#sure I'm seeing a therapist but idk I'm so tired of therapy at this point!!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

stxrvel · 2 years

Text

the 5 stages of (my) life

summary: he was everything. there was no before or after him. it was just him.

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

words: i think 7k?

warnings: thoughts of loneliness, depersonalisation, mention of depressive symptoms, a lot of bad words at some point, implicit descriptions of sex. i wrote this to be pure angst, idk if i got it, we'll see, you'll tell me.

note: i was watching Grey's Anatomy today and a specific episode about a couple inspired me to write this. it's too inspired by that so thank you Grey's! i don't know if i got the angst i wanted, i hope i did. i actually wrote this just with suffering on my mind. anyway, hope yall like it!! (English is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes!) also, I uploaded this at half past one in the morning so I didn't have time to edit the quotation marks, but tomorrow night I'll make the text look much nicer!

thank u for reading!

You never thought things would go this far.

"I'm not going to stand here and watch you risk your life because you're incapable of expressing your feelings. I'm not worth being put through this."

"You're talking about my fucking life! Why do you want to take control of all the shit I do now? Fuck you."

"I can't believe how fucking insane you've become."

You never thought things would get worse like this.

"I gave up a lot of things for you and you know it!"

"You make it sound like I forced you to. I never asked you to give up your life for me!"

"Exactly, that's the damn problem! You've never asked me to do anything, you've never asked me to do anything, I've just done all this stuff on my own trying to cope with a relationship that's become… one-sided!"

You had heard for a long time how a great many people had said that their best relationships had started with a flame. You couldn't count on the fingers of your hands the number of times you've heard someone say that the best relationship is the one that is always alive, where they keep the flame burning.

But what if it's not a flame? What if it all started with a fire?

You'd heard a lot of things about love, about life, about attachment, but you'd never really experienced it, and you couldn't know how, with the lifestyle you led, your reactions would be when you finally had one. Although, honestly, you didn't expect to ever have one after so many disappointments and abandonments; however, there was one thing that was common about love, that you had heard everyone say: it comes when you least expect it.

But the moment came and, after that event, you considered that your life had only five stages. Only five truly remarkable things that had brought you to the eternal extreme of misery. There was nothing before, there was nothing after. There was only him.

You had seen that man, by far, about seven times in the last month. He had a stern look on his face, as if he was in a constant staring match with someone inside his head, or as if he was someone completely drained of emotion, who had lived and felt too much and was tired of it.

Or maybe he was just unfriendly.

Every time you went to therapy, within the last four weeks, you met that man.

The two of you always waited, sitting across from each other in the narrow hallway, trying fiercely to avoid each other's gazes. Or well, you tried not to meet his too much, sometimes it really felt too heavy. Then he would be called first and, more often than not, he would come striding out with his hands clasped. If his vibe was too strong for the session, your therapist never tried to point it out. When he left, the doctor would appear behind him with her typical half-smile calling you by your last name, even though you had asked her not to do so several times.

The other times, which were not so common, the man actually took the time to look serene. You even thought you saw him give you a nod in greeting once, but you couldn't be completely sure of that.

You had never spoken to each other, you were just two strangers who happened to be in the same place at the same time of day at certain times of the week. Still, sometimes, when his eyes met yours, you felt like you were looking into a mirror.

Anyway, you had never spoken to each other, until one day you decided to change that, just because what was the worst that could happen?

"After a while it feels like you have no reason to come, don't you think?"

The man turned his head, and it was the first time he saw you out of volition. His clear eyes moved in an almost imperceptible way, analysing something about you, your face, your clothes, your posture. He looked like a predator ready to strike, but he didn't count on you being a very, very chill gazelle.

"I don't know if you can relate, but it's been really hard for me to come these last few times. I think my only motivation is to come here to have a battle with you of who can go the longest without seeing the other for 30 minutes even though our feet are almost touching?"

You thought you heard a snort in response. Mmm, it wasn't much, but worse was nothing.

"You could just not come," he replied, more crudely than you expected, actually surprising you because you didn't expect him to even pay attention to you.

"Yes, I could," you agreed with him, your gaze drifting to the white tiles, "Anyway, I don't have someone who really cares that I'm okay."

You twisted your lips in a very conformist gesture, and dismissed your attempt at conversation as a failure. Indeed, what was the worst that could happen? That the man would think you were pitiful. But what does it matter? He is a stranger. He's the only person you see regularly besides your therapist. Why should you care that the conversation didn't work? You shouldn't expect the opposite. At some point he'll stop going, he can't be as bad as you. When you least expect it, it will just be you in that narrow hallway again.

"Therapy can be very counterproductive for people who are alone."

You looked up when the man spoke again. You didn't know if you were seeing wrong, but his gaze wasn't as hard as before. He seemed… sympathetic.

"If it makes you feel any better, you're not alone when we wait in this hallway."

You didn't answer him. You watched him as if he were a fly swatted on a wall. You didn't know what to say. What was that supposed to be? Words of support? From a stranger? And what was supposed to be a response to them? That man had flipped the table on you, catching you off guard, and that didn't make you feel very good.

You watched him even after a while in silence, when he had already looked away, his head was down and he had focused on other things. You didn't know what your scrutiny was about; you didn't know whether you were looking for a lie or a mockery, a truth or a ruse. You didn't even know what it was all about. But what does it matter anyway? He's a stranger. He's a stranger sharing that narrow corridor with you. A stranger. A stranger who gave you a few words of support. A stranger. It's a stranger. He is a person.

You shook your head, suddenly regaining your composure. You ran your hands over the fabric of your trousers several times, up and down, down and up. Constantly. About ten times.

You didn't know if it was just you, but you felt suddenly obfuscated in that corridor. As if the walls had invisible hands closing around your throat.

You didn't really know much. You only knew that after the doctor called the man, James, you would never again take the liberty of speaking to strangers as if they were acquaintances, especially those in therapy.

But your mind went blank when James stood up and, before he left, looked at you as if it was something he had planned to do. As if he really wanted to do it. As if he had intended to…

No.

No more.

It didn't work.

Of course, it goes without saying that it didn't work.

How could it work? You saw him at least twice a week. And you were weak. Too weak. Too weak. Extremely and potentially vulnerable to suddenly hitting people who gave you a little affection and understanding. You were vulnerable to hitting people. You were vulnerable to ending up in therapy. You were vulnerable.

So what didn't work? Trying to limit your conversations with James to looks. Over the next three weeks, he seemed to have made it his mission to try to keep you company. Did he have any idea how uncomfortable that was for you? But you weren't going to tell him, how could you? Apparently the man wasn't a grumpy, mean looks machine, he was definitely a person who was getting some therapy. He was a person who understood your situation because he had to go through it himself. He was a person. He was a stranger.

Mostly, at that moment, you remembered the conversation that had led you to be in that coffee shop. It was strange. You felt alien to yourself, to your surroundings, but you tried to keep your mind enlightened so you wouldn't freak out.

"You look different."

"We saw each other three days ago."

James twisted his lips. "That's no excuse for not noticing that you look different."

You took a deep breath.

"You really made it your business to talk about something every time we see each other. Did you get tired of me beating you in the staring duels?"

"I'm just trying to get you back in therapy."

"By harassing me with questions?"

"By turning me into a person who cares."

You frowned. The constant knot in your chest was starting to become more and more unbearable. You felt the food from that morning in your throat.

"You'll get the opposite."

James pursed his lips and held up his hands.

"Hey, are you doing anything on Saturday?"

That had been the first time. Yes. Completely out of the loop, somehow you'd agreed the first time. And maybe it wasn't as bad as you'd hoped. Or maybe it was. You had no idea. Just as you had no idea how you had ended up in the same situation for the fifth time.

Fifth time? My goodness.

"You're particularly quiet today," James' face suddenly materialised in front of you.

At what fucking point had he arrived?

"I'm always quiet."

"Not as quiet as today. Are you okay?"

"What are we doing?" you blurted out suddenly. You didn't even process the words in your head until you saw the man's face contort in confusion.

"What are we doing?" James repeated your question, "We're having coffee in a coffee shop."

"You're a top notch clown, you know that?"

The man let out a laugh, and you watched his shoulders move in time with his breaths.

"We're just sharing time. Don't freak out."

"Sharing time?"

"Yes, sharing time."

"I don't think I've shared time with someone in a long time."

"That's not bad. It's good to share time with yourself."

You twisted your lips. You stared at the bubbles in your coffee, still steaming on the table.

"I had to learn to share time with myself," you looked up to see him with his head cocked to one side, a gesture you had learned to associate with his absolute attention to your words. "You've shared time with yourself?"

James nodded.

"All the time, to tell you the truth. I can barely escape myself."

You smiled at him. The constant knot in his chest seemed to have subsided for now.

"I guess we both got to learn."

The man raised his glass of black coffee, tilting his head, "It's the hazards of the job."

Yes, that was definitely what it had to be about. The things that constantly occupied you outside of coffee shops and therapy. Of the things that occupied your head so that you didn't delve into your intrusive thoughts, even though sometimes they seemed to come alive and present themselves in the faces of the people you saw in your daily life.

Undoubtedly it must have been because of that night job. It wasn't a job you loved, it was a job you imposed on yourself to try to make yourself feel better at night when you were trying to sleep. It was a duty. It was a task you couldn't refuse. Too many people had already died for you to give up. You had nothing left.

Many people said it was the job of a vigilante; other people said it was the job of a criminal. In the end, what did it really matter as long as it left you with a clear conscience?

Your therapist knew, but you didn't know if James knew. If he was aware of it and preferred to overlook it to have coffee with you. Or if he knew and preferred to ignore it so as not to ruin things. Or if he knew and pretended he didn't so you wouldn't notice he was doing it all out of pity. Or if he didn't know.

Honestly, you didn't know which was worse.

Sometimes you thought things were better when you were just strangers in a narrow hallway. Sometimes you thought it would be better if you didn't have to make an emotional commitment to him, even though you knew you were already doing it; unconsciously you were doing it.

You had always believed that it was better to be alone. Not to have company. Not to share time with someone you could potentially lose. It was easier to get the job done when you got home and didn't have to answer a text or remember that there's someone waiting for you to text them that you got home safe and sound.

"Hey, don't overthink it."

James' voice broke your concentration. You focused your gaze on his face, suddenly feeling oblivious to the whole scenario.

"You don't have to give it a name, or even think about it. If you really, from the bottom of you, didn't want any kind of company, don't you think you wouldn't have come the first time I asked you?"

"Are you saying this is what I want?"

"I'm saying that you're a person who's used to being alone, but you don't have to be if you don't want to be."

"You're an enigma."

James smiled. "Thank you. I think the same about you."

But it was true what he'd said, you were thinking too much. One of the things your therapist kept telling you was to try to stop living in your head. Acknowledge your surroundings, feel every sensation and take in every possible smell.

It was difficult when the reason you wanted to be in your head all the time was the same reason that all your senses were perceiving at the same time.

But you tried. You felt the wood of the table and the warmth of the coffee cup, you took in the smell of caffeine and James's perfume, a little piney and citrusy, you savoured the coffee left in your mouth from the last time you took a sip. Slowly you tried to bring yourself back to that moment, to focus on your present and, sadly, to acknowledge that you were in a coffee shop with James Barnes.

It was something you constantly shied away from. To acknowledge that you spent time with him. With him. That he deliberately chose to spend his time with you. That you, intentionally, decided to spend your time with him. With the one who started out as a stranger. A person. A friend. A…

No.

It had been a while since you had decided to stop closing yourself off to all the possibilities life had to offer. Sometimes you didn't recognise how you got to that point, but other times you felt something close to pride for allowing yourself to go that far. And, really, it could have been one of the best or one of the worst decisions you had ever made in your life.

You spent weeks trying to deny James coming into your life, but the moment you opened the door to him, you had only gone up.

You didn't know you missed the company of a friend on sleepless nights and confessions. You didn't know you longed for the warmth of a lover until hours passed and you couldn't tear yourself away from each other. You didn't know you wasted time denying the feeling. You didn't know that you needed to take a few days off from the exhausting work you had set for yourself. You didn't even know that the work was exhausting.

When you were able to recognise all those things, you were also able to recognise that you had been living life on the edge. You were constantly exposed to everything before you met James. Exposed to danger, to death, to loneliness. You were living too fast because you felt you had no time, that at any moment you would run out of time and you wouldn't have done enough.

And then you finally decided to give yourself a break. From everything. Absolutely everything. Everything.

You moved in with James.

Yeah, definitely.

You took turns shopping. You took turns doing the dirty dishes. You took turns cleaning the flat. It felt like perfect harmony; like suddenly everything was in its place and it seemed like nothing could go wrong from that point on.

"Wait, wait!" you exclaimed with laughter. You moved your body off the bed, the peach-coloured sheet covering your body. You tried to stretch to reach for your mobile phone on the nightstand but James' hands around your waist prevented you from moving too much.

"You can answer that when we're done," the man purred, his hands straining, but not too hard, to pull you back onto the bed.

"Hold on a moment, James Barnes," you mumbled back, when you finally reached for the mobile phone and let out a triumphant laugh.

Vanessa Lennox, you read on the screen, as you felt James cling to your back.

"It's Vanessa," you told him as you unlocked the phone to check her messages.

"Vanessa texts you all the time."

"I know."

"All the time."

"That I know."

"These nights are supposed to be for us. She's not asking you out, is she?"

"No, no, she's…"

I'm in trouble. Can you come over?

"She's all right."

I can't, but I'll write to Tommy. He told me he was watching today, he must be near where you are.

"Are you sure?" you felt James' breath on the back of your neck, as his lips began to touch the most sensitive parts of your back.

"Yes…" you replied in a whisper. "She's going to be fine."

"Then stop turning your back on me," James spoke, his breath colliding against the small of your back. You arched unconsciously. "Look at me."

You inhaled air sharply, leaving the mobile phone locked to the side of the bed. You let James's hands guide your movements until you were trapped in his arms, his chest pressed against your back.

"You're bossy sometimes, has anyone ever told you that?"

"Only you, to be honest."

"Yeah, sure you have," you smiled incredulously.

You stirred until you could stand face to face with the man you shared a bed with every night. His light eyes quickly met yours, and his hands squeezed each side of your waist.

It was getting a little chilly. There were nights when you didn't know how you could stand to be so long without clothes under those sheets. It was easier for James, the weather didn't affect him as much as it did you at the moment. You shivered as a chill ran through your whole body, from the tips of your toes to the crown of your head. You pulled your body close to his, settling your head where his neck and shoulder met.

"Maybe the window is open," you heard him say.

"You know I always close the windows all over the flat before I go to bed."

"Okay, then we'd better figure out a way to get you warm."

As he finished speaking, the man moved, lowering himself from his position until his head was at the same level as yours. His eyes smiled at you as your teeth unconsciously flickered from the cold your body felt. His mouth also stretched into a smile, one of the many smiles you had learned to love. It was a very homely smile. The kind of smile that only you could see, that only you could see, that only you could see. It was a very domestic smile. It was the smile.

"Do you want me to get the other sheet?"

"No," you answered quickly. "I'm fine. We can proceed."

James let out a laugh. His eyes grew small from the flex of his cheeks as he laughed. You saw every flex and line of his face and it was like a balm to your mind.

It wasn't long before the man, in the midst of his smile and that feeling of ecstasy, brought his face close to yours and kissed you as if he hadn't kissed you in years.

Kissing James was like touching heaven. It was like being at peace after years of constant war. It was a great, vast, calm ocean. It was the absolute silence of tranquillity. It was like a great rest after years and years of travel. With his kisses you could begin to believe that you would never be alone again. With his kisses you didn't feel alone. With his kisses you believed it was possible to never be alone again. With his kisses you lost the fear of accepting him unconditionally in your life.

With his kisses, you lost the fear of loving him.

You loved the way he cradled the side of your face when he kissed you, every time, without fail. You loved the way he would start slow, soft, so tender, then fill you with passion and control your mouth without weariness or fatigue. You loved the way he then moved his hands all over your waist to the curve of your buttocks, as if he was admiring every millimetre of your skin through his touch. You loved the way he made love to you afterwards, sometimes so subtle and sometimes so out of control.

To have James was to have the best of everything at the same time.

"Are you getting up early tomorrow?" James asked as he pulled away from you. When you saw his eyes, his pupils were dilated and his breathing resembled yours: quickened and eager.

"No."

"Good."

He kissed you hard.

"Because you're not leaving this bed until Sunday."

James had begun to accept occasional missions that Fury gave him. You never agreed. No matter when or where they asked you, you would never have agreed to it. But clearly you couldn't just keep him in the flat until the idea was out of his head. You had thought about it a few times, but… no.

You tried to adjust to the fact that he wouldn't be around as much as before, but it was very difficult. It felt as if you had been given the most delicious candy in the whole world, left to treasure it, to savour it a little at a time, to get used to having it next to you, only to have it ripped away from you without warning, totally unprepared, leaving you to realise that everything was really out of your control. You didn't have the candy in your domain, you had been allowed to have the candy and then it was taken away from you.

"Try to concentrate," you heard Vanessa's voice.

You looked up to find her watching you from the roof of the building across the street. You felt a strong desire to rip the communicator from your ear and stomp it to dust with your boot. It was strange. It was a feeling of constant anger that you didn't know how to control. You were constantly angry except when James came to the flat.

"I'm focused."

"You better be," Tommy spoke up, "because my life depends on it."

"You shut your mouth and focus on not losing sight of the target."

"Vanessa, remind me why I agreed to do this."

"Because you're a great friend who supports absolutely everything we do."

Friend. At what point did you start to consider someone a friend? James was your friend. You thought you considered him that. Your partner. Your friend. James was your boyfriend.

"And you're totally unconditional to us."

A friend is unconditional. James is your friend. He's your partner. Friend. James is unconditional to you?

"I have to start working on my boundaries."

"No, our friend needs to start working on her temper. She doesn't get the required amount of sex a day and she's already starting to freak out."

You frowned.

"So you consider your friend's problems to boil down to sex alone?" you snapped at Vanessa, not avoiding the sour tone with which your words came out. You couldn't help but take it personally. Was that being an unconditional friend? Or being a friend?

"No," she replied quickly, "You know I didn't mean it that way. I was joking."

You hummed a nod, downplaying the words. Playing it all down. Because it didn't really matter, it was so silly to get angry about it. And it was very strange for you to get angry about it. You didn't even used to have relationships close enough to allow yourself to get angry about something they said about you. That was the big example of why you didn't do it.

"The target is moving. He's heading for the nest," Tommy spoke again, his serene tone bringing you back to the topic that was truly important. "Do you see him, Vanessa?"

"Got it."

"Good. Just move into the room towards… Wow, who's that? Who the hell's in there?"

"Damn," Vanessa mumbled.

"Wait a minute."

"We can't wait that long."

"I know," Tommy exclaimed, and from his exasperated tone you could imagine how he was running his hands through his hair repeatedly.

"What the hell do we do, Thomas?"

"I told you to wait!"

"We can't wait, dammit!"

"Wait."

"Thomas, I'm going to-"

"Hold on."

You peered through your binoculars. The large panes of glass surrounding the flat where the target was located didn't let you see much inside. The room the man was in was not as well lit, but you had gone in well prepared.

Finally you could see what the others were seeing. The man had entered the room he was supposed to enter, but there was another man in there with him. And, as far as you could see, they had made themselves comfortable. It didn't look like the other man was going to leave any time soon.

"Let's do it," you spoke, breaking the silence, giving voice to the only option they had that neither of the other two wanted to say.

"Are you insane?" Tommy exclaimed through his teeth.

"We don't have a choice. We declare it a red zone and end the mission."

"We don't even know who that man is," Vanessa interjected, her voice unsteady as she was unable to acknowledge that you were right, hesitating because you were running out of time.

"That's what the red zone is all about."

There was a moment of silence. You knew they were both considering it, the idea had been in their heads since the man entered the room, but their moral compass was much stronger than yours.

"He could be an innocent person," Tommy tried to justify not making that decision.

"How innocent can he be sitting there with the target?"

"And how do we know he's guilty?" Tommy exclaimed back.

"We're wasting more time discussing this," Vanessa spoke again, and you could breathe in her deep inhale before she said, "I think we should do it, Tommy."

The man cursed through his teeth.

You looked through the binoculars again, and both men were still inside the room.

You heard a beep on the communicator and then a steady static. Someone had changed the channel.

"I'm relieving myself as mission leader. You're in charge," it was Tommy.

"What?"

"I can't do this."

"Thomas…"

"I can't make this decision. Just… just do it."

You heard the beeping again and then it was Vanessa saying, "Thomas, what the hell are we going to do?"

"Vanessa, aim for the target," you ordered as you began to open the case next to you, just in case a situation like that arose.

"What?"

"This mission has been declared a red zone. We're going to proceed according to protocol."

The woman didn't speak again.

Nor did she say anything when you had climbed down from the rooftops and found yourselves in an alleyway in the middle of the buildings. You were waiting for Thomas, your guns already stowed in the van.

"He relieved himself," Vanessa spoke after a while, and though it sounded like she wanted to ask a question, it sounded like a statement.

"Yes."

Vanessa shook her head in an affirmative gesture. She didn't say anything else. She leaned against the concrete wall with a blank stare.

Your mobile phone rang inside the van.

"Is that Thomas?" your companion asked.

You moved closer to look at the device's screen.

James.

"No."

You took the mobile phone and moved away from the woman's figure, further down the alley. Your heart was racing, it was out of control. You had been waiting for that call for days. You had spent sleepless nights waiting for one measly message. You had taken hundreds of missions just so you wouldn't have to endure sleeping in a bed alone. You felt like your body had been frozen until that moment, until that call, and finally….

"James? Are you here yet?"

A woman called your name on the other end of the line.

"Bucky arrived a couple of hours ago."

Your feet stopped walking.

"And the mission went well?"

Silence.

A beeping and constant muttering was all that answered you on the line.

"Is James okay?"

"He's stable. He suffered some injuries. We lost communication with him in the last few days and we thought that…"

You couldn't quite remember when you had arrived at the old Avengers Complex. Your body moved automatically and your vision was so blurred that you had no idea how you could get through the crowd without bumping into someone. It was all very strange. You spent months convincing yourself that it would never happen again. Ever since James accepted those damn missions, you spent weeks trying to convince yourself that nothing would ever go wrong. That his kisses would always be there. His reunion kisses were the best, they were a wellspring of calm that washed away all the anxiety that consumed you alive during the days when you couldn't hear from him.

You had already made up your mind that it would never happen again. He promised you that it wouldn't happen, that you wouldn't have to relive that heartbreaking feeling one more time.

And he broke it.

You wanted to be relieved to see him. You wanted to be happy to know he was alive. Bruised, but alive. You wanted to hold him, to stay with him and never let him go again. But you just stood there in front of his stretcher. And he didn't try to make you come closer either. He saw it in your eyes, you knew it. He knew it.

Seeing him on that gurney made you angry. It aroused your anger that this man had broken the promise he sealed with so many kisses. You felt so much disappointment that your chest had become a bottomless void of a feeling of impersonality. You didn't want to be there. You didn't want to go through it. You preferred to think that you could overlook it. You should overlook it. Why didn't you overlook it? You could live in ignorance, pretend to be the perfect girlfriend. Everything could be easier for both of you, for you, if you just ignored all those feelings and took this situation as a normal person would.

But your knees gave way to your tears and crashed to the floor. From the corner of the room, you could see your body shake in uncontrollable weeping. You didn't know why it hurt so much, if he was alive. You didn't know the reason for the agonising pain, if he was there. And yet, your face contracted in incalculable pain. It was as if he had died on that stretcher. It was as if you had been called to come and acknowledge his corpse.

And you knew James knew, because he hadn't said anything since you arrived. He had done nothing but watch you.

There, from the corner of the room, you could see him crying with you.

He knew.

You knew it.

The mission was simple.

Infiltrate, seduce, accompany, lull, kill.

But simple doesn't always end easy.

Since James had returned to the flat, he had vowed never to go out on any mission again, under any circumstances. And, indeed, he was keeping that promise. He was spending as much time at home as before.

But you weren't.

Every time James tried to talk to you about that mission where he might have died, you went into a kind of shell where you shut yourself off from all communication and fled from that place to one where you felt more at ease. More in control.

You got so tired of running away that you decided to start investing that time in something that would actually pay off. You started accepting missions with Thomas more often than before.

You knew James was trying to understand you, he was trying as hard and as willing as he could. Sometimes you would arrive and there would be dinner for you in the fridge or in the microwave. Sometimes you'd see your clothes piled in a corner of the yard suddenly neatly folded and smelling decent. Sometimes you'd walk into the bedroom and find little presents on top of the nightstand, right next to your side of the bed.

You knew James was trying.

But you also knew he was getting tired.

Weeks passed since you first came in and he was waiting for you sitting on the couch. It was a very hectic night, with too many questions and not enough answers. Sometimes you arrived and the flat was lonely. Sometimes you arrived and there was no food. Sometimes you arrived and there was only screaming.

But it was easier that way. You'd already felt what it was like to almost lose him, you'd already experienced that overwhelming emotion that had been with you so much in the past, and you knew, beforehand, that if it happened with James, there was no way you'd get out of it alive, so it was easier this way.

So it was easier that way. He'd walk away on his own, you'd forget about him, and you wouldn't have to suffer if he ever died.

Die.

James would die one day.

But not a day when he was with you.

So yes, you did spend a lot of time away from home.

Maybe you really should have thought twice before deciding that this was the best option.

You knew you dreaded James' death, and the loneliness that followed his passing.

But you had no idea how panicked you would be at the thought of your own death, after meeting him.

Because you would forget him, and that would be fairly easy for you, but he wouldn't forget you. And he would suffer, much more than he was suffering since you didn't come home.

"What the hell happened?" you remembered hearing a voice.

You couldn't be too aware of your surroundings lately.

"It was a simple mission," you heard another male voice.

"It was supposed to go well. She was supposed to call us if things got complicated."

You remembered little of being in the hospital.

You remembered a lot of James sitting in an armchair next to your gurney.

You remembered a lot of his silence.

You also remembered when, some days, you were awakened by his cries and had to pretend to be asleep so as not to interfere with his suffering. Because, ever since that accident happened, ever since you could remember what happened after that, James had become wary of his feelings. He wasn't as expressive as he used to be. And you didn't have the slightest idea what to do.

You couldn't believe that before you could get to the point where you could tell how each other was doing just by listening to each other's breathing, and after that you couldn't even meet each other's eyes by accident.

You were two strangers again.

You were losing him. You knew it. Every day that you went without doing something, without talking to him, without showing a hint of remorse for what you'd done, was a day closer to being completely alone again.

And you didn't even show it, but it was painful. Seeing him shut down like that, seeing him lose the sparkle in his eyes when he looked at you, realising that he lost the will to try… knowing that you took away his will… it was all too much.

Really, you never thought things would get this bad.

"What are you doing?"

You didn't think they had gotten this bad, until one day you came to the flat and saw a suitcase in the room full of his clothes.

"I'm tired."

Those were the first words he'd spoken to you in days.

"And I don't have to put up with this anymore. So I'm leaving."

You knew it was going to happen, but for him to say it like that…

"You're leaving?"

James turned to look at you. His icy expression paralysed you.

"Are you still surprised?" he blurted out gruffly, and continued packing his clothes.

You just stood there in the doorframe, watching him move as fast as if he had a coal-fired engine in his chest. As if he couldn't wait for the moment when he could finally get out of there.

"Really…" he spoke suddenly, "You've really gone weeks, weeks, without speaking to me no matter how many times I've tried to talk to you, and you decide to do it now just because you're watching me leave? That's what I needed to do to get you to react?"

You didn't answer, you just watched him, your mind blank. He was angry. Irate, rather. And you knew he was absolutely right, but you couldn't do anything about it. You couldn't do anything about it because things were going your way. If James went away, if he went away hating you, he wouldn't suffer in the future when you died and you could forget him in peace. That was the best thing. The only good thing you could do for him: keep him away from you.

"Don't you think I deserve an explanation?"

Yes, you do.

"No."

"No?" he repeated incredulously. "I know I made a mistake. I made a mistake in accepting those missions. I told you, I did it countless times. And yet, all those countless times you chose to turn your back on me."

The man watched you, his eyes filled with pent-up emotions that he finally allowed to overflow.

"I tried to understand you. I really did. I gave you your space. I tried to do whatever you needed because I knew it was hard for you, but it was like… trying to water a cactus daily. Everything I did seemed to have the opposite effect."

You're right. You're absolutely right. I'm sorry, I was overcome with fear and panic. I got carried away. Please don't go.

"You didn't even give yourself a chance to listen to me. Not once. Do you have any idea how all that made me feel?"

Yes, you must have felt very lonely. Abandoned. Despised by me. It was my fault. I shouldn't have let it all go so far.

"Do you want me to call a taxi?"

Of all the things you longed to say, that was the only thing your mind allowed to come out of your mouth.

You saw him sketch the sternest look of disbelief you'd ever seen. But you also saw pain, extreme pain at the rejection of your words.

"Are you fucking kidding me? How can you be so cynical?" James exclaimed, his face contorted in anger and helplessness. You cringed a little at the shout but didn't move away from him as he came striding towards you in long strides. "Tell me, did you even care about me? At any point in this… relationship, was anything you gave me real?"

You half-opened your lips to answer, but could not formulate the sentences you knew would comfort his heart.

Yes, absolutely everything was real, all my love and suffering was real.

James walked away, and you didn't know if it was possible that his face could look even more downcast.

Your hands were shaking with helplessness. He was still there. You could still try to save him. Why didn't you? Why? Why? Why?

"How can you be so fucking expressionless? How can you not be in pain… for this? How?"

"You're going to be fine," the words escaped your mouth before your mind could process it.

The man turned to look at you.

"You really are…" he raised his hand and gripped it tightly, swallowing his words and turning back towards the wardrobe to start throwing his things into the suitcase.

Suddenly, he let out a scream. And then a cry.

"I swear, if you'd just tell me no, I'd stay."

He looked at you. His tear-filled eyes met yours and you knew that would be an image that would haunt you to death.

"I would stay… I really would, but… I still can't believe you are so foolish. The first thing you did when you left that hospital was to go back to another mission. How could you care so little about your life? How could you care any less that I care about your life?"

I care about my life even more since you're in it. Don't go.

"It's just work," is what you replied.

"No, no, no…" James hummed with laughter, but his face lacked grace. "I'm definitely not going to stand here just watching you risk your life because you're incapable of expressing your feelings. I'm not worth being put through this."

"It's my life, James."

"But you made me part of your life! I'm here! We're supposed to share our lives together. Why is it only about you now?"

"It's supposed to be my choices…"

"But why can't I be a part of them?" James exclaimed loudly. Your mind clouded over, and even though all you wanted to do was apologise from there until the end of time, you had too much pent up anger because of that very inability to say what you truly thought.

You're right, I am unable to express my feelings. I am sorry. Don't go away.

"You're talking about my fucking life! Why do you want to be in control of all the shit I do now? Fuck you!"

"I'm not trying to control anything, goddamn it! I just need to know…"

"No! You don't need to know anything. You don't need to know anything about me. We're here and you're packing your bag. You have no right to know anything."

James let out a snort.

"We're here and you still can't talk to me. I can't believe how bloody insane you've become."

"Just go."

Don't go.

"This is bullshit."

James finished throwing all of his clothes into the suitcase. You watched his every move, every flex of his body, every grimace on his face, every flick of his hair, how his fingers clutched at the things he took, how his scowl didn't lessen one bit. You watched and watched. It was all you could do.

You leaned against the doorframe and watched him take his anger and pain out on his clothes and his suitcase. It gave you a strange kind of feeling to see him like that, something that felt mildly familiar but you couldn't put a name to it. You wanted to turn things back. If you could turn back time you would, and every single thing that went wrong you would fix.

But would you really? Did the problem really go back to when things with James started to go wrong? The problem was you. You were the problem. You couldn't talk, you could only think, you could only repress, you could only suffer. Only you, you and you. Only you because you were alone, because you had always been alone and there was no reason to believe that could change. James lied to you, that was the reason he was leaving and you had no reason to stop him. He had to go. If he didn't want to go through that, he shouldn't have lied in the first place. If he didn't want to go through that, he shouldn't have asked you out in the first place. He shouldn't have met you. He shouldn't have spent time with you. You shouldn't have stopped him.

Stop him.

You should stop him.

James closed the suitcase.

"I did too much for this relationship. I gave up too much for both of us. I gave up everything I was for this relationship. I gave up too much for you and you know it!"

You narrowed your eyes and began to approach him in rapid strides. He towered over you by several inches, and there was a time when you loved that, but now you hated that he could see you that way. He had always seen you that way. So small…

"You say that as if I forced you. I never asked you to give up your life for me!"

"Exactly, that's the damn problem! You've never asked me to do anything, I've just done all this stuff on my own trying to cope with a relationship that's become… one-sided!"

You walked away.

"Just… leave now."

Please leave before I tie you to this flat and never let you leave again.

He wanted to say something else. You knew he wanted to say something else. It was obvious he hadn't said half the things he wanted to say. But he didn't.

He took his suitcase and left.

He really left.

He walked past you, not caring that the brush of his shoulder against yours almost made you fall. He passed you and walked straight to the exit, slamming the door hard on his way out.

He was gone. He was gone. He was finally gone. He was really gone.

Now you were alone. You were alone again. That's what you wanted, wasn't it? You'd done a lot of things in the last few months to make him go away, and he was finally gone… but then why weren't you satisfied?

Why did you want to run after him? Why did you want to go and kiss him? Why did you want to stop him and beg him to forgive you?

Who did he think he was to deserve that after what he had done?

But… what had he done?

No.

What had you done?

#james bucky barnes #bucky barnes angst #avengers #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky fic #bucky fluff #bucky x you #bucky imagine #bucky angst #bucky x y/n #winter soldier #james buchanan barnes

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basilverse-archive · 4 months

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Tired (Vent/Rant post about online parenting)

The world sucks, my personal life sucks, the omori fandom sure as hell sucks sometimes. One of my therapy points is to move on and I have from a lot but I cant seem to move on from recent events. My therapist said its because no legal action was taken but theres nothing we can do besides report. Plus, I have other people still supporting the abusers and there's nothing else I can do besides wait for them to screw someone else over. Its now caused relapsing because they still are getting recognition despite all of our efforts to provide as much evidence as possible. I both don't get it- but also suspect that due to being blocked by a lot of people that were not toxic due to a fuck up I made before that it just hasnt been seen. Theres still dangerous people getting recognition, and theres nothing more I can do about it than sit in pain as they continue to manipulate others.

I really hate when people get away with murder- or when people support them through murder. Like you saw them get in trouble for having blood on their hands and you still repost them? Like... Are you a proshipper yourself or are you just ignorant- Idk what to think about you. Idk if Im safe, or if the people I know are safe for still being in contact. Ive always just tried my best to give all I can to my friends- especially safety- so when it doesnt work I just feel like... Like im running out of ways to protect the people I care about. Especially when it comes to younger people, I feel horrible when they have to suffer through the internet. Theyre just kids. They shouldnt have to go through emotional abuse and oppression from adults. They shouldnt have had to go through the stuff I did. Ive gone through so much on the internet that all I want to do is protect them from that stuff- but when I fail or if its not enough Its like... my experiences, my feelings, my trauma, my knowledge- its all useless because I cant keep the people I care about safe. I know this is just part of the struggle of being a parental figure, but damn... this wouldnt have had to happen if I had help- or at the very least not this bad.

Ive always been alone when it comes to helping other people, but now that its in a situation thats dangerous and Im alone- it isn't enough. Im scared for them, and I feel guilty that I couldnt do more myself. I really need a vacation. Just- somewhere safe where I can take my mind off of things- rant and feel the kind of soft comfort I need when I need it. Ive always wanted to be a parent, but I never wanted to be alone. I love watching my kids grow up and experience joys and successes- I love seeing them prevail through hardships- I love seeing them grow. For what its worth, I love my children. I love being there for them and comforting them when they need me. I love providing them with things I didn't have, but its still not enough. I'm running out of things to give them. I'm running out of options to help them. Im exhausted from working so hard to keep them safe and happy, but theres nothing more I can do for them right now than to just- sit with them and provide comfort with presence. I have so much to say but I can barely speak. My emotions are overwhelming and swirling. I feel sad and grateful for them, but I'm running out of energy.

I'm slowly killing myself from the inside out trying to make sure they live because I'm alone in my efforts currently.

#chronicles talks #vent post #sorta #tw it gets heavy #Im just feeling at a loss because I cant protect my kids the way they need to be

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cherryblossomforest · 11 months

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Day 10 Inpatient

I spent the entire night without sleep meds in flashback hell, switching in and out to the point where I met a new (old) kid part. Only to fall asleep after 6am and be woken up before 8am to this irritating new patient singing at the top of her fucking lungs. Now if I go out there and tell her to shut her fucking mouth I'll be in the wrong.

Plus, you know what fucking sucks? Being fucking traumatised AND ovulating. I want to kms. Every fucking month my brain hyperfocuses on flashbacks just because I'm fucking ovulating. I want this motherfucking womb gone.

^^ 😀👀 What??! I think whoever was just in flashback hell rather than it being to do with our cycle because I'm genuinely fine 🙃

I've been sleeping all morning. In and out of flashbacks still, not as bad as last night though. I think November just has us by the throat at night.

Just had my ward round and tbh I think the consultant was waffling but he basically was saying that I'm very intelligent and how I've managed to keep myself safe in the past by using the tools I have. He said he thinks I have Chronic Dysphoria rather than actual depression? And that because I am so sensitive to medication he's basically not entirely sure what to do. He said that my main way of getting help isn't medication but therapy (SHOCKER) and that he doesn't want me to stay in the hospital too long but that it'll go at my pace. So although I'm starting Mirtazapine again he's trying to get me a better support system in the community while I'm settling here. So basically although I'm struggling I also can't get the full help I need here because he doesn't actually think I'm depressed he thinks it's ✨️Trauma✨️ I think this is kinda jarring because like yeah it's true but not being in the right type of therapy isn't going to help and I wish I could just go private because it would be so much easier. My consultant also said that I'll have a care coordinator and something else, as well as still being seen by the ED clinic but I'm nervous that it's not enough. The only reason I'm not drinking is because I'm being watched and I can't drink in here but once I'm back out there idk what's going to happen. I can't always be in the driving seat of this body...

Although I slept once the sun rose, after my ward round I also took my prn and slept some more. My brain is in trauma mode and it's coming out in my sleep and I absolutely hate it. So tonight I will be ensuring I'm taking something to sleep throughout the night because I do not want a repeat of last night at all. Especially as it's days away from the anniversary.

After looking through different private therapists, I am stressed. I hate that it's so expensive for DID clients. I just need some support whilst I wait to see if this referral gets rejected or not. It's stressing me out sm.

My brother is trying to be supportive because he's just now realising how expensive it'll be for me to go private. When I was going private therapy before I was working full time, living with my father and I had like 3 bills max. I'm now paying for my own home and car and everything that comes with it. It's a lot. My brother said he wouldn't mind helping out with my therapy bill 👀👀👀 which shocked the hell out of me. He's always so distant but then if I ask him for help he'll pop up and do whatever I need and he's like "You're my baby sister ofc I'll help, what's wrong with you?" I just always assumed that he was tired of me. Or I'm that mentally unstable little sister who's just been cast aside. I keep forgetting I'm not a teen and that he's changed and so have I. In our teenage years, he was hella embarrassed by me but now he's like cool with me and ??? My child parts who used to look up to him so much and think he was this super cool older brother are so happy every time he says he enjoys my company. Every time he calls and all that. It's super nice.

My Mirtazapine is working straight away and I'm exhausted suddenly, at least I'll have a good night's sleep hopefully 😴

#shouting in the forest #mental health ward journal #scarlett tag #nixie tag

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highpri3st3ss · 1 year

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I WISH FINDING A THERAPIST WASN'T SO HARD

So, I've been trying to find a therapist that I like for the last few years. I've been struggling to find one that just talks to me in a way that I'm receptive to. I'm not sure if it's my age or just me in general, but the response I get from the therapists I try to see is just.. not what I want.

One time I was crying in front of my therapist, and he just gave me a blank stare. Didn't offer an ounce of support, empathy, understanding, nothing. Just deer in headlights. Like, he was tired of listening to people cry that day. This is the same mother fucker that tried to tell me I can't be bipolar because I don't experience psychosis....... I was instantly like yeah this dude is a fucking moron because I specifically remember learning in my psychology class that was ran by a psychologist and she read directly from the DSM - bipolar disorder does not require psychosis in order to be diagnosed. Every article I read on Google Scholar says the same thing.

Another time, a therapist told me "you're not special" when I told her that I was feeling unsure about going to rehab for my C-PSTD because I don't feel like I'm "in enough pain" for rehab (basically self-denial about my trauma). I'm not sure if that's simply me being insecure/sensitive, but I was completely turned off after the fact. When I wasn't very interested in therapy to begin with.

I know there's some chance that I am looking for issues with therapists in order to give myself a reason to not go. I also understand that at a certain point in my therapy I'm going to have to get to a point of trusting my therapist enough to tell them when I disliked some form of feedback. However, I walk in there telling them I have trust issues. Why would they choose the first few appointments with me to give harsh feedback of any sort? It seems like that's supposed to be the time in which we're supposed to get to know each other.

I want to get better. I want to have normal relationships with people. I don't want to feel so mistrusting, secluded, and instantly irritated by everything people do. I've given myself a ton of healing.. a TON. I got myself sober...which felt impossible at one point, but I did it. However, there's only so much therapy and shadow work that I can do on my own.

IDK... I guess I'm just venting.

stay strong <3 the light is always there, keep looking for it

#therapy #mental health awareness #bipolar #depression

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aquarianlights · 4 years

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I am in a serious financial bind. 😥 If anyone is in a position to listen & help or signal boost, pls keep reading...

This is from my apartment complex. I am in low-income housing. I called them & sent them proof I could pay on the 23rd. I told them I could (just barely) put 100 down now & they said that was too little.

They said they would file for eviction on the 16th, which adds $150 to my rent. They will cancel the court date and eviction on the 23rd when I pay.

But that doesn't cancel the $150 filing fee.

Idk where that $150 would come from. Idky they think it's fair that someone who cannot pay should be forced to pay even more??? That makes no sense. I can only just barely afford my rent every month as is.

These are from my energy company. I apparently owe them over $600. I genuinely do not know how this happened. We were on the phone for a very long time trying to figure it out & I was in tears for the latter portion of it because I swear I paid.

I usually keep record of my payments via taking a picture of my receipt since they are electronic, but my dog chewed up my phone (which I have pics of if need be for evidence) and broke it, so I had to get a replacement phone sent to me from the insurance company & nothing transferred from the old phone, so all my pics were wiped.

I found no record in my emails, either.

The meds I am taking to try to go into remission and the autoimmune disease itself both cause brain fog and issues with time warping, so it is possible maybe I skipped a month or something, but I highly doubt I would have skipped up to 600+ dollars worth of payments.

I have tons of electronic and hard copy calendars & they are all synced and constantly updated so that I know when payments are due. I also have text and email reminders sent to me, but I could find no reminders in my email for MONTHS now until they were telling me they were going to shut my power off if I didn't pay this. Idk why I was not sent reminders for months???

In the end, I agreed to set up a payment plan. Paying, like... 50-60ish on top of whatever my electric bill is every month for 12 months. It was the lowest they could go.

I can barely afford my electric bill as it is, so idk how I will be able to do this? They did give me a list of charities in my area so I will be using what little energy I have to call around & see if any of them would be willing to help me pay this. Idk how those work (they're mostly churches???), so I'm just gonna try & see what happens. 🤔

On top of all that, I *think* this is telling me my Medicaid has been cancelled but I'm not 100% sure?????

I'm going through treatment for a very serious, disabling problem that should last ~1 year and rn Medicaid is picking up what my Medicare doesn't cover and some of my doctors/specialists and treatments are medicaid only.

If I lose this, I'm basically done.

I know they'll do backpay if I get it back, but Idk if I *will* get it back. I'll be trying to get it back, but in the meantime, I guess I'll just have to pay out of pocket, idk??? Which I do not have.

I have lost almost ALL autonomy due to this autoimmune disease, which (in a very simplified form) is basically my immune cells "eating" my muscle tissue. I can barely get out of bed. Treatment should put me in remission & give me my life back. I am seeing a rheumatologist, neurologist, dermatologist, PCP, physical therapist, psychiatrist, psychologist, and going to a holistic pain treatment center that does a different kind of physical therapy to bring down pain levels (which I was put into that program by my rheum). All of these are in relation to & necessary for my disease. I am going through TONS of testing almost weekly now & trying out treatments like IVIG and chemo where I am in the hospital hooked up to an IV for 4-6+ hrs of that day and the cost of those things without Medicaid picking up what Medicare doesn't cover is astronomical. I have to sign waivers every time I get my blood drawn (which is almost weekly now), do tests, and do treatments saying I will pay if Medicaid does not pick up the extra.

I already have crippling medical debt; I don't need more. I'm scared they won't let me do any more tests or treatments if they see I am just letting it all go to collections & am not paying.

This could mean the difference between having a life worth living (to me) where I am happy & thriving & autonomous or being bed-bound & living a life of just existing from day to day & miserable & in pain & suffering & unable to do anything for myself. This is literally life and death for me because I wouldn't be able to handle continuing to live in the latter scenario. I cannot handle living like I am now. Knowing my treatments are progressing is what keeps me going. Knowing I can go into remission is what keeps me going. Knowing my future is one completely different from now is what keeps me going. But if I cannot have that and am destined to live in this current state, it's just not worth it. I don't know a person alive who would want to live like this.

Finally, my anger noodle needs to get to the vet for MULTIPLE things. Nothing is, like... life threatening or super immediate like his cancer was last year, but they're things that need to be addressed in terms of preventative care & to make sure he isn't in pain.

He needs his trachea checked, possibly x-rays for that, maybe more...

He needs some medication updates, needs a physical, needs a full groom & nail clip under anesthesia (for those who are not familiar with Echo, he has extreme fear-based aggression & usually gets this done under anesthesia; since I worked with him so much, he had his first non-anesthesia nail clip at the beginning of quarantine, but he has gotten worse during quarantine & with my muscle eating disease, I can no longer restrain him & don't have the physical strength to run a brush through his thicker fur as his winter coat is in, so I can no longer groom certain areas of him at home, so his tummy & back legs are matted & I fear he may need to be shaved... which breaks my heart since you don't shave double coat dogs unless medically necessary.), he needs a full physical, & needs to be checked over for MCT's.

He may also need a fecal test or something else, as he has been having odd bowel movements. 😥 His tummy has been upset lately.

I have been crying myself to sleep every single night & often during the day because I cannot get him to the vet. No, it isn't urgent or life threatening. But he is reverse sneezing more than normal & I worry about tracheal collapse, which is a common small dog thing & even MORE common in pomeranians specifically. Every time he has a fit, I think "Oh god, this is it. This is the time I'm gonna have to rush him to the e-vet & get slammed with a huge bill & he is not gonna be okay..."

It breaks my heart to see his legs & belly matted. He is horrible about letting me groom him coz of his aggression so he only gets a full grooms at the vet, but I do short grooming sessions at home with him nightly. Takes about 2 hours just to do the majority of one side of him (not even all of it; just most) coz he needs breaks & lots of praise every few strokes or he will tear me to shreds & hurt himself snapping on the undercoat rake. 😥

But now that my autoimmune disease has atrophied my muscles to the point holding up my phone without something to prop it up feels like I am lifting weights & tires my arms out with a lactic acid burn & pain, I can no longer groom him with the patience he needs & can only groom in 20 minute intervals at the VERY longest. By the time I have gotten one leg done during the week, his entire other side is matted. 😞 Matting on dogs---especially double coat dogs---hurts them. It's like if someone were to wrap your hair around their fingers & then pull it taut. It's a constant pulling pressure on their skin... it's painful & irritates the epidermis. I feel miserable feeling the matting on his back legs & tummy & now feeling the mats beginning to form on the rest of him. He hates me working them out, even with the detangling spray. I know it must hurt so much...

So he may need to be shaved at this point & that will destroy me. I feel sick thinking about it. But anything to get him out of pain. Maybe it is what's best for him while I go through this year of treatment & get my muscles back. But in order to do that, I need to get him to the vet.

The stress of not being able to get him to a vet is tearing me apart & literally making me physically ill.

He is my world. My everything. My #1. My heart dog. My priority in life. My entire universe revolves around him. I would do anything for him. Not a single person, animal, thing, etc, comes before him. It is KILLING me that I cannot provide proper care for him right now. I always always always make sure to sacrifice for him if need be & his things ALWAYS come first, even if it means I'm not eating or not paying bills or whatever. As long as he is taken care of & his needs & wants are met, nothing else matters to me. And right now........ I feel he is suffering because of my finances & the fact my treatment with building my muscles up is not going fast enough.

I cannot control the latter one, but the first one is something I can at least ask for help for. So that is what I am doing.

If anyone is in a place to help, these are my venmo & cashapp codes. I also have paypal.

💙 Venmo: @kqroswell

💚 Cashapp: $kqroswell

💜 Paypal: @kqroswell or [email protected]

If there is another form of payment you're thinking of, lemme know. I also have fb pay activated if you have me on FB (Killian Q Roswell).

Thank you to everyone who read through this & anyone who can help or reblog this. 💖

Sincerely,

Your v scared, struggling transman who really wants his bills/rent paid & his dog to go to the vet,

Killian 💞

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harry-sussex · 3 years

Note

You're lovely, and I enjoy seeing your blog on my dashboard. I'm sorry this has been such a difficult thing to process. It's always really difficult to rework an image of someone you once thought you knew. However I'd like to just put it out there - sometimes (I think the large majority of the time) news is presented in the most sensationalist way, such that nowadays I make a point of de-sensationalizing any news I read in my head. In the case of the whole Harry's memoir thing- I can sympathize with Harry as a person possibly just wanting to take back some control of the narrative for himself. Not just in the most recent events with family (that I tend to think are less horrifying than the fandom/Twitter sussex squad discusses it anyway), but in all aspects of his life. I do not at all think he's going to put his family on blast. I can easily imagine Meghan reigning that dialogue in; she has the tendency to think before she speaks that he seems to lack. And he loves his family. Similar to The Interview promos, I imagine the publishing house knew to increase the interest by implying it to be a tell all memoir. I think he's just done a lot of growing up that he didn't know he had to do over a short period of time, esp re: implicit bias/racism in the setting of media's blatant attack on someone he loves, and is disappointed by the institution's and his family's response to it. I think he's emerged a more introspective and aware human, albeit a disillusioned one. Yes it breaks my heart to think that Meghan won't get a break from the tabloids any time soon. If I were him I'd counsel him to write it & sit on it for a few yrs. But I don't want to give the media the power to destroy Meghan in my mind, and I pray she & Harry won't either. I think she'll be okay. She's a strong one, and I think he's able to draw that same link for himself and be thoughtful about what he does. No one likes being misunderstood/misinterpreted, and I wouldn't be surprised if Harry's especially triggered by that given his history with the press. Maybe this idea emerged from therapy, idk. I can empathize with that, even if I wouldn't do it myself. I hope and pray Meghan gets the support she needs from him and her loved ones in the meantime. I'm honestly not going to read it. I think the less attention I give the BRF the better off they are, unless they're doing something immoral/illegal (see: Woking pizza alibi). And I think at the end of the day, people will unfairly judge other people, especially public figures that have tragic pasts and are publically fighting with the media. A lot of it is going to be noise and I'm not going to give my energy into figuring it out. I like to think I've got a good sense of who they are as people - flawed but ultimately well meaning and earnest. I'm a huge admirer of Meghan and think Harry got really lucky with this one and I'm proud of him for choosing her in more ways than one. I believe Harry and Meghan are lovely people, and I 100% believe their interview. I believe that there are people in the palace with a lot of unchecked power who deliberately uncovered her and Archie from BRF protection for reasons of believed superiority over Meg & Arch. And they're figuring out how to deal with that as a couple and a family. And it's none of my business past that imo. I pray for them and hope it'll eventually end in peace for them all. Just wanted to add another perspective, and hopefully some levity. xx M

Hi, dear. First thing’s first, I really appreciate that this is off anon lol. I love it when people own their opinions, and it says a lot that you did. So thank you for that.

Second of all, I really appreciate the nuance and perspective that is in this message. I agree that the news is sensationalist, and my initial reaction was based off of that. I did watch the promotional clips of the interview and I believe it did sour my expectations going into it when I watched it nearly a week after it aired. I did my best to stay away from Tumblr because I didn’t want that to hinder my view, but it was impossible to separate the promotions that presented the information one way from what it actually was, and thank you for bringing that up with respect to the memoir because I hadn’t considered it. I will say that my knee jerk reaction is pretty on par with the way I still feel about it 24 hours later, especially since I got the news directly, not from Tumblr or Twitter or anywhere else, but you’re right that it could have soured my view from the very start.

I appreciate that he wants to take back some of the narrative but I think that ship has sailed, tbh. He did that with the interview and now I just think it feels like information overload. At some point, people are going to get tired of hearing the wealthy, privileged, powerful Prince complain about his life while more than 4 million people have died due to a global pandemic in less than 2 years. Not to say that he doesn’t struggle - in the words of Roxane Gay, there is no oppression Olympics (and that can be extended to struggle Olympics) - but people view it that way and will get tired of it, if they haven’t already.

I also agree that Harry’s past with the press has tarnished the way he has handled the media and the public post-exit, when he’s finally in a position to strike back without being somewhat obliged to them as part of the circumstances of his birth. I understand and sympathize with him but I just don’t think the public does, and the public matters much, much more than the perspective of one single American fan, to whom he’s never been obliged, and I simply do not think the public will afford him that same understanding, sympathy, and leniency. The public and the media are critical to his humanitarian work - his mother never realized that towards the end of her life, and I truly don’t think she would have been the martyr/saint she is perceived to be now if she had lived, because she did not know how to meet the media in the middle and eventually that started to piss people off. He’s starting to piss people off now and if it doesn’t bother him personally (which it definitely does), I don’t want it to affect his causes. The Invictus Games, Sentebale, Walking with the Wounded, WellChild, Mayhew, Smartworks, Archewell, etc. deserve better than to suffer the wrath of the media and an apathetic public because their patrons simply will not shut up lol.

I guess my point is that they will be unfairly judged (regardless, but especially due to the way they’re handling things), and I think it would suit them better in the long run if they adopted a different strategy. I really sympathize with the fact that he feels frustrated with the narrative that has been manufactured but I really, really think the narrative will only get worse and worse as he continues to go on and on about how badly his life sucks, basically. Again, I don’t deny that he struggles - we all do, some more than others, especially when there are mental health issues - but the public, to me, simply does not care. My own therapist has told me to simply stop caring about the things that I discuss with him. Not to say that they’re not relevant, important, or worthy of discussion - they absolutely are - but his point is that you cannot change people and you are wasting your energy and struggling yourself because you want to change them so, so, so badly that you’re neglecting your own self care in the process. I hate that I do it to myself and I also hate that he appears to be doing it to himself. I’m sure a lot of this conversation has been brought up in his own therapy, and I’m no professional, but I’m doing my best to heed the advice of my own therapist - which is the opposite of what Harry is doing - and it’s done wonders for me, when I actually can do it.

If there’s anything I know from this whole thing, it’s that Harry is absolutely punching above his weight, love him as I may, and that he adores, adores, adores his wife. He has chosen her from the very second she came into his life and I couldn’t want anything more for him or from her. I’m not going to lie, I would have been in this thing for any wife that Harry chose, because I was here long before Meghan specifically came into his life. However, I am glad every day that he chose her, that he loves her, that he wants to protect her, that she loves him back, that he lives the life with her that he’s wanted as long as I (and I’m sure he) can remember. I love her because he loves her, and I would have no matter what, because at the end of the day, it’s his happiness and comfort that matters to me, that has mattered to me since I discovered him and how wonderful he can be more than 7 years ago. What more could I ask of Meghan? What more, as his fan to the end (annoy me as he may), could I want for him? Who could say anything about her in that regard? If there’s anything that has come of this mess, to me, it’s that Harry loves, loves, loves his wife. I will always be happy for him and I will always be proud of him for choosing her, even if I don’t always agree with the way he goes about it.

I’m looking forward to peace, too. I cannot wait for things to just die out, for them to work things out as a couple and as a family, and for everyone to move on. The family will still do their thing and the Sussexes can do theirs, but I cannot deal with this back and forth, tit for tat, petty nonsense anymore. They’re wonderful and flawed, like the rest of them (except Andrew), and I just hope that they can all come to some kind of agreement or terms that lets this die down. It’s exhausting for everyone - themselves included. If I’m this tired, I can only imagine how tired they all are.

Thanks for stopping by, and sorry for the essay (essays, these past 24 hours lol). I really appreciate your kindness in this message, your presence in my notifications (I do see them!), your nuanced perspective and like I said before, I really, really appreciate that you own it!

#Ask #possibilitiesofsainthood #Prince harry #duke of sussex #meghan markle #duchess of sussex #phmemoir

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one-abuse-survivor · 4 years

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Tired is when you're sick of life, or feel weighed down by the stuff around you. Sleepy is when you want to go to bed. That's how me and my friend do it, anyhow. At this point, I'm fucking exhausted to the point where I feel too tired to let it out but im gonna anyways. There's bits in here that I can't tell my friend, or anyone, so i'm hoping bc this is anonymous i can let it out. Right, intro done lol. Onto the story. Last night, i have no idea what time, maybe five or six, (all i know is this

thing ended at 7pm), my mom storms out of the room and comes back holding a bottle of water and her bag. She proceeds to tell my dad she found the bottle at the bottom of my bed, (basically im not supposed to have anything at the bottom of my bead bc asian tradition believes that youre on top of it and thats dirty or whatever). Then she pulls out my school photo, puts it on the table and tells my dad to look at it. Starts ranting about how I never listen, i look horrible, worst photo i've ever taken.

Basically, I go to a private school, and they think I should look good, and then they spent some time lecturing me about how i was supposed to look right when i was in the school, I look like a boy, i act like a boy, my hair's a mop, I look like a hooligan. Start talking about when i dress to go to school, how my shoes aren't polished and one of them has laces that show the white inner. How my hair's messy at the back, if i saw someone in jeans and someone in a suit in the street, who would i think was respectful? They told me they shouldn't have let me into the school, they loved me too much, that's why, they should have let me go to this public school that has a reputation for being a mess, that i belong there, waste of money, they regret letting me go here, thought i was a respectable girl.

Dad asked me again, who wouldd i think was respectful, the jeans or the suit, and I told him I don't know. We'll get to that later, but at that moment he sneered and snorted and looked at my mom. 'says she doesnt know' he jeers. I'd meant it as in 'i have no idea, please help me'. He took it as 'she doesn't know, and doesn't give a fuck'. I don't know how to look proper. they never taught me. they tell me that something looks good so i wear it. mom still buys my clothes for me. I have no fucking clue what looks proper and what doesn't.

Anyways, somehow they moved onto uni, and my current work, and how I pull all-nighters and how dad thought i was smart but nopw he has no hope, how he sees me get up in the morning and know i'm going to fail the assessment, how i get distracted, how i take too long to shower, how i never learn, how i never help them around the house, they do everything for me and if he was in my shoes then he would work until 'smoke came out' (vietnamese saying), how he would be so grateful but i'm not and they're going to leave me (which is a normal threat for them lol) and how they're going to die (another normal threat, dad has a lifelong illness and mom has been struggling with leukaemia for years) and they're not going to pay for uni if i get a stupid degree, only if i get a good degree like they want which will actually help me (law), if i want to become an engineer (something im considering) then i can pay for it myself, then again it's not like i'm even going to get into uni, when they look at me, they have to think of the girl i was when i was five because if they think about me now they feel sad, they won't look at me because I make them sad, they had so much hope for me, now down the drain, no, down to the sewers, look at my cousins going out, one of them had piercings and infections and almost got tattoos and is a nurse in a prison with a husband who stressed her out so much she passed out at work, do i want that, that's what i will get if i dont work, basd job, assisstants have to buy pads for their bosses, horrible child, this will end one of two ways, one i listen to them and come back years later to thank them or i'll look up at the stars and wish that i'd listened to them and they regret having me and caring for me, if only they'd been better parents, they'd been too lenient, but i don't care do i because if i cared it'd show in my working to please them and i haven't done that so that means i don;t care about them.

Dad told me it was too late to change, then switches to tell me it's not too late, they ramble on about my internet use, (i have to ask them for internet) and i'm not acutlalyu doping work on it, i'm just fucking around, they kjnow, they know, i can lie all i want nbut it's true. Horrible child, they'll die, they'll die, That's the end of the conversation, we're not going to talk about it anymore. No, stop talking. I'm going to tell you this until i die. I'm going to keep saying it, beccause it's better that i say it and you not listen than i dont say it and regret not saying it. (okay, i can;t currently remember anything else of what they said lol.). By the way, you wanna know abt

[asks didn’t arrive and I asked for the last bit again]

ok lets hope to god this sends then. i think i know where i was up to - 'do you want to know about what was wrong with the photo' i think was meant to be that. anyways, yeah. guess what was wrong with it. i had a fucking splinge. like my hair was parted and a bit of the part was split. that's all i can see that's wrong with it. maybe my hair looked oily? idk but that's all i noticed. also said something after that about do u remember when dad asked me abt who did i think looked better the suit.

also can i add something i just remembered which is that one of them put folders on my shelf and mom told me she knew i put them there to hide what i was looking at on my laptop from her when i??? didnt??? put them??? there??? in the first place???? (the layout of my room allows the folders to block the view of someone from the door basically) i put new folders there after i think my dad put them there but i didnt originally put them there??? sorry it was a full ask rant and i have no idea what the freak i typed and what i didnt lol. but u get the gist i think. big fat lecture.

i am tired. my eyes were puffy and there was like this pool of snot floating on top of this pool of tears if you did get the ask sorry u had to read that twice. :(. i mean even tho u didnt see it i was able to let it all out. not sure if it made me feel better about anything but being able to do it at all is rlly nice. Thank you for that.

-----

No wonder you’re tired, nonnie... I’m really glad you could get all of this off your chest, and really sorry that you have to hear those awful things about yourself coming from your parents.

I’m a white European, so I don’t share many of your experiences and I don’t know how it is to live in a Vietnamese family, but I hope it’s okay to compare it a little bit with my experiences in my (very Christian) family--if not, you can absolutely skip the next paragraph!

I have had a bunch of conversations with my therapist about traditions, religion, and misogyny, because since I cut my mother off, my grandfather has lectured me many times about how I am a bad daughter for looking out for myself and putting my life first instead of being devoted to my mother’s wants and needs. He told me that she’s sick and I’m horrible for not caring about that and abandoning her, and that if she doesn’t love me, I just have to work harder until I "crack her walls”. (As if I haven’t tried already, and as if she didn’t use her very mental illness as an excuse to abuse me). My therapist basically told me that sometimes, being the Disney villain in some people’s stories means you’re doing something right, because their vision of what’s right and what’s wrong (especially when it comes to daughters and women in general) is designed to hurt you, to make you put your family before yourself. That it’s never wrong to put yourself and your needs first, and that kids don’t owe their parents anything just because the parents brought them into this world--that was the parents’ choice, not the kid’s, and therefore it’s the parents’ responsibility to care for their kid, whoever that kid turns out to be; and not the kid’s responsibility to be the model child that the parents had in mind or to care for them.

Your parents belittling you for things you have little to no control over and accusing you of being responsible for their future deaths, for not knowing things that haven’t been explained to you, for not living up to their expectations without even giving you a chance to try, and for not “working for them as hard as they would in your place”, are all red flags of emotional abuse. Accusing you of things you don’t do and constantly drilling into your mind that they “know” you’re a horrible person who doesn’t want to learn or change is a red flag too, and probably an excuse to take the guilt off their shoulders for not taking the time to guide you in life and to explain anything to you before accusing you of not knowing it already. “It’s too late” puts the blame on you, but what it actually means is probably something along the lines of “It’s easier to scream at you than to put realistic expectations on you and then help you achieve them while respecting your boundaries and allowing you to make mistakes, but I don’t want to feel guilty about it, so let’s pretend you’re a lost cause, yeah?”

I used to go to a private school too, and my mother repeatedly told me that was the reason she struggled economically and that I had ruined her life. It wasn’t until I talked about it in therapy that I realised that I never had a choice in what school I went to. Same as I never had a choice in anything my mother decided for me. So how could I be to blame for the consequences of those decisions? And how can you? If they buy you certain clothes, then they have no right to criticise how you look in them. If they chose to put you in a private school, then the money spent is on them, not you. You shouldn’t have to “prove” you’re worth their decisions for you or their basic care for you--they chose to give you that unconditionally the moment they decided to have you in the first place, and if they refuse to give it or threaten to take it away, it’s becuase they’re neglectful and/or abusive, not because something intrinsic about you justifies it. You’re not a bad kid; you’re just a normal kid with very bad parents. And I’m really sorry that you have to put up with them. You deserve better 😔

I’m here if you need to vent again in the future, nonnie. Sending a virtual hug ❤

#Anonymous #Vent #Ask #Abuse tw #Abuse #Abusive parents #Emotional abuse #Long post #Threats #Guilt tripping #guilt tripping tw #Threats tw #therapy mention #christianity mention #neglect mention #(I'm nonbinary btw but it's not like my grandfather knows or would care 🙃)

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letsbreadthisgit · 2 years

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I've reached a point where I don't really have any motivation whatsoever in finding a partner/eventually getting married because despite being a romantic at heart, seeing so many horrible marriages (including my own parents) and knowing how horribly relationships can go wrong in general just puts me off the whole thing.

like I get plenty of social support from my friends and I'm not horny enough to get a partner for sexual reasons so... why tf would I bother with this? there are so many other things I could be doing with my time. sure I fantasize about having a partner sometimes but every time i've been in a relationship irl, once the honeymoon phase is over (and for me this happens very quickly, like 2 weeks at most) I either become uninvested or straight-up bored and spending time with the other person becomes exhausting. the cons have outweighed the pros every time.

maybe my expectations have been tainted from romcoms and shit but in general I think I try to stay realistic about it?? I don't expect them to look like a model or to be perfect by any means like that would be stupid. I just want someone who's into me and I'm into them and as long as we communicate about stuff and respect each other I'm cool with that. but eventually putting my own effort into communicating becomes so tiring and the romantic aspect of the relationship loses its luster and tbh I end up missing my alone time more than anything.

even if I were to get lucky and find a good relationship and was super into them and we had good communication, there's absolutely no guarantee that it'll still be a good relationship 5/10/however many years from now. marriage takes a lot of work and I don't think I have enough motivation or energy to do that in the long run. I think I've gotten burned out from dealing with my parents horrible relationship and doing damage control because they refuse to go to therapy and are horrible at communicating and dealing with their emotions. the thought of having to do that for myself and my own relationship fills me with dread and makes me feel physically exhausted.

people change, and for every successful long-term marriage i've seen, i've seen probably 10 horrible ones where each spouse hates the other and they either get divorced or stay together simply because the process of getting a divorce is too much for them to handle.

and I have a hard enough time taking care of my own needs!! I'm a stressed out depressed bitch and there are a lot of things I need to improve in myself!! but the expectation when you're in a romantic relationship, especially for women, is to take on the emotional burdens of their partner (cuz apparently friends aren't enough for that for most people). and I just... don't wanna fucking do that. I'm so fucking tired of doing that it makes me want to cry. I'm glad I have a therapist to vent to.

and don't even get me started on kids, that's a whole other can of worms. what sucks though is that most of my friends are in romantic relationships and many of them want kids, so idk if my social support network will be as robust in the future when my friends are busy dealing with their own families. it's not like they're gonna have zero time for me but it'll be trickier logistically to spend time together. I think i'd be perfectly content being a childless auntie tbh lol

who knows, maybe I'll find a partner I'm into enough that I'll want to put an effort into making it work and be motivated again, but for now I'm more than cool with being single. so @my dad stop asking me about getting a fucking boyfriend like you're a huge part of the reason I don't want a fucking boyfriend so leave me tf alone. your son's gonna have kids. that expectation should not be put on me as well just cuz you think I'd be a good mom. I think I'd be a good mom too but it's a ton of fucking work and I simply don't have the energy for it. fuckin yeesh.

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transgenderteensurvivalguide · 7 years

Note

Urgent!!!!! My mom is coming home and idk wat to do because my family has made me hate myself so much and it's gotten worse since I came out and I've been self harming again and I'm so tired of fighting and knowing they'll never accept me and I have no one to turn to; no friends or family and I can't move out because I can't afford it. I'm just so done and I just want to end it all and I don't know wat to do anymore but to give up. They all want me gone and expect me to kill myself soon anyway.

Devon says with help from Lee:

Here is a post with suicide hotlines and mental health services. Please contact one of the resources in that post if you are going to hurt/kill yourself.

Here are some other things that could be helpful to you. Some people may not like some of these things, or have bad experiences with them, but I think they could all be worth a try.

Therapy. Try googling “LGBT friendly therapist [your town/region]” (that’s how I found my therapist– we don’t only talk about LGBT stuff, but she is part of the community and respects my gender) or “affordable therapy [your town/region].” You most likely need your parents’ consent to see a therapist, but that depends on your age and the laws where you live. Here’s a website with information about that.

You don’t have to tell your parents that you want therapy because of any trans-related thing if you think they wouldn’t accept that reason. This post has more info on finding a therapist

Telling your parents you struggle with mental illness

How to tell someone you’re suicidal

Support groups. There are a few organizations in my state that host support groups or get-togethers for LGBT people. Meeting other LGBT people and making friends can be a big help. You might want to check out PFLAG.

Clubs. Join clubs at your school (if you’re in school). It’s nice to be around people with similar interests to you, even if they don’t respect and/or understand your gender. You can also join facebook groups about your interests, or look for meetups on websites like this or this. Public libraries also often host activities and meetups. If you don’t know what your interests are, or don’t have any strong interests, it’s good to try something new! No one will judge you if you’re new to the club/meetup or don’t know much about the subject. Everyone was new to it at some point!

Seek other professional help. It sounds like your family is abusive (whether they physically hurt you or not). It is not okay for anyone to expect you to kill yourself, and it isn’t normal for family to make you hate yourself. Research and consider contacting Childhood Protective Services, or a similar organization where you live. They could be able to help you get away from your family.

Note that this isn’t always an easy route, and your new environment may also be very stressful, so make sure you don’t make this decision lightly and without doing any research, but it is a possibility.

In most (if not all) public schools, you are able to meet with a social worker and/or counselor for free. You could talk through your situation with them. Keep in mind that they’re probably mandated reporters.

Distract yourself. Try something new! Playing video games, drawing, reading, watching documentaries, taking care of neighbors’ pets, volunteering at a local charity, knitting, and getting a job are all things that take up time that could distract you from your family/ general negative stuff in your life and make you feel better.

Work on stopping self-harming actions. When you feel like hurting yourself, try these things: Draw on your body where you want to hurt yourself, rub ice on your body where you want to hurt yourself, do the same thing you want to do to yourself to an object (if you want to cut yourself, cut paper up), do one of the above distracting activities, scream into a pillow (it sounds silly but it can really help), take a cold bath or shower, snap rubber bands on your wrist, or listen to loud music.

Also, to prevent self harming in the first place: Unfollow blogs on tumblr that glamorize self harm, throw away any “tools” that you use to hurt yourself, hang out in public places like libraries (it’s harder to hurt yourself in public than when you’re alone), follow “recovery” blogs on tumblr, or work on a skin care routine (put energy into helping your body instead of hurting it).

Self-Injury Recovery

Reducing self-harm

Self-harm coping tips and distractions

How to Recovery from Self-Injury

Steps to self-harm recovery

Alternatives to self-harm and distraction techniques

Safety Plan

Self-Injury Support: 1-800-DONT CUT (1-800-366-8288) (www.selfinjury.com)

Minimize dysphoria. Even if dysphoria isn’t the main problem for you right now, having less gender dysphoria could help you feel better in general. Here is our dysphoria page. There are a lot of good resources for dealing with dysphoria there, and also mental health exercises that could help with dysphoria or other stuff.

Mental health things from the aforementioned dysphoria page:

Belly breathing

Awareness of unhealthy thinking styles

Distress tolerance skills

Distress tolerance activities

Panic list for distress tolerance

Improving distress

How to make a comfort box

Emotion regulation skills

Emotion regulation worksheet

Soothing grounding exercise

Physical grounding exercise

Mental grounding exercise

Grounding techniques

Problem goal framework

Mindfulness of your current emotion

Letting Go of Painful Emotions

Vicious cycle and alternatives

What will help?

Positive self-talk

Behavioral Activation

STOPP worksheet

Triggers

Coping with dissociation

Handling dissociation

10 Tips on How to Work Through Feelings of Social Isolation

An interactive self-care guide

7 cups of tea - an online chatting service. It’s not really meant for crisis situations, but it can used to talk about a host of issues with other individuals. It appears to be mostly geared toward mental health support and discussion.

www.dbsalliance.org - a nationally recognized organization that offers support and resources for those dealing with bipolar disorder(s) and depression.

@mentalillnessmouse (tumblr blog)

@trans-folx-fighting-eds (tumblr blog)

Download therapy worksheets / And more of them / And even more / Also some more

The Trevor Project’s Glossary of Resources

I hope some of this is helpful for you! Best of luck and please stay safe.

#devon says #Lee says #mental illness #suicide #suicidal ideation #self harm #self injury #dysphoria #abuse #ed mention #moms #parents #family #long post #transgenderteensurvivalguide #trans #transgender

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princettegil · 8 years

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I'm going to keep overthinking until I wind up crying myself to sleep again... aren't I?

#Yup its coming. Hello darkness my old friend #it like I haven't gotten enough heart points so now a bit of my soul and emotions must rot into tears #maybe I shouldn't have skipped therapy yesterday? But I didn't have anything to talk about #I mean I do but what's the point in telling it to my therapist?#it's stuff I should discuss with the other party and I'm sure she'll say the same so why tell her about it?#but I'm not discussing it just letting it build up cause I'm scared #but telling her won't make any difference so I'll keep it to myself I guess #I'm so lonely it hurts but I can't convince myself to go out to see anyone either #also I'm tired of just talking to my therapist it's nice and it helps but I want to work on fixing things now #not just chatting again or getting distracted #but I've convinced myself that I must be one of her easiest clients and I dun wanna ruin that and the high I feel each time I leave there #that and I think I'm just now feeling what most teenagers feel emotionally cause I feel like my emotions are just hitting puberty now #my brain and body matured at a young age but my emotions are kinda... delayed I think #so emotionally I think I'm just now hitting puberty and idk bow to deal with that #plus I'm 26 I'm expected by everyone to be over that but I'm just now getting there so no one knows how to help me #and I keep thinking I can't ask cause I'm too old...#and then there's financial worries if I don't get a job soon then...#I want to see u #*sigh* I'm not doing good tonight...#personal

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epajournal · 7 years

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