and i dont know why. i dont fucking know this girl. she doesnt know me. but shes all i have. and i dont even reall have her. "are you okay? you never call me."

i cant even speak, im heaving into the microphone and sniffling uncontrollably.

"san?" she sounds more concerned. oh shes concerned for me. thats nice. i'll remember how nice it feels when i die.

"c-can you come over, please?"

i dont even recognize my voice. its cracking and its like the pained whimper of an animal. she puts off the phone and i wrap myself around my bedsheets, curling into a pathetic ball.

shes here within 15 minutes. i dont know how she got here so fast. she was supposed to be at school. it was still one period before lunch. she must have been skipping. i wish i skipped more class now that i know im not going to live very long. studying all that shit was pointless. i should have been living like her. like i dont have a care in the world. but i cant. and i never could.

she walks into my apartment with her eyes wide, dropping her blazer off her shoulders and onto my dirty floor. "what the hell happened? are you okay?" she runs and puts herself infront of me.

"did someone break in?" she holds my wet face. i never stopped crying. not once. she looks horrified seeing me this way. i cant imagine how bad i must look. "oh my god."

she hugs me. she hugs me and i grip her so tightly till i feel my lungs tighten. the tears are pouring harder now. im staining her white blouse.

"im going to die," i choke out. "they're going to kill me."

"what?" she gasps. "who?"

i try to speak but i dont stop crying. this is fucking awful. she shushes me and lets me continue, rubbing my hair in the softest way that makes me hope i wont die, just so that i'd experience it more than once.

"im here, dont worry."

of course you are. you're always here. always invading my apartment. always working on my nerves. always in my head since i fucking met you. i wish i didnt take that for granted for as long as i did. if i knew this was all i'd have left.

i dont know what possesses me. i pull away from her, my hands drift up to the buttons of her blouse. im careful so she knows i wont hurt her the way he did. she watches my bleeding knuckles, looking at me with tender eyes. she doesnt stop me. i flick open the first button as she stands above me.

"can i?" i choke out. "this is all i have."

she starts removing her own buttons. "you dont even have to ask," she tells me.

she trusts me so much. if this is all i have left then i dont want to destroy it.

she drops her blouse, revealing her bronze, skin bare skin and black bra. the sun in my blinds isnt doing her justice. i reach behind her and unclip her bra and her boobs spill out right in my face. her skin is warm. shes so warm. she lifts my ugly brown hoodie off my body, trailing her hand down my stomach.

her touch feels like satin. i dont deserve it. she doesnt deserve this.

"i-i dont want to use you as a coping mechanism," i tell her but im talking to a wall. i dont want to but i am. im going to die and all i want to do is fuck her one last time. there isnt enough time in the world.

she kisses me sorely, with way too much emotion for what we really are. two broken, fragile people. we have no business with each other, but she kisses me like i mean something.

"for you, san, i'd let you use me however you want," she whispers against my lips. "as long as its you."

i feel my heart pain. i want to cry again but my dick is hard and i can only focus on two things at once. so i deal with my boner first.

i slide down her thin, pink underwear from under her skirt and it drops to her ankles. she steps out of it and pulls my sweatpants out from under me, immediately sliding herself onto my dick.

she moans softly into my ear and it feels like heaven. shes like heaven wrapped in one complicated woman. she could destroy me. she could ask to end me and i would let her.

i'd rather it be you than anyone else.

i grip her softly and my hands are stinging but i dont care. i feel weak. but somehow with her here, it doesnt hurt as much. shes riding me slowly, its crazy how without any foreplay shes already drenched down there. i guess she does like me a little.

she peppers kisses all over my neck as i hold her up, losing my mind as she slowly sinks and rises onto me. i never fucking liked our stupid school uniform but seeing it on her like this, with her on me, just makes me lose my mind. jongho doesnt fucking know what he missed out on.

"you know i care about you right?" she whispers into my ear. "its about more than just the money. you know that right?"

my lips her are on her chest and i kiss her there slowly. "i know," i mutter. actually i didnt know that. i dont know what the fuck she sees in a dickhead like me.

"good," she says, then pushes me down to my back. she adjusts herself to straddle me properly but i cant watch her struggle to please me. i get back up and flip her under me, pushing her back down gently when she tries to protest.

"but-"

"i want you to feel the way you make me feel," i say. and i never thought i'd ever utter words like that. fuck, no wonder everyone thought i was gay.

i drag my lips down her perfect, sculpted torso and plant them onto her shivering, wet hole. she whimpers weakly as i stick my tongue inside, slowly impaling her with it. i dont care that im taking my time honestly. im going to die, so i might as well make this as long as it can.

i drink up her bitter juices, lapping my tongue across her slit. the moans she lets out are otherworldly, definetely worthy of a noise complaint. i dont mind it. i feel useful for once in my life. i slowly inch a finger into her warm hole, sucking on her pleasure button while im at it. i'd call it her clit, but thats too rough for me.

"san please," she begs. "i want you so bad, just fuck me already."

i stop at her request, getting up and over her. i line myself at her entrance, pushing in slowly. she throws her arms around my neck and the eye contact we have as i just lay there inside her is enough to make me drop it all. i'd drop it all and leave with her, wherever she wanted to go.

her hole feels like home. my dick fits perfectly inside her. its warm and hugs me and i cant get enough of it. i push in and out slowly, taking in her eyes. they havent left mine. her lips are parted in bliss, and i decide to kiss them. she moans into my mouth, and it feels like a fucking spell being casted on me. i accelerate the pace, and the lewd sounds of her squelching and our breaths syncing up are all that can be heard.

it turns around so fast. im fucking into her at a pace thats desperate. like if i fuck her any slower, its going to get taken away from me. everything will. her legs are wrapped around my waist and she clenches on me, as if she doesnt want me to ever leave. i dig my fingers into her skin, holding onto dear life as i feel myself getting closer.

"wait," she breathes. "i wanna do it standing up."

i pause mid stroke. "how?"

"against the wall. lift me."

i go along with it. we get up and she lays with her back against the wall, lifting her leg so i can put it in. i pick her up and she slides onto me perfectly, and this new angle makes my brain go foggy. its so much deeper and tighter, i can feel her soak onto me.

i start ramming into her against the wall and her hair is hanging down her face, making her look like a sexier version of the grudge. she looks utterly lost in it all, and its so enjoyable to watch. i feel like im doing something right seeing her looked so absolutely fucked out.

my legs grow weaker as i hit her walls, feeling myself getting closer to the edge. shes demanding, with her legs wrapped around me she wont stop till ive been emptied.

"you're so fucking perfect," she whisper-whines, and its enough for me to blow. i completely blow inside her and she creams on me at the same time, our juices mixed together like some fucked up smoothie.

i drop her and she doesnt remove her arms from my neck. instead she pulls my body towards her, till we're chest to chest, completely naked amd kisses me harder than she ever has before.

this isnt even because we're fucking. she just wants to do it. and honestly, i needed it so badly.

when she pulls away im left yearning for more. it makes me sick. "thank you," i tell her. "i needed this."

"i know," she says softly. "tell me everything."

***

after i tell yaera everything, we're sitting on the bed beside each other, a painful, weighing silence between us.

"what are you going to do?" she asks, sounding hopeless.

"i have to kill the guy. or miss A's going to kill me."

"the police?" she says but knows immediately it wont work.

"i'd die before miss A sees trial," i laugh emptily. "and i'd go to jail for sure. she has enough on me to make sure i'm wanted."

she's frowning. she's realizing money cant buy my freedom. or my life.

"after you kill that gangster...nothing will be the same," she says. "you'd have blood on your own hands."

i shrug and stare out of my window. "it ends here, yaera. for both of us."

she stands up abruptly and looks like she wants to break into sobs. "no you can't disappear after this. i still need you."

i smile weakly. hearing that makes me feel better. someone will miss me.

"when i'm gone, you can have my apartment. i have some money left over here, maybe you'll be able to get away for good. you'll never deal with that freak again."

she's not happy with my answer. "no, san. i dont want you to go. i dont want you to disappear. cant we catch a one way flight? can't we run? i'll run with you. i promise."

she actually wants to stay with me. when i dont answer yaera bends down infront of me, holding my hands. i cant believe how quickly things turned around. i have so much to lose.

"when you finish your business, we're getting the fuck out of here, okay? promise me. i'll get the tickets, i'll get everything ready. but promise me you'll come back to me."

i cant promise that i'll be alive. i want to, but i dont want to lie to her.

"i cant promise i'll make it back, yaera," i mutter. a tear rolls down her face. "and even if we run away, is this really sustaintable?"

"is what?"

"us?"

she scoffs. "i dont think now is the time to think of what we are. i dont care about defining this relationship, thats not important. all i know is, you're all i have."

"you're all i have too." i whisper.

"thats enough for me. so promise?"

"okay, i promise."

"good, now lets clean up here and pick a place on the map."

yaera and i spend the rest of the afternoon cleaning up my shattered apartment. i take my parents pictures and throw it in the spare room where i dont have to see it. when we're done, yaera makes herself at home and lays down in my bed watching youtube. i get dressed and she switches off her phone when she notices.

"where are you going?"

"remember those gangsters you met the night you followed me? im paying them a visit." i tell her.

"your dad's old gang...are you going to ask them to help you?"

"yeah. i wanna see if they've heard from wooyoung. get help where i can."

"okay. is it cool if i stay over?" she asks. "i dont feel like going home."

she doesnt even have to ask anymore. i say my goodbyes and make my way downtown.

getting into mao's place has always been shady, im surprised there are guys outside the door. they see me and are shocked to see me, letting me in and muttering shit in cantonese under their breaths.

i find mao sitting around a table and gambling and by god, i find wooyoung too.

he freezes when i see him and i have half the mind to beat the shit out of him. this is where hes been the whole fucking time?!

"sannie!" mao yelps with his cigarette dangling off his lips. "look we're finally good enough for him again! i heard you've been visiting everyone BUT me!"

i run across the room and catch wooyoung before he can run. then i pick him up and toss him into the closest wall. "you DICKHEAD!" i scream.

mao's men jump up from their seats and get between us. "woah woah woah!" mao shouts. "no fucking fighting under my roof! take that shit to the alley!"

"what the fuck man?!" wooyoung huffs. "arent you glad im alive?"

"you couldnt pick up a phone? you couldnt call me to let me know?" i snap. "i thought you fucking skipped town!"

"i had to toss my phone!" wooyoung stresses. "miss A is looking for me."

"i KNOW! I KNOW SHES LOOKING FOR YOU BECAUSE ITS BECOME MY PROBLEM, WOO!"

i start laughing hysterically. "we're fucked. we're both fucked because of you and i hope you know that."

wooyoung stands up, dusting himself off. he has a remorseful look on his face. fucking say something coward.

"i tried to keep you out of it," he admits shamefully. "i was gonna get it done."

"you were gonna kill hongjoong by yourself?" i scoff. "you'd be done for before you even do anything!"

"mao gave me a gun," woo says. i look to mao and he shrugs.

"you know about this?" i ask him.

"as long as he doesnt involve me, i dont mind helping out," mao says. "i dont want black dragons on this side of the world, but bae su ji is losing her touch."

"who the fuck is bae suji?" both woo and i ask angrily.

"Miss A."

"you know Miss A's government name?" woo questions. mao shrugs.

"we used to date in high school."

we're getting off track. im still fucking angry, i turn to wooyoung.

"so? let me hear this fucking plan of yours."

"i dont want you involved san. we cant both be dead."

it feels like my veins are going to pop. "she's going to KILL ME if i dont fucking do something about that hongjoogn fucker. he put seonghwa in a wheelchair and killed changbin. shes going to kill me if i dont get involved, woo, so just tell me the fucking plan."

"hongjoong's sister is getting married soon," mao interjects. "woo's gonna wipe him out there."

"and then im going to skip town for real," woo says with a dark look. "mao's arranged for me to go to hong kong. im gonna work for him there."

"you know who was also supposed to go to hongkong?" i laugh darkly. "yunho."

the room falls into uncomfortable silence aside from the sound of dominoes hitting the table.

"i'll be there, woo." i tell him. "im leaving town too."

"where are you going?" both mao and woo asks.

"im leaving with yaera," i answer woo only. mao is confused and wooyoung tells him its my girlfriend.

"you left Flor?" mao is shocked. i sigh remembering that yaera gave mao a fake name when she followed me. i dont dignify him with an answer.

"alright man," woo sounds defeated. "now you know. i didnt wanna keep in touch because i didnt want to make things worse."

"they're already bad, woo. you not telling me changed nothing."

ive calmed down significantly. i feel defeated but at least i know this bastard is alive.

"what about mingi?" i question. "he started this shit in the first place."

"im taking them both out," wooyoung says. "mingi's the groom. hongjoong's walking his sister down the aisle."

how convenient. two birds with one stone. now, how were we going to get out of it alive?

"WE, wooyoung," i correct him. "WE'RE taking them both out."

***

yaera

after i helped san clean up his rampage, i saw something interesting in his spare room.

i stare at the daewoo k5 in my hands, i never realized san was the kind to keep guns. with the way he lives, i guess i shouldnt be surprised. he needs it more than anything.

something dangerous popped into my mind when looking at it. the first thing i thought of was wiping santo off this earth.

wouldnt i be doing a good deed? taking that rapist, pedophile and fucking freak off this planet?

he called me again. from a different number. i never pick up unknown IDs because of him. but i picked up this time, and all i heard was him breathing harshly.

"i dont like being ignored, yaera. it hurts my heart. you dont want to know how i act when im hurt."

i wonder if yasmine found out, and thats how she ended up where she did.

i know he wasnt anywhere near her when she died, but the thought that he touched her the way he touched me...the fact that she enjoyed it. it was driving me insane. i feel myself losing it with every single thought that flashes by me.

i just want to leave. i want san to finish up his business, come out alive and free me from this place.

we decided on soroa, cuba. europe wouldnt be a good place for us to start over in. latin america would be fresh. its going to be better.

i tried to keep busy but my stomach ached for san. with every apartment i looked at, every beach and every municipality i imagined living in, i had a thought of san never seeing it. i feel so fucking helpless.

i cant fix any of this. i never could but ive never felt this cornered before now. if anything happens to him, i know im going to end up in a ward. i cant leave this place without him when he helped me get to this point.

my parents have left me so many missed calls. so have irina and claire. none from anya? thats weird. she always leaves me the most calls.

i decide to call irina back. i havent heard from them aside from drug related business so it'd be nice if she could take my mind off the fuckery thats been taking place. they always have the most interesting things to tell me. vacationing in saint tropez, partying in monaco, i'd love them to tell me about cuba.

irina picks up first ring. "hey girl–"

"you fucking bitch," she snares at me. i jolt up from the bed at her tone.

"hello?" i repeat in confusion.

"anya is DEAD BECAUSE OF YOU!"

fire creeps up on my skin. it feels like all my hairs raising.

"w-what?"

"she fucking mixed whatever pill you gave her and she threw up all over herself. we fucking rushed her to hospital and she didnt make it!"

this has to be why my parents called me. oh my god. oh my god anya's dead.

"i dont know what you mean," is the first thing i say. probably not the best thing but its the first thing i could get out. there has to be people around her right now. i cant risk it.

"now you dont know what im talking about?" irina snaps. "you fucking killed her."

"anya has a history of drug abuse, irina. why are you blaming me for this? im sorry for what happened but dont call me with this bullshit ever again."

i quickly put off the phone and start hyperventilating. fuck this is a mess, my parents probably found out. they probably know. if i go home im screwed. i cant go home, they'll keep me there.

how do i stay out of this. i know i cant go to jail, none of them have any proof that i dealt them drugs. not a single shred of evidence. there are the cellphone records, but those calls cant get traced back to me. the phone's too old. i need to stay away from them.

i have to fix this, somehow. i cant unload it on san he has enough on his plate. but it sounds like ive made an enemy out of the closest thing i have to friends. i dont know what to do.

i look at the gun on my lap. i have to finish the story.

***

next chapter

tagslist: @sansonlygf @brown88 @yujispinkhair @mountiiny

[my-castles-crumbling]

hiya cas! i hope youre well 😊

so, i have some medical issues (nothing serious!! probably - im still waiting for a proper diagnosis but ive had a few appointments and tests etc and have been assured its nothing to be concerned about) and so i obviously have to go to hospital appointments sometimes for the aforementioned tests and discussions. it was scary at first (i hadnt been in a hospital since the day i was born up until this point, and i was 18 when i had my first of these appointments) but its easier now, but im still a little stressed

im not technically estranged from my family - i still live at home with both parents, and we're on decent enough terms - but we dont really have any sort of important conversations. or any personal conversations either. so i guess we're just not really close? idk. anyway, this has meant i have absolutely no idea what any of my family medical history is. i had to find out through my older sister that my father was diagnosed with diabetes four years ago (and she only found out because she worked at the pharmacy where he got his stuff from), and my eldest brother was the one who told me my grandparents' causes of death (they died before my birth and my parents never mention them), but they dont know any more than that either

this hasnt been an issue for me before, because obviously ive never needed to know. ive never been asked about it, but now that my own health isnt right, i kinda need to know. in my first appointment i got asked about it, but i told the doctor i didnt know and would ask at home

i did ask, to be fair. i spoke to my mother and explained why i needed to know but she just kind of... brushed it off? idk if thats the right way to phrase it. she said there was some vague thing about heart issues but she didnt say anything specifically, or which side of the family it came from, or anything all thay helpful at all

its so frustrating because im not the first of their kids to need this information. my sister has medical problems too (different issues than mine though) and our parents were no help with her either

i spoke to a friend about it last autumn when i first went to hospital and he looked at me so oddly, it made me feel so broken, i guess. apparently discussing medical history isnt a taboo subject in most households, because he knew all of his and he's never been to hospital for anything. but the way he looked at me like i was weird or something for not knowing was awful. again, it made me feel genuinely broken and damaged. it was kind of one of those moments where you realise 'oh, my family isnt normal' and it sucked, because i thought id had that realisation years ago

its happened with some other stuff too (i.e. telling parents about a relationship, friends, interests, spending time with family etc) and it just... it really sucks. i dont know what else there is to say than that ig lol

i was going somewhere with this ask, but ive kinda gotten off track and now i cant remember, soooo.... have a good day! thanks for reading my ramble 🥰

Hi hon!

I’m so sorry, whose moments of realization suck, truly. Please know that you did nothing wrong <3 

Because this is a health thing, I do have some advice for you (ignore me if you want!) There are forms on the internet that have questions about family history. Print one out and just give it to your mom and dad. Don’t give them room to question it. Say your doctor needs it, and you need them to fill it out.

I wonder, though, if your parents don’t share their history with you, they might not know their parents history. A lot of times, these kinds of things that happen in families are passed down. 

But yeah. Just give them a form and make it a health thing. You deserve that info. 

Again, please know that you are NOT broken, and it has nothing to do with you <3

(naming you medical anon)

[bloodqueendean]

whenever my friends describe doing autistic things they just sound like normal things to me? like it just sounds like a person existing? but my autistic friends say they don’t think i’m autistic. but my dad does think i’m autistic. because he is. except he’s not officially diagnosed. for some reason idk but he’s been living as if he’s autistic for years like he’s acknowledged as autistic by his work and stuff my family just doesn’t believe in doctors which sucks. but another friend said they thought maybe i have adhd. and i’m 99% 3/5 or 4/5 of the members of my family are neurodivergent. i am the other 1/5. but also idk. current theory is i’m just too detached from reality to realize how society functions or how people are “supposed” to act. so that’s cool. anyways mini ramble i guess.

[dembenchboys]

well I gotta rant for a sec. so I was having a whole bunch of symptoms & signs of adhd and my mom kept denying it no matter how much I brought it up and it was hella weird. so I made a doctors appointment to talk to my dr about it and see what was going on. So I sat down and we started talking about it and he literally said "you are aware you have it right?" and I was like huh because i've never been tested for it. and he literally went "yeah you got diagnosed at age 5 right before JK your mom just never wanted you on the medication" SO THIS WOMAN HAS KNOWN MY WHOLE LIFE THAT I HAVE IT AND HASNT DONE SHIT ABOUT IT. and she can't understand why im mad. She's the same person who docent let me have any Advil or anything. (fun fact never had any of that stuff and ive broken bones) but she can't understand why i'm mad and just keeps saying "you don't need any of that medication solve it your own way without meds" like the audacity is mind boggling. She has literally lied to me my whole life and im like beyond pissed. She also won't get her second covid shot. like she's down right refusing and u just dint understand. this mom pushes my button every mother fucking day

[sakuhai]

I quite enjoy Oriya❤PJ comics on WEBTOON.I don't think they are homophobic,just extremely intense and mostly focuse on the dark side of humans and relationships because to a certain degree that's closer to reality.

In their most recent project the characters are complicated and full of flaws and some hidden virtues.

The main character is this rich kid who has always been lonely angry and sad.As a kid his mother "abandoned" him and his older sister (who btw once had s*x with a dude who had a boyfriend and a few years later she got pregnant by a married man though so far its unclear whether she had the kid or not,but one thing is for sure.She ALWAYS had her father on her side helping her out and supporting her and being lenient over her mistakes,unlike her brother whome he always judged more harshly and had much more demands for him and on top of that didn't accept the fact that his son was gay and he was never a supportive father.)

Thats one way to look at things but everyone is "morally gray" in the creators works so the father is not a complete monster.He still spoiled his kids providing them with everything.The main protagonist didn't go to college neither did he had a job.He still lived under his "a**hole" fathers roof but he didn't respect him.Like one time he brought in a dude and f*cked him on the couch in the living room.He did it on purpose to piss off his father who caught him and gave him a bloody punch in the face...

The thing with the seme of the story is that he eventually got a job at a bar but he was diagnosed with an extremely serious potentially life threatening heart disease that the doctor said that surgery or surgeries are necessary and can be done at the seme's fathers clinic but he is too proud to ask his father for anything.And he distants himself from his family more and more.And one time he even roasted his sister so hard she slapped him in the face and run away crying.🙄

Now the other main character of this series is the "controversial" one -at least for me-

I guess it's easy to like characters like him.Because he is the uke and he is very pretty and he gets f*cked around all the time so he is the one who provides almost all the s*x in the series so that makes him likable to the audience.

The uke is interesting but also kinda annoying to me.

He was a prostitute for many years.He was picked up from the streets by a daddy and he was offered a job at a brothel.However the contract he signed had significantly more privileges compared to other s*x workers there.

The uke could chose his clients,he could chose whether he wanted to have s*x with them or not and if yes he could chose what kind and set some very strict rules and limitations.No bruises,no hickeys,no any marks.His paycheck was way larger than the other prostitutes as well and most importantly he could quit and leave the brothel whenever he wanted to!And of course he "brought in the most clients"and the boss offerered him special treatment.He told him "Whatever you need I'm always here for you.Don't ever hesitate."

So based on that its understandable why some other s*x workers at the brothel hated him with a passion.And he is always so aloof always smoking a cigarette and has an attitude.

So the uke met the seme at the bar the seme works in and he liked him.They hooked up and continued so for around 4 months until the seme found out that the uke works at a brothel and he was disgusted.The uke answers that he didn't think they were in a relationship and that if he had ever asked him anything he would had answered him.

The truth is that during those months they didn't do anything else but meet and f*ck.They didn't talk or anything more substantial than just s*x but they both are responsible for this because none of them ever took the initiative to try and meet the other better...

So the seme rejects the uke but the latter has a spare key of his apartment and often appears there and he is kinda manipulative because he has figured out a few of the seme's vulnerabilities.He knows he feels lonely that he has anxiety and he is desperate for affection.But the uke translates all this to s*x and he is more "catty" while with the seme things are straight forward.He loses his temper and he yells.He calls the uke hoe and multiple times has declared that he wants nothing to do with him!

Yet the uke always appears in front of him.Some may say he cares he loves him etc but to me all those seem more manipulative and selfish from the uke's part.

He appears at bars the seme goes and he "saves him" from others who want to hook up with him (not that the seme needs physical help) but still the uke magically appears as if he has the right to interfere in the semes life whether for good or for bad.

He still takes care of the seme when the latter is drunk and vulnerable.I can't help but feel that the uke takes advantage of the seme for his own benefit and in a way he does manipulate him psychologically and emotionally.Trying to convince him that they both are "equally dirty" and "horrible people".

Things always end up with s*x for them though no matter how many times the seme has told him he is not interested he doesn't want to see him anymore.He even threatened to call the police on him if the uke didn't give him the spare key back.The uke pretended to do so but he lied.He is so creepy having multiple keys of the seme's apartment and chilling there as he wishes too knowing that in the end the seme will just give in to s*x and things will continue as such.

He even introduced himself as the semes boyfriend to the semes sister when she visited her brother.Before that he had discovered the doctor diagnosis paper which was in a drawer the seme had by his desk.

Btw of course the uke has a "super cool amazing goth girlfriend" who thinks the seme is the a**hole and that her friend should just leave him.She is right but only for the second part.

Anyways the uke once again seemingly got what he wanted.He claimed that ever since he met the seme he hasnt been working at the brothel nor taking any other guys.With the only exception being his ex boss he just couldn't refuse him a "goodbye forever" f*cking.

He told him he has quit the s*x industry for good and permanently.However it seems that the uke has no further explanations or promises to give.And he doesn't have anything in mind about what he is going to do in the future.What other job is he capable of doing?

The thing with the uke is not only that he was a prostitute but he was a criminal who has done some illegal immoral things that are just disgusting and could get him in jail.

Basically he sold drugs to people.And to underage people...Idk but if I was the seme I'd be even more strict with him.Unfortunately this seme seems tough but he is not.He is more like a big kid and he is lonely insecure and vulnerable which the uke I feel like takes advantage of those to guilt trip him.

All it took for the uke to stop being roasted in front of a mirror by the seme was to make a dramatic scene after the seme told him "How do you come here and take for granted that I'll kiss you when I don't know where your mouth has been and how many d*cks it has sucked and how can I be with someone in a normal relationship knowing that he has f*cked half the town!?" After hearing those the uke just grabbed the soap and poured it in his mouth (the dramatic scene) and the seme got worried (exactly as the uke expected) and not only that but the uke then proceeds to once again tell him that they both are dirty.

Idk im mostly leaning towards not liking this uke very much because once again he got what he wanted by manipuation.By psychological threat attempting to wash his mouth with soap.That will make a sensitive person like the seme to think that the uke could do something more serious trying to damage himself if he doesn't get what he wants.

Only time will tell but so far I'm glaring at the uke.Giving him double the attitude he gives to others lol.He is the type of person that thinks that even though the seme rejects him,insults him and even manhandled him few times as long as the uke can still get him to have s*x with him then he will probably fall in love with him eventually...

Anyways the title of this mess is "If tomorrow was yesterday" check it out and make your own opinions if you're interested.

It is an interesting story the chapters are very brief there is a lot of drama and "tea" in each one of them so overall is a easy to binge read comic.Also the art is great though sometimes I feel that the artist goes through the "Same face syndrome" way too often...But that's not so important.

[alien-at-the-dinner-table]

The Eyebrow

I recently quit my job. For most of you, this sounds like a fairly normal thing. I mean, if you’ve ever had more than one job, there are only two ways to not be doing the first one: quitting or being fired. Of course there is the secret third option of faking your death and traveling to the cayman islands, but a prerequisite in “evil mastermind” is required there. For me, this was one of the hardest things I have ever done. When I gave my two weeks notice I thought I was going to die. I was sweating like a cornered nun, and at one point I forgot to breath and quickly ran out of air. The  truth  behind the unreasonable terror, the reason I nearly blacked out when telling an airpod adorned millennial I was done? I have an anxiety disorder. Shocking I know! Who would have guessed right? Until a few years ago, I certainly didn’t. I always thought that everyone hated their birthdays, dreading every single sleepover or dinner. I thought everyone would cry for months as they went to bed at the prospect of getting a shot. To be specific, I have a generalized anxiety disorder, with a very high probability that I also have obsessive compulsive disorder as well. I only got diagnosed with anxiety this last January, but only out of necessity. For those unaware of what it is like, you probably have some ridiculous caricature of what mental illness looks like. To be fair, I do things that are quite silly or odd, but that is more of a me thing than anything else. When approaching a teacher for a question, you will probably see me leaning back as I walk, looking extremely uncomfortable like a cartoon thief about to be caught.  But mostly the things my anxiety and OCD make me do are quiet. I used to get up in the middle of the night to re-count my pages for my running start classes. I sometimes get an eyebrow twitch. That happened mostly when I developed a crush on a classmate last year. Because God forbid I act cool one time. Upon seeing him enter class I would have to hold it down lest it fly right off my face. It was real bad when he wore a suit to school. My poor, emotionally unstable brain couldn’t handle all that class. I stared at the table and was unable to think of any coherent thought other than “i like bird” for a good 15 minutes. I plan everything out by time, including my job. I have that down to a tee. If you asked me what I would be doing at 8:24 I would be able to tell you. I do garbage at 8:30, so I would be restocking the coolers out front or the back coolers. I save the restocking of  the condiments for after  9:30 because that is after when I clean the bathrooms. I have so much free time because I have every single task assigned a time. I did that on my own, I was given only vague guidelines when training for the job. So I figured everything out on my own. And my old boss loved it, in fact he hired me because of it. In my interview he asked if I was the little girl who would always come in and color code the mentos by the  register. I had been doing that since I was 10.

 My anxiety has gotten worse as I have gotten older, and I eventually had to go on medication. That was in January as I said earlier. In the beginning of December I was quite happy. Then one night after work, I felt a bit nervous. If I didnt fall asleep right then and there I would get only 7 hours and 34 minutes of sleep. If I slept in I would not like how little of the day  I would have left, but if I got up right at the 7 hours 33 minutes (every second I am awake is ticking down!!) I would be very tired, and how productive will I be if i'm so tired??  At 2 in the morning I was still awake. In a slow burn panic attack, I calmly got up, walked to the bathroom, and promptly threw up. Funnily enough, I was super calm, thinking to myself “that was the best darn puke I’ve ever had!”. The next few days were weird, because the nausea never quite left me. I get nauseous when I am having anxiety, but I thought I was sick. So I panicked. I felt worse. I stopped eating as much. I couldnt sleep. I ate what I could because that is what I would do as a kid. I felt worse. I threw up. Repeat. After 3 weeks of this, I had lost 10 pounds and was on the verge of a break down. Then the straw that broke the sleep deprived camel's back came in the terrifying form of a P.E. bag. The start of Christmas break was two days away, and I was running on no sleep, and little to no food. I got unto the bus after a huge physics test. As soon as I sat down I dropped the bag. Cut to 3 seconds later- I cant find my bag  and immediately assume I left it in the class. So in a panic I hop off the bus before it pulls out of the school and look for it. Realizing my mistake when I do not find it, I walk home. Walking in a daze I hoped that my little sister had grabbed it. I got home. I asked if she had grabbed the bag. Replying with an eloquent: “what?” my world dissolved. I then promptly broke down and began to sob big, sad tears while my poor confused father tried to comfort me. I then missed the next day, sick to my stomach, shaking, and once again in tears. That was the day that my 3rd period class won an ice cream party. It was then decided that I should see the doctor. We got in a few days later, and I needed a blood test to make sure that nothing else was at play. If anything else hadn’t proved beyond a doubt that I had anxiety, my reaction to getting my blood drawn did. Shaking like a chihuahua doing the ice bucket challenge, I fought off tears as my mom held my gray hands. Fun fact: that can happen when your body goes into such a state of panic that your blood vessels retract into your body! Fun right? Anyhoo, a few weeks later and I began my medication. 

Obviously I still have issues. I double check all the locks before bed, and I eat the same foods for lunch every week at school. I turn on all the radios in the house when I’m alone because serial killers only attack when it is quiet. The time thing hasnt gone away, and honestly I’m getting a little tired of having a paranoid conspiracy theorist living in my brain. The meds helps a lot, by giving him a fidget spinner to play with so he  talks less. But he loves to make me question things. Like, did I really did put my phone in my pocket 10 seconds ago? I mean, do I specifically remember it? No? Better panic an absurd amount before checking it! My mom even mentions the word ‘dentist’ and he runs around screaming clanging cymbals like a bat out of hell. The really crazy thing is that no one realises when he is doing this. Growing up no knowing what a panic attack was, I know how to ‘hide’ them really well. They still happen, and honestly hiding them feels worse because doing that makes me physically ill. Telling people is weird too. I told a friend that I was going to therapy, and the end result was me fighting off the urge to cover my face with my hands. Not because it was horribly ignorant or shocking, I could feel my eyebrow starting up. She basically asked if I really needed therapy, and suggested investing in a fuzzy blanket. The stereotypes for mental illness make it really hard to know when you have a problem. Because people can’t see it, it makes it harder to explain that no, it really is that difficult. Do I like holding an apple core in my lap for an hour? No. But getting up feels so much scarier than looking weird. Going to therapy or being on medication is not something that ‘crazy’ people do. It’s what people do. Full stop.

[eyecicles]

i'm autistic...i've known for about 6 years now, and i was diagnosed pretty late (17) and in secret. my mom doesnt believe in autism, calls it "all in my head", and she doesnt take the resulting depression and anxiety seriously either. she yells at me for everything i've come to learn has to do with my autism, and claims to have read and researched everything but i know she hasnt (or if she has, its been 1 or 2 unreliable articles) /1

whenever i break and tell her she’s yelling at me for something outside of my control (for example, being uncomfortable with sudden changes in plans or making eye contact) she starts talking about how if i keep saying it to myself i’ll never get better and i should acknowledge the problem and stuff like that. she doesnt want me to go to therapy and if i must, its gonna be someone she picks out and i really dont want to go there

im kinda scared of therapy as it is because ive lived my whole life this way and im worried that i’ll lose bits of my personality if i start to change (even if its for the better) and i dont want to go but i also know that i should, and i also really want an official diagnosis from someone whose opinion actually counts (because mine sure as fuck doesnt) so that my parents could get off my back about these things. im really confused about how to explain shit to them

and how to approach this whole thing because im so tired of having to constantly adapt to every new thing she insists on especially when im not mentally ready for it. she doesnt take my mental health seriously or considers it a priority and then tries to act like she cares (she does care, i know that, but her approach is all wrong) but refuses to take my opinion on it anyway, even tho im clearly the one suffering most. ive even told her (after a long time) that she hurts me but she wont stop

im sorry to dump this all on you but none of my friends have problems like this and my family doesnt believe in MIs because of the stigma around them here, and i dont know who else to ask for advice from. if you could give me anything at all, i’d appreciate it so much

_____________________________________________________________

Hmm, I don’t exactly know what you mean with "diagnosed in secret”. You don’t have access to any papers or anything else you could use as proof?

Asking the people who diagnosed you for something like a certification would be your easiest option, of course. But if that’s, for some reason, not possible, I would advice you to either talk to someone from an autism counselling centre (if that’s a thing where you live) or your doctor. They will help you find out how to get an official diagnosis, because I definitely think that would be your best course of action.

I unfortunately know a lot of parents who treat their autistic child like your mother does. And some of them refuse to accept the truth even when they’re confronted with hard facts and actual evidence, like a professional diagnosis. I think what helped a lot of people is talking about autism in a way that humanises us. Showing them interviews, videos or books by other autistic people in similar situations, with similar struggles, or just talking about as neutral as possible. No method is infallible, sadly, but I found that normalising or talking about the more positive aspects of autism will sometimes change the minds of parents with autistic children. Sometimes only to some degree and very slowly, but it’s still better than nothing, I suppose.

My parents were quick to accept that I’m autistic, but they’re pretty much like your mother when it comes to mental illnesses. It’s a very tricky situation and a topic I’m trying to avoid with them. I personally don’t think that changing the perspectives of one’s parents should be anyone’s main focus though, even if their words still hurt. Self acceptance and getting the help you might need are infinitely more important in the end.

I understand your concerns about therapy, I really do. Almost every autistic person has a comorbid diagnosis (I think it’s about 90%), or several, and getting the right kind of therapy is often unavoidable if we want to get better. But that’s also why it can be important to get an official diagnosis: regular therapy, with someone who doesn’t know a whole lot about autism (because let’s face it: even mental health professionals mostly know jack shit about autism if they didn’t study it) is often times almost completely fruitless. A good therapist won’t try to change your personality and autism symptoms by the way.

I know you said that your mother would want to pick your therapist, but it’s not for her to decide. Especially not when you’ve got the diagnosis, because the psychologists in charge will recommend you therapists that are well-versed in autism and the unique struggles we face. If you have still concerns about your mother, you can and should bring this up with those people as well! They will know how to best handle situations like yours, since it’s sadly not that uncommon.

The first step is usually the hardest. But to me it sounds like you desperately need to change something about your situation - you can see yourself that you won’t convince your mother the way you tried. But a diagnosis and therapy can help you in so many ways you might not even be aware of yet. It’s of course not a magical remedy to all your problems, but I think the fact that you reached out to me already shows that you’re on the right path. You seem to fully realise yourself that it can’t go on like that. Which is great!

So yes, my advice would be to first talk to someone from an Autism Centre of Excellence (or however it’s called where you’re from, it should be easy enough to find online) (you can usually e-mail them as well, if you don't want to call) or a doctor.

Another thing: if you haven’t already, I think it could help to check out the autism community online. There are many people in similar situations, with similar concerns, and just reading about other autistic people’s experiences online helped me a great deal. You can for example check out the #actuallyautistic tag on tumblr, or this blog. If you like, you can of course ask me more questions, of course.

I wish you the best of luck, anon!

[little-misses-lee]

This past year has been one huge fuck you.

I went into 2018 with my Cluster Headaches, Temporomandibular Joint Dysfunction and Trigeminal Neuralgia as well as some unwelcome new symptoms.

So along came more medications, the controlled drugs, the questions and odd looks in the pharmacy. But no diagnosis. Just questions.

Is she crazy? Is she a drugseeker?

No. I believe I have eventually found doctors that can see my pain.

March comes and everything was painfully normal until the morning I woke up and something felt wrong.

I had a dead leg, atleast thats what I thought it was so I waited. And after 20 minutes I realised it wasnt right and pretty soon was waiting for an ambulance and feeling terrified.

At the hospital I kept smiling but knew something was wrong with me, something has been wrong with me for a long time. And now I cant move my leg. Not even wiggle a toe. Being transferred in the middle of the night and nurses giving each other glances they think I cant see, 'its quite possible its MS or a stroke".

I was 26. And some days later a neurologist is telling me that "the signals going from my brain to my leg are being lost or confused somewhere along the way. It may go completely back to normal but some people stay the same for 25 years."

I was not going to spend 25 years this way. I sat there for days just thinking over and over again about moving my leg, twitching my toe, anything. Over and over. Eventually my muscles started to move when I was making conscious thoughts, then I could move my toe although uncontrolled. After a while I could slightly bend my knee and then I was going home. I was wheeled out of hospital with still no real meaningful use of my leg. In bed for weeks having to drag myself across the floor just to get to the bathroom where I would be so exhausted I would collapse in a heap on the floor and just cry.

But I fought.

I worked through my physiotherapy and I got better. And the first time I really left the house was to go and see Blue October in Concert. I was determined to stand there at the rail and I did.

So I can walk but I remain using a crutch but considering what could have been I have no right to complain.

The year moved on and my symptoms worsen. I am constantly fatigued to such an extent that I had to brush my teeth in bed, eat meals in bed, spent countless hours exhausted but suffering horrific insomnia.

My life consisted of working when I was well enough and sleeping to avoid my body crashing so badly that I couldn't get up again for weeks.

I felt void of any purpose or value. I was so depressed that I completely lost myself along the way.

Eventually I had spent weeks in a state, I couldnt eat or drink without vomitting, my weight was dropping rapidly and I was in so much pain.

And I went for an Upper GI Endoscopy. A routine procedure under sedation. A sedation to which my body had a severe reaction to. The medication? Maybe. But they believe my body just couldnt cope, I was unconscious for about 10 hours, coming round later in Resus having just given up.

After scans and trial medications etc I finally got a diagnosis in August, "we are going to start treating you for Myalgic Encephalomyelitis and Fibromyalgia."

I have seen what M.E and fibro have done to lives and I was devastated. But I was determined that I wasnt going to feel defeated. I was going to find me again, I was going to enjoy life and it was going to mean something.

I had been promised so many things, a house, kids.

Then 2 days later my partner of 8 years left me. With no look of sorrow or guilt in his eyes. He doesnt love me and hasnt loved me for a long time. And there was me excited to start moving forward.

I was completely floored.

8 years of being completely dedicated to someone and they can leave you without them suffering any form of emotion. Or was there hatred for me? I will never know.

But how the fuck was I going to do this on my own. I had work colleagues help me pack up the last 8 years of my life from his to move out.

I felt like I had been dropped in the middle of the desert with nothing.

It was soon pretty evident that I was completely on my own and my best friend was gone. And to this day I havent heard a single word from him. I thought I couldn't be without him. But I did it and I did it with grace and dignity and I am stronger than him.

And to finish the year my dad has been diagnosed with a cancer in the brain and we are now watching him undergo treatment.

So we spent christmas day yesterday in hospital.

Now its boxing day and I am so floored.

My health feels like its taking a nose dive. My cluster headaches, trigeminal neuralgia and TMD are flaring up and im stuck in bed on Oxygen with injections by my side praying for it to stop.

My painkillers were stopped and I am now reliant on off license drugs such as Cymbalta and Lyrica, Amitriptyline. They have given me painkiller patches which are not helping.

My insomnia is currently so bad that I am a serious health risk and dissociation is a massive issue.

So 2018 had been a huge shit show but I have survived. And, my god, have I been challenged and have I learnt some amazing things about myself.

I will be going into another year with more symptoms, is it the conditions? The medications? I dont know but I am ready to fight again. With the knowledge that I am capable of getting through the worst without people I thought I couldnt live without and that I am so much better for it.

I may go into 2019 feeling a mess but in February I will stand at the rail at the Blue October concert and feel strong. And everything will be okay if only for a night.

[diaryofsecrecy]

It has been the most exhausting year of my entire life and I will be surprised if I ever top it...

Brent was having a hard time adjusting to the altitude when we 1st came out here, (July 8th 2020) But as time went on he got better as expected. Then suddenly he got worse and worse, Eventually he lost the job that he got because he was calling out so often throwing up and experiencing extreme nausea.  Because of covid, the doctors were booked for weeks (new patient) so it was just kind of a waiting game until we finally decided to just go to the ER.  They did a full blood panel and decided that he needs to see a GI doctor because everything else is normal. So, That was booked 2 weeks out and he was sent home with nausea medication for one week...

Of course we were going to try to buy or rent so I was freaking out about money and working as much as I possibly could... But then I too had to go to the emergency Room because I had extreme abdominal pain resulting in an emergency appendectomy😖

The day after my surgery, I am home, when my dad comes in with my older sister.

To my knowledge, my older sister was diagnosed paranoid schizofrantic. She has been Homeless for the last 11 years,  And on drugs.  She recently was beaten so badly that she was left with several brain injuries on top of it all, And while she was healing at the hospital somehow they didn't notice her walk out.  We were just about to get her placed somewhere safe...And they lost her.

Anyhow dad walks in with my sister who I guess called him from a coffee shop when they told her that she couldn't sleep there anymore (after a month of being missing again) Dad had to go back to work so then it was me & her for the next 2 days, As you can imagine, not the rest I needed post surgery... then, I had to go back into the hospital because something wasn't right. I was there for 3 more days, 2 days alone because ben was so sick that it was worse with him being there than me sitting by myself in pain and nausea of my own.

Fast forward a few more months, tragic accidents led to 2 separate deaths of my parents dogs. Both events I happen to be present, so get blamed & am no longer welcome at mom & dads.

(Still healing from sugury, brent still very sick)

We get an apartment, and I start working as a nanny for my aunt twice a week while working at Massage Envy the other 5 days.

At this point, I am tired. I am horney, and lonely, and Absolutely. Fucking. Miserable.

I am begging ben to keep up with drs. but he has lost hope of getting better, and I have no way of helping him when I am already worn too thin.

After 9, Long, long months, he eventually, with my consistent pushing, nagging, most likely not always kind remarks, he finds out his hormones are completely off, which I knew would be the case, his dick hadnt worked for the last 3 years properly..

Anyway. He blames his addiction medication rather than continuing dr. Appointments... he gets on testosterone with an outside company(pay out of pocket kind of subscription company...rather than checking insurance, or figuring out what causes low testosterone and fixing that first). I was working and had no influence in any of those choices that effect us both as they have for at least 2 years. He hasnt touched me for so, so, long.

Month 3 of his medication that seems to be working (only reason I know is there was a ton of porn in my google history, he had declined all advances, except the rare, 3 times he allowed a blowjob then left immediately after for the gym or literally anything else rather than make it romantic at all.)

Month 4, he forgets to make a payment at all, so now we owe $250 rather than the normal $100. His meds get sent, then FedEx loses the package all together so, he is sick and I am house sitting in a dream home, alone for 2 weeks straight that originally was going to be our getaway to focus on Us.

At this point, brent and I havnt slept in the same bed for 2 months. At first cause he says I'm mean and he wants to not be near me, but now its cause hes "more comfortable out in the living room..."

A month ago when we last had a conversation about our relationship he said he wants space and a break from me all together. I'm too much.

I am the problem..?

When trying to understand what he means, he shuts down the connvo, saying he cant talk about it anymore. It's been 30 days since we have made any verbal progress. Our fighting has stopped though, and I'll tell you why...

Rewind 1 week before house sitting;

1 week after brent and I had an awful fight where he told me we should take a break, I stay at my parents & My mom offers for me to join them at a graduation party of a kid I used to babysit.

We were sitting in the back of the dining room, out of the way, when I saw someone i slightly recognized in the hallway. Not sure from where, but he was the kind of guy that you couldnt stop looking at. He was clearly into fitness, his shirt couldnt hide the muscular features he had been perfecting either, despite him dressing nothing out of the ordinary. He had beautiful ink crawling up his leg, an artform that would only mean something to someone who is more spiritually awake. But more noticable about anything was that smile.

God that smile. His face was scruffy, as if he had been away, but regardless, the smile he had influenced his entire ora. His eyes smiled, his walk... smiled. He had some kind of thing about him that was a physical draw I had never known for myself before. Dont get me wrong, i have been woo'd by many men so far in my life, from all stages in life, but This one was just, different. He was making his way around the room, & I could hear his voice over my mom who's talking beside me. I had literally been blocked out by my ever wondering thoughts of this random stranger whom felt familiar.

Then, he was there, at our table?

He was so easy to talk to, not even sure how we started now, but all I know is I was not nervous despite my very physical attraction to him.

He spoke of traveling, and adventures hes been on. This guy had a whole other life in the military at one point and now was traveling, working for a company that sends him around the US.

This guy had Hope's and dreams and somehow we got to talking about that kind of thing at a graduation party?

When I left that day, I thought about him. Not just him specifically, but men like him. Had I chosen Brent wrongfully? Does brent even like who I am anymore, what does he want going forward in his own life? How do I even fit into that? He understands my need for adventure but his actions say that he doesnt want to come along. My mind was loopy after that because for the first real time I questioned, what if there was someone who wanted to see the world,  Who liked my sad music, and my emotions being in everything I do? What if there was a women more interested in the simple home life, having a couple dogs and living a small, comfortable life? Are we doing one another a disservice by occupying oneanother's lives? How could I ever bring that up with Brent at all without making him feel so inadiquite after a year of terrible sickness and defeat?

Well, when I went to that big, gorgeous dream home the following week to house sit for 2 weeks... begging him to come see me, I grew weak from overthinking. I cried, I cried so much the first 3 days.

I cried from a place of such sadness, anger, bitterness, defeat, they were so strong. My mind was cloudy, drunk, stoned, tired.... I found myself writing a suicide letter.

My plan was to disappear, I knew I'd find a firearm in the home & allow someone to find my remains eventually in the hills where I'd walk far enough.

I prepared by cleaning the litterbox, laying out several bowls of water for the dog and cat, and watered all the plants heavily. I transfered brent all the money in my bank accounts, and as I waited for the sheets to come out of the dryer I balled my eyes out, reading the last conversations I had had with my family members. I thought to myself how the kids would take it, what different life choices they would make having been close with someone before their passing. At this point, I needed something, but I needed it from someone who doesnt know me in my life right now, but the me that was worth saving. The me I still recognized.

I called an old friend from 2nd grade. Hadnt talked to her in years and years, didnt known her life, her schedual, her name(which had been changed). But she talked me down. She saved my fucking life. It took a person who knew my soul years ago, to remind me I am not alone.

I dont blame my parents, or who I thought would be my future husband. I had talked with my aunt earlier that day and she couldnt see it either. I had become this fake shell of a person and it took considering an actual murder of myself to make me see that if I continued this path, I would die eventually and nobody in my life would ever see me preparing for it.

That night, I invited a complete stranger over and we fucked like rabbits. 4 times. He got to do things he'd never done before, and I begged him to. Sounds cold, sounds unapologetically disgusting that I'd do something like that, but quite frankly, I FUCKING needed it. I needed someone to see me, even if he didnt see my current life nor care about me as a person... he saw, touched, kissed, sucked and ate me up. For the first time in at least 2 years, i felt satisfaction when I walked him to the door and watched his car drive away.

It was like a sigh of relief, an inch I could not reach for the longest time, gone. Finally.

The following days, brent began putting in more effort. It has been 3 weeks and I'd say he has been kinder to me than he had in a while (probably the lack of testosterone) but also, I havnt seen much of him in general. From his point of view, it is all fine. Hes getting the space he needed, I'm being nicer since I quit massage Envy, and things are looking up....

But that is because he doesnt See Me.

My suisidal thoughts subsided after my long conversation with Scout. & that night I called my cousin as well, and learned he too had been in my shoes before. He said something that stuck with me.

If everyone has an expiration date on their life already, and we don't know when it is, you're to the point that you're life is so invaluable that youd kill yourself than flee your life and make one you want. Dont care about the people youd hurt, because suicide is just as careless as abandoning them all indefinitely.

He was so right, it put things into perspective, gave me a freedom I felt I was waiting to gain permission for.

Five days later, I noticed He had written me 5 before, on the day I had truly planned to end my current life..

He had written me at 12am, what would someone like him, a gorgeous, beefed out, big thinker, high energy, go getter be doing messaging me, a tired women who was 300lbs a year ago, (still working on getting to a normal size) and completely at a crossroads with existance.

I entertained the connvo a tad, and honestly forgot about it for a few days as I figured no way he could be serious.

He triple messaged me, and asked for my personal contact info to have real conversation?

Hesitantly, and wildly excited to even just flirt for a moment with someone who is literally everything I fantasize when I'm alone everynight....

Our conversation immediately took off. In directions I hadnt expected at all what so ever. He told me he had to admit he felt drawn to me, like he had known me in another life. That he doesnt expect me to get it, but I did. We talked about things that only my sister and I can relate to on a spirituality standard and it changed me in that instant. Suddenly i realize, I wasn't broken, I was just misunderstood. & that there are people in this world that See Me even when I am not trying. Not many, and it takes a specific Kind of person, but they do exist and when you meet them, you cant ignore it. It is as if they stain you with remembrance.

As the sexually hungry humans we are, not only did we find that morality, values, future goals coexist, but also our importance of intimacy. Not just lust and sex, well, yes that too, uff did those conversations get so, fucking, hot, but the interactions of intimacy and how they make a person whole.

I opened up to him about Brent, and where I am at in life, asking he please oversee my unfaithfulness, but that I am loyal at heart. He says with such pain in his voice how he too in a parallel position simultaneously, however, he married her 7 years ago.

Ugh.

So now I get to choose. Do I chose mortality, say no, brent and the other women deserve to understand the severity of sex, love and passion, and if they chose not to then we will leave before we act on our mutual attraction....? Or, do we say hell with it and give in to serendipity moments that our hearts crave so badly, take on the consequences and move forward. Sigh. If only there was a guideline for complicated.

Last night, as the 5 nights before, we talked for hours on the phone. His voice makes me smile every, damn, time. Perhaps because it's new and exciting, or maybe I just love to hear him go on his tangents of loving yourself despite the bad in life. I Want him. I want him when I wake, &when I go to sleep. I do not want a life without him& it saddens me to know our timing is incorrect. He asked her for a divorce a year ago, but has sat comfortably as I have despite the horror because weve both been too busy, too tired, too... afraid that life will always be lonely. Last night, he said to me, Elise, I love you. I avoided it several times but when he said it two more times, I couldnt keep it any longer to myself, Jackson, I really do Love you as well. It's scary, and faster than I'd ever say it to anyone. But I know it to be true because I Feel it. I want his love so badly. I want him to live life along side of me because with a person like him, I'd be a better me.

I am absolutely terrified. My life, my home, my family, dogs, my 5 year relationship, the unborn children brent and I have named, and the houses we'd have... all gone?

Running away with a man who says hes going to leave his wife is absolutely stupid. I'd be an idiot to think I am enough to get him through that fear of change, yet he gives me strength to want to try, so maybe I do, Him?

Ugh my brain being pulled in many ways. My heart having been in pieces so many times now doesnt know who to go to or why. I know for certain I love Brent, is this a self gratifying moment To push me back to him? Is this the devil bringing two lost people together to ruin four people at once?or is this Fate. Fate that has seen both of us individually loosing ourselves in a life we didnt want and has brought us together to lean on one another, temporarily not?

Suppose time will tell.

Last two days he has been working a ton, and told me that tomorrow he has something he needs to talk to me about.

I assume it isnt good. I assume it is the first put off of many, because, I know I want to do the same. Part of me says I should block him right now, because lust, and attraction, both mentally and physically like that couldnt make a women addicted and that's a no good addiction when he has a women in his house with his last name. 😔

[violet-amet]

ive been sorta reflecting a bit about myself and my health. it feels... unreal.

cancer has always been my greatest fear since childhood. im still scared of it now, and given my experience, i feel shaken up by it a little differently. im not even sure where to start, tbh.

it just feels like, even though it was between 2016-2017 that i was diagnosed, i still cant believe it. like, i cant believe i had to get surgery done a few times to take out the tumor and the uterus, had to wait for results, need examinations after examination, then finally, i got sent to a cancer hospital that specializes in that, to get cured.

and it was just... one thing after another, id say. every chemo session made me sick for the entire week, for several months, up until may 2018, and it was difficult. i mean, that goes without saying, sure, but there is no other way i can exactly describe it atm, because as i said before, it feels unreal.

i had to replace a port because one wasnt working, got poked by needles a lot, because of my thin, shallow veins, and had dealt with so many fevers, it was wild. and id know if i got one, because my feet would feel cold to me, and tingle, and there was no sign of neuropathy there, it was jsut in my hands. the tips of my fingers felt like pins and needles, making it somewhat hard to touch or carry things, but i tried hard to make sure i had enough strength to hold them. it was difficult, to say the least, and a little bit scary, given that my mom had a stroke at a time in the middle of it, which did scare me even more. but im grateful she is still here, even tho she hasnt been the same since, in a way.

now, im doing well, physically speaking, to an extent. need to change my diet, because i gained weight since i was done with chemo, do some things to focus on my mental health, and maybe, hopefully, get medical insurance. that right there is a pain because of my pre existing condition which was bs, but im going to get that looked into again, since i moved.

but since my doctor told me that my scans are extended from three months to six, which means there has been no signs of a relapse or anything, i wonder to myself, did all that just really happen? did i really go through with it? despite the proofs, from the scars on my body, to the follow up appointments, it just feels like, after getting tossed around and scuffled, i somehow got out of it as if it didnt happen. which is obviously a lie that my mind is trying to make up, because this is too much for me to absorb.

there is no way i can really protect myself from the damage done. and i want to take that experience, learn from it, dissect it, then share it to others that may be going through something, and pray that they will be all right, even if its not them thats suffering. i have to write about it, because not only does this feel too much for me to keep to myself, my mind will wind up erasing all that ive experience, just to protect me, and i cant have that.

cancer is scary. being diagnosed with a rare form of cancer, even scarier, but for my case, it was solved, and its going to be watched over. i hope that the hospital keeps track of this, just in case something similar pops up, and they can deal with it asap. spindle cell sarcoma, rhabdymosarcoma, whatever its called, or whatever they officially labeled it as, it feels unreal, but im glad to still be kicking, despite having no uterus.

im struggling to come to terms with it still, but at least, im okay for now. and i hope, and pray, that ill continue to be in good health. idk what im going to do when it comes to my personal life yet, aside from studying, but im just glad to be alive.

even tho sarcoma is a tricky little thing in general. i want to live my life as how i want to, and try to not allow my trauma control me, in a way, if that makes sense. just gotta take it one day at a time.

[iamnotsilver]

Possible TMI but i need to rant.

So If you were born with a working vagina and uterus and all that junk that comes with being a cis female (or trans male or any other identity that just so happens to have a working vagina), you know the hell that is being on your period. I normally take birth control pills. But due to medical issues ive been having for YEARS that doctors STILL are failing to diagnose, they decided to have me try the Depo shot. Back in mid to late December, i got a shot in my left butt cheek that hurt like hell to put me into medically enduced menopause. HOT FLASHES SUCK THEY REALLY DO I STILL GET THEM AND ITS MAY THE SHOT ONLY LASTS 3 MONTHS okay enough about the pain that are hot flashes. Back to original rant topic. When you get off the shot, nobody told me what to expect. When will my period return? Will these hot flashes ever fucking stop their shit? Since this did nothing for my medical state to improve it and we have ruled Bowel Endometriosis out, is there anything i should look out for since ive been without the extra hormones my birth control pills normally give me to keep me from getting cysts? The answer, in my case, was annoying as hell but id like to share it so anyone else doing this for the first time doesnt feel scared and alone. It took me 2 months after the shot supposedly wore off to get my period back. Im not sexually active and i knew there was no way i could be pregnant, but it was still terrifying waiting and waiting and WAITING for what i knew would be a gruesome event of bleeding. My period started off way different from how it is normally. My first few days are normally light and gradually build into unbearable hell. I was spotting for 4 solid days. Just spotting. What the hell crotch? THEN IT WHAMMIED AND HOLY HELL PAIN. EXPECT LOTS AND LOTS OF PAIN the best way i can describe it is how periods were before i started birth control at all, when i felt so helpless and like the world was trying to kill me for being a 14 year old with exams and apparantly a fertile body. It genuinely feels like youre younger again and i cant say how it ends yet since my period hasnt finished yet. Mine are always 7 to 8 days long (which is on the longer end of the spectrum, i know) but im already at day 7 and about to hit 8 so im unsure how much longer this will be happening for me. Im lucky to have access to meds that make this easier, and my heating pad which is electric and i now believe it is the love of my life, and friends who are willing to listen to me rant about how much i hate having a vagina because of this stupid bleeding shit. Most of all, i learned its stupid to hide it all. Talk to people. Listen to their stories. They may have been through this stuff and have words of wisdom. I work for a CVS and was lucky to have a coworker tell me she had the shot once and it took her a month past the end for her period to come back. I knew at least somewhat ahead of time that itd likely come late. And as a 19 year old girl working in the pharmacy, its nice to be able to give advise to people who arent expecting it, like its best to put Suprep in the fridge and drink it chilled, which i made the terrible mistake of having it warm. People scared of their first colonoscopy dont want to talk about it but seeing a 19 year old girl be so open about it makes it a little easier to go in with your head held high. We shouldnt be afraid to talk about these taboo topics. Its one thing to spout medical lies and try to pass it off as truths. Its another to find a support center to help you get through whatever ails you, whether youre an undiagnosable like myself, or just someone aging who is afraid to get something routine done. I dont want to be afraid to talk about this. I want to talk about it openly and find people with advise for me before i have to go through everything alone. And if i do go through it alone, i want to help others so they dont have to go it alone like i did. Talk to people. Share your stories. It sucks going it alone and id rather talk about my period for anyone and everyone to read (which admittedly still makes me uncomfortable due to the stigma) than let someone else go it alone. If you can, please reblog with whatever stories you have. If youre uncomfortable as yourself, do it anonymously. Nobody minds. Lets just make it easier to talk about this stuff without being afraid. Hi, im a 19 year old girl with gastric problems that mimic crohns disease or UC but has been told multiple times it isnt that. I have almost constant nausea as well and constant abdominal pains. Ive been improperly diagnosed with allergies and given multiple rounds of antibiotics as well as been seen by an OB to see if that could be the cause. Ive had brain MRIs and CAT scans. The only thing that helps is moving constantly, which means being in college isnt an option for me at the moment, which is devastating for me. Work is the only thing keeping me going at the moment and ive latched onto the idea of helping others.

[enigmaticpathetic-blog]

Opah Chor.

So here’s me talking about something that I usually don’t want to talk about. Mainly because it sucked. Emphasis on the -ed. But the thing is it still does. It still sucks. This is something that I would probably never get over in my whole life. It’s about my grandma. Or more precisely it’s about cancer happening to my grandma. Seeing as it is part of my being to act like everything is fine despite it usually not, I don’t really tell people about this. First, it’s because it usually ends up with me choking up, wanting to bawl cause the memories still feels like it was yesterday. Well here goes. My grandma was diagnosed with lymphoma in 2012. She died at the end of that same year. You see, lymphoma acts fast. It’s a type of cancer which spreads in the lymph nodes. I don’t know much and I don’t really wanna google it so why dont you do that for yourself. At first I didn’t really think that she was gonna die. You see, my grandma was a very cheerful, loud, funny,full of energy kind of woman. She was still driving me around with shades on before she got admitted. It started with some pain somewhere in her stomach. She got it checked, they said it was just some growth. I think it was around 3 cm at the time. I remember taking a ruler just to see how long it was. But then she wasn’t getting any better. And when the doctors checked again, turns out it was cancer. And I remember hearing that it had grown, from 3 cm to 10 cm. In just a few weeks. And then as I recall, it started getting worse. Family issues arise. Mainly in the form of ungrateful children. Uncles, aunts hurting my grandma. She was a sick woman, she was already hurting as it is. I remember feeling like punching their faces in when I meet them during hospital visits. Guess the itch in my fiststill hasnt subsided throughout the years. They're still jerks. My grandma started getting depressed, she didn’t wanted to eat, to move. She just stayed in bed, looked at the ceiling or the plain walls when one of us were cleaning her. After a while in hospital, we had to take her home. So we took her home. As in our home. I had already finished my PMR, so I could help around, be useful and stuff. It was good that I didn't had to go to school anymore. Less telling, less pretending. I remember not telling my friends. Maybe I did tell them, but I omitted the details. Nobody really knew just how sick was the grandma that Assilla took care of during the holidays. There was no use telling at the time. I had a lot on my mind those days. I watched movies of people going through cancer. But strangely enough, I didn’t remember much of it. Now, when I watch it, it ends up being a memoir of my grandma. Every cancer movie reminded me of her. Every cancer movie, after the death of my grandma, made me cry. I hate it. But yet am writing this after watching yet another cancer movie and now I can’t stop thinking of my grandma again. Those days were hard. I didn't mind the whole cleaning her, changing her diapers, counting the medicines. What hurt was forcing hero eat, which would end up with me leaving her with her food still untouched, to go to the next room and cry as quietly as I can. Slowly, during those days of repeating the same things, waking up, checking on her, bathing her, feeding her, arguing over food. I start to realise something. That my grandma was indeed dying. I remember coming into the room, seeing her sit on the edge of the bed, ready for me to help her get on my study chair which had wheels on, so I could wheel her in the bathroom for her daily baths. She would always just stare into the distance, the life in her eyes dissipating. She had already lost a lot weight, her hair falling all over the place, all over her pillows. She didn’t look like my grandma anymore, the one who would wake me up in the morning, just so we could get a cup of Teh Tarik at the nearest mama stall on a Saturday morning.  I knew that she had given up. And I remember crying in the other room, with my forehead on the floor, praying to God so He'd just take her away. It was no use looking at the dying body of my already dead grandma. Her eyes had no life anymore. I was taking care of a stranger. But I remember that one time, after chemo, my mom pick us up and on the way home, she talked with my mom. And it felt like everything was fine. I could hear her again. The rise and fall of her voice. I pretended to sleep, closing my eyes, tricking myself that she was fine, healthy as ever in front of me in the passenger's seat. I don’t know whether she saw me crying from the side mirror. I knew that mom didn’t know until I told her a few weeks ago. But that was the last glimpses of her. The rest were days spent with a stranger inhabiting my grandma's dying body. The night before she left for more treatment, she called me into the room and gave me some money. She said thank you for taking care of her. I stared at the money, unwilling to take it. But she made me take it. And I did. I cried so much afterwards. I can’t remember what I did with it. I didn’t wanted to remember. Out of all the strangers that inhabited my grandma's body, the strangest was the one on the last few hours of her life. I remember walking into the ice alone. Looking around at all the other patients. My grandma was placed in a room of her own. I sat down beside her, took her hands in mine. This stranger didn't even know who I was. She cried and mumbled things. Her eyes were vacant. The nurse told me she had been this way for a few hours. I started crying, whispering God’s sweet gracious names into her ear and she calmed down a bit. The nurse left us. I can’t remember how long I was in there, but it wasn’t long. Then I left. I think I didn't even look back. I went home with my dad and sister after that. The next day, the rest of the family went to visit her again, they asked me if I would come, but I told them no. my sister didn’t want to either. So we stayed home, just the two of us. Watching cooking shows with hot guys on them (I think the title was Hot Guys Who Cook). That evening, we got a call. I could hear my mom sniffing, but her voice was steady and calm. I could hear relatives crying in the background. She told me that my grandma had passed away. And it was one of the strangest moments in my life. If this was a movie, I’d be bawling, inconsolable. But what I did was nodded, said ocean put down the phone. My sister was looking at me, I told her the news as bluntly as I could. I guess the both of us were going through the same thing. All we felt was this numbness washing over us. We had mourned for our grandma months ago. I have never seen her cry and neither had she seen me cry in the duration of those months. It was strange, coming home after I saw her body wrapped up in white. The house felt so empty. I felt so empty. Unable to feel anything anymore. I kept forgetting that she isn’t there anymore. The next few months were hazy. Surreal. It felt weird, lying on the bed she used to lie on.no more medicines for me to check. I don’t know how I got through it. The death of a beloved family member. The truth is, for me, the hardest moments was when she refused to eat and the years that came after her death. I’ve been going through new life experiences. I graduated high school, got my driver's licence, and got myself into unit the hardest thing is when I realise that these are the moments that she will never see. She would always joke about whether she’ll meet my first boyfriend, or watch me get married, see me earn my own money. And me, foolish me, had always thought that she'd make it. In my mind, even when I was old, she would still be there, looking as she is, just older. It’s been hard without her. I thought it would get easier. But in a sense it just doesn't. I go through days, going through new experiences, unable to tell her how it was. And I’d keep it to myself, letting it go when everyone is asleep. It sucks. It just does. And I don’t know what to do about it.

[9834598435559458587]

i switched to a new doctor yesterday and its good because shes literally on the same street as my house so its literally like a 1 minute walk away which makes it 9000000% easier for me to get my hands on some antidepressants (score)

but?????? and this isnt really her fault i guess its just a huge pet peeve of mine

 but like............ he was asking me questions about my family and my life i guess to more accurately diagnose me with stuff or tell me what the cause of certain stuff is idk idc but like i told her i dont see my dad often and she automatically assumed i didnt like my dad and that hes a bad parent????? which i guess is safe to assume if you hear that a parent isnt around that much but like........ idk every time i hear people bad mouth my dad or act like HE’S the abusive one it makes me cry like i cant help it so i had to awkwardly sit there trying not to burst into tears................. and i couldnt defend him at all because if i spoke she would here the crying in my voice and that would make me embarrassed ON TOP of depressed and frustrated which would have made me cry instantly so i had no choice but to sit here and watch the doctor ask questions like “so she doesnt get along with her dad??? her dad isnt that great of a father?? he hasnt been there for her????? :(((” while my grandma sits next to me aND NODS YES???????????????? like i was so mad holyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy shit???

im just so tired of EVERYBODY acting like my dad (who shovels out TONS of cash to spoil us with, constantly begs to go traveling and spend time with us, rented a freaking LIMO for my brother’s prom, offered to buy my brother his first car, is extreeeemely supportive and enthusiastic in every tiny thing i have interest in, is one of the few things that has kept me from killing myself, etc) is an awful parent who doesnt care about us and then treating my mom (physially and mentally abusive, only cares about herself and how other people view her, lies and gaslights about everything, never keeps her promises and then denies making said promises to seem like she didnt do anything wrong, is constantly making fun of me and my interests, is the reason im mentally ill in the first place, didnt even treat my autistic brother like a human being until he was “higher functioning”, etc.)

and im also reeeeeaaal sick and tired of everybody telling me how i feel about my parents and assuming i love my mom and hate my dad?????????????? even though its obvious that i wish my mom would get hit by a speeding bus twice???

[parentingguide8-blog]

Parents Treating Kids With Cannabinoid Oil Could Lose Them

New Post has been published on https://parentinguideto.com/must-see/parents-treating-kids-with-cannabinoid-oil-could-lose-them/

Parents Treating Kids With Cannabinoid Oil Could Lose Them

In April, a committee at the Food and Drug Administration took the unprecedented step to recommend for approval Epidiolex, an epilepsy drug containing a plant-sourced cannabinoid, cannabidiol (CBD). In June, the FDA will vote on approving the drug, which has been shown in limited studies to be effective for those suffering from severe epilepsy.

Maria Selvas seven-year-old daughter, Aliana, has epilepsy and has found relief from seizures with CBD.

But treating her daughters seizures with CBD has put Selva at significant risk, and she has mixed feelings about the FDAs potential approval of Epidiolex. In October 2017, Child Protective Services charged Maria and her husband with severe medical neglect, and removed Aliana from her parents care.

Aliana Selva was six-years-old and on vacation with her family in Los Angeles when she had her first tonic-clonic seizure. She had experienced a few mild seizures as an infant, but the doctors assured Maria and her husband, Jo Selva, that these seizures were common and she would likely grow out of them. For nearly four years, the Selvas thought the doctors were right.

Then, on March 31, 2016, Aliana had two seizures.

The Selvas rushed Aliana to the emergency room, where she was examined and released. The doctor said the hospital would forward the exam notes to a neurologist in the Bay Area, where the Selvas lived. When they returned home, a neurologist called and said Aliana needed to be put on the anticonvulsant drug, Keppra.

I remember asking her, so, is there a diagnosis? Maria says. It just seemed so strange, we didnt even know what was wrong but we were already putting her on medication for it.

Within a few minutes of giving Aliana the first dose of the drug, Alianas personality transformed dramatically.

Alis normally a very sweet, gentle little girl, Maria says, After giving her that first dose of Keppra, she was super aggressive and irritable. She went from jumping on the bed, saying she wanted to have a dance party to sobbing and banging her head against the wall. She didnt care that she was hurting herself. It was completely outside her personality. It was insane. It wasnt Ali.

Keppra rage, Dr. Bonni Goldstein, former Chief Resident at Los Angeles Childrens Hospital, said immediately when she heard Alis story (Aliana goes by both her full name and the nickname). Goldstein hasnt treated the Selvas and wasnt previously familiar with their case, but she has dealt with her share of children with epilepsy, both on and off Keppra. She practiced pediatric emergency medicine for thirteen years before switching gears to focus on cannabinoid therapies. Goldstein has seen Keppra work well for many patients, and shes seen many others have precisely the reaction Maria described.

The possible behavioral side effects of Keppra in children are well documented, including hostility and aggression.

Maria took Ali off of the drug after a week. I was uncomfortable with the whole thing, Maria said. We didnt have a diagnosis, no one explained to me how this medication was supposed to work, how long she needed to be on it, anything. They hadnt even met the doctor who prescribed it.

Over the next year, Ali had a handful of absence seizures (characterized by brief lapses in attention, absence seizures usually last 1-2 minutes). A neurologist diagnosed Ali with epilepsythe first diagnosis shed receivedand ordered an MRI. The results were normal (Normal results for MRIs and/or EEGs are not uncommon in cases of epilepsy).

In May 2017, the Selvas moved to Southern California. That summer, there was a slight uptick in the frequency of Alis absence seizures. This development worried the Selvas, but Keppra seemed like an extreme response. Years earlier, they had heard about treating seizures with CBD oil, a non-psychoactive compound found in cannabis. But Maria said, as soon as I heard it had to do with marijuana, I brushed it off.

Now, however, desperate for alternatives to Keppra, they started looking into CBD. It had been covered in the national media in 2013 when Charlotte Figi, a six-year-old with a severe form of epilepsy, dramatically improved after using the oil. There was so much research about how CBD was non-psychoactive and helpful for kids like Ali, Maria said. And crucially, there were no significant side effects. A veterinarian friend told Jo about the success shed had treating epileptic animals with CBD oil. A health store near their home sold CBD oil, so they decided to give it a try. It wasnt FDA approved, they understood that. But it was better than their child banging her head against the wall in rage.

In July of 2017, Ali started a very low dose of CBD oil, administered orally. We were really cautious, Maria said. For the first few weeks, we only gave her two drops per day. We found out later that the dose was too low to have any impact, but we wanted to start slow.

At the end of the first week of school, Ali had a brief absence seizure in class. A few after, , Ali had a much more extreme (tonic-clonic) seizure. Maria brought Ali to the emergency room, where she seized a second time. She wet herself; she may have been biting her tongue, Maria recalls. It was awful.

Frightened by this sudden escalation, the Selvas reluctantly consented to a restarting a daily dose of Keppra IV to stop the seizing. At the same time, they also increased Alis dose of CBD.

Once again, the Keppra rage returned; Ali was, according to Maria, hyper, aggressive, clumsy. Within a week, the Selvas decided to stop administering Keppra. When the Selvas met with a neurologist the following week, they asked about alternatives to the medication; he refused to discuss alternative treatments with them. This [Keppra] is what she should take; if you don't like it and you want something natural, you need to go somewhere else, Maria later texted a friend.

Dr. Julie Griffith, a neurologist in San Rafael, California, isnt familiar with the Selvas case and therefore couldnt comment on it directly, but she stresses that if one medication doesnt work for a patient, a neurologist could suggest several other medications that might be better tolerated. According to the Selvas, no such offer was made.

Intent on finding someone who could talk to them about alternatives, the Selvas switched insurance companies. The Selvas also met with school administrators and agreed on a plan regarding Alis seizures: If she had one that lasted less than five minutes, the school would call her parents to come pick her up. If it lasted more than five minutes, theyd call the Selvas and an ambulance.

Two weeks later, the plan was enacted. Ali had an absence seizure in class and Jo came to pick his daughter up from school, telling staff they were using CBD oil and looking for a new neurologist after switching insurance plans.

Several days later, Maria received a call from Loretta Lopez of Child Protective Services.

CPS wanted to do a home inspection and assess the safety of Alis home environment. It didnt sit well with us, Maria says, but we also thought, lets invite them in and show them that we have nothing to hide.

During the inspection, the Selvas recounted Alis medical history and Lopez asked to see the medication Ali was taking. The Selvas produced both the Keppra and the CBD oil, and informed Lopez that they were only using the CBD oil. (The Daily Beast tried to contact Lopez for this story, but the County of Orange Social Services Agency declined on her behalf due to state confidentiality laws.)

Maria thought it went well. She [Lopez] seemed like she was on our side. She kept saying, I know theres a reason for everything youre doing, I just want to help you make that clear. She told us that shed get back to us Tuesday or Wednesday with a report. Maria signed a form saying CPS could access Alis medical files as well as a safety plan affirming that they would take Ali to the hospital if she had a seizure.

It was an unsettling experience, but the Selvas were more confused than scared. I figured she was just going to call Tuesday or Wednesday and say everything you said checks out, case closed.

Maria was wrong. The following Wednesday, Lopez called Maria saying they needed to have an urgent, in-person meeting. Maria was confused: In her mind, theyd done everything to be accomodating:Theyd given permission for CPS to view Alis medical records and to speak with her doctor; theyd allowed CPS into their home, shown them the kids living environment, and met both parents. How could Lopez still have concerns about her kids safety?

The Selvas agreed to meet, but said they wanted an attorney present. This, they were told, was against CPS policy. You can bring anyone you want, a senior social worker told the Selvas, just not an attorney.

The policy of prohibiting attorneys at team meetings is standard in California. Orange County Social Services wouldnt comment on any particular case but directed The Daily Beast to their policy regarding attorneys at team meetings here.

Without the protection of a lawyer, the Selvas felt like they needed more time to understand what they were potentially up against. Could they have the meeting over the weekend or the following Monday instead?

That wont work, Maria recalls the social worker saying, Were just going to go ahead and get Juvenile Dependency Court involved.

For what? Maria recalled asking. We dont even know what the results of your investigation are or what were being charged with.

The meeting was supposed to be when they found out all that information, the Selvas were told. But by refusing to meet that day without an attorney, the social worker told them, they were choosing not to participate and CPS had no other choice but to move forward with getting a warrant and Juvenile Court.

When the call ended, Jo and Maria immediately started contacting lawyers. We were so in the dark, Maria says. They said they were going to get a warrant, but for what?

In retrospect, Maria sees her confusion as naivete. In this perfect world you picture, you have to be a bad parent to get your child taken away.

The following evening, Maria and Jo Selvas child was taken away.

The knock came just after 8 PM on Saturday, October 28. Through the peephole, Maria saw three police officers outside her door. They said they were doing a welfare check.

Thats when Maria started streaming the incident on Facebook Live. In the video, Jo speaks to the police officers through the closed door. He asks what a welfare check entails, and asks if they have a warrant. The officer explains that they dont need a warrant for a welfare check. Jo says he and Maria will come outside to talk, but are going to close the door behind them. The police agree. The video is dark, but seconds after opening the door, Jo is handcuffed.

Once in handcuffs, the police tell Jo that they do have a warrant, one that allows them to take Ali into protective custody. The officers read the warrant to the handcuffed Jo and he pleads, shes going to freak out if she doesnt have us by her side. Shes epileptic and everytime she gets anxiety she has seizures.

The video is over an hour long and concludes with Maria asking Ali, who appears unperturbed and smiling, dressed in Strawberry Shortcake pajamas, what she wants to bring with her to go spend the night somewhere really nice.

Ali spent the next three nights at Orangewood Childrens Home in Orange County. Her parents were allowed one supervised 30 minute visit per day. On the second day, Ali started asking to go home. It had stopped being this adventure for her, Maria said. Her hair wasnt brushed and her breath was stinky. I wanted to ask if she was brushing her teeth and everything, but its hard.When you only have 30 minutes with your child, are you really going to talk about brushing teeth? She kept asking why she couldnt come home. I kept saying, Im sorry; Im working on it.

Epidiolex, the drug which is set for FDA approval, is a product of GW Pharmaceuticals. The FDA was impressed with positive results from three randomized, double-blind, placebo-controlled trials. The drug will likely be approved for patients with Lennox-Gastaut syndrome and Dravet syndrome, two severe, rare forms of epilepsy. While Aliana's epilepsy is not severe enough to meet the expected criteria for the drug, the studies indicate the therapeutic potential of cannabidiol in treating seizure disorders.

Allison Ray Benavides, a social worker in San Diego and mother of an epileptic child believes that CPS is targeting vulnerable families with these cases. She told The Daily Beast, in San Diego, theres a group of us moms who have kids with seizure disorders and use CBD oil. Theres only one mom in our group who has had a problem with CPS: the single mom whose husband is in prison. She believes the Selvas were vulnerable in a different way, you can draw a clear line from CPS to this young, hispanic family living in a very conservative county (Orange County). If they were white and living in Newport Beach, this never would have happened.

This rings true to Ursula Kilmer, of Redding, California. Shes been battling CPS for the same reason as the Selvas. Kilmers son has Lennox-Gastaut Syndrome (a severe form of epilepsy). When she was able to use CBD oil in lieu of other anticonvulsants, His seizures stopped completely. But CPS alleges medical neglect, and Kimler has been ordered to put her son back on drugs that do not prevent his seizures and, she believes, makes them worse.

Kimler has spent the last nine months trying to appease CPS and have the courts condone her use of CBD oil. Im exhausted, she says, I just want to be able to give my kid the stuff that helps him.

On November 1, three days after she was taken, the Selvas were granted temporary custody of their daughter and saw, for the first time, what the official charges against them were: Severe medical neglect.

Griffith is among the neurologists who think CBD is promising for many cases, but has concerns about the unregulated market and quality control. She also believes more research needs to be done on the effect of CBD on developing brains. That said, when presented with a hypothetical situation in which a parent is treating their childs seizures with CBD oil, Griffith said, If theyre trying to treat the seizures, that certainly doesnt sound like neglect.

On December 5, 2017, the Selvas case was dismissed by Juvenile Dependency Court.

To this day, the Selvas dont know for sure who reported them to CPS. Goldstein understands the confusion that mandated reporters like school nurses and social workers have about cannabinoid therapies. Its one of the reasons shes started an educational program for people who are in a position to intervene.

Goldsteinwho stressed that she is a physician unassociated with the cannabis industry adamantly believes that [cannabis] must be treated the way youd treat any other prescription drug; if a family is being responsible and has medical supervision, and is using cannabis to treat a medical condition, you should not call Child Protective Services on them because that is absolutely not neglect.

As for Aliana, shes seeing a new neurologist who understands the efficacy of CBD for seizure disorders and is monitoring her closely. Emotionally, however, the trauma of the ordeal lingers. She gets scared at night now, something that never happened before.

Maria understands how she feels. I thought as a parent, I had rights, Maria said., Now theres this fear that CPS could just come through the door and take my kids away.

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