#sorry for the rant in the comments can you tell i recently became a psychology graduate?

[textingtroublesanswers]

I mean, it's also because you have a difficult enough time as is taking care of yourself as is, trying to get you to eat enough for breakfast this morning was a team effort. More on your plate is more on my plate too.

*Zeno flies from Mick's hat to Ludwig's head, doing a couple circles of dance before settling in, cooing and preening. As nice as the tall tall bird is, he still prefers THE tall bird*

-🦖

Ludwig opens his mouth to protest, but can't.

He opens it again, only to sigh, "I have a problem, I know... I don't want to use magic because I know I have a problem, & in the past I used that magic to take even less care of myself. I went from being on top of the world some five years before joining RED, before suddenly crashing down into such a depression that all I could do was conjure myself... Well, teleport myself food from a local restaurant, to not starve. Magic stopped me from following my real passion!"

"Cutting people open?"

"Cutting people open! Yes! That's why I don't want to start using it again."

[aplaceforthesoul]

Anonymous submitted:

Hi! I was wondering if I could ask for some advice with a friendship… I’ve been very close friends with this person for roughly 5-ish years now; it’s a friendship based on shared interests and mental health issues tbh, because we met over the net and I think the point where we actually became very close was when she told me about how she was struggling with depression. I was having trouble with anxiety myself at the time so I tried my best to support her, and later in our friendship, she told me how happy she was at the time. She said that because her parents don’t understand mental illness, she never had anybody to validate her feelings before we started talking about them. Anyway I wouldn’t say that mental health is like, the foundation of our friendship or anything, but it has continued to have a big part in our conversations in the years since then, and I’ve recently started to grapple with this ugly feeling that after five years of it I no longer know what to do for her? Like…I do understand that it’s not my job to be her therapist and that there isn’t any treatment I can offer, but she’s been doing especially badly since covid hit and when she vents about her troubles, I do need to respond somehow. It hurts because she’s in a lot of pain but there’s nothing I can do and “it’s ok to not be ok; I’m here for you if you need me; you’re not worthless; your feelings or valid” seems useless by now when I’ve already said the same things so many times. But idk how else to respond when she’s making suicide jokes that are clearly about actual suicidal ideation, has constant horrible revelations about buried childhood trauma, talks about her lack of a support system at home and scary things her therapist tells her every other week, etc. This probably sounds really hateful but I just want to clarify that I don’t mean it to be; I know that objectively, her life so far has been horrible and all the feelings she expresses are valid ways to feel about it. I just feel so helpless because the information keeps coming in but there’s nothing I can do. I *think* part of the problem is that I’ve never once set any sort of boundary when it comes to talking about stuff like this, but the thing is, it’s been 5 years…at this point, I’m not sure where to start. I’m worried she’d take it the wrong way and feel like I’ve decided she’s “too much” for me if I randomly bring it up. Also while it *could* just be me inflating my role in her life, I do feel concerned about potentially cutting off one of her few sources of emotional support? We live in entirely different countries so I never see how she operates in daily life…I know her family is not supportive at all and that her parents border on emotionally abusive, but have no clue how much contact she has with any other people rn or whether she talks about her troubles with anybody other than her therapist…and while conversations about her mental health are stressful, I also feel worried when I *don’t* know what’s happening on her end. I worry she might just bottle it all up (because she does have a tendency to do that) and then she’ll end up doing something reckless. Tl;dr…do you think there’s any way I could lay down some sort of boundary without hurting her? Or is there anything else I could do that might help? (This turned into a bit of a rant, sorry for how long it is and thank you so much for taking the time to read it! It helped so much just to write it down and get the thoughts out of my system, and reading this blog in general made me feel a lot calmer. You guys respond so kindly to everybody. Again, thanks so much for doing this! <3)

hey there, omg no don’t apologise it’s all cool :* I’m glad writing this all out has helped, writing / journaling is sometimes more therapeutic than people give it credit for.  

I think you’ve hit the nail on the head on quite a few points, especially on not previously setting boundaries, and on feeling helpless too. I know I often say things like “it’s ok to not be ok, tell your friend you’re there for them” etc, but I completely understand how that might start to lose some of its authenticity if you’ve had to say it many times before. friendships are complex! even though I agree (and have said myself) that it’s not the role of you as a friend to also double up as a therapist, at the same time you can’t just ignore what a friend has said. I also think that your concerns of her bottling up emotions and doing something reckless as a result of that is valid, and will complicate things a little. 

is it an option to suggest for her to get a new therapist? a therapist shouldn’t be scaring their patients! :( yes a therapist might put forward ideas that are intimidating (changing behaviours, confronting trauma etc) but they should be there to support their patient, and it shouldn’t feel ‘scary’ overall. they also shouldn’t be saying/doing things that scare someone every other week, that’s not healthy or helpful. is your friend aware of the possible negative impact her therapist is having on her, would she be open to the idea of looking for someone new? I know there can be accessibility / financial obstacles to factor in, but if there is any option for your friend to find a new therapist that could be something to talk with her about. 

there is one clear boundary you can set though, and that’s jokes around suicide / suicide ideation. if that’s her personal way of coping then that’s fine? but you absolutely have every right to ask her not to make comments like that around you if it makes you feel uncomfortable or anxious or on edge. I doubt she’s doing anything intentionally! if that’s the case though then she’s almost certain not to be aware of any negative impact it’s having on you. 

honestly, I think the best you can do is keep encouraging her to seek professional help, and for her to be as open as possible with her therapist. the website Psychology Today (uk / usa / australia / canada) could be useful in finding a new therapist? she could maybe look at contacting her local youth centre and asking for info and resources as well, if that’s something that could help.

how to talk about all of this with her though, the idea of possibly suggesting a new therapist and setting a few boundaries? it’s a conversation that might need a bit of planning beforehand, even if it’s just rough idea in bullet-point form. you could let her know that you care about her a lot but jokes suicide / suicide ideation aren’t helpful for you to hear -- stress that you’re not trying to make her feel bad and that you know it’s not intentional, but that you just wanna make her aware of it. mention that you love and care about her a lot! but that there are limits to what you can help with, and conversations around resurfaced childhood trauma might be best talked about with her therapist. mention that this isn’t you abandoning her or anything, that she can always talk to you? however you feel a little helpless in the face of all her troubles and concerns, and that you just want her to have the best care and support possible.

it’s not going to be an easy conversation to have, but it’s absolutely a necessary one. as long as you make sure to stress that you really do love her and care about her a lot, she hopefully won’t get too defensive or upset. you maybe might need to give the friendship a bit of extra attention (eg. starting conversations first, asking how she’s doing etc) to show that you really did mean it when you say you cared about her :* actions speak louder than words sometimes, and if she can see that you’re still dedicating time and energy to the friendship then it could help to mitigate the risk of her doing something reckless. good luck friend, I hope the conversation with her goes alright xxx

- tash

[justkending]

A True Wesson. Part 5

Summary: You are a prodigy hunter that recently lost her father on a hunt after you decided to retire from the hunting life. You run into the Winchesters when a case comes up in your town. Along the way you realize something that you always felt but never truly understood about yourself.

Chapter Summary: You go to the bar and handle the drunk. You give Dean a little taste of how you can “take care” of yourself. A couple of looks into the characters powers as well.

Warning: Cussing.

Word Count: 3379

Pairing: Eventual Dean x (Hunter/ Supernatural) Reader, Sam.

AUTHOR NOTES: This is my first writing ever so there may be a mistake here and there. Give me all the thoughts, comments, and questions! I love all feedback! ENJOY YA’LL!!!

MASTERLIST

Part 5:

The bar was about 10 minutes out from your house. Once you hopped in the car and started heading out you turned on the radio to keep the talking to a minimum. That only worked for two seconds since Dean had other plans.

He leaned over and turned the radio down. “So explain to me how your what 20? 21? And the head chief at the police station.”

“First off I’m 24 about to turn 25, and I’m good at the job. Therefore, when you’re good at the job people tend to promote you,” you said, going to turn the volume back up since Rich Girl, by Hall & Oates was playing. You started humming and getting into it when Dean reached over turned it back down again. “Hey!” you exclaimed.

“Nope. No way. You don’t get to just say that and think the conversation is done. I want details. Even if your dad was the Chief before you, and gave you an “in”, you still have to have a pretty hefty resume to get that high a job.” 

Dean really wanted to know more about you, and this was one way of getting some answers.

“Fine. I graduated high school. Went to college and only hunted here and there to focus on my class work. Majored in Forensic Science with a minor in Psychology to get into people’s head. It works wonders in this job. Later got accepted into the FBI. Became top of my class & actually graduated 2 years early since I excelled in the work. Got a job in the field for a year and was moving up on the ladder. Everything was going great until I got a call from my dad asking for help on a case. I retired from hunting once I got my job in the FBI, and I didn’t want back in. Somehow my dad convinced me to come back and help him. He passed away 5 months ago. I moved back to town around that time, and they offered me the job. Haven’t been on a hunt since then until now.”

You wanted to keep it short and sweet and not get too detailed because you didn’t want to talk about your dad’s death considering it was still a healing wound. 

“The town knows me, I had hours out in the field, and had actually lead multiple investigations within the FBI so I am qualified for this position. Even if I am young for a Chief.” 

You looked over and gave him a sassy smile and went back to turn on the radio. The rest of the ride you sat in silence other than the radio playing at a moderate level. You were getting lost in your own thoughts after bringing up old memories.

Dean on the other hand was watching you in amazement. How the hell was someone so young able to do all that? He realized he might have pushed some buttons and that the ride would be over soon, so he went ahead and joined you in the silence listening to the radio. He didn’t realize you had pulled up to the bar because of how far in his thoughts he was, trying to wrap his head around you.

“We’re here,” you said, turning your body towards Dean and pulling your leg up to make the position more comfortable. “Listen you don’t have to come in if you don’t want to. It probably will be a quick trip of me yelling at an old man to get his act together and go home.”

“Well on the off chance that it escalates to more than that, I think I’ll come on in and get a drink since your driving anyway.” He turned to you and gave you a big cheesy grin.

“Suit yourself,” you shrugged, getting out of the truck walking to the bar. Before you reached the door you turned back to Dean almost making him run into you with how close he was following you from behind and said, “Don’t interfere unless I really need help. Which won’t be the case. I can handle myself.” You patted his chest. “Promise.”

He put his hands up in surrender and motioned to the doors. You turned around and walked in immediately picking up on which guy was causing the scene. 

He was a hefty guy, older probably late 40’s early 50’s. Balding with a white beard, and tattoos up both arms. Everyone was staying clear of the dude because he was shouting some type of nonsense.

Benny was behind the counter and as soon as he saw you, a sigh of relief left his mouth. It wasn’t that he couldn’t handle the situation himself, but the guy did want to talk to the Chief apparently. Therefore, Benny knew you could take care of the issue.

You walked over to the area. 

“I got a call that there was a gentleman here that wanted to see the Police Chief,” you sighed toward the man who was hugging a beer bottle with one hand and throwing his other hand into a fist onto the counter, which caused others in the bar to jump and turn their attention your direction. “Why don’t you take it down a couple of levels there, bud?”

“I’mmm fine, little miss. I was the one who needed to talk to the Chief. Where’s he at?” The man was clearly disoriented and drunk as can be. He was slurring all his word and they were taking forever to fully form and leave his lips.

“I’m right here sir. What is it you need to talk about, so we can get it over with and get you home,” you said, annoyed with him taking up your time. He clearly thought he was going to see your dad tonight, and was not happy when you announced your position as the Chief.

“You ain’t him!” 

Anger was rising to the surface and you could tell something bad might go down tonight if he didn’t calm down soon. Even though Dean said he was going to let you handle this and go get a drink, he hadn’t left your side. He was right next to you ready to step in if needed. The drunk continued ranting. 

“I want to speak to Chief Carpenter! That man put me in jail for no reason, and I had to waste a year of my life in a cell all because he wanted to be a piece of SHIT BASTARD!

Your dad was the kindest, most hardworking, selfless man you had ever met, and you were not about to let his name get dragged in the dirt. But you took a deep breath and pushed back your own anger knowing fire fighting fire wasn’t going to defuse the situation.

“Sir, I’m going to need you to lower your voice. Let’s not forget we are in a public establishment. There are people trying to-” before you could finish the sentence he was standing up shouting in your face.

“I DON’T CARE BITCH! I WANT to talk to the Chief! Let him know what’s on my mind!” He was getting too close for Dean’s liking, and Dean went to step in front of you.

You put a hand on his chest to stop him from going any further. 

“Hey Dean. Remember what we said? I don’t want to put your ass in a jail cell too for intervening.” He was still standing in fight stance. Chest puffed out and all. “Dean come on. Go sit down, I got this.” 

You knew the only way to get him away from the situation was to guide him and walk with him yourself to a spot at the bar.

As you were walking, you motioned to Benny to get Dean a drink. As Dean was going to sit down, very hesitant at that, he was still watching over your shoulder. 

In that instant your senses heightened. 

The only time they did this was when a fight was coming, danger was near, or when you focused on them enough to zero in on certain stuff. It’s like you can tell what’s about to happen before it does every time.

Before Dean could even say your name and warn you about what was happening behind you, you turned around in what was literally an eighth of a second. You grasped on to the wrist that was coming at you. You pulled and tweaked the arm that was inches from your face until it was wrapped around the back of the man that was attempting to “attack” you. If that’s what you want to call it. 

You turned so you were behind him, and knocked his back knee out causing him to crumple to the ground. You had the upper hand the whole time, but it helped he was drunk off his ass. 

You pushed him down to the ground to where he was laying completely on the disgusting floor. He attempted to get up with his free hand, but you already had mapped out his next actions. His arm was pinned behind him by you and you were grabbing his other one to put next it so his chances of standing were a lot harder.

“Benny, call the station and see if Slater is still on duty. Have him bring a patrol car if he is. This new buddy of ours gets to be mad at me too for putting him in a cell,” you instructed, putting your weight on him. You rested your knee in his lower back as you put handcuffs that you had grabbed out of your truck on your way in on his wrist.

You looked around and realize all eyes were on you. 

“Sorry folks, didn’t mean to ruin your night. Please carry on with your evenings.” You knew most of the people, so you just smiled and gave a casual wave. They were still all looking at you more is shock than annoyance. Then a couple of drunks started clapping in a corner.

“Yeah! KICKASS MAN!” a college frat boy with a group of his friends started yelling. “That was AWESOME!”

You rolled your eyes, but were still smiling, and waved them off. The guy was struggling under you, but was too scattered from all the alcohol to really do anything effective. You leaned down and whispered in his ear. 

“The Chief your looking for was my dad. Probably wasn’t smart to bad mouth him to me. Also any fight that you even thought about breaking out, was never going to work out for you buddy.” After that you read him his rights and waited patiently for backup.

You looked up and saw Dean was in a pure state of awe at what just prevailed before him. You want to talk about Badass Wesson’s. Just look at this woman.

“You going to keep staring, or are you going to help me get him up and situated somewhere outside of the bar?” you asked smiling.

“Uh yeah, sorry.” He got up from his seat that he really wasn’t sitting on, and ran over to you to get this 300lb  man of the ground.

Once the man was secured and outside. He was hitting that drowsy part of drunk where he wasn’t really fighting his restraints, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t talking up a storm about what a bitch you were.

“You little bitch. I’m gonna get you back for making me look like a FuCKING FOOL in there! Fuck you and everything you stand for you piece of shit,”  he said as you waited outside for the squad car as it came around the corner.

“Oh honey, I wasn’t the one making you look like the fool in there. You had that handled all by yourself. But if that’s what helps you sleep at night...” You handed him off to your subordinate, as you finished your little speech. “Keep him in a cell for tonight. I’ll go over his records and deal with him in the morning. Thanks, Slater.”

He nodded and did as asked. You watched him take off down the road, and took a deep breath once the car was no longer in sight. You looked down, hands in your pockets, and kicked at the dirt then turned on your heel back to the bar where Dean was on the porch, sitting on the steps.

“This happen often?” Dean asked. His hands were clasped together, elbows on his knees, and he was looking you straight in the eyes. He had been watching your every move ever since they put that jack ass in the car.

“HA. Yeah well, handling drunks in this small town does happen more than murders, break ins, or any other crimes.” You chuckled under your breath and took a seat next to him. “I usually know their spouse or someone one that can come pick them up, so it’s nothing compared to what you saw in there.”

Suddenly your body had registered how long and stressful the day had truly been. You slumped over and started rubbing your temples. After your senses kick in, it causes a headache sometimes. You think it has something to do with the fact you don’t fully understand your gifts so you strain yourself when you do use them.

“You good?” Dean had a hand on your back and was leaning over to try to see your face with the angle you were in. Concern laced his voice.

“Yeah… yeah I’m fine. Just,” you let out a sigh “one of those really long days, you know?”

“Ha Ha. Yeah, I definitely know those type of days.” Dean said. He was still worried there was something more than that, but didn’t push. “You ready to head back to the house? I bet Sam and Rosie are having a blast with all that research without us.” He was back to a calm and joking matter. It was a nice shift out of the thoughts that were going through your head, and you let out a chuckle.

“Honestly, they probably are. Those two nerds love research! Heck, maybe they will hit it off themselves…” you turned your head towards him and wiggled your eyebrows. He gave you a smile and let out a small laugh. Then he got up, and turned lending you his hand to help you up. You grabbed it and stood up next to him. “Let me just go check in with Benny and we can head out.”

You went inside and had a brief conversation about what went down, and let him know the jackass of a man was staying at the station for the rest of the night. You told him to call if he needed anything else, and walked back out to the car with Dean right behind you.

You drove on the way back home in a comfortable silence with a comment or little chit chat here and there, but nothing of importance. Dean was still trying to figure out how you reacted so fast. Let alone the fact you had your back towards the dude, and still managed to do what you did.

Once you got home you pulled into the garage and closed up. You walked inside and saw Sam and Rosie sitting on the couch with coffees in hands. Rosie was curled up with her feet tucked under her, her body completely facing Sam, and her free hand was resting on the back of the couch holding her head up. Sam was also facing Rosie relaxing into the couch with one leg resting on top of the other. You could tell by the body language and the energy they were emitting they were extremely comfortable with one another.

You cleared your throat the same time as Dean, causing you both to look at each other and grin. Both of your attentions went right back to the two people on the couch to see them shoot up noticing your presence.

“Hey!” Rosie cleared her throat, “Hey, so how did it go? Did you get the guy home and safe?” She clearly was trying to turn the attention away from them.

As much as you wanted to torment them, you went with the change of subject. “I wouldn’t say we got him home, but safe? Yes. He will be spending the night at the station tonight as well as waking up to me in the morning” You told her giving her a wink.

“I wouldn’t mind waking up to that in the morning. Maybe I should have taken you up on that threat of being thrown into a cell myself.” Dean said with that dang smirk again.

You just rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help the little smile that made its way on your face. You shook your head and walked over to put your wallet, phone, and badge on the end table.

“How did things go here? Find anything that points us towards the right direction?” Now it was your turn to change the subject.

“Uhm we did I think, but um Dean and I should be heading out.” Sam got up gathering all the papers in front of him, and put them in a folder. “Rosie can brief you on our research and I’ll let catch Dean up myself.”

“Oh. O-Ok. Yeah, sure.” You were a little taken aback by how in a rush he seemed all of a sudden. What were they talking about before Dean and you walked in? “Are you guys sure you don’t want to stay and talk about it or heck even stay for a drink or two? It’s only a little after 10.”

“I’ll take you up on a drink after tonight.” Dean said walking over to a chair, but not getting too close before Sam was putting a hand on his shoulder. “What dude?”

“We really should be going. I’m exhausted and by the sound of it, it sounds like you had a pretty eventful night yourselves.” Sam was radiating an energy of urgency to get out of there. “Plus like you said earlier, the motel is kind of a drives away.”

“Uh ok. Yeah go get your rest. I’ll just have Rosie let me know what you guys found.” You said trying to figure out what was causing that energy around him. “Do you guys want to meet at the station tomorrow morning to form a plan or look more into the hunt? Say 9 am?” You added as Sam was practically pushing Dean out of the front door.

“Um Yeah sounds good! See you tomorrow!” Sam said shoving Dean down the steps then going around him to get to the car.

“Ok. Well bye! Drive Safe.” You shouted from the entry way with the door open all the way.

You watched Dean who walked over to the driver side with a look of pure confusion on his face, and before he slid into the car he stopped and looked up to you. He shrugged his shoulders, and tilted his head to the side. He waved, and then jumped in the car himself starting the drive to the hotel.

“What the heck was that?” you said.

“No idea.” Rosie said as she started to walk to her room in a hurry.

“What happened while we were gone?” a pause. “Were you guys getting naughty?” you said in a joking voice.

“WHAT? NO! We just talked.” She said. You just looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “Listen I’m extremely tired too, and I have work tomorrow so I’m headed to bed. I’ll let you in all the details for the case tomorrow before you head to work.”

“Hmm Mmm those aren’t going to be the only details you tell me…” you said in a quiet, but loud enough voice for her to hear.

You just heard and scoff and then a shoe came flying at you. You caught it, held it out, and dropped it like it was a mike and smirked at her.

“Go to bed you loon!” Rosie said laughing as she finally went down the hall to her room.

What the heck happened while you were gone? Why did Sam’s aura change from cool and comfortable to frantic in a matter of minutes? You were going to do some investigation.

Part 6

Tags:

@sleepless-sin  @luci-in-trenchcoats @ain-t-bovvered @dean-winchesters-bacon @angelkurenai @unabashedsoul97 @sandlee44 @gripmetight-raisemefromperdition @cabbagewithissues @supersleepygoat @anotherwaywardsister   @torn-and-frayed @spnwoman@ravengirl94 @carryonmywaywardcaptain @ezilyamuzed @ain-t-bovvered @thosekidswhohuntmonsters @purpleskiesandcherrypies

[jackthundersnow]

They don’t know, and they don’t want to know: Reality, debate, and outrage.

I’m not always very good at expressing my thoughts, so I’m sorry if this is a pointless ramble. This was just an experience that stuck with me and I wanted to express what I drew from it.

I want to start off by saying this: it used to bother me when I’d feel hurt by things people said to me, especially on the internet. I try not to feel like that anymore. If someone says something really awful to you, it’s going to fuck with you, no matter where or how they said it.

I just want to tell you a little story that happened on an app called Whisper. You don’t need to believe me, I know what happened. See, I already feel this need to defend myself, convince you I didn’t bring this onto myself. But no one can provoke rabid personal attacks from a stranger - because that shouldn’t be a normal response to a stranger. It shouldn’t be normal to have so much anger ready to let loose. But it is normal for some people.

And I think that’s a pretty serious problem.

I’d show you the convo, but I blocked the person and can’t find them anymore.

It started with my post about “safe spaces.” It basically said “Stop complaining about safe spaces if you don’t know what they actually are.” To which I got a private message stating that “Safe spaces are [slur]” 

So I figured I’d try to explain them as I know them. I’ve been trying to be calm and engaging with people. I know I’m bad at calmly explaining my thoughts to others, and I need to get better at it. There’s a part of me that thinks people just assume they know things they don’t, and if someone can tell them otherwise, they’ll come around.

Not in this case. His response to my explanation was “no, that’s not what it is.”

What happened next kinda disorienting: a long string of accusations and rambling. I wish I could remember it, but basically he basically accused me of  being a caricature “SJW” type. I’ve noticed people on the alt-right tend to do this a lot - guilt by association. If you think this, you think this and this. You aren’t a person they’re arguing with, you’re a punching bag with a shitty drawing stapled onto it. They’ve written all your lines and this is the script they want to act out. From one stance, he created an entire person to berate and argue with.

Issue is, that person wasn’t even me.

So we argued and accused each other for a few back and forths. I’ll never say I wasn’t a little shitty too, accusing him of being scared and really, really angry. Then, I managed to articulate my real issue here.

“You don’t care who I am. You put words in my mouth and got angry at those. You didn’t even offer me the curtosey of asking me what I, as an individual, think.” 

“Okay, well tell me about yourself. Age, sex, race.”

It was a hasty, dismissive response a “okay say something else I can get pissed at.” So you can imagine I was a bit hesitant. To me, this guy just seemed eager for me to say the next thing he could get angry about. He wasn’t listening to listen, he was waiting for the next buzzword. 

“If you actually want to know I’ll tell you, but it’s fine if you were just venting.” 

“Tell me.” 

So now I should stop and explain: There’s been a semi-recent change in my life. I’ve always felt genderqueer (or nonbinary? I’ve only recently needed to explain it to others) but recently came out, changing my name and everything. It used to feel like it wasn’t worth making a fuss about, but I want to lend credence to my feelings and stand by who I am. I used to pretend my feelings didn’t matter, and I want to stand by myself on this.

I tell him my age, state and that I’m a double major, (Sociology and Psychology :) ). But now I pause.

“Well, my gender is going to make you mad,” I began. “Honestly, I’ve never felt like either.” 

I get the common response: “Well what’s between your legs.” 

(Protip: that’s a nasty question, if you aren’t a doctor or lover, you really don’t need to know.)

I told him it didn’t matter. This was the point where he lost it. This was the perfect buzzword for him to get angry about. A new string of assumptions and insults comes. I refute some of them based on what I’ve studied, but of course what I say is ignored. It doesn’t matter that other cultures have third genders because “they’re savages” and it doesn’t matter what the DSM says, or what a mental illness even is. He’s stopped listening, because he didn’t want to listen. He probably never did.

“You’re gonna die sad, you know that?” He said. “You’re a sicko. You can’t become a counselor, you’re dangerous to people, you’re gonna hurt them by letting them be crazy.”

“I really don’t think that’s true.”

Here’s the thing. This guy didn’t want to even “save” me from my genderqueerness (even though that would be shitty, but at least well intentioned) he berated me. He insulted me. He wanted to condemn me to a life of unhappiness. As soon as I said I was genderqueer, it became impossible for me to be anything but a punching bag. 

He didn’t want to know me, and that’s the issue with debating these types. They don’t want to know whatever facts or studies you have, they don’t want to see you as a person, they don’t want to speak calmly to you. They have an addiction to anger and outrage. The alt-right runs on outrage and anger, YouTube commentators and media agitators present strawmen and sensationalism that dehumanizes people and replaces them with caricatures. They went to be angry, they want to go out and hurt the people they’ve been told are ruining their lives. They are just waiting for a reason to revoke your personhood.

This guy could not stay calm, he constantly flew off the handle and would go into rants about Muslims, Feminazis or “The Pussification of America.” I wish I could describe to you how unsettling it was, the inability to focus on what was right in front of him, the inability to calm down. I wasn’t real, I was just there to play a role, because all that mattered was the fantasy of hurting a confused deviant sicko. I was just one outlet for all the pent up resentment. 

I sincerely think outrage is addictive. I think people will look for things to be angry at, and when there isn’t a proper cause, they invent one. I don’t know what to do about that, I just know I think it’s fucked up. It’s important, but difficult to engage with people different from you, but if they don’t want to listen to you, the real you, the one who is actually there, I think they’re too far gone for one person to help.