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seventh-district · 8 days ago

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not even gonna try to contain this vent post within the tags bc i can just feel that i'm gonna yap

for the first time in a very long time, i'm watching an old video of me, age 13, playing with my dog on the kitchen floor. and i can barely handle the envious sight of how absolutely free i was. like, i know i've rewatched this video at a few other points in time in the nearly 12 years since i recorded it, but i've never really watched the full thing, paying as much attention as possible to every single detail.

i initially dug it up the other night because it's one of the only videos i have of Sassy on my current phone, and i wanted to.. see her again. but while i was analyzing every frame of the 3min video trying to drag as much of her memory out of the past as i possibly could, it dawned on me in a way it never has before just how unbelievably free i was behaving.

i was on the floor. touching it, sitting on it, putting my hands down on it and then (to my current self's horror and disgust) putting them on my cheeks, touching my face. i sat my drink down on the floor next to me. i picked Sassy up over and over again and then touched my face and drink and then i picked her up again and actually put my mouth on the top of her head to give her a little kiss. i did all of it without a second thought. it obviously came so naturally to me. i was moving around, interacting with the world around me in such an unbelievably normal way that i barely even recognize myself. and i was doing everything so quickly, too. i had energy. i moved (what seems to me now as) recklessly (though to a normal person it is probably just. normally.) and i just touched anything and did anything and. there weren't any consequences. it was fine.

that was roughly 1.5 years before Sassy dropped dead with zero warning and zero explanation and i developed severe OCD.

my memory is too far gone for me to figure out if the two events were cause-and-effect, or simply happened to take place around the same time in my life. it's not like i kept any sort of detailed log of my developing symptoms so i don't know if i'll ever be sure.

regardless, all i can focus on is how nowadays i wouldn't be able to do any of that. nothing aside from my shoes can come into contact with the floor. and i cannot come into direct skin contact with my shoes. if i find myself in a situation where i have to sit on the floor, as soon as i can get up, i have to remove all clothes that touched it and put them in the dirty laundry, and wash my hands, and if i had to touch my phone after touching the floor, i have to disinfect it. i will under no circumstances touch my face after contacting the floor until my hands are washed. i cannot touch or pet or hold either of my pets without washing my hands and preferably removing whatever clothing they came into contact with.

they are not allowed in my room nor my bed. Sassy slept in my bed with me every night. i never put my mouth on their fur to give them a kiss. i gave Sassy head kisses without a thought. they are not allowed to lick me. i used to find another one of my past dog's 'kisses' on my hands to be very endearing and unproblematic. now if it happens i have to wash it off immediately. anything that gets touched between my hands contacting either pet and being washed, i have to disinfect it.

i mean it with my entire fucking heart and soul when i say that OCD is an insidious disorder. having lived with it for a decade now, i couldn't be more aware of this. but, therein lies the exact point i'm trying to make. in spite of knowing that it has wormed it's way into every single aspect of my life, brain, and personality, it's entire nature is defined by the fact that it will do so, and it'll do it in such a way that the disordered mindset becomes your new normal. it had managed to completely overwrite a lot of my pre-disorder memories of how i used to... operate in the world around me. it has entirely altered the way i do every. single. thing. to the point where i just can't even fathom how it used to be any different. if i didn't have videos like this one to serve as proof that things did used to be different, i wouldn't have any basis for what my "normal" ever even was. it robbed me of those memories entirely.

let's fish one example out of the thousands of different ones i've got siting around: i've spent years trying to figure out how i used to take a shower that didn't take me an entire hour. i have no video of something like that obviously, so it just feels like.. like when i try to envision how i used to bathe myself it literally just goes black in my brain. there's no memory or mental images left in there. i can't fathom it. i mush have just been walking around halfway clean. i don't know. i don't understand how anyone can take a "quick" shower and get out feeling clean. my brain just absolutely cannot grasp it because the OCD is all that's left. it snuck in and completely rewrote the code of who i am and how my brain functions and how i perceive the world and i am never going to get my old self back. no amount of medication or therapy can truly, fully undo the damage it's done to my mind and body.

i mean. i have learned to live with it, barely. i wouldn't really call what i do 'living' but i am. surviving. and some of my obsessions and compulsions have the tendency to fade in and out over time, so i've been able to CBT myself out of some of the most disabling ones. showers take 1 hour now instead of 1.5 to 2.

i can read normally again now, after that period of time around uhh 2018 i think where i could barely read since i had to count the letters of every single word i saw. that was a pretty miserable time and i eventually forced myself mostly out of it. but i still slip back into it when i'm exceptionally stressed, which makes written communication difficult. but it's not like you can just explain that to people and expect them to believe you. but the uh. idk what to call it. OCD cranked the pattern-seeking part of my brain up so far that the metaphorical knob broke off and so the uh. like. the ability for me to notice which words have what amount of letters is always there, i'm just good at overriding it now. that's what 'learning to live with OCD' is like for me. the tracks that it carves into my brain never go away, i just get better at overriding them. but certain stupid little rules never really leave you, like if i'm lengthening a word like turning 'no' into 'noooooo' or 'holy' into 'hooooly' then the new lengthened form of the word has to have a 'good' number of letters like 3 or 7 or whatever my brain deems fit.

i can sit small objects down now without compulsively checking that the surface i'm about to sit them on is clean. ...most of the time. that got really annoying but also embarrassing to be seen doing it. having to re-wipe the counter down every time i'd pick up my water bottle and put it back down. trying to do Anything in the kitchen was an absolute nightmare. and yeah it still takes me a long time to cook anything, and there's countless other compulsions that make me dread the kitchen, and yeah i still can't sit large objects down without thoroughly inspecting the surface below them, and. sigh. there's no making this one sound like it's much improved at all. cause it hasn't

at least the compulsion to re-live and commit to memory every possible detail of my dreams immediately upon waking has left me. that's one rare example of a compulsion that has totally left instead of just adapting to be less intrusive. it was so miserable laying there for ages every morning trying to force any shred of memory out of my dreams and then panicking when i oftentimes couldn't remember anything.

anyways. i could and would have to write a literal book to fit in even half of all the examples of every single compulsion i've ever had in the last 10 years. most of them are still with me. some of them are very.. evolved, but most of them are still with me in one form or another. there isn't a single aspect of the way that i interact with the world around me that isn't heavily influenced by my OCD.

i don't expect to ever get to be that 13y/o kid again. and even back then, i was far from neurotypical. mental things were already starting to spiral for me around 11 or so. but none of my other (numerous) illnesses hold a candle to the disabling effect that OCD had and has on me. it's one of the WHO's top 10 most debilitating illnesses in the world, physical health issues included. i think i heard it ranked at #7, ironically enough. that stat might not still be accurate but i can't help but constantly want to quote it because i think one of the most tortuous aspects of OCD is the inability of those who don't have it to truly grasp how much you're struggling. how bad it is. it's taken so unseriously by the majority of those who don't have it, that trying to get across to someone how much you're struggling feels like this constant uphill battle that you never asked to fight.

one of the most difficult things for me to live with is the knowledge that most people just aren't going to understand. or believe me. and feeling unseen while suffering through immense pain is just. it's maddening. and dealing with that exact issue of struggling so much, both in physical sorts of pain and with mental illnesses, and having everyone around me never take it seriously enough.. it has been such a prevalent part of my life for so long that it just. it's slowly driving me fucking insane lol. not to be dramatic. i know i've got a relatively easy life. but there is always gonna be this invisible, bleeding wound on my soul that gets torn open a little wider every time i have to look someone in the eye and try, exhaustedly, to explain the absolute dumpster fire shitshow that i have to live with in my brain 24/7, only to get some fuckass excuse of a response like 'haha yeah i know what you mean! i'm a little OCD too!' and they just like. like seeing things organized neatly and sometimes experience a passing worry that they left the stove on.

and i just wanna say that 'we are playing life on two very different difficulty levels and i don't think i'll ever be able to get that across to you' but no i have to be nice and downplay it and get along bc it's just not worth it. i'm so fucking tired. OCD is exhausting enough to live with, let alone trying to educate other people on it.

maybe one day ill post that stupid excuse of a poem i wrote regarding my frustration with that exact experience.

but like i said, i don't ever expect this to go away. medication only treats the symptoms and i can only force myself to suffer through so much CBT. this will be with me forever, in a significant capacity. i just hope that before i die, i'll get to know what it's like to have someone look me in the eye and understand. not necessarily from personal experience, but to at least know me well enough to be able to understand how serious i am when i say that OCD ruined my life.

but it might turn out that the only place i'll be able to find that level of understanding and acceptance, is when i look in the mirror.

that might just have to be enough.

#vent post #Seven's Public Diary #ocd #pet death mention #if anyone reads any of this and is getting ready to suggest something to 'help' with my OCD or try and give me advice-#let me just stop ya right there chief and save us both the trouble bc like i appreciate the gesture but that's not what this post is for #i am more intimately familiar with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder than anything else on planet earth. it has consumed me from the #inside out and lives within me like some kinda fucked up symbiote except i don't get any cool morphing powers i'm just insane now #that's probably a shit metaphor but whatever i'm tired. my point is just. don't even bother. just ignore me please thank u #this post isn't me looking for help or anything i am simply analyzing myself and narrating it to my public diary. nothing more. /gen #anyways hoo boy! this was meant to be much more of a run-of-the-mill vent post but i guess i had a Topic to discuss tonight #there's a lot of other topics i was gonna touch on but i have used up all my time and energy just yapping abt ocd so i guess i'll just #keep the rest to myself lmao. idk. that's probably for the best anyway. i need to vent less on here. and in general.#mmmmkay it's way too late for me to still be awake. these days if i stay up past 10pm i just spiral into misery and wanna get drunk #and that urge is getting Concerningly strong these past few late nights i've had. so i really have to start forcing myself into bed by 10 #preferably earlier than that. i've set my phone to go into sleep mode at 8pm lately and so should i tbh.#i'm just not stable at night anymore. hence why i'm sat here writing an autobiography on my ocd at 1am on a wednesday #still better than staying up until 8am last night doomscrolling twitter and debating on how high of an abv% i'd be willing to drink #i just gotta go back to shutting the entire world out once the sun sets. selfish as it is. for the sake of my fragile sanity.

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cheswirls · 11 months ago

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there's not anything from the beginning of the cyberpunk au that is ready to share (too many holes and fill-ins and such that i don't feel like correcting rn) so instead here's three takes of a particular breakdown scene from the second act that is. uh. hopefully far, far enough away from being published that this part fades from everyone's minds by then :) but if not, no context is a killer

Ace moves back into the room he and Sabo had formerly occupied alone. He’s not sure how to take that at first, and seeing the lack of Sabo’s belongings spread around the shared space hits like a punch to the gut. But after a spell, he resolves to give Sabo some space. He’ll come around when he’s ready, Ace tells himself. All Ace has to do is be patient.

It quickly becomes painfully obvious that things are not that simple.

Sabo starts avoiding him, little by little. At first it’s almost unnoticeable. He’ll stiffen in Ace’s hold, then shy away from Ace’s touch, then casually move to avoid it altogether. They’ll be in the same room, in the same space, and yet it suddenly feels like Sabo is worlds away.

It’s such a sharp contrast compared to how they were when Ace was first recovered. Where Sabo would cling to him with pain in his eyes, unwilling to let Ace out of sight for any reason. Now he’s so reluctant to initiate any sort of contact at all, and when it’s just the two of them, no matter the situation, Sabo finds an excuse to be somewhere else.

Ace thought, given time, Sabo would move back in with him. That the room he was staying in now would be temporary the longer he adjusted to Ace being back. But it turns out to be the opposite. The more time goes on, the less he sees of Sabo in general.

With help, Ace manages to confront Sabo before he’s confined himself in his office for the day. It’s tense and awkward where it doesn’t need to be, should never need to be. Sabo doesn’t have any reasons for his recent behavior that he’s willing to give to Ace. So Ace starts offering his own, wanting to finally get to the bottom of this.

He hits rock bottom with his final guess, convincing himself that no matter how Sabo answers, he’ll accept it. But Sabo surprises him again, head shooting up to look at Ace with wide, scared eyes, one hand outstretched in Ace’s direction.

“Of course I–�� Sabo stops, his voice failing him, and turns his head sharply to choke on the sob stuck in his throat. Ace steps forward, dropping to his knees to kneel at Sabo’s side, and risks grabbing Sabo by the shoulders so he’ll finally look at Ace.

Sabo’s teeth are gritted tight. There are tears in the corners of his eyes, and after a moment, he blinks harsh and two wet trails run down his cheeks. “Maybe that’s the problem,” he whispers, and Ace’s heart stops thudding in his chest.

Sabo continues, oblivious to Ace’s condition. “If I didn’t love you anymore, maybe this would be easier. Maybe it would stop hurting all the time.” He glances over and ends up holding Ace’s gaze, sincerity blooming in his own eyes in a way that physically pains Ace, when coupled with the words he says. “It’s so empty,” Sabo confesses, reaching up to grab at his heart. “It has been ever since you d–” He shakes his head. “And now that you’re back, I can’t even feel happy about it. It aches, Ace. It’s indescribable, and you don’t even feel it!”

Sabo leans back, out of his hold, almost toppling from the chair. “You left me!

[Take 2.]

It’s hard not to notice all the changes, but at first, especially in the beginning, it’s easy to ignore them.

Sabo clings to Ace in such an unnatural way. He has a new room now, because none of his belongings remain in the room he and Ace had shared. But it would be hard to tell otherwise, because Ace is there, and Sabo occupies the space as if he had never left.

It’s different from before, like when Sabo had first moved in with him. Ace still remembers it well. Sabo being in here all the time, even when Ace was not. Sleeping in the same bed more days out of the week than in his own room, and then casually borrowing items from Ace until he began to leave space for his own. At first it was clothes for the next day in an empty drawer Ace never had the need to fill. Then various hygiene products taking up space in the en-suite bathroom one by one. Sabo brings a bag filled with various things that never end up leaving, and by the end of a particularly draining week, when they’re both back here, too exhausted to even make it to the bed, Sabo softly admits that there was nothing he needed to grab from his own room to make it through the next day.

And Ace just. Follows that. Really easily, the ‘why don’t you just move in?’ spills from his lips, because it seems like the correct response to have. It would keep Sabo from worrying about missing something, because everything will be in one place once more. He and Sabo will be in one place, really, wholeheartedly.

There’s not even much left, but the next day, Ace helps Sabo carry the remaining items over. And that was it. Simple. Easy. Natural, even.

Not like this.

Something is wrong. Something is terribly wrong, but Ace is too afraid to ask. He can’t quite put his finger on it, either, and yet he knows.

It wouldn’t be too far off to say Sabo is scared, but of what Ace isn’t certain. Losing him again? That would explain a lot, but it would only explain the things he could outright see. Sabo clinging to him tightly, unable to let go. Unwilling to be apart, and yet.

All of his belongings remain in his other room. Completely separated.

Ace has never even seen it, but he knows it has to exist. Sabo is so frantic, so on edge, and Ace thinks, at first, that Sabo is bracing himself. Not willing to give himself the chance to get attached, in case something else happens.

It’s a good theory, but Ace knows, instinctively, that it’s incorrect. There’s another reason, has to be, and he just hasn’t stumbled upon the right pieces to put it together yet.

It’s colder, too.

Ace can feel it at night, gripping Sabo’s frozen fingers and wishing he had the power to warm them up. His body heat isn’t unnaturally high, though, and that’s all he has. All he can do is cup Sabo’s hands in his own and hope the chill doesn’t spread to him as well.

And that’s not the only thing that’s missing.

For all the trouble it was worth, Ace can’t help but feel a tinge of regret that their soul bond was no longer. It’s definitely an adjustment. Ace will do something too hard, too rough, and then instinctively look over his shoulder to apologize only to find Sabo hasn’t felt a thing.

But he notices. How Sabo tenses, like he should be feeling a reaction and is lost when he doesn’t. It’s subtle, but Ace starts watching closer so he can see when Sabo acts out of turn. An action that’s too forceful, or a misstep, or something he can get away with while in Ace’s line of sight that should send a twinge of pain coursing through him.

It never does. Sabo always looks so unhappy about it. Like he’s testing their bond, like he wants Ace to have a reaction, to feel what he’s feeling.

Ace doesn’t understand why it matters so much until Sabo starts pulling away. Subtly, at first. Little things Ace shouldn’t notice, but he does.

[Take 3??]

“You don’t have a soul bond anymore,” Sabo mutters, so distraught and defeated, head drooped low. Ace’s lips open, a counter on his tongue, a reassurance, a promise. Sabo doesn’t give him the chance, continuing, words dripping from his lips like acid. “But I do. It’s still there. It hasn’t gone away. You came back, and still, nothing has changed.”

He stops to breathe, ragged, in and out. Then his teeth clench and he lifts his head just to the point where he can gaze up at Ace through his bangs. “It’s still broken. It won’t go away. I–” He’s cut off by a sob tearing through his throat, and when he blinks, tears leave his eyes.

Ace, panicked, crouches down to eye-level. He reaches out, slowly, both hands up, but it doesn’t even matter. Sabo still flinches back violently, eyeing him warily. He realizes his actions right after they happen, biting down on his lip, eyes blown wide.

A second later, Sabo is out of his chair, collapsed fully in Ace’s outstretched arms, clinging to his form. Ace’s knees drop so he doesn’t overbalance, and he grips tight, drawing Sabo in.

“It feels so empty,” Sabo confesses, voice warbled from tears that drip down the back of Ace’s neck. “So lonely. You’re right here and yet my heart doesn’t know. It can’t find you, Ace. This doesn’t even feel real right now.

"And I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to stop feeling like this. And I’m sorry, sorry that I keep pushing you away, but! It’s so much easier than having you in my arms with my soul telling me that you died, that you left and took half of me with you, and the other half is so inconsolable about it. It doesn’t understand, it keeps telling me to find you, to join you again, but I have so much work left to do here. I can’t leave. Not with Dragon dead. Not with you alive, still, because if I die and my soul can’t find you even in the afterlife? It will kill me, Ace, for good. It’s killing me now. And you don’t–”

He chokes and stops, working through a set of shaky, shallow breaths that Ace coaxes him through, running a comforting hand down his back and up again, over and over.

Ace sits and tugs Sabo down onto his lap, bringing them both into a more comfortable position.

“I don’t even feel it,” Ace finishes, voice quiet, barely there. “Right? The remains of our soul bond are tearing you apart, and here I am, free from it in death.” That would explain all of Sabo’s peculiarities as of late. He’s been trying to get Ace to feel, like before. Working himself up over it and then falling apart when Ace doesn’t react. He wants their bond back so bad that he’s been so reckless, and Ace didn’t even notice.

#saboace #op #writing #idk idk this is another au w a legit title in my head #but ive been calling it the cyberpunk au on here bc spoilers #tbh i started notes for this fic in 2021 i think??? its nowhere near being done #i should start rambling abt it on here more bc i love it n theres so much untouched potential #probably literal years away from being ready to post anywhere online tbh #but!! here is this ig for now

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