#that to myself and my friends and my therapist in 2021 and i'm more at peace with it than i ever was or thought i could be in 2019 and 2020

[folkinsomnia]

screaming myself hoarse til I pass out we were together during a very tumultuous time in our lives I will always have your back and be curious about you about your career your whereabouts!!!

[nikibogwater]

Everybody sit down and strap in, 'cause I have a doozy of a tale to share.

I've had anxiety for literally as long as I can remember. I've had periods of my life where it was so intense it became legitimately life-threatening (don't worry I promise this is going somewhere funny). And this was really bizarre because I have zero childhood trauma. Like, my family life is so idyllic it's almost comical. Therapists would do abuse screenings on me and look utterly baffled when I told them everything was fine at home. They'd interrogate my parents just to make sure I wasn't lying. I have one friend who I'm fairly sure believed I was just severely gaslighting myself when I said my family was great, school wasn't too stressful, and I've never lived in a dangerous neighborhood or experienced poverty.

Anyways, despite no one being able to figure out where my disorder was coming from, my doctors were able to help me manage the symptoms so that I would like, not die, and actually be able to finish high school. Which was awesome. Now fast forward to late 2021. My big sister (who has also had intense anxiety her whole life which no one could figure out why) is finishing up her doctorate and getting her physical therapist's license. Somehow, during all her studying and schooling, she finds out about this thing called Ehlers Danlos Syndrome, which explains literally everything that was going on with us. EDS is a connective tissue disorder that kinda fudges up your body in a whole bunch of little ways, including dysautonomia (episodes of very fast heart-rate that kick your body into fight-or-flight mode), and hypermobility (unusual flexibility). It's a spectrum disorder, so the severity of symptoms vary from person to person, but we definitely checked almost every box on the diagnostic list. My sister went to see a specialist, and yep, she was diagnosed EDS positive. She immediately calls my mom and goes "I know what's wrong with Niki" (thanks, sis, that's real encouraging lol). Initially we're like "okay Katie, that's nice" because honestly this kind of sounds like jumping at shadows, but I go in to see the specialist anyways just to make sure.

One consultation and diagnosis later, and suddenly my entire life makes perfect sense.

Now we get to the funny part. See, the diagnosis stuff happened in early 2022. So by the time late 2023 comes around and we're looking for a new dog (I promise this is relevant), we've been riding that chronic illness diagnosis for a while. Once again, my sister, ever the proactive one, decides she's going to help us get a new dog. She scours the adoption website, sends us photos of the cutest dogs available, and helps us make a decision. This is how we got Beverly, who has been an unstoppable force of chaos in our lives ever since we signed the papers (but she's also really cute so she can get away with it). Now on top of being a very excitable and anxious pupper, Beverly's got a weird little gimp in her hindquarters, which makes her sit all splayed-out and funny-looking, and while it doesn't seem to be causing her pain, we take her to a vet to get it checked out. Vet finds absolutely nothing. X-rays are taken and examined. Still nothing. At this point, they go "well, we could try a CT scan of her brain, which would run about $5,000, and maybe we could find something--" but my parents are already packing this dog into the car like "well that is a HARD nope." So we decide, look, Beverly seems happy and healthy, and those gimpy legs don't seem to bother her, so we'll just leave it be until it becomes clearer what's wrong with her because we do NOT have a cool $5,000 to throw around here.

Readers more astute than my family and I will likely have already figured out where this is going.

This morning, my mom is looking at Beverly sitting in her funny sprawled-out way, and something in her brain goes "wait...weird physical symptoms with no tracible cause that vets can see..." She does a bit of googling. Can dogs have EDS/Hypermobility? Yes. Yes they can. And the listed symptoms describe Beverly to a T.

So not only is my sister the one to finally figure out what's wrong with me, she also unknowingly got us a dog who has the exact same chronic condition as us. Meanwhile my poor dad, who is the only Normal Person in our house, is coming to terms with the fact that he is apparently just fated to always love chronically ill people and animals, and there's absolutely nothing he can do about it.

[jenny-in-a-jar]

🖤💙 4 days until my Surgery 💙🖤

(Picture taken Dec 9th, 2023)

I'm very very excited for my surgery (it's my second gender affirming surgery but this one is more significant to me since it'll be top and bottom surgery) and I'm obviously counting the days until it and I thought some people might be interested in my trans journey 🏳️‍⚧️ So see part 7 below the cut.

Part 1 here

As the summer was ending, I got really lucky! A lesbian hairstylist (who helped organize the drag show I went in the last update) gave my name to this sales lady who sold accounting work to like companies and she needed help with researching CEO and CFO types. And she paid me out of pocket and honestly it was pretty easy internet research using Google. I felt like a little rat scurrying across the Internet 🐀 So, thank you lesbians 🙏🙏

(Picture taken Nov 6th, 2022)

Apparently I really impressed her so she got me hired full time as a sales admin for her company (I wouldn't have gotten with my lack of a college degree without her) and I've had that job since! And a lot of my transition wouldn't be possible without the pay and benefits of this job. Also this is my first job where I get gendered correctly and I'm slowly getting less anxious about going to the bathroom at work 🥰

She honestly mom'd up on me and bought me a bunch of new business casual clothes for the job. And here's an example of one of my new work outfits 😁

(Picture taken Nov 14, 2022)

Bc of the new job I was able to afford a lot more things for transitioning! Like voice training. I remember when I first cracked I tried to just teach myself using videos but I wasn't good at it 😅 Also a friend during the summer of 2022 helped me and I did make some progress with her help. But, I started making a lot more progress once I started seeing a speech therapist. But, there was a barrier since I could tell she hadn't worked too much with trans people. I went to a speech therapist bc it was covered by my insurance but she moved and then I couldn't find anyone for insurance covered speech therapy. So, I eventually just paid for lessons Your Lessons Now. And, honestly it's going a lot better! It's really nice to be able to talk about my frustrations with voice training with another transfem. The biggest thing I'm learning from here is how to break the bad habit of pitching up my voice by squeezing my vocal chords.

(Picture taken Sept 8th, 2023)

I had also switched to injections and I highly recommend it! A friend even made my first two vials into earrings 🔥

I also got a lot lazier with makeup 😅 I do eyeliner wings, mascara, and blush for when I go into the office. Which for a bunch of accountants means I do about as much makeup that is normal for the women in the office 🤷‍♀️

(Pictures taken October 31st and December 2nd of 2022)

These were two notable exceptions. I really love the makeup I did for the Halloween of 2022 bc I decided to go as a ghost-type trainer. And the one on the right is when I learned how to use concealer to cover my 'raccoon eyes' as my dad liked to call them 🦝

Also this would be a good time to mention something I probably should've mentioned earlier 😅 I never learned how to use foundation. I know it's easy but I have a weird mental block around it 🤷‍♀️ But, in the summer of 2021 I started doing twice daily skincare routine for my face. Which took me from a very acne heavy face to people being surprised I'm not wearing foundation. Also the routine is really nice. Would recommend to those who want to get rid of their acne (send an ask if you want to know specifics).

(Picture taken Aug 20, 2023)

Romance update since I've been doing that lol: Well, things ended with all the girlfriends I had so I am down to 1 partner. And I got caught in a romance scam for a few months 😭 However, I can't really complain because I got engaged!!! It was so sweet in cute. My partner and I had this date the night before Valentine's Day under a statue outside of a local art museum. We read sapphic poetry by candle light and then they popped the question 🥰🥰

But, I say another big part of this era was I made a lot more local trans friends. Went to a good amount of house parties which would've surprised pre-transition me! And I really love my community of queer people I've been building 🥺🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️💕

(Picture taken July 21st, 2023)

Oh yeah!! I also started laser hair removal at the beginning of 2021 as well. Which was before this era but time is a lie. But the new job definitely made it easier to afford.

The biggest step for my transition was getting my surgeries set up!! And my FFS (facial feminization surgery) marks the end of this era. Below was the last picture I took before my FFS.

(Picture taken Feb 17th, 2024)

So, in my next update, I'll be showing my post-op pictures once most of the swelling went down. See you tomorrow!! 😁✌️

Next Part Here

[gemmahale]

So I've temporarily paused my queue. It's just me, shouting into the void again. (The queue will maybe come back - there's some 800 some odd posts in there.) Just as an FYI.

I've been stuck in my head since...my work trip last weekend? Which, tbf, 12 hours of windshield time and a day of interacting with people is a fair bit.

(I'm cutting this because y'all don't need my yapping, but I need it off my chest. Go get some water or a beverage of choice instead.)

TW: mental health discussion. I am safe, I am not going to do anything brash.

But Monday I came back to an email from my boss - apparently two clients had stopped in to speak with him because I hadn't answered their calls (all are within the last two-ish weeks, maybe more?).

A huge part of my job is that timely client call-back. And one place that I consistently struggle in. We've had this discussion going on for 6+ mo now on how critical this call-back part is. The whole thing of what we do is timely, scientifically backed information.

I'm shit at calling back. I hate doing it. I hate troubleshooting people's plant problems. It just seems so...inconsequential. People are stressing about a dead spot in their yard (that's probably over watered and over fertilized and a sterile environment) and it's just...get some perspective, y'know?

I don't know. I love this job. I love the impact I could have. Get me talking about how people deserve healthy ecosystems and food access and such and I'm going a mile a minute.

But I'm paralyzed when it comes to solving these stupid "inconsequential" problems.

I have a newsletter I've been talking about sending out since FEBURARY. It's now AUGUST. It's unsent. I just hit a wall every time I sit down to set it up.

Same thing with the volunteer program I manage. The workshops I'm working on. All of it. Wall against wall against wall and I'm scrolling tumblr for the 43rd time that day.

And I don't know what to do. I'm scared. That's what it is. I'm Scared I'll give bad information and something will get killed and it'll be my fault.

(yes that's capital S scared.)

I don't know what I'm going to say tomorrow in our meeting. I know I'm on thin ice. I'm going into my 3rd year of this. I shouldn't be struggling like this. My RSD is so fuckin' bad that it's locking me up and shutting me down.

Part of me wants to be fired. Just "this isn't a good fit" and out the door. Proof that I'm not cut out for this job. Because all I have succeeded in doing is failing my colleagues, my peers and the clientele that I interact with.

I'm self-sabotaging myself and I don't know how to not to.

I love the opportunities this job has. But I'm terrified of failure to the point of breakdown. Self-fulfilling prophecy and all that, right?

It's imposter syndrome, self-sabotage, other terms I've forgotten. having a name for it doesn't help any - just reinforces that I'm doing it to myself. And that's what hurts the most.

I haven't told anyone I'm struggling. It's hard to reach out. Kallen's been dealing with nightmares and job bullshit and high pain days (and his listening is problem solving/therapist-ing, which isn't what I want or need). My friends are all bogged down with their lives - unemployment, moving, divorces, childcare, and I'm not going to burden them with this gunk.

The irony to this is that I just told a friend to lean on me - because that's what friends do when they're in tight spots. Lean on each other, support each other.

But really it just means: Justify that I'm worth being here/being friends with me by making me useful to you.

God I wish I didn't have all this brain goop. I wish I could just scoop it out and poke at it under a microscope and dissect what happened to make me like this.

Gemma find a therapist. <- Whole different conversation. There's a dearth of mental health providers out here. I quit looking in 2021 when I called 5 places and they all said they were not taking on more clients and the one I tried we didn't vibe with each other. Fuck being a (mostly closeted) queer woman in small-town America.

[c-ptsdrecovery]

It's the end of the year, and therefore time to look back at 2023.

And I have to say, this is The Best Year I have had in a VERY long time.

Started the year--basically ON New Year's Day!--with my new Prozac prescription kicking in with a VENGEANCE. Was happy-hypomanic for basically the first time in my life (my hypomania was almost always anxiety before). That was AMAZING, and I can see why some people with bipolar disorder don't want to go on medication. The problem is that the hypomania is not stable, and I dropped back down to depression again. Raised the Prozac dose. Hypomanic! Dropped back to depression, Raised the Prozac dose. Hypomanic!!

Finally I went to a psychiatrist, and she, bless her, suggested gently that what I was experiencing might actually be hypomania. I was sitting there wearing rainbow colors with a highlighter pink hat, rainbow pony bead bracelets and funny earrings like, "I don't think I'm hypomanic." God bless her for not laughing out loud.

Anyway, I got on Lamotrigine/Lamictal (mood stabilizer) and... Oh my god. The depression went away. The anxiety went away. The anhedonia went away for the first time in years and I was able to actually quietly enjoy my life. Like, I had been capable of happiness before, but it was always some form of excitement. I could just look around my bedroom, see my stuff, watch my shows, crochet my crafts, sigh happily, and say that I loved my quiet little life. Now I can. It truly is life-changing.

I had done so much work on my C-PTSD with my therapist over the last 4 years that once the mood stabilizer kicked in... I was suddenly great. Nothing to talk about in therapy. No problems I couldn't solve. I got into an emotionally healthy environment in 2021, I have a good, stable support system... And now that I was on mood stabilizers, I could actually FEEL like I had a good, stable support system (I had felt very isolated before, even with a good group of friends).

I have spent 2023 genuinely enjoying my life for the first time in possibly a decade or more. Between my mental health and my loss of anhedonia and my friend group and my paganism/witchcraft... I feel more myself than I have since like, middle school.

It gets better.

You slowly, piece by piece, put your life together, get the things you need, get the therapy you need, get the meds you need, and one day you realize that you like your life and you don't need to struggle for something else: you have what you want already, and you're able to enjoy it.

That's my New Year's wish for all of you, even if it takes a few years to find it. Don't give up. Keep trying things. Keep pushing. Keep loving yourself. I promise, it will get better.

[everythingisliminal]

Day 20 of 75 Hard

When I complete today, it'll be the furthest I've ever been in this challenge (made it through day 10 then day 19 in 2021).

The journey so far:

Two 45+ minute workouts, 3+ hours apart, at least one of which must be outside. Because I work 10 hour days in wetland restoration navigating mucky, watery, and steep terrain with ~40lbs on my back, I count those 4 workdays as my outdoor workout. Yes it's already part of my routine, but I wasn't going to not do this challenge just because I'm not fitting another workout in before work.

My other outdoor workouts are all walking and/or running around the neighborhood or on trails. My indoor workouts are push, pull, and indoor cycling days with my buddy, bowling with my husband, and following walk/dance/box/lift/yoga vids at home.

Saturdays are wild because I need to get a walk/run in, then go straight to cycling, and then 3 hours later bowl bc my afternoons are booked and I have to get that outdoor workout in but 3 hours away from another workout. Making it work, though!

I did put together an idealized workout schedule to train for the 5 mile trail run my buddy and I signed up for 2 weekends after we complete 75 Hard. Already had to adjust because I twisted my ankle yesterday, so I used that opportunity to try Qigong (followed by 45 min yoga). We'll see if I should stick with walking today or if I can throw in a few 3-4 minute runs.

Honestly, the toughest part of this rule is the scheduling and getting started. I really enjoy the physical activity when I'm in the flow of it.

Take a progress picture. This has been beneficial for me in a way I couldn't predict. The mirror has always surprised me, like "oh, that's what I look like?" It always shows me as curvier, less athletic than I picture myself. Might stem from a grey area of body dysmorphia and gender dysphoria. It's one of the things I'm talking with my therapist about.

But now that I'm taking a picture of my body every day, I'm realizing that what I'm seeing in the mirror looks better than what I'm seeing in the photo, giving an element of valuing what I see in the mirror. Like, I can more positively accept that that's me. So that's cool.

10 pages of reading a "think about your life" nonfiction book. I read The Book on Mental Toughness, which the creator of 75 Hard wrote. 3 of 5 stars. I might write an extended review, but a lot of the book was like watching a car crash. Yeah, the author's mentally tough, but he's not very well read sociologically. It'll be a tougher read for anyone who's nonbinary, living with intergenerational trauma, or can't stand editing/formatting issues. But there was some insightful info about 75 Hard and the continued LIVEHARD program, and I really benefited from the chapter on drinking water.

Currently reading Weave the Liminal: Living Modern Traditional Witchcraft, which I'm fully enjoying.

Books I'm considering reading next are Rest is Resistance: Free Yourself from Grind Culture and Reclaim Your Life / How to Make Friends & Influence People / The Meditations of Marcus Aurelius / Pleasure Activism: The Politics of Feeling Good / and Keeping It Living: Traditions of Plant Use and Cultivation on the Northwest Coast of North America.

If anyone has a recommendation for books on Inanna, Ishtar, Astarte, or Aphrodite/Aphroditus, I'm looking to learn more about their part in trans history.

Drink 1 gallon of water. I have to stick with a 90oz goal. I've tried multiple times in the past to drink a gallon a day and always wound up with a horribly sore throat after a few days. Last time, it made me sick for 2 weeks. So 90oz of unflavored water is definitely way more than I'd drink normally (32oz on a good day) but without dipping back into unhealthy territory. There are some days that I can drink more (allowing me to get in some Gatorade, preworkout, or BCAAs), but I also have a steady supply of good cough drops at hand.

I try to get in 32oz before lunch, another 32oz by 5pm, and 26oz+ before sleepy time.

Follow a diet. No cheat meals or alcohol. I'm focused on getting 100+ grams of protein a day (macro balancing and calorie deficit are secondary but seem to be happening naturally). I've also cut out chocolate (this is how I know I mean business), sugary drinks, gluten, and microwavable mac n' cheese type meals.

This is really forcing me to get my act together when it comes to planning/prepping. No more going to the coffee stand for a burrito and red bull before work. I have to either cook breakfast or nom on a protein bar. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, and at least 2 snacks all have to be protein-centric for me to meet my goal. It's wild to think of how little protein I must have been getting. But now I'm full, and then I'm hungry! There's no middle ground of kinda-hungry filled with chips and milk teas. All this meal prepping and forcing myself to eat well for 75 days will probably be one of the most beneficial things I've ever done for myself.

Tangentially, cutting out chocolate meant cutting out my herbal calm chocolate supplements I always had at night to help myself wind down. Now I have to get off my phone earlier and stretch/meditate/read to get myself prepped for bed. It's good stuff.

Also, I don't drink alcohol, so there's no challenge for me there.

Overall: I'm so glad I'm doing this. This is helping me live my life the way I actually want to live it. I'm developing daily discipline and gaining insights into myself. I've lost 6lbs, my clothes fit better, and I can navigate terrain more easily. I'm enjoying trails in my free time. I was wishy-washy about my goals when I tried 75 Soft a couple months ago, and so didn't stick with them. With 75 Hard, my commitment is unquestionable. This is what my life looks like for the next 56 days. Afterward, I'll take what I like and ditch anything I don't.

If you're considering 75 Hard yourself, do make a game plan. Figure out what your diet is going to be and shop for it. Know how you'll track your water. Schedule a week or two of workouts that help you fulfill a goal (finding out what's fun for you, increasing strength/flexibility/speed, getting outside, hanging out with someone, whatever). Get a book. Give yourself this Day 0 to set yourself up for success.

Then START :D

[ultraviolet-ink]

What do you think about asoryuu?

Oh boy, this one's going to be a bit loaded, so here's a bit of a preemptive apology for a ramble/word vomit/rant on my end. Suffice to say ASRY is a NoTP for me. When I was first getting into DGS all the way back in 2019/20, I was a bit ambivalent towards the ship. I had only watched a playthrough of the first game, and I had the feeling that Kazuma was going to come back, but the ship didn't really scream to me at that point, and it kind of befuddled me to see how it was so popular (and a bit of a tangent, I think people only really ship the 1-1 dynamic, but that's a convo for another day). If you even look at the header of my blog, it is no secret that I ship Ryuususa, and it is my OTP. When I had watched the fifth case on the playthrough, I was sold on that ship, and the last moments really sealed the deal for me-- there's something really compelling about the goodbye scene between Susato and Ryuunosuke at the docks, and the localization legitimately made me cry (happy tears of course!) Being a little naive, I started to post about it and I got... a LOT of harassment calling me a lot of names/accusing me of being okay with a lot of really horrible things (intrusive thoughts WHOOOOOOP). The harassment was so bad that I only recently opened up to my therapist about what had happened, and I was pulling away from servers/people I thought I was friends with/wouldn't treat me horribly. I found a lot of solace with people who were also violently harassed pre-localization (shout out to the Baroryuu community, you all were really kind to me, and I am proud to also be a Baroryuu lover <3), when I say it was drama filled pre localization, I mean it. I can even point out when my harassment started to March of 2021 when someone on twitter said not to read my dgs fics since I was a proshipper (I hadn't even called myself that at this point, and honestly I don't really use that title [idk how else to describe it lol], but I do follow that philosophy and call myself anti-harassment), and since I hadn't had a twt at that time, they linked to my ao3, and since I put my tumblr on my fics, I got a LOT of disturbing anons. Even when I made my server, I used to have a link that anyone could click on (word of the day is naive lmaooo), and I got a lot of creeps coming in trying to surveil the server and make sure their friends weren't in it (one person was even trying to get access to the nsfw section which was FUN). After reading this, you're probably thinking "what does this have to do with ASRY?". A lot of the major bullies in fandom HEAVILY shipped ASRY, and would harass people who shipped other ships (Baroryuu and Asobaro shippers were racist, Homuryuu shippers were okay with incest because of that stupid "greatest family in the world" line, etc.). All in all, it came with a lot of entitlement and anger that other peopled DARED not to ship that ship. Those sorts of people really tainted the ship for me. As for the ship itself, I can definitely see why people love it a lot (especially 1-1), but I really didn't like Kazuma in 2-4/5. I found him to be really particularly awful and obtuse (which, makes perfect sense in the story! Who wouldn't be in his position?). I was also mad that he only said ONE (1!!!) thing to Susato when he got his memories back (despite HER recognizing him and getting the ball rolling), and it was basically "Thanks for helping out my friend, bye!" (#justiceforsusato lol). Even at the end of the game, I still was mad at Kazuma and didn't really like him. It's only due to my friends (namely @leafyemeralds and her VERY GOOD TAKES in our convos) that I eventually started to warm up to him. Now he's my personal punching bag to Atone(tm) XD I suppose TL;DR I'm not a big Kazuma fan, harassment made me really dislike the ship, so I don't ship it (also, can ASRY shippers tag their stuff? this is more of a problem on twitter, but it happens on tumblr. Filters can only work if they're there =3=)

[lost-technology]

Hey. Please please please don't do anything drastic. I know it seems really dark right now, and it is. Yesterday was a horrible day for everyone and it will continue to be hard as we all process. But it's so so so important that you keep on living through that.

One half of this that is absolutely true is that you need to keep on living to spite them. You need to live longer than him and laugh when he's gone. Your life in itself is resistance and that's infinitely valuable.

The other half is that, no matter if you believe this or not right now, the world would be darker without you. I mean this really and truly. I don't know you in real life so I can't speak to that, but you bring a lot of positivity and unique views to the trigun fandom. Your reblogs are how I found a lot of the trigun blogs I now follow. Your comments and discussions on Rem make me happy to read, just grinning in real life because someone cares so much about a character that needed more time. It's simple stuff really, but that's what's important. Even people you've never spoken to like me are positively impacted by your life. And that increases tenfold for people who know you in real life that you do speak to and that love you and want you around no matter if they say it out loud or not.

Please keep living. You bring something unique to this world and you're a nice person, which goes for a lot these days. And if you can't believe that, live for spite, just for now, and maybe the other stuff can come later.

Please live. I'm sorry for being so long winded but you really do have a much bigger impact than you could ever see without someone telling you and I want you to know.

We can all get through this and you're not alone. Being together is how we can find strength. So stay and be together with us. Please.

I'm sorry for the long ask. Just want to make sure you at least hear this stuff. You're important.

I do need to get on the phone with my therapist. It's just... I feel like the hits just keep on coming, neverending in my life. This hope to have the first ever Madame President and to not have a man in office (again) who shows all signs of going full fascist - it is bringing up grief in such a way that it seems to be bleeding into my lingering grief over a family-loss I had last year. I'm feeling similar ways. Last year, my nephew died (adult, just on the cusp of 40, my partner's nephew). He was my best friend, my gaming buddy and we were the three amigos on holidays and whatnot. We had him up for almost an entire year on Covid-lockdown living with us. He got me through my partner's heart-attacks when he had those in previous years. Matt was the one who broke the news to me that there was going to be a new Trigun anime because he knew I basically lived and breathed Trigun back in the day and still counted Vash as my personal hero. And then, in January '23, he was gone - cause of death unknown, probably his heart giving out - because he had some health issues. I basically had to go through that. I've been feeling like I've just gotten to pulling myself out of the muck of that, was just starting to feel better (with some random meloncholy still hitting me), and now I'm running into yet another big thing that's making me think "What is life even for?" - There's no justice here. I have no power. There is no rhyme or reason. I also lost a couple of aunts during Covid times, both eldery - one to the disease itself, another through something unrelated, both in 2021. I wasn't as close to them anymore, but it hurt. I had to go into inpatient psychiatric in 2021 because some misunderstandings, a huge fight, a dogpiling (of me) and a public tumblr callout post in one small niche area of the She-Ra fandom just made me lose it. I was accused of plagerism (not true. There was a misunderstanding with someone regarding idea-exchange and what I was allowed use in roleplays on a small roleplay discord. I did legit read things wrong, but it's not like I ganked someone's ideas for a publically available fanfic or was trying to "steal their characters" like they whined to everyone in the fandom about), but because anyone accuses of that, immedately everyone else will side with them and not even look further into it, I was suddenly losing friends - I freaked out, myself and got to harassing some people in a defensive snarl - and then some asshole had to take it off the discords and make it public, which meant I was shunned by an entire fandom and was basically told that I was human garbage and believed it. I did something untoward to myself and had a little hospital stay. The person who intervened to save my life was that now-deceased nephew. And so, I've just been going through hit after hit, some of it being hangover from "We all got crazy under Trump and under Trump's attempts to get back into power" and now... that's a thing again... I am also on Social Security / Disability and am worried about my future. I worked very hard to get it and it might go away. My partner was on the cusp of getting it until they raised the retirement age and who knows he might not get it. We might die freezing under a bridge, I don't know. There is always the question of "Well, now or later?" that looms in the mind. "Murdered by the State or go on my own terms?" I want to be brave like Vash and Rem, but they are fiction and I don't know if I am capable of their strength of heart. Thank you for talking to me.

[sloasis]

I figured out in 2018 that I was transgender . I was 13 years old . I begged my mother if I could cut my hair ' like my brothers ' and I did in later that year , it was the best feeling in the world , not having long hair . And I never told anyone in my family until 2021 , I finally told my mom and she went ' I know ' ... and then I never talked about it ever again . I only ever told my parents not to call me by my deadname because it genuinely makes me nauseous . I'm such a coward and I still haven't come out or fully transitioned . I thought I'd have more time , I live in Oklahoma where there is certainly no healthcare or place for me here . I had 5 therapists quit on me and not understand me . I'm turning 20 soon and I'm terrified . I've hidden myself and my identity for as long as I can remember . I was 7 years old calling myself boy names and ' playing ' as a boy . I was 10 years old not understanding why I was having this huge crush on a boy and that it didn't feel normal , it felt queer . At that point I definitely knew I was queer I just didn't know in what way . I was 12 when I first heard and understood the word transgender and it felt right , it felt like I finally unlocked this piece . But I also knew I couldn't tell anyone ever in my real life , my family would never ever get it . I was 14 when I got my first binder and I heavily binded and ruined my ribs . I was 15 when I dropped out of high school , I couldn't take it anymore . I can't go into public without the huge fear of being perceived wrongly . I'm incredibly anti social and have been known to be reclusive . I've been trying to legally get my name changed for years now and my mother won't help me . Nobody can help me and I feel so stuck and sick in the head . I feel like I've been suffocating and yelling into a muffled void ever since I figured out that I'm a transgender gay man . Nobody hears me . Nobody will ever hear me ... I've had my moments of crying for help but it's not loud enough , I have no friends and never had a loving family , never had a support system and I'm so fucking scared that I will never get it at this point . I'll be 20 , still being that 13 year old who knew I was fucked when I realized . But I'm still who I am despite me repressing and not talking about it , I can't ever forget who I am , I just have to scream louder . We all have to scream louder and be prouder now . I know I'm not alone in this but I really am , I've locked myself in my room this entire week and I haven't talked to another person in months . I need help and I won't get it , especially now , I'm so hopeless and lonely . We've all got our experiences and this one is me , a tale of a boy who's locked himself in a tower and there'll be no one to find me . I love being gay and being proud about it within but there still is a part of me who fucking hates it and desperately wish it's just easier to be alive . I feel like a fraud .

[muffinninjafairy]

Life Update

Oh my goodness, to be quiet frank I have no idea when was the last time I have actually sat down and made a text post. I one day was going through my archives and everything that was going on in my personal life from over a decade ago and never really spoke about what happened to me from then to now... so I guess I will.

I've personally have been more active socially on discord, and more so been using my socials as platforms for my work, but I also remembered , this is my blog so I'm gonna blog. I have no clue how many people from all those years ago are still on here but if you are, I hope all is well.

TIME CAPSULE TIME~ (These are all summaries of the time minimizing details because of personal reasons) I guess I would say my activity started to become less and less as of like 2015 - 2016, Like I was on here, but mostly reblogging and running off. To put it in the frankest of terms, I was having a sever mental episodes during that time frame. With a lot of personal situations happening with my family and not being in a healthy environment to properly regulate my emotions nor the proper support system to help me with what I was going through.

On July 11th 2015 I was admitted to the hospital for a mental breakdown that caused me to be taken away via ambulance. There I was diagnosed with BPD and Bipolar 1 (manic depressive episodes) . The health care system where I came from was not at all great, my phycologist over medicated me to the point where I would have black out spells and seizers (then given medication for those seizers) . My family still then refused to support me and so I clung to what ever I could for validation. As a result of this I tried to become hyper independent.

Months after being released from the hospital I moved out of my house and with an old high school buddy and their partner. Then after I entered a long distance relationship. Which in toe turned very toxic very fast. But being blinded by my BPD, I stuck with it for 2.5 years.

In February of the next year I was kicked out of my roommates apartment because of my job being closed down and had no income. So I was forced to move back home with my father. In those years from 2016 - 2018 felt like my absolute rock bottom, I would have extended periods of time where I never left the house and hid in my room. In fear of the world around me. My relationship was not helping if not hurting me more and more. They did not care about me or what was going on, only what they wanted out of the relationship. My father was becoming more and more verbally abusive and felt that I deserved nothing. I did have a new job then too but it was a dead end job and was paying very little (8.25$ an hour when I left I was being paid 10$ an hour)

2018 comes around, this is where I feel things starting to change, I met my DnD Group (March 2018) at this time but because of the toxicity of my ex, they left me because I would no longer isolate myself and wanted friends. (May 2018) Time goes by, me and the DM of the DnD start becoming closer and start our relationship in Sept. 21, 2018.

2019 Comes by and I get hit with reality, I need help. My episodes were coming back and I was hurting those around me, So finally I pulled my boot straps and looked for professional help. Once I found the therapist for me, I started to improve, my relationship with my partner and my friends increased in strength. I was still having problems at home with my family, but came to the realization that if they didn't want to be part of my healing journey then they didn't need to.

2020 is here and me and my partner are becoming serious, to the point of planning our future together. we scrounged and saved until the end of the year where we finally had enough to move in together in a new state. I quit my dead end job, and sent my stuff across country.

In Febuary of 2021 I finally said goodbye to my home and my partner and I moved to their grandmothers home temporarily until we secured an apartment. Once we did we collected everything and with the moving truck we drove to our new home.

we have been here ever since and I could not be happier. I have had a stable job for 2 years now, I've also been promoted within the company, I can actually go out now with out having an anxiety attack, I have friends both online and IRL, I have been in a 5 year relationship and still striving for the future. I can finally be myself without having to hide away in a room for years. I can actually be independent. It took some time but I feel much more mentally healthy.

Long Story Short: For a very long time I was stunted by my environment and did not have tools properly to grow until one day I was allowed to. Now I'm doing much more positive things for myself and receiving the support I needed. I am loved and cared for. Life can get better. I am doing a lot better.

I honestly do not know how many people are still here that knew me during this time period . But I am alive, healthy, and being the best I can be.

I also don't know why I felt the need to explain my life, I guess reflecting from then to now. I guess I wanted to share my progression cause I am proud of who I am now. And if throwing it into this void and someone sees this. Hope this lets you know that things can get better.

Love you cuties Shaylee

[chen-chen-chen-again-chen]

22 things I did in 2022

1.) I read Carry On in August and it changed my life.

2.) I wrote a fuckton. More words than I ever expected to.

3.) I received so many beautiful gifts, from @dohrnaira (Mummers House; Jelly Babies - MTG; Jelly Babies - New Year!) and from @artsyunderstudy (Jelly Babies).

4.) I designed some t-shirts on Canvas.

5.) I ate a cake.

6.) I submitted a piece of creative non-fiction to an anthology. It got rejected, but I'm so glad that I let myself be vulnerable and actually submitted, instead of just being paralyzed by anxiety.

7.) I finished two fics that had been languishing since 2021 (They can only be carried and A tasting menu for cats).

8.) I got an awesome new therapist.

9.) I learned how to hold my mother when she cries.

10.) I took risks with my writing. I pushed myself out of my comfort zone, especially with The tears of Mummers House and Jelly Babies.

11.) I gained a lot more confidence in my ability to craft OCs that readers find compelling.

12.) I put together a bunch of care packages.

13.) I tried to write sincere letters and notes to go with those care packages, and not worry about getting things "right," but just putting my messy heart into the words.

14.) I went to a funeral for the first time since the pandemic started.

15.) I went to a wedding for the first time since the pandemic started.

16.) I made new friends (hi! hello!!).

17.) I spent time with old friends who I hadn't seen in years.

18.) I squished a lot of new babies.

19.) I ate a lot of delicious food.

20.) I tried edibles for the first time. Deffo a fan.

21.) This Christmas, I got see my beloved laugh and relax, and it was a gift.

22.) I was sick a lot, sad a lot, angry a lot. But I also laughed so much. There are so many good things to celebrate. ❤️❤️❤️

[screechthemighty]

Hello, People Who Read My Resident Evil Fanfics, I'm back!!!! (May be back even more over the next few months, tbh. I don't want to make any promises, but Dracula Daily is hyperfixation-adjacent and getting back into RE4 Remake is up next on my content roster, so who knows?) AO3 link will be in a reblog, but here's the next chapter of catch me floating circles in my fish bowl!

catch me floating circles in my fish bowl - part three:

May 2, 2021:

“Zoe’s fine. She’s shopping at the grocery store like normal, at least.” Carlos showed him a picture on his phone. It took Ethan a second to recognize her. Her hair was all white, and she looked less desperately thin than he remembered. She was buying chips and standing next to a brick wall of a man with a serious case of resting bitch face. He looked familiar, but not quite familiar.

“Joe Baker?” Ethan guessed. “Glad to see she’s still got some family left.” Especially family like Joe Baker. If Chris was right, the guy had punched his way through the site to get to Zoe. He’s probably the only person in this mess more unhinged than I am. And he meant that as a compliment. “Thank you again for this. I know it’s probably paranoid, but with everything going on…”

How was he to know that the BSAA hadn’t gone after her? She could be just as valuable a resource as Ethan.

Speaking of…

“Still nothing from the BSAA?”

“Not that I’ve heard. I feel like that’s not gonna change until you leave. They don’t have a cause to investigate Blue openly and I don’t think they’d suspect Chris of bringing you here, so…” Carlos shrugged. “They’re probably keeping a closer eye on Terra Save. You have physical therapy today?”

Ethan’s mood soured instantly. “No,” he admitted. “I mean, I was supposed to, but I fell last time and they’re worried I fucked up my ankle, so we didn’t do much.” He hoped he didn’t look too petulant. “I know, if I hurt myself it could slow my healing down, I need to be careful…”

“Don’t forget it’s a miracle you’re walking at all,” Carlos pointed out. “You should still be bedridden.”

“Technically, I should be dead, but I get your point. Still, it’s just…”

Frustrating. It was all so damn frustrating. His self-appointed deadline was this month. He didn’t need to run a marathon or anything. He just wanted to walk on his own. Any patience he might’ve had for his body and its shortcomings had gone out the window now that the novelty of being alive had worn off.

“...to be clear, I’m asked this as a concerned friend, not as the guy responsible for you, but…they’ve got you seeing a therapist, right?” Carlos said. “Like…for your brain.”

“Yeah, they have,” Ethan said. “We’re still working on Dulvey. Turns out, almost being murdered under extreme bullshit circumstances is even more traumatic than just almost being murdered. Who would’ve thought?”

Carlos wince-laughed in a way that said he knew exactly what Ethan meant. “At least your guy has probably heard it all by now,” he said. “We didn’t have that when I was going.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I think the chainsaw scissors threw him off.”

“...the fucking what?”

Ethan probably shouldn’t have found that funny, but honestly? It was a little hilarious that he could one-up Carlos in the weirdness department.

Just a little.

.

Mia had been avoiding her therapist.

She knew, objectively, that avoiding her therapist probably looked worse than anything she could have actually said in therapy. She knew that whatever she said would stay in that room, that even her criminal past was safe to talk about. She knew this could be helpful, that it might let her sort out her thought spirals and fears and her increasing discomfort with being around Ethan.

But she couldn’t bring herself to go. Going meant actually admitting to everything–to all these dark thoughts, to all the shit she’d done. The thought of saying it out loud and having another person hear made her physically sick.

But she couldn’t stay away forever, so she finally went, with the intention of appearing as put-together and fine as possible.

She failed within five minutes.

“So, you’re concerned that Ethan is pushing himself too hard,” her therapist said. Doctor Reid was a no-nonsense sort of woman, the kind who cut right to the chase. It probably made her a great therapist, but these days, it mostly made Mia want to kill her.

“Ethan’s…” Mia tried to think of how best to phrase it. “...selfless to a fault. I don’t want him thinking about me right now. He should be focused on himself.”

Dr. Reid nodded and wrote something down. “Am I correct in assuming you’ve had this argument before?”

Mia tried to stay calm. It was difficult when visions of every argument they had since Mia learned she was pregnant started dancing through her mind.

We matter, Ethan! You matter! He’d been so caught up in protecting Rose, even before she was born. She’d known the lengths Ethan had gone to protect her. Known that he would go just as far for Rose, if not further. It was part of the reason she’d been so afraid to tell him what the mold had done to them. If he’d come to the same conclusions they had–that the BSAA had been deliberately negligent to unknown ends–who knew what he might have done?

The sound of pen against paper drew her out of her racing thoughts. Dr. Reid must have taken her silence as an answer. “Have you discussed this with him at all?”

Mia forced her voice to stay flat. “I’ve told him it’s okay to recover at his own pace,” she said. “He knows that we’re safe.”

“Maybe, but there’s more to the conversation than that, I think.” Dr. Reid put her pen down. “Are you frightened of what your husband might do?”

Damn this woman. “Why would I be? He protects us.”

“And he nearly died doing so, twice. That’s difficult to discuss. Objectively, he’s not wrong. Protecting those you care about is noble. But the survivor’s guilt you would’ve felt…” She picked back up her pen. “...and the guilt I’m sure you feel now are still very real. It could be easy for him to forget that.”

Mia felt her jaw go tense. “It’s not about that.”

“What is it about?’

“It’s my fault…”

Damn it. Damn it. Doctor Reid knew about the Connections, of course she did, but that didn’t mean Mia had to bring it up.

Doctor Reid glanced up. “You blame yourself,” she said finally, “because you think your time with the Connections is the reason Ethan ended up the way he did?”

The plan was not to reply, but Doctor Reid just sat there, waiting for an answer. Screw it. If this woman wanted an answer, she’d get her damn answer.

“I don’t think. I know. If I hadn’t been working for the Connections, I never would’ve ended up in Dulvey and he wouldn’t have had to save me. That’s where he got infected. That’s where the Rose got infected.”

“And if the BSAA had been honest, Ethan would’ve been cured, or his condition would have been managed,” Doctor Reid pointed out. “Maybe if they’d been honest, you two would have chosen not to have children. If Mirand had left you alone, or never learned about you, Ethan wouldn’t have had to save you a second time. Yes, your actions were one of the dominoes, but they were also just that. One of the dominoes. Why do you think you should shoulder all the blame?” Doctor Reid paused. “Why do you think Ethan thinks you should shoulder all the blame?”

“I don’t think that. I…”

She didn’t know. And that was really the worst part. So much of her was convinced that he wouldn’t blame her, which was bad in its own way. But the anxiety, the guilt, had her convinced that he would. There was no version of the story where this ended well.

“If I may,” Doctor Reid said. “You worry about Ethan pushing himself too hard and you worry about him getting into danger again. I assume this worry is compounded by the fact that you blame yourself for everything that’s happened, which in turn makes you feel that you’re not worthy of that protection. These are very strong emotions that are going to impact your interactions with Ethan, especially since you’ve had these disagreements before. Do you think I’m wrong?”

“...no.” It was a miracle it hadn’t impacted things already–or, at least, that it hadn’t in such a strong way that Ethan had noticed and started asking questions.

“Have you tried communicating with him about what’s been bothering you? You said Ethan had been keen to talk in the past. Perhaps if you had some mediation…”

“You offer couple’s counseling, too?”

“Actually, I’d find a third party, but we do have those.”

Of course they did. Nothing like a viral outbreak to put a strain on a marriage, right? Mia nearly burst out laughing at the thought, but managed to keep it together. Barely.

“I’ll think about it,” Mia said.

And she would. She just had a feeling she already knew what her answer was going to be.

.

May 5, 2021:

“You’ve got to be absolutely shitting me.”

Credit to everyone in the room: they were really doing their best not to laugh, or were treating it just as seriously as Ethan felt. Because he was taking this seriously. Because it was bullshit.

“Everything I’ve been through,” he said, staring down the cold compress on his arm, “all of that bullshit. And I’m still…” The only thing that kept him from swearing was Rose being in the room, staring him down with a slightly concerned look. “...I’m still allergic to bees?!”

“It would seem so, yes,” Doctor Marshall said calmly. “Do you want to hear something reassuring?”

“There’s something reassuring about this situation?”

“Your body is having a normal reaction to the sting. Not an exaggerated one, and it hasn’t triggered anything else in your healing. That’s a good sign.”

Damn it, he had a point. “I guess,” Ethan grumbled. Then, “Bees?!”

Jill finally broke the no-laughing rule with a barely muffled snort. “Sorry…” Her pale blue eyes were lit up with amusement as she tried not to make eye contact. “...no, it sucks, it really does…”

That probably should’ve pissed him off more, but…okay, yeah, it was funny-not-funny now that someone was laughing. Ethan deflated a bit, a bemused sigh escaping past his lips. “Just please don’t tell my wife,” he said. “She worries about me enough as it is. You’re telling her I’m fine, right?”

“I’m giving Mia medically accurate information,” Doctor Marshall said. “Unless you want to withdraw her as your-”

“No, no, it’s…” Great, that just means that either she’s misreading the information Marshall’s giving her or the results are worse than I realized. He wasn’t sure he liked either option. “It’s fine,” Ethan said. He peeked under the cold compress again. “Does the medically accurate information include that this bee sting isn’t gonna kill me?”

Ethan thought he felt a shift in Jill’s mood after that comment. That feeling was confirmed as she wheeled him out. “Everything okay with you two?” she asked. “I don’t want to be nosy, I just know this kind of thing puts a strain on…everything.”

“It’s…” Ethan sighed. “Complicated. Conflicting support needs, I think.” That was what his therapist had said when Ethan tried to describe the disconnect between how they’d handled Dulvey. Ethan wanted to talk. Mia wanted to forget. Neither was wrong, necessarily, but it did contribute to why they’d been butting heads on and off before the village. They hadn’t started couples therapy yet. Ethan wondered sometimes if they should move that up the list.

I basically died on her. That can’t be good for her mental health.

“That’s always tough,” Jill said. She had that tone, the one that said she and Carlos had been through the same thing. That was so weird to think about. They seemed rock solid, the two of them. Then again, they’d been together for a while, and lived through a lot during that time. Nothing like practice to improve your communication skills. “The give and take of it all. You’ve got to be supportive without giving up your own needs.”

“And hers,” Ethan added, tilting his head towards Rose as she grabbed at his coat collar. That was definitely a complicating factor. “I keep trying to tell myself that all couples have these problems, but…they don’t. You can say it’s the same thing, but it’s not.” Maybe that wasn’t fair, maybe he was playing the trauma Olympics, but he’d kill for regular problems. He’d kill for so many of their problems to not be tied up in dumbass crime syndicates and undead werewolves and potentially world-ending bullshit. If he could swap places with the Ethan who’d lost an arm to a car accident, he’d do it in a heartbeat. Zero hesitation.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Jill said. “I think that’s why I was never able to make normal friends. Almost everything feels minor compared to…” She gestured vaguely. “...everything.”

Everything was a pretty good summary of things. And that really summed up how shitty things were for the both of them. “How did you two make it through things?” Ethan asked. “I mean, if you’re okay with sharing.”

“Couples’ therapy,” Jill said without hesitation. “It helped with everything. Even the mundane stuff. And we talk to each other, as much as we can. It used to be a monthly thing when we were active duty. There was a lot happening and we wanted to make sure we had the time.”

That made sense, but it didn’t make Ethan feel any better. How were they supposed to do this when Mia still didn’t want to talk? He couldn’t force her. He’d tried, if he was being honest. It had only made things worse.

How much longer could they just let things stew again?

.

May 15, 2021:

Apparently, at least another week and a half.

Maybe the mounting anxiety had been a warning.

She’d known from the second she opened her eyes that today was going to test her. Mia hated to blame Ethan, because it wasn’t entirely him. She’d been slipping towards a shitty day for a long time.

But opening her eyes to see Ethan standing upright didn’t help.

“What are you doing?” Mia yelped.

Ethan nearly fell over. Fortunately, he’d been clinging to a chair to support him; it was the only thing that kept him falling down. “Shit!” he yelped back. Then, quietly, “Shh!”

Mia’s gaze darted guiltily to Rose. Fortunately, she was still fast asleep. “What are you doing?!” Mia hissed once she was sure her baby hadn’t woken up.

“I was cold,” Ethan replied. “I wanted a sweater.”

“I could have gotten one for you.”

“You were finally sleeping, I didn’t want to wake you up.”

“What do you -” Mia took a deep breath. “Please sit down. I will get you a sweater.”

Ethan nearly protested. She could see it in the way that his shoulders went tense and his eyes met hers directly. But just as suddenly, he looked away, his shoulders slumping, as he sat down. Crisis averted, she allowed herself to think as she got up to get him a sweater.

That was stupid of her to think. She knew Ethan better than that. She should’ve known. Ethan only stayed quiet for as long as it took to get him the sweater. But once he was holding it…

“I don’t want to do this again,” he said.

Oh, no. “Do…what…?”

“It’s just…” Ethan sighed and rubbed his eyes. His fingers seemed to linger over the scar tissue across his nose. “Back in Europe, it felt like every little thing was an argument. But we never really got at why we were fighting. I don’t want to keep doing that.” He met her eyes again. “It doesn’t feel like you’ve been sleeping well. I haven’t always, either, and sometimes when I wake up in the night or when Rose wakes up, I can hear you…moving around, talking in your sleep. Like how you did after Dulvey. I can walk short distances and you looked peaceful, so I didn’t want to disturb you. You’re dealing with enough without adding sleep deprivation on top of that. I’m worried about you.”

She’d heard those four words so many times. She was starting to get sick of them. “I get that, I do, but you have…” Mia took a deep breath. “You have to start worrying about yourself. Ethan, you died a few months ago. If you get hurt again, if you’d fallen and hit your head…I have enough to worry about without worrying about you doing something stupid, okay?”

She knew, immediately, how harsh she’d sounded. It was starting to remind her too much of the argument they’d had that day in Europe…the one that had nearly been their last argument. Mia rubbed her eyes, hoping that she wasn’t about to start crying. “Please.”

“Okay, okay. No more walking without someone watching me,” Ethan said soothingly. His one hand reached out to rest on her knee. Even with the sweater sleeve covering it, she could vividly see the scar on his forearm. “Stressed about what, honey?”

About the fact that I almost got you killed. That they have to run tests on our daughter and it’s my fault. That you’ll find out the truth and nothing will be the same ever again. That nothing is the same already.

“Don’t do that,” Mia said out loud instead. “Please. You can’t fix everything, Ethan.”

“I’m not…you can talk to me, Mia. I’ll listen. No problem-solving, promise.”

She wasn’t sure she believed him. And even if she did, she couldn’t make herself say the words. “It’s…this whole situation,” she said finally. Not a lie, but nowhere near the truth. “It’s this whole situation.”

She was dodging. From the way Ethan looked at her, he knew she was dodging. She expected him to call her out on it. He always had before. Instead, he just looked sad. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “Yeah, baby, I know.”

He hugged her carefully. Mia was able to embrace him back, but she hesitated at first, the surge of guilt getting the better of her.

She knew Ethan had felt that, too, but he still didn’t say anything.

.

If his problems had a face, Ethan would have shot them by now.

He guessed Ethan could say his problems had some physical form: his bones, his muscles, the injuries and scar tissue that had hobbled him, the mold that had merged with his cells and turned him into something not quite human. But he couldn’t exactly punch himself in the face. Multiple BOWs had already done that for him, and look where that had gotten him.

He could still be mad at himself, though. Either his body had betrayed him forever and this was just his life now, or he wasn’t trying hard enough. One of those answers was easier to accept than the other one.

Unfortunately, accepting the latter only made the moment that he ended up face-down on the floor in the middle of PT all the more painful.

“FUCK!” Ethan shouted as he flopped onto his back. He wasn’t bleeding, but he’d hit his face pretty hard. “Son of a bitch!”

“Easy…” His therapist helped him carefully sit upright. Tom was usually a pretty chill guy, and usually had the decency to not visibly worry so much when things went wrong. This time he looked worried. “Did you hit the bar on the way down?”

“I didn’t hit the fucking bar. Shit.” Ethan looked around instinctively. He knew Rose wasn’t there, but he couldn’t help double checking. He tried really hard not to swear in front of her. He was just so…

Ethan carefully touched under his nose, checking for blood. There wasn’t anything that he noticed, but he knew what was coming next. “Let me guess, this is the part where we take a break for the day? We’re done?”

The words came out in a snap. Tom didn’t take it personally; the worst part was, Ethan was so pissed, he only felt a little guilty for being a dick about it. He felt even less guilty when he was informed that this was, in fact, it for the day.

At least he could wheel himself around the facility now. It meant he didn’t have an audience for his frustration.

Ethan probably should’ve gone back to his room and lay down. The session had been draining as it was, and he was kind of sore from that landing. But he went down to the ground level and right out the front door. No one tried to stop him, thank God. They probably figured he couldn’t go very far.

He went further than he had before, right out the front door and out into the parking lot, all the way to the far edge. There was just a field out there, and a barbed-wire topped fence. Somewhere on the other side of that was the rest of the world.

A world that he might never get to be a part of again.

Ethan took a deep breath and screamed. It was wordless at first, but quickly devolved into a rapid-fire barrage of every swear word he knew. They could probably hear him inside, but he didn’t care. What were they gonna do? Force him back inside? Revoke his wheelchair privileges? It wasn’t like his day could get any worse.

Eventually his voice gave out. He sat in silence, just him, the midday sun, and the random cars. The sound of approaching boots broke that silence eventually. Ethan didn’t have to glance over his shoulder to guess who it was. There were only three people he knew who wore boots regularly, and one of them was out of the country again. “I can’t go back in there,” he said dully.

“Wasn’t going to make you,” said Jill. “So, how’s a parking lot for a mental breakdown space? I haven’t tried that one yet.”

Points to her, the comment did get a laugh out of him. It wasn’t the sanest sounding laugh, but it was something. “It’s, uhm…” Ethan tried to wipe some of the tears off his face. “...better than a bathroom, I guess. Air quality’s nicer.”

“Yeah, bathrooms are like a bottom three pick.” She sat down in the grass, in his line of sight but off to the left. Her white-blond hair caught the sunlight, contrasting it more sharply against the black hoodie she was wearing. It looked a few sizes too big–one of Carlos’s, maybe. “You want to talk about it?”

He did. Keeping it bottled up was killing him, and maybe Jill would actually understand what was going on here. But for a long time, the words didn’t come. He just stared down at his one remaining hand. It had been working fine lately–grip strength almost back to normal, no more freezing up at random, sensation much better. Why couldn’t everything go that smoothly? Why did this have to be so hard?

Hadn’t they all been through enough?

“...Mia and I’s anniversary is this month,” he said. “Ten years.”

“Ten years? With two disasters in the middle of that? Shit, that’s not bad.” Jill sounded genuinely impressed. “I’m guessing you wanted to get out of here before that?”

“No, not even that. I can handle being here if we really have to.” They were safe here, at least, and safe was all he could really hope for. “I just…I was just hoping I’d be walking more by then. I wanted her to see that I’m okay. And don’t give me the whole oh, you should be dead, who cares if you’re not walking yet speech. I care. I can’t…” He rubbed at his eyes desperately. “It’s not enough. I thought even a few steps would do it, but I can just feel her pulling away and she’s so focused on being worried about me that she’s not thinking about anything else and I can’t…I can’t see her like that. I can’t live through that again.”

He was bracing himself for more questions; what he got instead was a slightly bitter, huffing laugh. A sound of recognition. “Fuck, yeah. Been there.”

Ethan lifted his head. “Seriously?”

“Chris didn’t tell you? I was MIA presumed dead for three years.”

Chris had definitely not mentioned that. “Chris doesn’t really talk much about his BSAA days. Was this before you left?”

“Yeah. One of my last missions with the old crew, actually. It’s a long story, but Carlos was…” She sighed. “...he kept it together for me. And I appreciated that, I really did, but I knew it wasn’t going to last forever. It was just a matter of when.” She started rubbing her sternum as she spoke. Ethan saw her do that sometimes. “Worst part was, I knew that. I just had no way of knowing what would finally do it. It was just the one time, thank God. We were able to talk about it after that.”

“So what you’re saying is that she might have to break more before we can fix it?”

“No.” Jill hesitated. “I mean, that’s not wrong, but that’s not what I’m saying. What I’m saying is that what you’re going through isn’t abnormal. I don’t know if I can fix what’s going on with Mia, and I don’t think you can, either. She has to figure that out for herself, like Carlos did. But you know what kept me sane when everything went to shit?” She made direct eye contact with him then. She had such an intense gaze, her pale blue eyes seeming to stare right through Ethan’s skull. “You’ve gotta lower your expectations, man. I know that you want everything back to normal, trust me, I get that, but that went out the window three years ago. I’ve lived it twice. It sucks, every time, but if you try to force it, you’re just going to hurt yourself worse. Physically and mentally.”

Ethan forced his gaze away from her. It was stupid, all things considered, but he didn’t want her to see the tears starting to form in his eyes. “This sucks,” he said finally.

“Yeah, I know. It’s not fair. I wish it were. But you can make it work. It’s possible. And believe me when I say…she’s just happy you’re still here.”

Ethan didn’t doubt that. He just wasn’t always sure it was enough.

Maybe he was wrong about that.

.

“Mrs. Winters?”

Mia’s head snapped back up. Doctor Marshal was staring at her with a worried look. “Sorry,” she said. She rubbed her eyes. “I just missed that last part…were we talking about skin samples?”

“Yes, but they’re optional, and more for Ethan’s benefit. How is he, by the way?”

Mia wasn’t sure how to answer that. The conversation from that morning was still dancing through her head. The wounded look on Ethan’s face was burned into her eyelids. “He’s…still a little stir-crazy,” she admitted. “Nothing we can’t handle, I don’t think.”

“That’s understandable. How about you? How are you doing?”

Mia wasn’t sure how to answer that. She wasn’t sure she could lie, not when she had zoned out in the middle of the conversation. There was so much going on, so many things she didn’t have a handle on. “...can I ask you something personal?” Mia said finally.

“Go ahead.”

“How did you get past your old job? How do you…ever make up for something like that? After everything that happened…” Doctor Marshal’s face changed quickly, growing more closed-off than she’d ever seen the doctor. Damn it. “...I mean, I don’t know how much you were involved…”

“Bioweapons development and research,” Marshal said. “So, yes, I was involved. Not directly in Racoon City, I was never assigned there, but…only a few degrees of separation between my department and theirs. I’m sure members of the Nemesis team used my research.”

Oh. They had more in common than she’d realized. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“Don’t be. It’s a valid question.” Marshal sighed heavily. “Honestly, it took a lot of time. Joining Blue Umbrella helped. Actions feel more like atonement than words. But I had to accept at some point that I could be as sorry as I wanted, but I couldn’t change the past. Even trying to act like the past didn’t happen kept me stuck there. I wasted so much time trying to figure out how to dance around it that I may as well have been stuck in my room, blaming myself. I had to face it, admit it, figure out what I could do instead now, and move on. I still feel guilty now, but I’m not drowning in it anymore. It’s just a feeling. Usually a productive one.”

The difference between guilt and shame. Her therapist had brought it up. Mia was really starting to hate how much the woman was right about things.

“Not everyone is going to forgive us,” Marshall added. “That’s within their rights. That shouldn’t stop us from trying.”

“...yeah.”

They dropped the subject after that, but it stayed with her. It took up so much of her mental space that she almost forgot…

“You’re doing really good,” Carlos said suddenly.

…she’d had an extra set of ears in the hallway the whole time, looking after Rose.

“What?”

“At…all of this. Considering.” Carlos cleared his throat awkwardly. “Just in case no one’s told you that.”

Carlos was an easy man to read. He reminded her of Ethan that way. She could tell he meant it. That didn’t do enough to ease the sudden dread in her chest. “How much did you…?”

“Nothing I won’t have forgotten by the end of the day,” Carlos said. “I’m great at keeping secrets. I can’t retain shit.”

That sounded sincere, too, and just self-mocking enough to get her guard back down. “That’s…”

Goot to know was what she wanted to say. It got stuck in her throat. She was barely able to hold back the alternative response.

I’m scared.

But Carlos seemed to understand anyway. He reached out carefully, only resting his hand on her shoulder when she didn’t move away. He had a reassuring grip, what she’d imagine a touch from a cool older brother or a non-shitty father would feel like. “Is there anything I can help with?” he asked.

“...no,” Mia whispered. The dread was back, joined by a heavier sense of resignation. “No. I have to do this myself.”

Deep down, she’d known it was inevitable. In fact, it was long past overdue. No matter what the outcome…

She owed Ethan the truth.

She wouldn’t be able to fix this until she’d told him.

[tales-of-cerano]

As 2022 comes to a close I'm starting to look back and reflect on the past few years, something I haven't really done much in the past. Now I will for anyone who is willing to listen. You don't know me, I probably don't know you very well, but I invite you to do the same.

2020: The Year of Pain

An edgy start I know but a lot happened in this year. Fear in many flavors, opportunities closed, regression we're all themes of the year. For me personally nothing terribly tragic happened. I most likely had COVID and gave it to my whole studio in the beginning of January before I even heard of it (parents friends who had a business trip to china got a weird illness and it just worked it's way as it does). A hiring freeze locked me out of an opportunity with a university conservatory that I was extremely excited for. I felt lonely without my friends. Besides COVID I was consistently stressed about future graduation and career choices. It's a year that went so slow yet now I forget most of it.

2021: The Year of Transition

I went through 3 major transitions in my life during this year: graduated college, started a salaried job, socially and medically transitioned. Way more than I expected and probably more than I could handle. It's weird now that I think about it how much actually happened. The imposter syndrome took a lot of the good out of those accomplishments at the time but now I am starting to see it. I also will flex here because it wasn't really recognized but I was valedictorian of my college. My class rank was 1 out of not just the major/department I was in but also the entirety of the NCState class of 2021. Like 1/6000 people. I don't tell that to anyone really cuz I don't want to be a bragging asshole but I worked really hard for it so I'll flex in front of internet strangers who don't know me.

2022: The Year of Change

Not a lot of "things" happened this year like last year but I finally had enough time to actually sit down and reflect on things because of things slowing down a bit. I worked with a therapist for a few sessions. I started listening to Healthy gamer gg stuff and started thinking about my mental health as something that was a part of me rather than something to solve. My outlook changed. I can safely say that I am 1000% better with being comfortable with myself than I was before. Anxiety attacks over things went from being dissociative and lasting for weeks to being something manageable. It's nothing I ever thought would ever happen. I think the biggest thing that kick-started my change was to give things the benefit of the doubt and try them. I used to fight meditation saying it was something that wouldn't work for me cuz I'm too in my head until I just said you know what let's try. What's gonna happen it won't work and I waste an hour. So I did and now its one of the most influential things of my life.

2023: The Year of Forgiveness

This upcoming year I'd like to focus on letting myself live with mistakes I've made in the past and let go of some deep shame I have. I was dumb and while I never did anything like commit a violent crime against anyone I still feel like I caused a lot of emotional damage like bullying people in middle school and being critical to my friends. It's all stuff that I've either worked though, became aware, and changed. Of course I don't want to just toss it aside like it didn't happen but I want to recognize that while it was something I did it's also something that I can forgive myself for and move past as a better person.

This might change and who knows it might be another year of pain. Could be anything tbh. I'm open to it.

I wish anyone who reads this an insightful new year. Thinking and analyzing the past can be helpful to some. Tho if you have issues with deep and intense trauma I recommend you talk to professionals first. Exploring the past can cause things I think and make things worse when there is trauma.

[hi-chae]

The Sorority Logs - #1 The Beginning

hello! we're the sorority! you may know me from @the-sorority-system and our syscourse posts but here is our more casual blog.

the details of this log will be our diagnosis journey, our thoughts on how therapy is going, and more. we need a healthy way to put these thoughts out. whether or not we're a disordered system will be determined in the future and will be in the contents of this log but we find this log to be important anyways. If I am disordered, cool, this will be a great way to detail our journey. If I'm not, this will help questioning systems figure certain things out.

DISCLAIMER: THIS IS ALL FROM MY PERSONAL EXPERIENCE FROM THE STATE I AM IN WITHIN THE U.S. DO NOT see this log as a checklist of everything you need to do to get referrals / diagnosed. This is all within my personal experience and yours will be different. There is also a general content warning for doubting your system. is disclaimer will be put on the beginning of all of my posts.

The journey will be long... let's start

it all starts in... god i don't even know where the proper start is. was it in summer of 2022, where i had a mental breakdown so bad that lutz came in and took care of me? was it in summer of 2021, where i discovered the endogenic community and finally felt heard? only for that to be ripped from me in that same winter? or was it sometime in middle school, where i was "faking" DID because i thought it was cool but my members were never anime characters and i felt something physically change when i was them?

the answer is: i dont know. maybe it started in childhood when i made up a best friend named rachel or maybe it was far from that. i dont know. and im scared to know but also im excited to find out.

i live in an area where information about DID isnt exactly up to date. according to more experiences systems, not a lot of therapists know how to recognize it. and not a lot of therapists in general specialize in DID.

but im getting tested anyways. and im incredibly lucky to do so. because i got a referral to get a psych eval and im getting follow up tests in March. that should be exciting right? it is but... i dont want to be told my problems arent serious and they arent what i think they are and that the way i view myself is wrong. i feel like a lot of our identity focuses on how our brain works and its... terrible. i wish i could accept everything i was told i am but theres something deep inside of me who knows what i or we are.

no more thoughts. lets get some dates down.

end of November

i get my psych eval done. i dissociate the whole time while he asks me and my mom questions about my mental health. i think he notices this because he wants testing done on my dissociation. i feel relieved but also terrified. mostly because of my insurance.

DEC 13TH, 2022

in therapy, a protected little comes out with our permission. she cries and cries and babbles baby talk. our therapist can see our hurt and wants her to know she's doing a good job. but something feels... off. he refers to them as our core and talks about how she's actually a big kid who isn't who she actually is. she knows this isn't true. she cries anyways. she trusts him. thats a relief. but something still feels wrong. she continues therapy groups, still sensitive, still small, until we leave for the night, where one of us forces her to go back (she did a really good job). we process whats happened. it feels wrong, feels gross. we cant put a finger on it other than that we feel invalidated somehow. to some people we went to about how we werent who we thought we were. they comfort and reassure us. our biggest worry was that he didnt believe us but if he didnt believe us, he wouldnt have brought out that little. his information is just a little outdated, go figure. they suggest we go to him the next day to ask him to do more modern techniques

DEC 14tth, 2022

we ask him to go for more modern techniques and he said we would talk about it in our next session. we straight up ask him if he thinks we have a dissociation disorder and he says he doesnt think i do. he thinks i have very separated "protective parts of myself". it sends me into a panic. i ask a few people if they know if most therapists know how to recognize DID, because something felt off again. not a lot do, the more experienced system says. they press more and analyze that it seems like he knows he's out of his area of expertise and that his info is just really outdated due to the fact that DID used to be seen as MPD and there was a time where MPD was seen as "needing the inner child to be healed" (it also wasnt considered a dissociative disorder). that somewhat reassures me. what reassures me the most is hearing how if hes accepting of the idea to talk about it next session, he's willing and encouraging of it. if he avoids the topic, he's likely doubtful. more than anything, i want my experiences to be believed. im glad he believes me. and im glad i can believe that he believes me.

that leaves me with today, awaiting the next session. if im honest, im scared but hopeful. logically, i know i wont be invalidated in my feelings. his heart is in the right place and he wants to help and understand and believe in me. im nervous and he can sense that but i know whatever im going through, he's willing to put in the effort to see who the sorority system is.

[likeabxrdinflight]

The past several years I've been doing this thing around new years where I reflect on the past year and try to characterize it with a single word. I've been doing this since 2017 (going into 2018) and I kinda want to consolidate those into one post here, just for fun I guess.

2017 was uncertainty. This was the year I finished my master's degree, I moved back with my parents, and I applied to PhD programs. I didn't know where I was going to be when 2017 ended, and I didn't know what 2018 was going to bring.

2018 was change. This was the year I got accepted to my program and moved from small town midwest to New York City, so. I think that kinda goes without saying.

2019 was settling. There was a lot of personal growth this year, but really it was more about settling into my program, into myself as a therapist, and into my new life in New York.

2020 was trauma, particularly collective trauma. You know why.

2021 was readjustment. The lockdowns ended, vaccines became available, life restarted but it wasn't the same. We all had to readjust ourselves to the new post-covid world, and come to terms with the fact that there was no going back the world of before. This year was about finding a new normal rather than longing for the old one.

And 2022, I think, was processing. Partly processing the past two years of the pandemic and its effect on me, my patients, and my family and friends. But also processing some older traumas that got re-awakened in light of learning some new information from a trusted source who was there at the time. I've been trying to re-orient myself to this new understanding of...really the last 20 years of my life, in some ways. It's a lot to process, and I'm certainly not finished doing that work moving into 2023. But it absolutely characterized 2022, particularly the back half of it, so. I think that's the word for this year.

[kellyrisher]

I met someone, and she made me feel something.

I should probably explain why it feels so monumental. You see, I haven't felt butterflies in my stomach for, well, over a decade.

I met the birth mother of my child, and her presence swept me off my feet. I was in the closet back then, navigating the world as a "straight male" (hold on while I vom a little). We were gonna get married. We intentionally had a child. Then everything went to hell, you know? There were a whole lot of internal influences from both of us, the kind of oil and water stuff that looks pretty but never really mixes. There was a big external catalyst, sort of like a match that revealed not only that this oil and water was really gasoline and arsenic, but ignited it as well.

That's why I'm a single mom. It's worth saying, we are good friends now, and do shared parenting. It's very healthy, which is good.

Regardless, I was in a vulnerable place when it all fell apart, and I found myself targeted by a narcissist. I didn't feel butterflies in my stomach then... I just felt safe and wanted, which was everything my broken soul wanted. It turned on me, and left me bloody and assaulted, in every way. I had to escape one day, literally with the clothes on my back and my car keys. In the blink of an eye, I became homeless.

I turned to cocaine. I became more of a mess than ever before. I ended up in the hospital, scared clean as it were. I rawdogged PTSD for a couple of years before getting into therapy. I began to explore my gender and sexual identities, coming out quietly as a nonbinary pansexual person.

I yearned for a healthy partnership. All I had were one night stands or booze addled late night wastes of time. I now understand the futility of it all, but it was, oh, five years ago when a healthy and safe person pursued me, and I chose her.

I didn't feel butterflies in my stomach that time either. I just felt safe, and once again, that's all I wanted. Safety. Only this time I knew what red flags to look for, and I didn't find any with her. We were together for about two years, through the COVID lockdown and everything. But, the closer I came to coming out as a transgender lesbian, the more insular and withdrawn I became. I didn't tell her what I was discovering about myself. I didn't tell anyone, not even my therapist, not really.

Fast forward a bit, and I came out, April 7, 2021. A lifetime's worth of yearning and confusion, suddenly made clear, the dead parts put to rest. It was good.

The thing they don't tell you about transition is how you're going to relive everything, all over again, and very quickly.

Romance has... not been easy. I am 45 years old now, and this may come across as a bit harsh, but I don't think the elder millennial and gen-x lesbians really get me. I'm welcomed in their spaces, but, I hear the way they talk about men and, let me just say, it's exclusionary to me on a deep, intrinsic level. I get it. I know the world they grew up in, because I grew up in it too.

The twenty-something's get me. You know? Gen-Z and all that. To them, a trans person is just a woman. I'm a woman. I'm a lesbian. Body parts be damned, because they have less of that misogynistic baggage from the 80's and 90's bouncing around their heads. They were kids when Obama was elected.

I don't look my age. I pass for 26, maybe 27, or so I'm told. But I feel my age. I feel it in my bones, I feel it in my chest. I feel it when I look in the mirror and see the way age has made me, well, fatter. I look at them and I see the youthful slenderness that I had at that age. I know; body positivity and all that. Remember, I grew up in the 80s. It'll be a long time, if ever, before I break that horrible worldview.

Suffice it to say, I haven't had the best self image. I can look at my face and my hair, my skin, and I see beauty. I see femininity. Then I look at my middle part and I see... undesirable. Masculine. Gross.

I carry this with me. The twenty-something's are the ones who hit on me. Probably a combination of my youthful looks and their lack of internalized transphobia. And I tried it once. I dated someone in their late twenties. It wasn't going to work. We are just... far too dissimilar.

I gave up on feelings. I gave up on ever having a crush. I gave up on butterflies in my stomach.

And then I met this woman. She's trans like me. She passes, like me. She was the most beautiful woman in the room, and she thought I was the most beautiful woman in the room. And we've talked every day since. It hasn't even been a week.

And I'm feeling butterflies in my stomach.

And yet - she's young. Twenties. Or at least she looks that way. I don't want to ask. But she thought I was 26. Maybe by some stroke of luck she suffers from the same thing I do? Maybe she's older, closer in age like me. The conversation would certainly suggest such a thing.

And yet, I can feel myself beginning to do that toxic thing to myself, where I wall myself off, to protect myself. It's easier not to feel. Sure, you're miserable, lonely, touch starved and bitter... but at least you're in control of your pain. You don't let someone else hurt you. You don't let someone else's age, or relationship dynamics, or sexual identity hurt you.

We've flirted. I asked her to get coffee. She said yes. Now it's on me to set a date. And I will. I promise. There's no harm in that.

Maybe there's an age gap. That's common in queer relationships, after all. Smaller pond and all of that. But I can already feel myself leaning into self sabotage. I learned that I still have the capacity to feel butterflies. That's good, right? Maybe that's enough. Maybe I don't need to run the risk of disrupting my beautiful castle of self-imposed misery; because while it harms me, it's a harm I know, a harm I've acclimated to, a harm that may be slowly killing me, but it's better than the alternative.

Right?