#things I learned in therapy

[performing-personhood]

I learned a kind of funny thing and I need to tell you bc it's important, cmere. Lean in so the others can't hear okay?

Ok so like

I know that the reason we are the way we are is because at some point we took up some space - as people do - and someone turned to us and went "whoa, excuse you! What do you think you're doing" or something, right? And they were, like, surprised and offended that we took up space and told us to stay real small and subservient? And we were pretty young, you and me, and we didn't really grok Peopling yet and so we assumed that everyone else was going to have that expectation too?

Okay I just learned: that isn't true at all, that person was just an asshole.

Babe. BABE. This is big.

Ok do you realize ??? that most people when they're around someone - anyone, this is important, it's an unconscious reflex and happens rather automatically - and that person is like "I have an opinion and desires and also some needs and I am going to express them openly" Did you realize, because I didn't, that most people completely intuitively go "oh! There's another person here! Lemme just scootch over so they fit better :)" PEOPLE MAKE ROOM FOR YOU.

People don't ignore us, when we're silently having wants and needs and waiting our turn to be noticed, they just have similar very loud brains and have no idea because beung corporeal is Distracting™️. Not only do people just need a reminder that you're there, they're totally happy to accomodate. In a distinctly "ope! My bad, lemme just- here-" sort of way.

My spouse has a loud brain and drowns it out with Mario Kart. I've spent most of my life quietly entertaining myself in all of these instances, because at some point someone told me I was supposed to "go play" and nobody wanted to play with me so I entertained myself right? Okay. Well I recently had a sea change and decided I was gonna pop my headphones in and watch TV on my tablet when he was doing his Mario Karting. Because the boy will easily go for four hours and I just spontaneously realized that it would actually be ridiculous if he got butthurt at me for putting some quiet tv on for myself instead of watching a grown man play the same video game for hours.

You know what happened? Not only did nobody's feelings get hurt, but I have never made it more than twenty minutes into a show before he ends a match and switches the console off. And I have never asked him to do so. When I'm over there doing my own thing with my own TV show like a person instead of just scrolling on my phone trying real hard not to exist, somewhere in his unconscious he goes "there's a whole other human being on the other end of the sofa from me. I want to turn this off and engage with that person!"

Okay do you understand what I am telling you??

When you behave like a human person and treat yourself like a human person, other people also instinctively treat you like a human person and they're happy to be reminded that they get to engage with you. The person in our past that reacted differently and got mad at us for being a person, plainly and simply: they were just being an asshole to us.

The people we love want to engage with us. Almost all of them!!! And not only that?? Most other human beings feel the same way.

Huge. Big huge.

Don't take my word for it baby cakes okay, take a sec and muster up the courage (it'll be scary the first time, but the thinking about it is always scarier than doing it I swear) and then get back out there and practice being your very own human person occupying human people space, around someone who loves you, and just... watch what happens. The first time someone warmly, graciously, voluntarily accommodates you is the greatest feeling a corporeal being can experience, and you deserve it too.

[poussacha]

the first thing i ever learned in therapy is to stop bottling up my negative emotions. that i am going to HAVE negative emotions it's part of being human. i'm going to be angry and sad and jealous and i'm going to feel messy and impossible things.

these feelings aren't bad. we shouldn't hide from them. we should examine them, process them, move through them

but recently i've noticed in uptick in people telling an entire generation to stop feeling their bad feelings. that feeling like that is wrong.

experiencing anger or being upset or apprehensive or even petty is bad and wrong and people are bad for feeling things like that. that we should ignore our bad emotions. that we shouldn't feel the things we feel because we have a moral obligation to be one-dimensional and the ONLY dimension we can have is good.

people are complex, complicated, messy things. you're allowed to feel your bad emotions. processing and working through them is what leads to healing and growth. not ignoring them and stamping them down. because what do you learn from that? to avoid instead of feel. to ignore instead of process.

that's not healthy and it's not safe.

[beautifulbookishdisaster]

"Sometimes weird is your gut talking to you. The point is not him being weird or not being weird. The point is that you feel uncomfortable, and you're trying to talk yourself out of it because you think you're supposed to be nice."

Deb Caletti, A Heart in a Body in the World

[wytchwyse]

How comfortable are you being wrong?

How comfortable, are you being corrected?

And if it's necessary, how comfortable are you Apologizing for saying something offensive out of ignorance?

Growing up I used to have a real hard time with being wrong , and being corrected. I still have have to sort of emotionally prepare myself for those moments when I'm wrong and I'm being corrected. Took years of growing up, and therapy to teach me that it's okay to be wrong . It can be a bit uncomfortable, but discomfort can't hurt you.

To look specifically at the occult and witchcraft communities where accurate historical knowledge is like your resume. It can be especially uncomfortable to be wrong, we have come to equate ignorance as a moral failing. Ignorance was never meant to be an insult, and it's certainly is not a moral failing. We are all ignorant of things.

Ignorance is an opportunity to grow as a person. It allows for us to expand our mind and become more worldly. No one can ever know everything, and there is no such thing as perfection. Give space for people to grow, give space for yourself to grow, ignorance is human. When you are corrected, remember that is not a moment of shame and is not an attack. But when you were the one correcting make sure that you are not attacking. We need to be remembering to hold space for people to grow. And if the situation calls for it and you said something hurtful out of ignorance an apology is always appropriate , and then you can move on knowing better.

Now willful ignorance is a different beast altogether, this far more than ignorance brings harm. To choose to remain ignorant is a sign of a much deeper problem. Knowledge has weight, and yes, sometimes It can be heavy. However, knowledge makes for a more vibrant and fuller life.

Learn as you live, have fun with gaining new information. But do not hold yourself to impossible standards . Follow your passions, learn about the things that mean a lot to you , you will feel more fulfilled and you will feel an ever growing Sense of excitement to learn.

[lopeirce]

I had to give myself a pep talk this morning so I figured I’d share this in case anyone else needs a pep talk.

Things I’ve learned in therapy:

Reversing the negative self-talk is a huge element of building up your self-esteem.

I read this book called “Unfuck Yourself” by Gary John Bishop and he said that the person that you talk to the most is yourself. It’s true. That inner dialogue dictates our self-perception and we are our own worst enemy. Change that negative self-talk because that negative self-talk is what is allowing you to remain at the bar that you’ve set for yourself. If you don’t change it, you’re never going to grow and heal. You are not your thoughts. The negative thoughts are lying to you. Don’t buy into them.

Accept compliments even when you don’t agree.

I had a really hard time accepting compliments from people a few years ago. One of the things that my therapist told me to do was when someone compliments me, say “thank you” and then move on and don’t give it a second thought. Even if you think it’s the most ridiculous thing in your mind. Even if it makes you uncomfortable. (Obviously, this pertains to healthy compliments and not a creepy person.) Why? If someone tells you they like your shirt and you say something like “oh, this old thing” you’re demeaning yourself. It goes back to the negative self-talk. Just say thank you and move on because what you’re doing here is you’re not allowing yourself to engage in the negative self-talk. As silly and small as it is, this helps builds confidence.

You are not required to set yourself on fire to keep other people warm.

If you’re a people pleaser like me, this hits home for you. I spent most of my life doing things because I felt like I would be a horrible friend/person/daughter/sister/lover/etc if I didn’t and in the end, I lost pieces of myself. I sacrificed my own happiness for other people who to this day don’t even acknowledge that. Don’t do this. Know your limits. Set boundaries. You don’t have to sacrifice your own health and happiness for other people. It’s not your job to make other people feel satisfied. That’s their job. If you give 100% of yourself to everyone else, you’re not leaving anything left for yourself.

Your feelings are valid.

It took me until I was 30 to reconcile this. I grew up in a household that made me feel like I was a crazy person and that everything I felt was ridiculous. It’s not. A friend of mine told me something recently that even further has stuck with me. It’s okay if you feel something for only a short time. If someone said something that upset you and then they further explained which then made you understand it better, that doesn’t mean that you weren’t upset. Acknowledge it and know that whatever you feel is okay and it’s normal. You’re not a robot. You’re a person with feelings and they are valid.

Depression/negative feelings are easy to give in to. Resisting them is the hard part.

I struggle with this a lot. I’ll confess that I gave into my depression and eating disorder yesterday. It was easy. Today, I am resisting it and it’s hard. And that’s okay. If you allow yourself to sit in your negative head space, all you’re going to see are negative things. Give yourself time to address your feelings but don’t stay there. It gets harder to get up the longer you stay down. Focus on the simplest of things even if it’s just “ this cup of coffee is so good.” Find the little smiles throughout the day.

If you want to be more positive, successful, etc, surround yourself with people who are those things.

Just like how negativity is easily spread, so is positivity. Use that positive, successful space. It’s amazing how you can train your mind that way.

Life will keep throwing the same lesson at you until you learn it.

Sometimes healing hurts more than the thing that hurt you.

Healing is hard. Therapy is hard. Reopening old wounds hurts because it’s festered for so long. But when the day comes when you can talk about something or experience something without negative feelings, it makes it so worth it.

Most of the issues we carry into adulthood stem from childhood trauma.

I’ve always struggled with feeling like I matter. My therapist asked me “who made little you feel like you don’t matter? Who do you hear besides yourself telling you that you don’t matter?” Start there. Unpack that. 

Know what triggers you and try not to coddle them.

When someone has a phobia of something, they get put through exposure therapy. It’s the same concept with something triggering. Little by little, expose yourself to things that make you feel uncomfortable within your limits. It doesn’t have to be a lot. If you never expose yourself, you’re never going to heal. I used to think that by shutting myself off from the world, no one would hurt me. a.) I was wrong. b.) I’m a human being who needs connections with other human beings. In order to heal, you have to learn to be okay with being uncomfortable.

Tell people how you feel.

This isn’t something I necessarily learned in therapy but it’s something that I live by. I’d rather tell someone how I feel about them and have my heart shattered than look back and wonder “what if?” If you’re bold enough to express your feelings to someone, you can get through the day. 

Negative feelings are temporary.

I have to remind myself of this daily. The pain you’re in, the anger you’re feeling, it will all go away eventually. Someone once told me that it’s literally impossible for the universe to remain off balance. Balance has to be restored eventually.

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

[badboi-goodheart]

Feelings are like cats!

They wanna be acknowledged.

Sometimes wanna be left alone.

Need to be cared for and not judged!

Sometimes they absolutely overwhelm you.

And sometimes you’re able to hold them and cuddle them!

You can’t control a cat, you can’t force it to do anything it doesn’t already want to do.

If you keep trying to force it to go the way you want the worse it’s gonna be for you.

So be patient with yourself, take a deep breath, and try to figure out what the cat is asking for

[thingsivelearnedinmyshortli-blog]

baby steps to self

One reason it’s important for me to not let people walk all over me and to take care of myself is that if I really care about them and want to love them, I need to recharge. My mind and body are not made to be going all the time. When I recharge, I can be an even better [friend, spouse, mother, etc].

Even Jesus rested and spent time alone. His body wouldn’t let him stay awake healing people and preaching forever. Buddha meditated. The Jews were commanded to rest for a whole day out of each week. Until it becomes habit to take care of myself and I learn that it has merit in itself, this is what I must remember. Since I only find value in serving others, resting IS serving others.

[freonblue]

life hack:

three years ago i got very sick with covid, and then long covid, and i fell out of touch with a lot of people

then when i had a smidge more energy, i didn’t get back in touch because i felt so ashamed of not having responded sooner and also I couldn’t figure out what to say.

this year, i’ve been reaching out again, getting back in touch with old friends one by one

and here’s what i’ve learned:

you don’t have to write The Perfect Missive

all you have to do is send a short, simple message

“hi. been thinking of you / it’s been a long time. hope you’re well. would love to get back in touch if you’d like.”

[inkskinned]

something bad happened to you, and you died, and you came back wrong.

not wrong all the way. the little ways. you forget important dates, stopped going out with friends. it's harder to make you smile. you're apathetic towards things you used to love, afraid of places you used to go to cheer up. quieter. flinching. different.

you came back for love. you're still here for love. what pulled you back was a brightness so loud that even death couldn't outshout it. death heard the call and smiled at you and said okay. go home. somebody is waiting for you.

but you came back different. like lot's wife; you've turned into salt. you used to chirp through life in hops and skips; but now you lose skin just standing up. you have to move slower, skimming across this world without-touching-it. most things feel dull - until they're suddenly all-too-much. life, and being alive just rushes up and over you and you get hopelessly crushed.

you try to explain it to them: it is ugly, but this is what you are, now. the huge golden hoop of your halo now a little bronze ring. you are still watering your plants and wearing the same clothes. after all, you worked hard to come home. this life; so odd and off-color, now that you are wrong.

but they waited for you - it's just that they wanted the "you" that happened before this. the "you" that could sing in the show and hug people tight and look at a blade without breaking down to cry. the you with a smile in pictures. god, holyshit, it's like looking at a completely different person, isn't it. that other-you; the one they actually wanted.

you are the consolation prize. you are the body that forgot the ghost. you are the memory of the bad thing, and the death after; like you are wearing that memory as a banner. you are a fragment, an assembly. simulacrum. you don't make eye contact in mirrors, afraid the light will glance off and your true nature will flash back at you.

you hear them talk about it in their hushed, desperate whispers. sometimes they even admit it to your face; harsh and violent, acid thrown at christmas dinner. god, can you just fucking be normal again. you do not remember what normal is. you had to climb so far to get back here; you are far too exhausted. you want to open the glass door of your heart and show all the gears. can you help resolve whatever got messed up?

you try so, so hard. you came back for them. because you believed they would love you, even when you were so horribly broken. because you believed they would be patient. because you believed unconditional meant "without exception." you cannot do things the same way. you just get tired too quickly these days.

you want to put them on a couch and pour them the tea with hands that shake more than they remember. you want to line them up and draw them a map of where you have had to wander. you want to show every bruise in a backsplash; the little helpless ant of your soul carrying all that weight, over and over. you want to say: yes! it is different! but i did it for love!

you want to say: "i'm not the same, but i'm yours and i'm here. can that be enough?"

[performing-personhood]

Today in PostSecret someone's secret is the one I held since I can remember. (Which, granted, isn't very far since ADHD affects memory formation. But i distinctly do remember having the thought at age, like, thirteen.)

It turns out now that this is because my parents were both 3rd-generation emotionally-unavailable, and as if that wasn't bad enough, they were extremely distracted by the all-consuming dynamic of my helicopter-parent-stunted father's undiagnosed autism and my mom's lifelong parentification-driven people pleasing (thanks a lot, midcentury irish catholicism).

I was a 12yo with undiagnosed AuDHD who had not a single friend due of the isolation of nonreligious homeschooling in an extremely religious city, and as such, I was the loneliest kid I hope I ever encounter. I literally hoped all the time to be diagnosed with some kind of serious illness requiring hospitalization, just so that I would receive some affection.

I'm 38 now. I've been with my partner for [a pause for elder-millenial year-counting] twelve years, cohabitating for almost all of them. Just last week after work, he informed me that he had left the grocery store, received my text, and then gone to a completely different second grocery store to get the items I'd asked for - and as I was hand-flapping with embarrassed beflusterment about how I could have gone myself instead of inconveniencing him, that sweet man looked me dead in the eyes and said with the most sincerity I have ever beheld "I was happy to do it. Because I love you, and I want to do things for you. If [my name] needs burritos, then by god, [my name] is gonna get burritos."

And tumblr, I was speechless. All I could do was melt and hug him with gratitude.

Twelve years with this man and still I need the reminder that no actually this is what love is. And with every reminder I get, that lonely child's "dream" of getting sick in order to be doted on dissolves away a little more. Because I no longer need a "good excuse" to receive love and affection. I simply have to request it, and it is happily and freely given.

I can't put into words what that means to me, nor what it feels like. But I hope this secretholder knows: I had no hope at all, no reason whatsoever to believe that I would be so loved and cared about, and yet it happened for me regardless. It can and does happen, for real. And I hope it happens for them, too.

[uncanny-tranny]

I recently had to do a project in one of my psych classes, and man, I knew that CBT was used for every little thing, but seeing over and over, "do CBT! CBT is the best for every mental illness!" was so jarring. I'm absolutely biased because of my own experiences, but I just don't think it's as universal a treatment model as it's touted.

If you didn't benefit from CBT, it's not because you're lazy or didn't try hard enough or lacked intelligence or foresight into your own needs. Frankly, it's a therapy model that (I think) shouldn't be the only readily-accessible model and among the only therapy models covered by insurance. Some of us should not be treated in a CBT model and that's okay. It's not a sign of poor character or unreasonable demands, and if you don't think it's a model that works for you, then it's your right to express that!

[catboypuss]

you don’t need to make villains out of people you don’t know

some of you don’t know how to give people the benefit of the doubt and it shows in your bitterness and anger

[aeb-art]

i thought it'd be cute 🥺💕

[flowercrowngods]

yearning hours (b-side) — in which being in love can feel like the greatest tragedy of all until you learn that you’re not alone (or: bravery, despite everything)

🤍 also on ao3

Steve comes to the quarry when he needs to think. He comes to the quarry when he needs to not think. When he needs to feel this rush of adrenaline that feels so much like monsters are real and the world has turned upside down. Except he isn’t going to die here, sitting on the cold ground, legs dangling over the abyss.

He’s not going to die, but life stops for a moment all the same. 

And Steve relearns how to breathe. How to think. How to not think. While the darkness below him swallows it all. The pale light of the moon is not enough to reach the ground hundreds of feet below, or to chase away the complete and total darkness that meets his eyes when he looks down there. 

It’s all-encompassing, this darkness, the vastness of it; Steve sometimes feels like he becomes part of it. Just for an hour or two. Just for the night. 

The cold air that hits his face makes him shiver for a second, and reminds him that he used to think the darkness at the bottom of the quarry had a life of its own. Hell, maybe it does. With what they’ve seen, what they’ve fought, who’s to say there’s nothing down there? Maybe that’s what draws him here so often. 

Does the living darkness know his secrets like the darkness in his room does? Does it listen to him, does it care? They’re stupid questions, Steve knows. But they carry a hopefulness he wants to preserve. Something that survived the Upside Down, that survives the nightmares and the flashbacks and the post-traumatic stress, as Hopper and Owens call it. 

There’s something primal about sitting on the edge of such vastness, so much so that it makes his heart beat faster, his breath come shallower, like he is just a second away from falling. Like he has to savour this; this second, this moment, this life, because beyond it, around it, below it, there is only darkness. 

He takes a deep, shuddering breath and lets it all out until his lungs ache. The silence is absolute. He feels like the only person on the planet — but not in the bad, painful way that’s been hiding in the back of his mind for as long as he can remember. 

If he only breathes like this for a while longer, lets the feeling settle, lets the thoughts come and bring emotions with them, he knows that soon the tears will fall.

Tears, because he shouldn’t have to sit at the edge of the quarry in the dark of night just to be able to feel. Tears, because he forgot how to be a boy, how to be a person, about three years ago. Almost to the day. Tears, because they all did; but he’s Steve. He can’t let them see. Wouldn’t know how even if he wanted to. 

And tears, tonight, because just hours earlier, Eddie fell asleep while Steve made dinner. His arms were curled around the pillow Steve had leaned against all afternoon, and Steve just stood there in the doorway to Eddie’s room, the smell of fresh pasta mixing with that of leather, paperback books, tobacco and laundry detergent that is so purely and wonderfully Eddie that Steve just wants to catch it in a mason jar and open it whenever he needs a dose. 

Eddie had fallen asleep, and all Steve could do was look at him. Smile on his lips, ache in his heart that only grew in ferocity until all he could do was leave. Because friends don’t watch their friends sleep. Not like this. Not with their hands twitching by their sides, curled into fists to stop them from reaching out and trailing over soft, warm skin. Friends don’t… They don’t. 

So Steve left, pasta untouched. Heart unravelled. Words unspoken. 

He left and sped off until he reached the quarry, a safe place to piece himself back together again — but he doesn’t have the heart to leave out Eddie. So every time he comes here and puts the pieces of himself back together, he puts Eddie in the centre. He always does. It’s what keeps getting him in this mess. 

But it’s still the closest he’ll get to bravery after the Upside Down; admitting, if only to himself, that he likes a boy. Allowing himself to cry about it. To breathe in and breathe out and have the truth unchanged, unchallenged, undoubted.

He’s still breathing when the all-encompassing silence is interrupted, joined by the unmistakeable sound of tires on gravel. Seconds later, headlights illuminate the night, his arms, the edge of the quarry, but still not reaching beyond that. The car comes to a stop but Steve still doesn’t move, doesn’t turn around, just hopes that whoever it is will just leave him alone. 

Lights go out, the engine is killed, followed by the sound of a car door opening and being closed far too gently. 

Steve isn’t too surprised when steps approach him slowly, nor when they come to a stop beside him, chasing away some of the cold that’s been resting over him like a blanket.

Instinctively, he knows it’s Eddie. He just doesn’t know why. 

“How’d you know I’m here?” he asks into the void, still unmoving. 

“Just knew,” comes the reply, and it sounds so soft, so gentle, so understanding that Steve fears he might fall apart and have to rebuild himself once more. Twice in one night. Wouldn’t be the first time. Won’t be the last. “Why’d you leave?” 

Because otherwise I’d have crossed the distance and fallen to my knees, brushed a kiss to your forehead and told you dinner was ready. Because otherwise I’d have slid down the doorframe and watched over you, watched you, and the firework of a person that you are even in your sleep. I’d have fallen in love and I’d have fallen, fallen, fallen. So I needed to go where falling is not an option. 

Instead of saying any of that, Steve only shrugs. “Just did.” 

It’s lame and unfair, he knows, but talking to the darkness is so much easier when there’s not an audience, and Eddie just… he can’t know. Any of that. 

“Can I join you?” Eddie asks then, and Steve can hear it in his voice that he would leave if Steve said no. 

Maybe that’s why he doesn’t; just nods and scoots to the side a bit even though there’s enough room for Eddie to sit just anywhere. 

But he doesn’t sit just anywhere, no. He sits down rather clumsily — for which Steve can’t blame him, it is a little scary in the dark, and one wrong move could be your very last — and ends up with his arm and shoulder pressed to Steve‘s, their legs so close he can feel Eddie‘s warmth through the denim.

It’s too much. It’s not enough. It’s dangerous, so close to falling, and Steve scoots to the side, breaking contact. Breathing carefully.

Eddie‘s eyes are on him, he can feel it. He doesn’t react. It hurts, his entire body aches with how close he wants to be. But it’s too much, even for himself to bear. Putting all that on Eddie would be enough to take them both down to the bottom of the quarry, and lower still.

So he swallows. All the words he cannot say, all the thoughts that lump together and clog his throat.

“Are you okay, Stevie?” Eddie asks, and Steve just shrugs again.

“Sure.”

“Right,” Eddie whispers, then sighs. It’s not a heavy sigh or a judgmental one, but it makes Steve flinch all the same.

Too much. Too fucking much even unknown.

Silence falls over them, the quarry working its magic — or its curse — even on Eddie Munson. Steve wonders if it suffocates or liberates him, but he doesn’t dare to ask. It would take too much explaining for the question to make sense, too much revealing himself, too much of… Just too much.

He wants to ask. To say something. To scoot back over again, closer to Eddie, and lay his head on his shoulder, bask in his warmth and withstand the magic, the curse, the darkness.

Withstand it, because that’s what Eddie does. He is brave, despite everything.

And Steve is just the boy who sits with darkness at night because he doesn’t know how to be brave anymore, not when there’s no question of life or death. He forgot all about everyday-bravery.

But Eddie didn’t. He’s still there, still smiling and laughing and teasing his way through life and into Steve’s heart and soul.

And Steve doesn’t know what to do with it. Doesn’t know what he can do with it. Doesn’t know how to ask.

It’s no surprise, then, that it’s Eddie who does.

“What are we doing, Steve?” He sounds a bit resigned about it, and it makes Steve hide away in himself even more, focusing on the darkness beneath him rather than the light beside him — they both leave him blinded at equal measure, but one of them doesn’t ask him questions to which he doesn’t know the answer.

“What do you mean?” he asks after a while, his voice a little off. He doesn’t know what he’s feeling. Apprehension, maybe. Caught. Uncovered. Exposed.

Beside him, Eddie sighs again, just a little bit, but Steve has always hated that he keeps making people sigh. Makes him feel so fucking small, so incredibly useless.

He raises one leg from the abyss to rest his chin on his knee, because suddenly he feels so heavy that he needs the physical reminder that he’s not about to fall. One foot on the ground. Steady, secure, a great illusion for now.

“Sorry,” he whispers at last, because Eddie hasn’t said anything, has only sighed and created a silence that’s so loud it can probably be heard at the bottom of the quarry, and Steve feels like the silence is his fault this time.

“What for?”

“Dunno,” he confesses, lies, concedes as his house of cards begins to crumble for some reason. The heaviness wanders from his throat down to his heart and settles there, making a home for itself, casting out all the lightness that usually comes when he’s around Eddie.

But it seems he’s reached his breaking point. It seems he can only pretend to be okay for so long, pretend not to yearn and ache and long for intimacy and tenderness. It seems he can only put himself together again, rebuilding himself around Eddie at his centre, until it would break apart for good. Burst out of his heart, dismantle him piece by broken piece until all that’s left is a broken boy, yearning.

And so he can’t stop the tears even if he wanted to. They’re kind in their silence, streaming down his face without demand for sobs or sniffles. Just breaking free, a simple displacement reaction. Following the physics of emotions.

“Hey,” Eddie whispers, reaching out to wrap an arm around Steve’s shoulders, pulling him into his side. There’s that warmth, that touch, that gentleness he’s been craving — and there’s that sob he’s been suppressing. “Hey, Stevie, it’s okay. You’re okay. You can talk to me, you know that, right?”

He shakes his head into the warmth of Eddie’s neck, wiping dejectedly at his tears.

“No?”

“No,” he whines, sighs, groans, annoyed with himself.

“Don’t want to? Or can’t?”

Both. Neither. All at once.

He shrugs again, still leaning against Eddie.

Eddie, who turns his head slightly and brushes his lips over Steve’s hair in what can only be described as a kiss. Except, it can’t. It couldn’t. It isn’t.

Steve begins to shiver against him — maybe he’s cold, maybe he’s overwhelmed, maybe he’s both and neither and everything all at once.

“I’ve got you, Stevie.”

And then Eddie kisses his head again, and he stills.

“You can’t kiss me, Eddie,” he says, voice still thick, but steadier this time. No more sobbing, no more whining. Just a broken boy, yearning. Always, always that.

Eddie freezes where he’s holding Steve, only his arm still moves in soothing, rubbing motions — warming him, holding him, saving him. Always, always that.

“Sorry,” Eddie says this time. Except it’s wrong. It’s so wrong, and Steve leans back to look at him. It’s impossible to make out his expression in the darkness, but he tries nonetheless.

“Don’t be sorry,” he whispers. “Just…” He gestures vaguely, not quite sure what the just entails. Just mean it. Just do it right. Just don’t do it out of pity. Just leave me alone until I’m over you even though we both know I never really will be.

“Just?”

Steve shrugs. Whispers, “I don’t know.”

“Don’t hide, Stevie.” Be brave, Stevie. Be brave like me.

God, how he wishes. How he longs. How he aches.

“You don’t have to hide, not from me.”

Steve huffs and says, before he can stop himself, “Especially from you.”

Eddie pauses and Steve freaks out a little bit, even before Eddie asks, “Why?” He sounds wounded. Small. He shouldn’t sound like that. Never.

“Because you’re gonna see otherwise.”

“See what?”

That I’m completely and utterly in love with you. Besotted. Enamoured. All the big words you like to make fun of. All of them and more.

“Me.”

There’s a beat where nothing happens. Maybe time stops, maybe reality resets itself, settling in more comfortably in anticipation of vulnerability’s fallout.

And then Eddie takes his hands, reaching for them in the darkness and finding them with ease. Like he’s done it many times before. Because he has. Just never like this.

“Steve,” he begins, and Steve wants to run again. To hide, to confess to another void, and make Eddie forget this conversation ever happened. “I think I already do.”

What? No. No, you can’t.

When Steve doesn’t respond, Eddie continues, seemingly gathering himself and his thoughts as he goes. Always so much stronger, so much braver than Steve.

“I already do see you. The way you smile at me, light up the whole room with it. The way you hug me, always a little too long, but never long enough if you ask me. I see you blushing, I see you going out of your way for me, and… And I think, if you knew how to look, you’d see the same in me. Because, uh. Because I like seeing you. And I like… I like you. Not in a friends kinda way. In a way where I wanna sit beside you all night and talk about deep shit, but I wanna run my fingers through your hair when we do. I wanna play with your fingers when we do. I wanna kiss you when we do, because there’s deep, heavy, traumatic shit everywhere, but there’s also you. And I don’t want one without the other. I want you. In that exact way that I see you looking at me, wanting me, too.”

Eddie swallows, a little breathless beside him like Steve’s not choking on emotion himself.

“Tell me I’m wrong,” Eddie whispers then, pressing and desperate and knowing. “Tell me you don’t like me in a way you think you shouldn’t. Tell me I don’t see you.”

He shakes his head, slowly, frantically. “I can’t.”

“Because it’s true?”

Steve’s nodding now, just as frantic, leaving him disoriented and falling, only anchored to Eddie who’s still holding his hands.

“Yeah,” Steve gasps, rasps, whispers. “It… I’m. I don’t.” It’s he who swallows heavily now, needing a second or an eternity to process Eddie’s words. “You really mean that?”

Eddie nods. He can feel it, somehow.

“I don’t know what has you so scared,” Eddie begins. “Except the obvious, of course, but I feel like that’s only a small chunk of it. But you gotta believe me when I say that I mean it. I like you. So much it makes me stupid sometimes.”

Steve huffs, but it’s a smile this time. A real one. Tinged with sadness and heaviness and disbelief still, but a real one nonetheless.

“I wanna tell you. All of that. Everything, in my own words. And I will, but… Eddie, I’m—“ Steve starts with a quivering voice but shuts himself up before he can ruin this.

I’m broken. I’m not sure if I can let you. I’m just Steve. I’m bullshit. I’m…

“I’m tired.”

It has a double meaning, here at the quarry — but he doesn’t mean it like that. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. He won’t.

“Can you just hold me?” It is perhaps the closest to bravery he’s going to get. Tonight, or always. But it’s enough. It can be enough.

Eddie hums and Steve can hear the smile, can feel how some of the heaviness inside him dissipates with it.

“Of course, sweetheart.”

Steve shivers again as he shifts, lying back so it’s only his legs, bent at the knee, that dangle over the abyss now. Eddie joins him, wrapping his arms around Steve’s middle and rearranging them so Steve rests half on top of him. It can’t be comfortable, but Steve doesn’t mention it.

They lie there in silence, and Steve allows himself to let go of the tension in his bones as he feels Eddie’s hands travelling across his back in a tender caress. He doesn’t quite believe it’s real, doesn’t believe he’ll get to keep it beyond this moment, and can’t quite savour it the way he wants to because surely he will lose this, too. Surely Eddie will realise and come to his senses and—

“Do you really mean it?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, leaning up slightly to brush his lips over Steve’s temple. “Yeah, Stevie. I really, really mean it.” And then, after a while, “Will you come back home now?”

Back home. Home to Eddie and Wayne. Home, because Eddie cares and wants and bravely, bravely asks.

“Yeah,” Steve says.

Another kiss to his forehead. “And will you stay?”

It is Steve now who leans up, hovering above Eddie to meet his eyes through the dark. “I will. I do.” And then he slowly, carefully captures Eddie’s lips with his own, sealing the promise and receiving one in return.

Kissing Eddie is a lot like falling, he realises. But there are arms wrapped around him, holding him, never wanting to let him go — so maybe it isn’t falling after all. Maybe it’s flying.

At home in his bed, Eddie holds him some more, running fingers through his hair long after Steve has fallen asleep.

They’ll make it work.

[schizodiaries]

things i learned from my therapist

Asking for help takes courage and is not a sign of weakness.

All emotions are valid, including the uncomfortable ones.

Insightfulness is a useful skill when managing mental health.

When dealing with negative self talk, remember: if it’s something you wouldn’t say about a friend, why say it about yourself?

Reframing negative thoughts. “I’m worthless” —> “I feel worthless because xyz.” “I’m unproductive” —> “I would like to make better use of my time.”

Describing conflicting feelings with and instead of but. “I feel good and I’m having anxious thoughts.” “I have people that love me and I feel lonely.”

The phrase “I am having a scary thought right now, and I am safe.”

Resting and keeping busy are both equally important types of self-care. Same goes for me-time and socializing. Balance is the key.

Coping skills can and should be used even if you aren’t actively in distress.

Having an episode is like having a “brain attack.” It’s unexpected, but treatable.

When worried about worst case scenarios, ask yourself: “Will I be able to live with it?”

Healing takes time, but more importantly it takes willing, conscious effort.

Having a mental illness is like having a full time job. Don’t feel bad for devoting so much time and energy into it.

[starry-bi-sky]

i have... ✨Danyal Al Ghul Headcanons✨ but specifically for my yaelokre danyal oneshot

There's also the tumblr post here but I recommend the link in the title because its the ao3 version, and that one is edited and has some stuff in it that's not in the tumblr post, and will be the version I'm using.

So for summary: this Danyal is also from a Demon Siblings Au where Danny is five years older than Damian. However, things turned out a bit differently, and Danny and Damian had a fantastic relationship with one another. Danny loved music and regularly came up with songs to sing to Damian with. Specifically the folk band Yaelokre's EP "Hayfields" (seriously go fucking listen to it its sooo good. Harpy Hare is the second song but its my favorite. Special shoutout to @gascansposts for introducing the band to me)

He falls off a train when he's twelve and Damian is seven while the two of them and Talia are on mission. He ends up with magically induced amnesia and wakes up in Arkansas while the Fentons are on their yearly Divorce-iversary visit to Aunt Alica, and since he can only remember his name, he ends up being taken into their care.

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Yaelokre Danny has the same facial scar as Things in Threes Danyal, since he was initially another version of him where things turned out better. I'm debating on whether or not I should take it away however, and give him a different scar (maybe from when he fell off the train?), just because the scar is a pretty key identifier for Ti3 Danyal.

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Danny frequently visits Aunt Alicia in Arkansas! Well, only after he gets settled in and stuff. He doesn't really like the city that much and prefers the countryside where Alicia lives. I know she lives in a cabin but I'm changing it to a farm, so she puts Danny to work and gets him to help her.

I don't want to confine his hobbies to only being star stuff, because people tend to have more than one hobby and I feel like it reduces him to one-dimensionality, so he likes to garden, and learns guitar. His room becomes filled with plants, and he turns their roof into a rooftop greenhouse right below to OPS Center.

He has a complex relationship with the weapons from his past, but he's not... like... appalled by it? When he finds his weapons in the Fenton attic all he thinks is that they're his weapons, and he starts carrying a knife on him afterwards. Essentially he becomes fascinated with weaponry because its one of the few physical ties he has to his past, and while he's not training like he is in the League, he allows his strong muscle memory to guide him through his katas.

Danny likes climbing things. This causes Problems For Everyone Else.

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Danny was not the "kinder Al Ghul" in the League. His kindness extended to his brother and family, and that's it. To everyone else he had high expectations out of them, and the pride you'd expect from the grandson of Ra's Al Ghul and trained by its top members. While he wasn't like, unnecessarily cruel or anything, he wasn't merciful either.

This transfers post-train fall as him coming off as no-nonsense and unforgiving. He's not fond of the idea of giving people second chances, and is skeptical of the idea. He's disgusted by incompetency and views it as an unforgivable offense, especially if he thinks that the person should know better, although he's not sure why. Some egocentrism for the soul.

He doesn't like being touched by anyone who isn't family, and gets irritated when anyone grabs him or holds onto him for extended amounts of time. Dash has gotten hit so many times. With Jack Fenton's tendency for abrupt physical affection, it doesn't make it any better. I'd argue it'd make it worse because Danny doesn't want to be touched more often than not.

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Danyal had a red scarf in the League that he wore on his last mission, it came off before he fell off and caught itself on the roof. Damian still has it and took it with him to Wayne Manor. He's got it locked in his room and takes it out when he's alone and missing Danny the most. One time he forgot to put it away before leaving his room, and Dick was visiting the manor for something and found it. Damian found him holding it and freaked out.

Dick could only say "I've never seen you wear this, Damian, this is really pretty--" before Damian shoved him to the floor and stole it out of his hands, before screaming at him; "Don't touch this! You don't ever touch this! This is mine! You hear me!?"

It caused such a commotion that the rest of the family present came to see what the fuss was about, and Damian kicked them all out of his room. Dick is the one brother Damian's the closest with, so the fact he reacted so strongly shocked them all.

This is likely what leads to the "Danyal" conversation.