#this is me up until the age of 20 whenever I ate food I didn't like

[thismustbetheblog]

[scretladyspider]

here is the text from the r/antiwork screenshot:

“My hustle culture friend just died of a heart attack at age 32.

Sorry for the wall of text, but I really need to get this off my chest.

I met this guy at uni, and since graduating he had be living the life. He got up at 5am to workout and do all life's admin, then worked 08:30-19:30 every day in finance for £150k/year, and then would spend his evenings working on his side hustle business. On weekends he'd do voluntary management work for a charity. He had financial independence, and he was going to retire early. The world was his oyster and he would travel around to every country with a laptop. I'd never left Europe and got very envious of this.

But the sad reality is, he's been a zombie for over a decade now. He never got more than 5 hours sleep.

He never ate healthy food. He didn't have a romantic relationship and never found time for friends.

And he was always cutting costs to save "for retirement", he'd have cheaper long flights with many changes and dump his bag at a hostel before getting to work on zero sleep. He never got to explore the places he was in, it was always just another office.

I'd only see him once every three months or so, even when he was living in his house 20 mins walk away from me.a And whenever I saw him, he'd be too exhausted to do any activities. We'd just go to the pub while he switched off after an hour. His biggest regret was taking up smoking, which he did to network with managers on smoke breaks at a previous job, and then found impossible to quit.

My last conversation with him was about work. I said that I get an extra five days annual leave because I've worked here five years now. He said it's not worth it, I'd be better off switching jobs to get a payrise and then take unpaid time off to return to my previous salary... I'm going to take those five days to spend with my family and think about any good times I had with my old friend.

I found out about his death when the hospital called me. He kept my phone number in his wallet as an emergency contact. I didn't know this until I got that call, I didn't realise I was the closest person he had in this world. To me, he felt like a distant friend who I only got to hang out with a few times a year.”

“If you have time to watch Netflix you have time for a side hustle” my side hustle is relaxing so that my body and brain can heal from by this nose-to-the-grindstone bullshit. I refuse to feel guilty for being a human with the need to relax sometimes. my side hustle is no.

[stayarmytinyzenmoa-l]

GAH I NEVER TOLD YOU ABOUT THE FLIGHT

our seats were all relatively close to each other thankfully, and the people sitting in nearby seats were kind enough to switch with my parents so that they could be near my brothers which left me all alone but it was fine because i sat next to a pretty cute guy who was around my age (he was really polite dw)

last time i went i was able to eat food without it trying to come back up as soon as it went down but this time it was just the smell of the food that made me start getting sick and i wasn't able to eat much because as soon as i put it in my body refused to let me swallow it (including water so it was about 22 hours of hell)

i did unfortunately get sick twice despite not eating anything and doing a routine of watching movies and then sleeping whenever i felt bad T-T luckily i managed to make it to the bathroom before i made a mess of myself ;-; butttt i didn't pass out this time surprisingly so that was good because we were quite literally sprinting to make it to our connecting flight and managed to get security and the whole process done in time and were literally one of the last people to enter the gate before they closed it off akhdbfj

the second flight was much shorter (4 hours instead of 20) but somehow our pilot managed to get there in less than 3 hours? good because i was literally sitting on the flight going "i'm watching uncharted because there's no way i can get sick while watching tom holland"

so i managed to watch uncharted and the adam project and skip eating because this time i was sitting next to my dad and he was more of a "it's okay if you don't eat, just hydrate yourself with liquids you'll be fine" :D

all in all, we all made it safely and am now just enjoying my time here while dreading going back akhdfb

OH YEAH OOOOO

ALSO NO WAYYYYY YOU GO ROSE HAVE YOUR LIL YN MOMENT but we stan, I love sitting next to people who are relatively my age because it feels a little less awkward, with the exception of sitting next to moms lol. There was one time I sat next to this old guy and felt so awkward but the flight back I sat next to this one mom who had the most adorable of kids haha

Nooooo that's the worst 😭 Tell me you ate a feast afterwards because you deserve it omg, but luckily it's just airplane food so you're not really missing much anyway 💀

Right in time then, huh? Connecting flights are so stressful omg, there was one time we had an emergency connecting flight in Chicago and not only did they not tell us until we landed but they also delayed our luggages for a week :D Anyway, I'm glad you made it through relatively scotch free!

YOUR PILOT WAS LIKE "GOTTA GO FAST" DSFJKDHF Also same I would never let myself get sick with Tom Holland in front of me I would be so mortified

Wooo go dad!!

But ahhhh you made it! One of the rare instances where the destination is better than the journey hehe

[scarluxia]

Let's talk about some Adventures I had in Phoenix, AZ in 2015. It came up in my FB Memories and even though I determined to let everything from last decade go, this one still rankles. I got "in trouble" with these people for being open about my experiences on my Facebook because, even though I hadn't mentioned names, they didn't like me "putting their business out there".

CW for ableism, depression, rejection sensitive dysphoria, and I'll try to put all that in the tags.

My partner, Loki (yes real name), and I had been urban camping in Portland, OR for about a month. It had gotten cold and rainy to the point where we couldn't safely stay living outdoors, and Loki's father (who didn't approve of me) had demanded he come back to California and live with Loki's uncle. He made it quite clear I was not welcome, so I ended up going to Arizona because I had a friend who was willing to put me up. She and I had known each other since 2008 and I figured I would be safe with her. At the time, Loki was much more easily influenced by what his family wanted, and we ended up having kind of a nasty set of conversations over whether he was abandoning me.

While in Portland, my wallet had been stolen so I had no ID or SS card. I had reported it stolen of course, but had received no response until I was leaving Arizona.

My friend in Arizona had two young sons, a husband, and a boyfriend. Now, I have some sensory issues that make it so I have a hard time being around children. High pitched noises hurt me to my bones, like, even now I have to leave the room if my son gets overly excited and starts shrieking.

I was sleeping on the couch in the living room, which was where the kids would go when they woke up and where the TVs and entertainment consoles were.

Anyway, they wanted me to contribute to the household and whatnot but I was severely depressed and I think I've provided all the context I can remember? If the rest of this doesn't make sense, please know that there was a part 1 but it came up in my Memories on a different day and i didn't think I would be rehashing it.

So I couldn't do work, couldn't do anything anyone had asked me to do to satisfaction because various things that did not, in fact, depend on me. Maybe I wasn't being enough of a ~team player~, I don't know. But anyway, I did my best with what I had. Sometimes, because of THE EXTREME FUCKING SENSORY ISSUES THAT COME WITH AUTISM, I would get overwhelmed by the kids screaming. Two little boys, barely school age, and their parents sat them in front of a TV and gave them controllers. That's it. They had toys in their room, sure, but they weren't getting outside. I suggested taking them out a couple times, but firstly, I didn't know the area and wasn't about to go out alone, and secondly, I can't split in half and I'm not in good shape, so even if I had known the area, I wouldn't have taken TWO small children outside to run around where they could run out of the designated area. I'm kind of anal that way, I guess. But Woman A (mum) and Man B ("uncle") never got off their arses to help me take them outside, and Man A was at work.

Oh, yes, parental interaction with the kids. Woman A loved her sons very much. But at their age (3 and 5), they both should have been toilet trained. They should have gotten at least two hours outside every day. They threw fits when they weren't allowed to play video games because, instead of games being a special treat that was earned with good behavior, they were toys carelessly tossed at the kids to keep them out of everyone's hair. Conversely, and bizarrely, reading to them WAS a special treat. The father woke up, played games, basically brushed off his kids, and went to work. Same when he got home for lunch, and he *ordered* us to have them in bed by the time he got home for good. The mum did somewhat interact with them, but mostly just wanted them out of her hair. I wasn't so nice because I'm not good with kids in general and also loud screeching HURTS, IT HURTS IT HURTS MAKE IT STOP. (Same with snoring, or any noise made when I want to sleep.) This isn't me being a ~diva~, it is an actual manifestation of a mental disability.

Woman A was of the opinion that "everyone who lives in a house with kids automatically becomes a coparent", maybe because she wasn't willing to actually parent her kids herself.

Note from the future: I still disagree with the idea that "anyone who lives in a house with kids is automatically a co-parent". Parent your own kids. I don't expect my dad to parent my son when we go visit him and he made it quite clear when I was pregnant that he would not take on a co-parenting role (because his wives 30-50 years ago had handled the babies and he doesn't really know how to calm them down beyond entertaining them)

She got a really bitchy look on her face whenever I (who have been around children, especially TROUBLED children, all my life) made any sort of suggestion. Well sorry, lady, but it's not like you're doing such a great job with them. Y'all act like you barely want anything to do with them. Like they're cute and little and fun to snuggle, but actually teaching them anything? Forget about it, just toss em a controller and hope they don't kill each other in the game or real life. Meanwhile, they have no outlet for their natural physical energy, no real outlet for their curiosity. They're going to grow up stupid and sedentary, with "no one paid attention to me during childhood except when it was convenient for THEM" to deal with. The older kid recently got on meds for a condition that, from what I observed, was likely much more nurture than nature. And what everyone ate, my God, those kids were the only non-overweight people in the house, and it's little wonder! I bought ACTUAL NUTRITIONAL food for everyone, and the adults look at me like I'm from some demon dimension. I made a light comment about how I'd never eaten anything like what they had growing up. You know, boxed potatoes, veggies out of a can, white bread, sugary peanut butter. And Woman A was like, "well YOU don't have kids."

Um, no, but my father did.

I have a kid now, am working part time at min. wage because my boss sees my performance as so-so (plus she's been forced to give me a raise every time the County of Where I Live raises the minimum), in a single-income household, on as much Family With Kids welfare as My County will allow, and I still wouldn't feed my kid that crap LOL

Spoiler alert: they made me use all my food stamps on their household and then kicked me out later that month so... When I bought food I bought HEALTHY food, like, I've been on food stamps my entire life... Also, WIC specifically pays for WHEAT bread, fruits & veggies, and they do let you get peanut butter without sugar so idk what was going on there with them.

My father was a SINGLE PARENT raising a daughter in America after 20 years of living in Europe and raising kids with his previous wives. Well, up until the divorces, anyway. I was the only kid he ever got to keep. He told me things about how the others had been raised compared to how I was raised, and I saw the outcomes of different parenting styles in my peers as well. My father was a very poor man whose trade had been outsourced and who struggled to support us for years. And yet, we never went hungry, and he never fed me boxed potatoes. Never fed me sugary peanut butter, white bread, or veggies out of a can.

Ok I understand canned veggies are better than no veggies, and not everyone can get fresh, but you CAN get frozen in AZ. I always had fresh or frozen growing up.

It wasn't because we were living in the lap of luxury. It's because...

HE FUCKING VALUED OUR HEALTH OVER CONVENIENT, CRAPPY, NUTRIENT-FREE FOOD!!!! This is not a difficult concept. He ALSO read to me every night, despite having what I now realise was a very grueling day at work just to put said healthy food on the table. I didn't get to watch TV or play computer games (edu-tainment, the only kind I was allowed) until after all my homework was done. I can't remember if I was a particularly active child, but I'm sure I had the OPTION!!!! TO GO OUT.

Meanwhile, when I was at various stages of my life, I met kids whose parents shunted them from guardian to guardian because they didn't want to deal with them, kids whose parents were kind and supportive but rubbish at enforcing discipline, kids whose parents were abusive in every kind of way, and kids whose parents did their best.

You know, I wasn't raised perfectly. My upbringing lacked social grace and included some toxic ideas about womanhood that I've only been learning to overcome recently in my adulthood. But DON'T FUCKING ACT LIKE I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT RAISING KIDS JUST BECAUSE I DON'T CURRENTLY HAVE ANY. I have my own life, the lives of my peers, and a wonderful online community of new parents raising children in kind and socially aware ways, to draw inspiration from. I can go to any one of them, and to my own parents, and ask "hey does X seem weird to you?" And they'll give me their honest opinion, which *is valuable*. I have even mapped out a general idea of how to get through some parts of my children's lives, and I'm not even planning to have kids for at least another few years. I mean, honestly, it used to be "I don't want kids ever", but dear gosh, if I can have any part of raising someone in a manner that defies procrastination culture, entitlement culture, and everything wrong with the way my husband and I were raised, maybe it wouldn't be a complete horror. If I can ensure that not all hope for the next generation is lost, hey.

Anyway, I've gone off topic...

I also had some issues with the men. Man B just didn't seem to like anything ever. I had no idea what Woman A saw in him. I remember one time he tried to tell me, a Christian, that I can't tell people what a "real Christian" is because it ~invalidates their identity~. Excuse me, no. It doesn't work that way. There are things that Christ taught, and anyone who blatantly goes against them IN THE NAME OF CHRISTIANITY, IS NOT A REAL CHRISTIAN. And yes, I realise this entire rant has been very judgey and technically I'm not supposed to do that either, but it's not like I'm saying they're going to Hell. Just that their kids are going to be sluggish and stupid, and I can't understand how these people have the gumption to try to lecture anyone else about life when they're not even TRYING to get their own lives together.

Yeah so they tried to lecture me about how I was "letting" Loki mistreat me and how I cared more about "socializing" with my estranged husband (I have separation anxiety) than helping around the house e_e They also implied I used depression as an excuse to be lazy.

Man B was supposedly "super employable." Well, okay, even though his "job hunt" seemed to consist more of sitting around playing video games, he was larger than my father (who is 6 ft tall with a protruding gut and weighs 240 lbs at last count) (My father and I are both 60 lbs above our ideal weights. But we're working on it!), and never seemed to get past the phone-screening process.

Now, Woman A told me that Man B was looking for work and that her family and some friends looked down on him for being a freeloader. Probably because she was anxious about me thinking the same. But here's the thing: I wouldn't have cared. Honestly. If you want to sit around playing games all day in your married girlfriend's apartment with her and her husband playing video games all day, go right ahead. If you want to bake three potatoes at a time and take them back to your room for a snack, hey, more power to you. But don't piss out the window and call it rain.

I don't care how employable you are, where you live, who you're living with, or what your lifestyle is like. It doesn't affect me in any way. But don't act like you're doing something you're not just to appease someone's judgmental family. That doesn't ever end well.

Now, see, I clearly have a problem with people who do that. I don't hide many aspects of myself, though I will refuse to answer a question if I feel it's none of someone's business or if they're just asking it to be a judgmental asshole. I refuse to compromise myself or my safe space to accommodate someone who can't make peace with who they are. Hell, you know me! You know my show!

Wait, this is Tumblr, so you might not know my show. It's a YouTube storyboard dedicated to processing and mocking some spiritual and psychological abuse I've undergone in my life. On Facebook, it was one of the things I was known for at the time because I was constantly posting clips and art, and trying to recruit voice actors.

I sell anyone out who I catch lying to me about anything! That's nothing new! And these people knew that about me. For SEVEN. FUCKING. YEARS.

So anyway. Woman A has a lot of great short term goals but no actual follow through because "I'm just not in the mood right now." No judgment there. I've totally been there. The only problem is when it gets ME in trouble.

"Let's walk the dog." "I'm not in the mood." Okay, then the dog doesn't get walked because I can't figure out my way around the place alone.

"Let's do the dishes." Woman A doesn't let me know when the washer stopped. Okay. Then the rest of the dishes don't get washed.

"Let's take the kids outside." "No I'm too tired." Okay, then they're going to be RUNNING AROUND THE APARTMENT SCREAMING WHICH MY EARS CANNOT FUCKING HANDLE so bye I'm just gonna borrow your room and isolate myself for a bit.

"Let's go to the gym!" "Maybe later." But later never comes.

Do you see where I'm going here? As for the men, they BOTH complain that they're "doing too much" around the house. Okay, probably fair for Man A, who works full time and deserves to come home to a clean house. But Man B. Wtf. You literally do nothing, except when you do, and when you do, we're meant to throw you a parade? That's not how adulthood works, or so I've heard.

Note: All three of these people are older than me. I was 24? at the time, fresh out of trade school, on my own for the first time in my life. (Maybe 2nd? I ran away when I was 17 but ended up with my grandparents so idk if that counts.) Woman A was 26 at the time and had been married since 2008, had experience with office work and parenthood, etc. Both men were older than her. I was a chronological adult with the life experience of a teenager, so I felt comfortable saying that.

So did I mention that I'm sleeping in the living room during this stay? And the adults don't go to bed until like 2 AM, which means, because of my disability, wherein I cannot sleep if there's any sort of non-ambient noise, *I* don't get to sleep until AFTER 2 AM. And the kids? They come in the living room screaming at 6 AM. Yep. Okay. Living on 4 hours of sleep, for the mathematically challenged. That and dealing with the emotional turmoil of being separated from my husband when I've got high separation anxiety in the first place. All my pain, everything, it's up to 11. and I'm supposed to contribute but there's not really anything that allows me to contribute.

So what do they do? They ambush me. Call a "family meeting" to tell me absolutely everything that's wrong with me, after WEEKS of telling me what a big help I am and how grateful they are to have me around. Tell me I'm letting my "social life" get in the way of me helping around the house. Hmm. Social life. You mean, VENTING IN MY SAFE SPACE (Facebook, no names named) AND TRYING TO MEND THINGS WITH MY HUSBAND??????????????? Okay. Well since you guys treat your woman like shit, you clearly don't understand or appreciate devotion to one's spouse. Seriously. Woman A told me she used to have extreme separation anxiety with Man A, and that he would brush off her emotions as irrelevant. Her solution was to make it a poly relationship and take a lover WHO TREATS HER THE EXACT SAME WAY. I'm serious. She got no emotional support from either of them. They basically just threw pills at her and trained her to lie down until her feelings went away.

And she had the gall to lecture me (24 at the time) about how Loki (19 at the time & from a pretty horrific family) treated me. LOL ok. Log. Splinter.

As she knew, I'm monogamous. I do have some opinions on polyamoury based on individuals I've gotten to know who are in those types of relationships, but those opinions are irrelevant to this series of rants. Except one, which is pertinent: if you're going to take another lover, they should provide something that your existing lover(s) don't. If you're suffering from low emotional support and you just find someone else who doesn't emotionally support you and who treats you like a child who can't be trusted??? What are you even DOING? Like, she told me NEITHER of her men trust her judgment. What the fuck is a relationship without trust? And don't even try "dick too bomb" as an excuse when you tell me you haven't gotten laid in months and your husband is using your condoms on Woman B.

They don't support you. They don't trust you. And yet YOU'RE telling ME that things with my husband won't get better unless I follow your lead and take another lover? HELL TO THE NO. My husband has his faults, but if I tell him Person X can be trusted, he believes me.

Except for his ex-girlfriend whom he tried to add to our relationship when he tried to be poly, months later. That went Badly.

Or maybe he just knows I'll deal with them myself, with my hot, hot temper, if they turn out not to be trustworthy. He also doesn't treat me LIKE A CHILD. And while I sometimes point at things and make small motions when I can't physically talk, or sometimes even use baby talk when I'm feeling cutesy, I DON'T POINT AT A PIECE OF PAPER AND GO "THE CARRRRRR!!!!" IN AN INCREASINGLY HIGHER PITCH BECAUSE I DON'T KNOW HOW TO SAY, "Honey, I think we missed the car payment this month. Can you double check while the agent has you on hold, please?"

Okay, being a dick about losing words due to stress was not my finest moment, but at the time, I was just so appalled by how they treated her and how she allowed them to treat me.

So basically these adults who are nowhere near having their lives together, and aren't even really trying, put me on blast for not having everything running perfectly when THEY expected it to.

Let's reiterate. I couldn't get a job because I had no ID or social security card. I was waiting for them to be returned to me. I couldn't walk the kids or the dog, go to the gym, or complete all the household chores because no one would guide me. I need that guidance because of various components of my disability, which I really hate admitting to because I'm super fucking prideful, but I figured hey, she's not neurotypical either. These people will understand.

Their response when I brought this up? "You're an adult. You should know better." Sure, okay. But you should know that a child ought to be potty trained before he turns 5, or even 3; that kids need to run around, are entitled to their parents' attention and consistent discipline, and need!!! healthy!!!! food!!!!

Oh, discipline! So, she would send Older Boy to his room over misbehaving. But rather than enforce time-out, she'd go, "oh, I think I'm being too haaaard on him," and just... Relinquish. He's not about to learn anything that way, ma'am.

They called me trying to reconnect with the person I love more than almost anyone on this earth "obsessing over your social life". Well again, you treat your woman like shit, so MAYBE my undying devotion to the person I love goes a LITTLE bit over your head.

They told me that the household should be my first priority. Except no, because I am an autonomous person and my FIRST PRIORITY is, was, and ever has been the love of my life, whomever that may be at the time. That is 70% of my personality. I'm pretty sure anyone who had ever met me can vouch for my extreme devotion, and this woman had known me for SEVEN. YEARS. I'm not going to throw away 70% of myself to do an impossible task that no one will help me with.

They told me a lot of things I wasn't doing right, and for those of you who also struggle with anxiety and depression, you know that being told for weeks that everything is okay and you're so great and so helpful, and then being told that you're rubbish at everything... You know that that is hurtful. Devastating, even. I wanted to kill myself. I said that. I said that and expressed my feelings about some other things, in my safe space, without naming any names.

And even though I was posting in my safe space, I was polite about it. I was as gentle and rational as possible. I wasn't calling anyone out. Not like I am now. I wasn't trying to lead a witch hunt. I was just overwhelmed and trying to express my feelings. Trying to get myself not to kill myself. I had to tell myself over and over again that it's not what Loki would want for me.

In the morning, they woke me up and kicked me out. Said it was rude for me to say I don't care about their household. I never, NEVER said that. I said "Loki is my first priority." Something along the lines of "that's just how I am and I shouldn't be vilified for it." That doesn't mean I DON'T CARE ABOUT ANYTHING ELSE. IT JUST MEANS THAT MY PRIORITIES WILL *NEVER* BE WHAT SOMEONE ELSE WANTS THEM TO BE. I AM A PERSON. I HAVE THE RIGHT TO DECIDE WHAT TO PRIORITISE, AND I HAVE THE RIGHT TO LOVE MY HUSBAND!!!

I MEAN, FOR FUCK'S SAKE. MY NAME IS *SIGYN*. WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU IGNORANT ASSHOLES EXPECT?! WHY THE HELL SHOULD YOU HAVE FELT THREATENED BY ME SAYING ANYTHING IF I DIDN'T NAME NAMES AND WAS ACTUALLY RATIONAL? IF YOU SAW THIS, *MAYBE* YOU WOULD HAVE THE RIGHT TO BE PISSY, BUT NOT THEN!

They kicked me out after having asked me to buy them all food. I had used up all my food stamps. Because I hadn't anticipated this at all. I hadn't known they would take such offence to my existence, to my ways. To the fact that I value the man I married more than I value... Whatever they wanted me to value, I guess.

Fun fact: I ended up in a women's shelter after this, and one woman told me to actually kill myself because she was tired of hearing me cry at night.

They said I hadn't made any effort to get my life on track. Because I can just snap my fingers and make my ID appear. Because I can just manifest the money for a replacement. They said all these things that left me almost unable to breathe, in retaliation for me posting that I was suicidal.

Later, Woman A told me that this had been a long time coming and that they were trying to make room for Woman B and Woman C, both of whom were willing to have sex with the men, which is something that I would not. I feel the first woman I met at the shelter was accurate when she said they basically kicked me out because I wouldn't sleep with them.

I also later found out that my ID and SS card had been returned to sender. The Portland PD called me and told me. So my father came to the conclusion that the people I had been staying with sabotaged me from the start. For a while, I didn't feel it, but last night I dreamed about it, and the dream made me angry. I didn't deserve to be treated that way. And I really had to get all this off my chest, so for those of you who didn't immediately whip out your tiny violins, thank you.

[disabled-queen-hc-blog]

I haven't seen an ED hc on here yet and I need to project a bit so here's this: at the begging all the queen boys were skinny as hell but as time went on the only one who remained that way was brian. and everyone assumed that it was all natural. what they didn't know was that brian consciously started eating less when he got to the age where people's metabolism usually slows down. he was well aware that his skinniness was part of his trademark look and decided he needed to keep it that way (1/3)

he started cutting down the amount and frequency of his meals but the others never noticed - brian had always been peculiar with food (not eating meat or unhealthy things etc.) so they assumed he ate at home whenever he refused the takeout they had in the studio. in the mid 80s they slowly start noticing that brian’s no longer just skinny, but also sickly looking but still don’t say anything, assuming he might have a stomach bug going on (touring can bring that on quite easily after all) (2/3)

then, a couple of months later, brian passes out in the studio and the boys finally connect the dots. they feel incredibly guilty for not noticing the signs and are determined to help brian recover. (3/3) //if you could please write something where the boys realise all this had been going on without them noticing and then try to figure out how to help brian out of this mess while he refuses to believe that he needs help at all (can be gen or you can add a ship if you’d like)

TW explicit mentions of Eating Disorders, Disordered Eating, Anorexia, Orthorexia, Hospitalization and excessive vulgar language. 

All your letters in the sand cannot heal me like your hand…

For my life still ahead, pity me…

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17,18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24

Again.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17,18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24

One more time. So you remember how you fucked up.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17,18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24

24 ribs sticking out from grey ashen skin.

Brian’s bony finger traced over each one as he counted outloud, eyes focused on the full body mirror in front of him.

You remember how handsome you used to be? Remember when theyjutted out like a fucking Greek god? But you ruined it. You ate that chocolatecupcake like the pig you are and now you’re fat again. Fat and disgusting.

“One, two, three, four, five…”

It doesn’t matter if you cry about it. It won’t make you anyskinnier. Put on your running shoes, fat ass.

“Twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two…”

RUN!

Brian wiped his face free of the tears, eye’s falling downto his bare feet. Skeletal but most people’s standards but bloated looking tohim. He had blisters on his heels from running a mile every morning, but itdidn’t matter. Pain was beauty, right?

♚

Of all the numbers, zero is the most beautiful. Brianthought that to himself as he ran around his neighborhood, the sun dipping inthe sky, crickets already chirping.

His knees hurt so bad, his chest was on fire and he was surehis blisters had reopened, but he had done this to himself. If he only atethings that were good, he wouldn’t have to run this second mile. If he juststopped inhaling anything that came into sight, he could be home right now,settling into a night’s rest.

But he was out here. In the cold English sunset, wearinglayers of jogging clothes to try and keep warm. He deserved this. Briandeserved this.

The day he hit his goal weight, he’d never have to do thisagain. He’d be doing zero laps.

♚

It was nearly midnight before he tempted to step on thescale.

The bathroom was so dark. Only trickles of moonlight pouredin from the window. He refused to turn on the lights since he weighed himselfnaked. Having to see his bare body was revolting. There was so much wrong withit. His legs were too chubby. His stomach so round. His cheeks akin to a hamster.It was better in the dark.

The cold metal of the scale sent a shiver up his body as hestepped onto it. He had to squint to see the number, but he was sure it hadgone up since this morning. That fucking cupcake.

8 stone.

Tears pricked his eyes. The number had gone down. Why was hestill so big?

So big.

Who could like someone so grotesque as him? With so muchskin? With so much fat?

Brian hugged himself, elbows tucking into his concavestomach.

He was disgusting.

♚

“You’re drinking your coffee black, Bri?” Roger asked, nosescrunched up as he peered into Brian’s coffee mug. Brian pulled the mug closerto him defensively but smiled and lolled his head as if nothing was wrong.

“You know I don’t drink milk, mate,” Brian said, taking asip of the acrid brew, forcing his brow to stay unfurrowed.

“Since when? Thought you were vegetarian, not one of thoseweird animal hippies,” Roger said eyes narrowed.

“Well, I’ve decided through research that the milk industryexploits cows. Did you know that mother cows and their c-“

“Yeah, yeah, alright. You could at least put a sugar or twoin there, you mad man,” Roger said with the wave of his hand, Brian’s plan atboring him with animal ethics having worked.

Brian smiled to himself, taking another sip. Roger was outof his mind if he thought he’d ever put sugar in anything he ate. Might as welleat straight fat. At least his little plan worked.

♚

“Brian, sweetheart, you look absolutely pale! Have you caughta cold?” Freddie said, a hand pressing against Brian’s clammy forehead. Brianducked away from the touch, laughing nonchalantly as he did.

“Perhaps? I feel, uh, fine. Maybe I’m just low in something,”he said as convincingly as possible. His fingers started to twiddle with the sleevesof his shirt that was far too big.

Freddie gave him a look he couldn’t decipher but he nodded.

“Well, you better rest up. Can’t have our main guydeveloping an ailment before our show tomorrow, huh?” Freddie said, a handstraying onto Brian’s bony shoulder. The touch made him erupt into goosebumps.

Did he know?

Does it matter?

♚

“Brian, we need to talk,” John said, his grey eyes big andstormy.

His gut dropped to the floor, heart pounding so hard itechoed in his ears. Was the gig up?

Brian wouldn’t go without a fight.

“What about?” he said casually, crossing one leg over theother, leaning back on the couch backstage.

John sat down next to him, uncomfortably close. Brian didn’tlike people touching him. It made it all the harder to hide.

John looked around to see if anyone was around before heleaned and whispered, “The crowds really big tonight. I, um, I’m kinda nervous,”

Oh sweet jesus. Thank god. Thank god.

The anxiety melted from Brian, a small smile growing on hisface.

“John, how old are you? You silly man,” He said jokinglybefore pulling John in for a hug.

The bassist grew rigid, not reciprocating. It’d only been a second,but the atmosphere grew bleak and heavy. John pulled away, face tightened infear. He looked over Brian for a second before he left in a hurry without somuch as a word.

Did he feel how skinny fat Brian was?

Who cares?

♚

Just because you finished a successful tour does not meanyou get to pig out. Look at all this food. It’s disgusting. Unhealthy. Do youwant to be fat? Don’t you want to be the skinny boy everyone knows and loves?

But I’m so hungry…

Hunger is good. Hunger means you’re strong. Hunger means you’rebeautiful. Hunger means you’re worth something.

I don’t feel good.

You won’t feel good if you get fat. If you stay fat.

I really don’t feel good.

Put that carrot down. Do you know how much sugar carrotshave? Do you want to poison your body with junk?

I think I’m gonna…

The after party for The Game fell silent. They’d all beendrinking, laughing, eating and a few other illegal activities when they heard athud. Hundred of eyes searched the room for the source of the noise untilsomeone spotted a collapsed Brian by the single veggie plate in the corner ofthe room.

Flurries of bodies and voices, yells and whispers erupted,some rushing to the phone, some running over to Brian.

Roger, Freddie and John surrounded their guitarist, panicfueling their every move.

“He’s bloody cold! Has someone called 999?” Roger shouted,rolling Brian over so he was on his back. It was a frighteningly easy task todo, the guy being light as a feather.

“Brian, sweetie, wake up please. Help is on the way, love.Stay with us, please,” Freddie pleaded, eyes misty as he held Brian’s handbetween his own, hoping to warm it up some.

John just stood next to the three, mouth and tongue seized,body trembling uncontrollably.

This is good. This is really good. Maybe soon you’ll benothing. Zero. A beautiful number. A beautiful state to be in.

♚

“…He was in fucking heart failure…”

“…electrolytes too low…”

“…emaciated…”

“…bone’s of a 60 year old…”

“And if he had died?”

“…you never said anything!”

“…was I supposed to know what this was?”

“He’s alive no thanks to any of you…”

♚

Brian’s eyes opened sluggishly, theonly thing he could seeing being an intense white light.

Was this it? Was he in heaven? Was allof this finally over? The pain and the cold and the empty stomachs and the migraines?Was that all gone now?

“He’s awake,” a mousy voice said.

Brian’s vision cleared, revealing awhite ceiling.

So he wasn’t dead.

He looked in the direction the voicecame, shivering when he saw it was John. His face was so swollen and so redfrom crying. It looked like he’d done a week’s worth. When their eyes met, Johnlet out a heart shattering sob, burying his face into Brian’s bed sheets. Theywere soaked.

Why was John crying so hard? He justpassed out was all. Nothing to be bent over.

His eyes scanned the room for other faces.

He found Roger’s. His eye bags wereunprecedented. His hair mused like he’d been trying to pull it out. Rogershrunk back into his chair, looking down at his shoes instead.

He didn’t have to look for Freddie.

Freddie walked up to Brian’s bed, hisface untelling. He looked at Brian’s IV, which he just now noticed he hadbefore he opened his mouth to speak. He faltered for a moment but spoke.

“Brian, I am so, so sorry,” he said,voice cracking, throat dry. He reached for Brian’s hand, but Brian pulled away,shaking his head.

“For what, Fred? I just passed out! It’sno one’s fault,” he said incredulously. They all looked like train wrecks for asimple blackout?

Freddie recoiled at Brian’s wordsbefore he softened again. His eyes parted from Brian’s, licking his lips. Whydidn’t anyone want to look at him?

“Brian…you didn’t pass out. You wentinto heart failure. You were in the ICU for 3 weeks in a coma. It…they had touse the electric paddles on you on two separate occasions,” his voice grewthick, obviously trying to push away the urge to cry and scream.

“They thought you weren’t going to makeit,” Freddie mouthed, his shoulders caving in as a few tears escaped down hischeeks.

Brian blinked before finally look downat himself.

Various bruises on his arm fromdifferent IV’s and blood draws Burn marks on his chest. And a line running downhis chest, all stitched and taped up.

A number 1, almost.

Not a zero.

He looked up to Freddie, jaw hanging.

“You needed a bypass, Bri,” Freddiesaid, a nervous hand rubbing his neck.

“W-Why?” Brian choked out, his mindhaving gone blank.

Roger snorted from across the room. “Youknow why,” he said bitterly.

And it was true. Brian knew why.

The room was quiet except for Deacy’smuffled sobs.

“I…I…the…I..can’t bloody think withyour crying, John!” Brian snapped. He didn’t mean it, he really didn’t.This..illness made him do horrible things. Nasty things.

John responded by growing smalleralthough his crying didn’t. Freddie wanted to bark back, but this wasn’t right.None of it was. Instead, he grabbed John and left the room. Roger was the onlyone who could talk to Brian about serious stuff anyways.

Brian gulped when the door slammedbehind the two. Now it was just him and R-

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Rogerasked, playing with the hem of his shirt. There was no malice in his voice.Just a simple question.

“I..didn’t think anything was wrong,”Brian said, which was the truth.

This, whatever it was, made the worldsplit in two. Reality and what went on his brain both felt real. He knew he wassick, but he wasn’t. He knew he was skinny but he wasn’t. He knew he was dyingbut he wasn’t. It was hard to know the truth sometimes. All the times. It washard to reach out when everything felt both okay and crumbling. Which was thetrue one?

Roger let out a puff of air from hisnose, eyes fluttering shut, desperate for sleep. In times of crisis, he seemedto be the only one capable of keeping their wits about, so he’d been on babysittingduty for nearly a month. He wanted his bed so bad.

He wanted his best friend too.

“That’s fair,” he said with a sigh.There was another silence between them before Roger got up and padded over toBrian’s bed side. He plopped himself onto the uncomfortably wet sheets but paidthem no mind, instead looking at the skeleton before him.

“We’re all really sorry, Brian. None ofus knew you were fighting a battle alone. We just thought…I don’t know what wewere thinking. But we thought you had a handle on whatever you were doing and thatwas wrong of us to just assume,”

“You needed us and we weren’t there.There’s only so much we can do about the past though, right? But we’re gonna behere for you from now on. When they send you to the psych w-“

“Psych ward?” Brian spat out, sittingup straighter in bed.

That’s where crazy people go. I’m notcrazy. I’m fine. I’m fine. I don’t belong there. They’ll make me eat. They’llmake me gain weight.

Roger just took in Brian’s anxiety, an uncharacteristicallygentle hand laying onto Brian’s bandaged chest.

With the sincerity and sweetness of amother, Roger said, “We almost lost you Brian. We almost had to bury you. We’renot going to let that happen again. You’re not going to leave us like that,”

Brian laid back against the bed, hisonly veiny and pale hand going over Roger’s.

Nothing felt real. Nothing made sense.Nothing was good. But he knew he could trust Roger. That infernal voice buzzingin his head might have been his constant companion, but Roger was his bestfriend. And best friends don’t lie.

Brian blinked away a few tears, hiswhole body tired, in pain and in a mental tug of war, but he said, “Okay,”Roger collapsed for the first time in weeks.

♚

John held onto Brian so tight, his faceburied into his neck. He would prefer to never let go, but he knew he had tosoon.

“Brian, I lo- you’re my best friend,okay? Get better?” he said before letting go. Brian smiled, patting his back.

Freddie came in for a hug next, meltinginto Brian’s embrace.

“I need my guitarist back. My soul brother,”Freddie said, kissing Brian’s cheek.

Lastly was Roger who just held out hishand for a shake. A firm one.

“See you soon, mate.”

Brian looked at all of them, taking intheir faces before he had to go. Wheeled out from the hospital and into the vanthat’d be taking him to the psychiatric ward.

The future ahead was scary and unknown,but he wanted to charge ahead. He wanted to live. For his friends, his family andmost importantly, himself. He wanted to play guitar and sing and eat and neverworry again.

All he wanted was to be four again.

Not zero.

Never zero.

Take heart my friend we love you

Though it seems like you’re alone

A million light’s above you

Smile down upon your home

[zebra-warrior]

(Part 1) As I mentioned in my last post, it's Ehlers Danlos Syndrome Awareness month so to celebrate I wanted to share. My story. It's long and isn't fully up to date but trust me, this is the short version. Some of you have read my story in the past but if you haven't I would like to share in hopes of spreading awareness.

My name is Jamie Hamilton and here's my story:

I was born prematurely at 4lbs 12oz. In the beginning, I was thought to be healthy until shortly after birth. It was found I had a heart murmur and issues with my GI system. I was unable to pass stool so a minor surgery to expand the rectum was performed and my parents went home with a healthy baby... Well, at least that's what they thought. My GI problems continued and by the age of 5, I began complaining of joint pain and migraine headaches and was prescribed high dose laxatives of various types and adult Advil.

While attending Elementary school, I did okay, but it was noticed I was quite clumsy, always had some kind of infection, the pain continued and at age 8 I passed out for the first time. Later that year I got my first urinary tract infection, which is really rare in children, but doctors brushed it off and said it must just be a sign I'm starting puberty. That didn't happen until 6 years later and even that wasn't normal. The dizzy spells and clumsiness continued but soon after, abnormal bruising began to surface, in which several doctors called social workers into the room thinking I was abused by my parents, though I was not. These issues along with seemingly, having less energy than most children my age presented.

By middle school, I was 12 and it was noticed how small I was in comparison to my peers. It was also noted in my charts that I hadn't grown even an inch between the ages of 2 and 12. Doctors brushed that off as failure to thrive. I was being beaten up terribly for my height as well as being taunted for newly diagnosed learning disabilities. The last string was when one girl shoved me onto the ground, face down on the floor of a locker. She had two friends, one who sat on my lower back and held my legs down and another who sat on my upper back pinning my arms down while this girl kicked the locker shut into my head over and over again until I went unconscious then kept going while the teachers watched it happen, turning a blind eye to what had happened. This was my first Traumatic Brain Injury. (I promise this part of my story will be relevant later.) My parents, not able to afford for me to go to another school weren't sure where to turn when my grandma stepped up and pulled me out of this school putting me into another one.

I seemed to do a little better in this more laid back setting and actually started to grow. Turns out it was because we had to pack our own lunches instead of eating what the school gave us but I didn't know that at the time. Other than growing taller, the same health issues continued but didn't stop me. I went to this school until the 10th grade in which the teachers were no longer able to teach me because of my grade level. I was then switched to a different public school.

Things went okay there at first, but by age 16 my health hit me again and hit me hard. I started having weird issues with my heart and the GI issues continued. I saw a doctor who ran a test for what was a rare disease at the time but now very common, Celiac Disease. The test also came back showing I had 17 other food allergies. It came back positive so I was able to change how I ate and I finally experienced the same slight improvement of symptoms I had noticed at my old school where we had to bring our own lunches. Although I had a minor victory, I also had a setback with my heart. I experienced a strange feeling, as if it was pounding and skipping beats. Whenever this happened I felt as if I couldn’t breathe. I was in and out of hospitals. This whole time being diagnosed with Hypochondria or being told it's all in my head. One hospital even banned me because I was what they called a “frequent flyer”. Everyone kept running the same basic tests yet showed no real interest due to the fact that "I was young, so I must be healthy and teenagers like attention so I was making it up for attention." at age 17, I was in the hospital and this is when my heart stopped for the first time. The alarms went off and no one came. My mom ran through the hall screaming for help when a nurse told her I'm an attention seeker and probably just pulled the leads to the monitoring system off. My mom drug her back to the room and everything was connected. I had truly coded. I was brought back and they did an EKG. Unfortunately, after I was conscious, the EKG results were normal, so I was sent home and referred to a cardiologist.

Later that year a new symptom began. I had my first Grand Mal seizure during Chemistry class. My school sent me to the hospital where I was accused of being a drug addict because drugs cause seizures in teens. Again, social workers were brought in and hours were spent accusing me of being a drug addict. Finally, after almost just as long of me pleading for them to just run a drug test and stop accusing me of something I didn't do, they did... It was clean and no drugs were found in my system. At this point, various tests were run and I was hooked to an EEG for four days. I felt okay, but the alarms just kept going off. I was registering 500 or more Petit mal Seizures an hour. Yes, an hour. It's a type of seizure where you don't drop down and go into convulsions, but essentially loose attention for as little as, a fraction of a second. I didn't even know these seizures were taking place. I was then put on antiepileptic medication which I had an allergic reaction to. It caused my skin to burn and sloth off of my body so this medication was discontinued and I was sent home with a referral to a Neurologist.

As the school year progressed, I went to the hospital again for chest pain. The hospital ran the same tests as they always had in the past. A CBC and urinalysis were done and nothing was found. Right before I was to be released, my blood pressure suddenly dropped to 60/20 (a blood pressure that in the medical world is considered medically dead) code blue was called and the crash cart was wheeled in. When the hospital staff flooded into the room strangely, I was awake and alert, at least for about 2 minutes in which I soon after had another grand-Mal seizure which seemed to reset my heart and increase my blood pressure from rock bottom to low normal. No one figured out what was going on and again I was sent home the same day being told, "Well, her heart is beating and everything seems normal now." The rest of high school went similarly. I spent a lot of time in the hospital with no good answers. Before I graduated, I was told I have Fibromyalgia and Degenerative Disk Disease and with Scoliosis I've had it all my life, this explains my pain, but it shouldn't be that bad so I was again pushed to the back burner. I also seemed to be having a lot of strange allergic reactions to many medications and items such as clay and two medications used to combat an allergic reaction. My high school guidance counselor pulled my mother and I into her office about halfway through the school year and told me she didn't think I'd graduate my senior year due to being in the hospital so much. Surprisingly, that same year I graduated with honors.

#myEDSchallenge #myHSDchallenge

[telomeke]

ID text for image posted by Tumblr user @‌cognitohazardous–

Post by Redditor "u/Otherwise_Order621" on subreddit r/antiwork:

My hustle culture friend just died of a heart attack at age 32 Sorry for the wall of text, but I really need to get this off my chest. I met this guy at uni, and since graduating he had be living the life. He got up at 5am to workout and do all life's admin, then worked 08:30-19:30 every day in finance for £150k/year, and then would spend his evenings working on his side hustle business. On weekends he'd do voluntary management work for a charity. He had financial independence, and he was going to retire early. The world was his oyster and he would travel around to every country with a laptop. I'd never left Europe and got very envious of this. But the sad reality is, he's been a zombie for over a decade now. He never got more than 5 hours sleep. He never ate healthy food. He didn't have a romantic relationship and never found time for friends. And he was always cutting costs to save "for retirement", he'd have cheaper long flights with many changes and dump his bag at a hostel before getting to work on zero sleep. He never got to explore the places he was in, it was always just another office. I'd only see him once every three months or so, even when he was living in his house 20 mins walk away from me. And whenever I saw him, he'd be too exhausted to do any activities. We'd just go to the pub while he switched off after an hour. His biggest regret was taking up smoking, which he did to network with managers on smoke breaks at a previous job, and then found impossible to quit. My last conversation with him was about work. I said that I get an extra five days annual leave because I've worked here five years now. He said it's not worth it, I'd be better off switching jobs to get a payrise and then take unpaid time off to return to my previous salary… I'm going to take those five days to spend with my family and think about any good times I had with my old friend. I found out about his death when the hospital called me. He kept my phone number in his wallet as an emergency contact. I didn't know this until I got that call, I didn't realise I was the closest person he had in this world. To me, he felt like a distant friend who I only got to hang out with a few times a year.

‌

“If you have time to watch Netflix you have time for a side hustle” my side hustle is relaxing so that my body and brain can heal from by this nose-to-the-grindstone bullshit. I refuse to feel guilty for being a human with the need to relax sometimes. my side hustle is no.

[teddypoi-qd]

{ID - a reddit post from u/Otherwise_Order621, titled "My hustle culture friend just died of a heart attack at age 32."

the post reads: "Sorry for the wall of text, but I really need to get this off my chest.

I met this guy at uni, and since graduating he had be living the life. He got up at 5am to workout and do all life's admin, then worked 08:30-19:30 every day in finance for £150k/year, and then would spend his evenings working on his side hustle business. On weekends he'd do voluntary management work for a charity. He had financial independence, and he was going to retire early. The world was his oyster and he would travel around to every country with a laptop. I'd never left Europe and got very envious of this.

But the sad reality is, he's been a zombie for over a decade now. He never got more than 5 hours sleep. He never ate healthy food. He didn't have a romantic relationship and never found time for friends. And he was always cutting costs to save "for retirement", he'd have cheaper long flights with many changes and dump his bag at a hostel before getting to work on zero sleep. He never got to explore the places he was in, it was always just another office.

I'd only see him once every three months or so, even when he was living in his house 20 mins walk away from me.a And whenever I saw him, he'd be too exhausted to do any activities. We'd just go to the pub while he switched off after an hour. His biggest regret was taking up smoking, which he did to network with managers on smoke breaks at a previous job, and then found impossible to quit.

My last conversation with him was about work. I said that I get an extra five days annual leave because I've worked here five years now. He said it's not worth it, I'd be better off switching jobs to get a payrise and then take unpaid time off to return to my previous salary... I'm going to take those five days to spend with my family and think about any good times I had with my old friend.

I found out about his death when the hospital called me. He kept my phone number in his wallet as an emergency contact. I didn't know this until I got that call, I didn't realise I was the closest person he had in this world. To me, he felt like a distant friend who I only got to hang out with a few times a year."

END ID}

Post Source

“If you have time to watch Netflix you have time for a side hustle” my side hustle is relaxing so that my body and brain can heal from by this nose-to-the-grindstone bullshit. I refuse to feel guilty for being a human with the need to relax sometimes. my side hustle is no.

[andersunmenschlich]

image transcript:

Posted by u/Otherwise_Order621 1 year ago My hustle culture friend just died of a heart attack at age 32 4.6k upvotes

Sorry for the wall of text, but I really need to get this off my chest.

I met this guy at uni, and since graduating he had been living the life. He got up at 5am to work out and do all life's admin, then worked 08:30–19:30 every day in finance for £150k/year, and then would spend his evenings working his side hustle business. On weekends he'd do voluntary management work for a charity. He had financial independence, and he was going to retire early. The world was his oyster and he would travel around to every country with a laptop. I'd never left Europe and got very envious of this.

But the sad reality is, he's been a zombie for over a decade now. He never got more than 5 hours sleep. He never ate healthy food. He didn't have a romantic relationship and never found time for friends. And he was always cutting costs to save "for retirement," he'd have cheaper long flights with many changes and dump his bag at a hostel before getting to work on zero sleep. He never got to explore the places he was in, it was always just another office.

I'd only see him once every three months or so, even when he was living in his house 20 mins walk away from me. And whenever I saw him, he'd be too exhausted to do any activities. We'd just go to the pub while he switched off after an hour. His biggest regret was taking up smoking, which he did to network with managers on smoke breaks at a previous job, and then found impossible to quit.

My last conversation with him was about work. I said that I get an extra five days annual leave because I've worked here five years now. He said it's not worth it, I'd be better off switching jobs to get a pay rise and then take unpaid time off to return to my previous salary… I'm going to take those five days to spend with my family and think about any good times I had with my old friend.

I found about his death when the hospital called me. He kept my phone number in his wallet as an emergency contact. I didn't know this until I got that call, I didn't realise I was the closest person he had in this world. To me, he felt like a distant friend who I only got to hang out with a few times a year.

end transcript

“If you have time to watch Netflix you have time for a side hustle” my side hustle is relaxing so that my body and brain can heal from by this nose-to-the-grindstone bullshit. I refuse to feel guilty for being a human with the need to relax sometimes. my side hustle is no.

[newthinkerer]

A post on r/antiwork by u/Otherwise_Order621

My hustle culture friend just died of a heart attack at age 32.

Sorry for the wall of text, but I really need to get this off my chest.

I met this guy at Uni, and since graduating he had been living the life. He got up at 5:30 am to workout and do life's admin, then worked around 8:30-19:30 (8:30 am-7:30 pm) every day in finance for £150k/year, and then would spend his evenings working on his side hustle business. On weekends he'd do voluntary management work for a charity. He had financial independence, and was going to retire early. The world was his oyster and he would travel around to every country with a laptop. I'd never left Europe and got very envious of this.

But the sad reality is, he's been a zombie for over a decade now. He never got more than 5 hours of sleep. He never ate healthy food. He didn't have a romantic relationship and he never had time for friends. And he was always cutting costs to save "for retirement", he'd have cheaper long flights with many changes and dump his bag at a hostel before getting to work with zero sleep. He never got to explore the places he was in, it was always just another office.

I'd only see him once every three months or so, even when he was living in his house (a 20 mins walk away from me). And whenever I saw him, he'd be too exhausted to do any activities. We'd just go to the pub while he switched off after an hour. His biggest regret was taking up smoking, which he did to network with managers at a previous job, and then found impossible to quit.

My last conversation with him was about work. I said that I get an extra five days annual leave because I've worked here five years now. He said it's not worth it, I'd be better off switching jobs to get a pay raise and then take unpaid time off to return to my previous salary... I'm going to take those five days to spend with my family and think about any good times I had with my old friend.

I found out about his death when the hospital called me. He kept my phone number in his wallet as an emergency contact. I didn't know this until I got that call, I didn't know I was the closest person he had in this world. To me, he felt like a distant friend who I only got to hang out with a few times a year.

“If you have time to watch Netflix you have time for a side hustle” my side hustle is relaxing so that my body and brain can heal from by this nose-to-the-grindstone bullshit. I refuse to feel guilty for being a human with the need to relax sometimes. my side hustle is no.

[vitrified-vitriol]

Image transcript below the cut

Reddit Posted by u/Otherwise_Order621 1 year ago

4.6k up votes. My hustle culture friend just died of a heart attack at age 32.

Story

Sorry for the wall of text, but I really need to get this off my chest.

I met this guy at uni, and since graduating he had be living the life. He got up at 5am to workout and do all life's admin, then worked 08:30-19:30 every day in finance for £150k/year, and then would spend his evenings working on his side hustle business. On weekends he'd do voluntary management work for a charity. He had financial independence, and he was going to retire early. The world was his oyster and he would travel around to every country with a laptop. I'd never left Europe and got very envious of this.

But the sad reality is, he's been a zombie for over a decade now. He never got more than 5 hours sleep. He never ate healthy food. He didn't have a romantic relationship and never found time for friends. And he was always cutting costs to save "for retirement", he'd have cheaper long flights with many changes and dump his bag at a hostel before getting to work on zero sleep. He never got to explore the places he was in, it was always just another office.

I'd only see him once every three months or so, even when he was living in his house 20 mins walk away from me.a And whenever I saw him, he'd be too exhausted to do any activities. We'd just go to the pub while he switched off after an hour. His biggest regret was taking up smoking, which he did to network with managers on smoke breaks at a previous job, and then found impossible to quit.

My last conversation with him was about work. I said that I get an extra five days annual leave because I've worked here five years now. He said it's not worth it, I'd be better off switching jobs to get a payrise and then take unpaid time off to return to my previous salary... I'm going to take those five days to spend with my family and think about any good times I had with my old friend.

I found out about his death when the hospital called me. He kept my phone number in his wallet as an emergency contact. I didn't know this until I got that call, I didn't realise I was the closest person he had in this world. To me, he felt like a distant friend who I only got to hang out with a few times a year.

“If you have time to watch Netflix you have time for a side hustle” my side hustle is relaxing so that my body and brain can heal from by this nose-to-the-grindstone bullshit. I refuse to feel guilty for being a human with the need to relax sometimes. my side hustle is no.

[frostytheduck]

[Image Description]

A Redit post by u/Otherwise_Order621

The title reads

"My hustle culture friend just died of a heart attack at age 32."

The post reads

"Sorry for the wall of text, but I really need to get this off my chest.

I met this guy at uni, and since graduating he had be living the life. He got up at 5am to workout and do all life's admin, then worked 08:30-19:30 every day in finance for £150k/year, and then would spend his evenings working on his side hustle business. On weekends he'd do voluntary management work for a charity. He had financial independence, and he was going to retire early. The world was his oyster and he would travel around to every country with a laptop. I'd never left Europe and got very envious of this.

But the sad reality is, he's been a zombie for over a decade now. He never got more than 5 hours sleep. He never ate healthy food. He didn't have a romantic relationship and never found time for friends. And he was always cutting costs to save "for retirement", he'd have cheaper long flights with many changes and dump his bag at a hostel before getting to work on zero sleep. He never got to explore the places he was in, it was always just another office.

I'd only see him once every three months or so, even when he was living in his house 20 mins walk away from me.a And whenever I saw him, he'd be too exhausted to do any activities. We'd just go to the pub while he switched off after an hour. His biggest regret was taking up smoking, which he did to network with managers on smoke breaks at a previous job, and then found impossible to quit.

My last conversation with him was about work. I said that I get an extra five days annual leave because I've worked here five years now. He said it's not worth it, I'd be better off switching jobs to get a payrise and then take unpaid time off to return to my previous salary... I'm going to take those five days to spend with my family and think about any good times I had with my old friend.

I found out about his death when the hospital called me. He kept my phone number in his wallet as an emergency contact. I didn't know this until I got that call, I didn't realise I was the closest person he had in this world. To me, he felt like a distant friend who I only got to hang out with a few times a year."

“If you have time to watch Netflix you have time for a side hustle” my side hustle is relaxing so that my body and brain can heal from by this nose-to-the-grindstone bullshit. I refuse to feel guilty for being a human with the need to relax sometimes. my side hustle is no.

[wooyoungbf]

[img id: a screenshot of a reddit post titled "My hustle culture friend just died of a heart attack at age 32."

the post reads:

Sorry for the wall of text, but I really needed to get this off my chest.

I met this guy at uni, and since graduating he had be living the life. He got up at 5am to workout and do all of life's admin, then worked 08:30-19:30 everyday in finance for £150k/year, and then would spend his evenings working on his side hustle business. On weekends he'd do voluntary management work for a charity. He had financial independence, and he was going to retire early. The world was his oyster and he would travel around to every country with a laptop. I'd never left Europe and got very envious of this.

But the sad reality is, he's been a zombie for over a decade now. He never got more than 5 hours sleep. He never ate healthy food. He didn't have a romantic relationship and never found time for friends. And he was always cutting costs to save "for retirement", he'd have cheaper long flights with many changes and dump his bag at a hostel before getting to work on zero sleep. He never got to explore the places he was in, it was always just another office.

I'd only see him every three months or so, even when he was living in his house 20 mins walk away from me. And whenever I saw him, he'd be too exhausted to do any activities. We'd just go to the pub while he switched off after an hour. His biggest regret was taking up smoking, which he did to network with managers on smoke breaks at a previous job, and then found impossible to quit.

My last conversation with him was about work. I said that I get an extra five days annual leave because I've worked here five years now. He said it's not worth it, I'd be better off switching jobs to get a payrise and then take unpaid time off to return to my previous salary... I'm going to take those five days to spend with my family and think about any good times I had with my old friend.

I found out about his death when the hospital called me. He kept my phone number in his wallet as an emergency contact. I didn't know this until I got that call, I didn't realise I was the closest person he had in this world. To me, he felt like a distant friend who I only got to hang out with a few times a year.

/end id]

“If you have time to watch Netflix you have time for a side hustle” my side hustle is relaxing so that my body and brain can heal from by this nose-to-the-grindstone bullshit. I refuse to feel guilty for being a human with the need to relax sometimes. my side hustle is no.

[le-velo-pour-dru]

[ID: A Reddit post by user Otherwise_Order621 titled, "My hustle culture friend just died of a heart attack at age 32." The post reads, "Sorry for the wall of text, but I really need to get this off my chest. I met this guy at uni, and since graduating he had be living the life. He got up at 5am to workout and do all life's admin, then worked 8:30-19:30 every day in finance for £150k/year, and then would spend, his evenings working on his side hustle business. On weekends he'd do voluntary management work for a charity. He had financial independence, and he was going to retire early. The world was his oyster and he would travel around to every country with a laptop. I'd never left Europe and got very envious of this. But the sad reality is, he's been a zombie for over a decade now. He never got more than 5 hours sleep. He never ate healthy food. He didn't have a romantic relationship and never found time for friends. And he was always cutting costs to save 'for retirement', he'd have cheaper long flights with many changes and dump his bag at a hostel before getting to work on zero sleep. He never got to explore the places he was in, it was always just another office. I'd only see him once every three months or so, even when he was living in his house 20 mins walk away from me.a And whenever I saw him, he'd be too exhausted to do any activities. We'd just go to the pub while he switched off after an hour. His biggest regret was taking up smoking, which he did to network with managers on smoke breaks at a previous job, and then found impossible to quit. My last conversation with him was about work. I said that I get an extra five days annual leave because I've worked here five years now. He said it's not worth it, I'd be better off switching jobs to get a payrise and then take unpaid time off to return to my previous salary... I'm going to take those five days to spend with my family and think about any good times I had with my old friend. I found out about his death when the hospital called me. He kept my phone number in his wallet as an emergency contact. I didn't know this until I got that call, I didn't realise I was the closest person he had in this world. To me, he felt like a distant friend who I only got to hang out with a few times a year." /end ID]

“If you have time to watch Netflix you have time for a side hustle” my side hustle is relaxing so that my body and brain can heal from by this nose-to-the-grindstone bullshit. I refuse to feel guilty for being a human with the need to relax sometimes. my side hustle is no.

[wehadabondingmoment]

Someone asked for an image description:

ID: My hustle culture friend just died of a heart attack at age 32.

Sorry for the wall of text, but I really need to get this off my chest.

I met this guy at uni, and since graduating he had be living the life. He got up at 5am to workout and do all life's admin, then worked 08:30-19:30 every day in finance for £150k/year, and then would spend his evenings working on his side hustle business. On weekends he'd do voluntary management work for a charity. He had financial independence, and he was going to retire early. The world was his oyster and he would travel around to every country with a laptop. I'd never left Europe and got very envious of this.

But the sad reality is, he's been a zombie for over a decade now. He never got more than 5 hours sleep. He never ate healthy food. He didn't have a romantic relationship and never found time for friends. And he was always cutting costs to save "for retirement", he'd have cheaper long flights with many changes and dump his bag at a hostel before getting to work on zero sleep. He never got to explore the places he was in, it was always just another office.

I'd only see him once every three months or so, even when he was living in his house 20 mins walk away from me.a And whenever I saw him, he'd be too exhausted to do any activities. We'd just go to the pub while he switched off after an hour. His biggest regret was taking up smoking, which he did to network with managers on smoke breaks at a previous job, and then found impossible to quit.

My last conversation with him was about work. I said that I get an extra five days annual leave because I've worked here five years now. He said it's not worth it, I'd be better off switching jobs to get a payrise and then take unpaid time off to return to my previous salary... I'm going to take those five days to spend with my family and think about any good times I had with my old friend.

I found out about his death when the hospital called me. He kept my phone number in his wallet as an emergency contact. I didn't know this until I got that call, I didn't realise I was the closest person he had in this world. To me, he felt like a distant friend who I only got to hang out with a few times a year. End ID

“If you have time to watch Netflix you have time for a side hustle” my side hustle is relaxing so that my body and brain can heal from by this nose-to-the-grindstone bullshit. I refuse to feel guilty for being a human with the need to relax sometimes. my side hustle is no.